[Why I’m Thankful I Write]


I think constantly, ‘what would I be doing if I didn’t write?’

Honestly, I have been writing in my free time for so many years, I don’t think I have an easy answer to that question. When my mind wonders, I look for something to write with. Numerous times a day I think of ideas that would make for good stories or characters, situations that I think others would like to read. Actually getting them down sometimes, is a lot harder than it seems though.

I think that’s why I like to write. It’s a means of getting out everything that swirling around in my head. Blogging them and sharing them with other writers helps me to understand myself, and input from others seems to help. I say ‘seems to’ because I don’t always get responses, only likes (which is still great) but sometimes, I would like some feedback. I know, I know, the internet is not a therapist and neither is WordPress. You cannot demand that your followers reply to your questions. It’s not fair of anyone to do so.

However, writing does connect us to each other. As much as some people say they don’t write or that they don’t know what to say, or how to say it, they still use words to convey their struggles. Not being able to use the words we know to say how we feel, can hurt us within. If we’re not able to rely on our words, what do we rely on? I, try to use my words to the best of my abilities. Because of being sick in the past, I cannot always speak the way I wish I could. I sometimes slur, I sometimes forget words I used to use all the time. I do not always trust my voice, I do not always trust my hearing.

I have to put my trust in something I have always known: words. Writing, reading, letting my emotions out on paper gives me a reason to look toward the future. I may work in retail my whole like, I may never finish a novel and have it published, but I can always rely on the words I chose to use to go forward. My writing will always be for me. If it becomes for some else in addition to me, all the better. Perhaps my words can help others find their own.


[Poem][Moonbeam Shadows]


Moonbeam Shadows

Light toes dancing on dewdrops

A warm silence entices the rhythm

Moonbeam spotlights catch every movement

Beyond the realm of consciousness

Her body flows with the grace of shadows

Chasing the light away from all creatures

Engulfing all under their spell

Her fingertips touching the sky

The earth standing still

One more time way from all that

Seeing tips of flowers bowing

Strung on starlight vines

Caught in the motion of time

Dewdrops of moonbeam shadows

Fingertips standing on starlight






Circular lines of start and pause

Not a one evenly spaced

Your bittersweet taste on the rim

Dried drops trying to escape

Slowly losing your warmth

Waiting to be embraced

By working hands

Holding hands

Busied hands flying across keys

Holding up newspapers and tablets

Working on homework and assignments

Ever dutiful you will wait

To be touched

To be loved once more

As your contents are sipped

By lips longing for your tastes

Thank you for holding on for you

To drink your coffee



The perfect temperature

[Feeling Impatient…Crisis of Writing Faith?]


I’m feeling impatient with myself.

It’s not really a new feeling towards myself, but it’s definitely something I wish I didn’t feel… Or at least not feel it so intensely.

I have lists, some written down and some floating around in my head, that literally keep my awake at night. They also keep me from having a restful night’s sleep, which makes things worse…

I have so many ideas I want to get down on paper and on my laptop, but I feel limited when I sit down to do so. I wouldn’t definite it as writer’s block because I’ve experienced that before, and this isn’t it.

I feel as though I’m crumbling in on myself when it comes to my writing. I don’t want to describe it as dark and due to potential depression or anxiety but… it’s striking fear of failure.

I guess all I can do is try to find some sort of confidence in myself and trust I know even an inkling of what I’m attempting to accomplish.

I hate trying to be optimistic for myself. I was to be optimistic when it comes to me but it’s extremely tiring. I don’t feel fake saying it to my friends and family who I know, I KNOW, can be so amazing, because I do believe it… I just have difficulties saying it to myself and believing it.

And yes, Fact #125 is something I have been doing for years…

Mental Update


If you have read my blog the last few days, you know I lost my 14 year old Australian Shepherd, Willow on Friday morning. I’m still reeling from the thought that she’s gone. Currently, I am off from work this week and visiting my father in Beaverton, On. Away from everything, I’m hoping for a bit of space and a change of pace to get my mind back on track. I plan on getting a lot accomplished this week, so stay tuned for more Uncanny Sublime ^_^

I also was to mention my Campaign on IndieGoGo to raise some funds for writing, editing, and publishing books, and to get my editing services up and running. I’m looking to raise about $260 for these materials. Now, it doesn’t seem like a lot and a small amount that I could probably raise on my own through work… Well the truth is, my budget is extremely tight. Working retail about only a little above minimum wage with unsteady hours while going through a writing program and working on my stories, I don’t have a lot of cash to spare. Whether it is through a small donation or kind words of encouragement, everything is welcome.  You can find the campaign, and it’s perks, [HERE]

There is only 20 days left in the campaign and any help is greatly appreciated!

[Poem][Just Yet]


Just Yet

I can’t tell you how I feel yet because I don’t quite know how I feel, just yet.

It’s inescapable and worrisome and draining on all my senses at once.

There isn’t time to relax just yet and knowing that makes it more tiresome, just yet.

A light at the end of the tunnel would be nice but what would that mean exactly?

Would it be an end to the journey just yet but what if I’m not prepared for that, just yet?

Would it feel like an absence in my life, like a long time friend or illness suddenly vanishing?

Just yet, I don’t think I’m ready to end this feeling.

Just yet, I want to explore and understand it more.

Just yet, I’m ready to take control and own this feeling.

Just yet, I’m ready to be my own again.