His smile gives her pause, momentarily lost, in a sea of wonder. His laugh makes her smile, a tone, for only she ca hear. His touch freezes her, surrounded by Arctic, a breath she forgot to take. His thoughtfulness makes her weep, in a cloud of dust, alone in mangled emotions. His child-like spirit makes her feel young, like the kid, she had long forgotten.
He was there but gone, a thought in the past, that seemed to be glued to her. He rose from the depths, a secret, she didn’t want to share. He entered her world, a giant aspiration, shielding her from hurt.
He didn’t know she needed him, nor did she, until he arrived fueling her fire. He didn’t know he fixed her, small patches at a time, until she felt whole again. His love sparks security, shielding her, from the ugly world.
Him existing gives her purpose, a challenge, he won blindfolded. His crystal-colored eyes see through her, baring her soul, leaving her limp and wild.
Who can you count on the most in your life right now?
Logically, I’m smarter than to answer this in a public blog. Why? People in my life read this – they automatically think why can’t she count on me? && it wouldn’t matter who I put down as the people I can count on the most. I could say the Pope, && someone in my life would get butt hurt.
So let’s ramble a little instead. So I started a book called “Almost Surely Dead” by Amina Akhtar. I got it off Amazon for free this month, which I didn’t know was a thing. Let’s just say, I’m obsessed with this book. I read a review on Goodreads that said “this book helped me out of a reading slump”. I first thought, no way will it work. Dude! I can’t tell you enough how much I’m enjoying this book. I’m about half way through with it right now && I can’t wait to find out what happens && why it happened. I think I have figured everything out and BAM! I was wrong. But of course, that is what the author wanted.
I still haven’t wrote anything other than a daily blog post. It’s still something, right? Maybe a little more writing will help. Maybe a little more reading will help.
I called the weight loss doctor on Monday to set up an appointment to start the journey over. However, it’s Thursday, && they still haven’t called me back. When I called them I stayed on hold for thirty minutes – it was around 4 PM when I called them. After the thirty minutes they said they’ve been on the phone with insurance, which I do know takes a bit, && that they’d call me back. I haven’t heard anything as of yet. I’m hoping they haven’t given up on me. I had started the journey last year with them but money became an issue so I paused. Started talking to a different surgeon about going through them because my job would pay quite a bit on it, plus insurance, so it would be basically free. Free is good, right? However, even free isn’t enough when the dietician did nothing but yell at me every time we spoke.
Why’d she yell? They wanted me to lose 37 pounds, which doesn’t seem like a lot of weight, because it’s honestly not. However, with all of the meds I’m on (insulin included) I’m having a very hard time losing weight. Trust me, if I could, I wouldn’t be looking into the surgery. I need help! But all the dietician wanted to do was yell and scream. Which honestly, I thought I was making that up. I can be pretty sensitive. After one month I went into the living room where Boyfriend was and he asked me what the yelling was about? He had heard her yelling from three rooms over. That’s when I decided I didn’t want to go through them. So him && I talked && we figured out the money. Now, I’m just waiting for them to call me back. Hopefully they do soon so I can get the ball rolling again.
When I was younger I had a dream. It seems silly to me now, but as a child, it’s what I aspired to. I dreamed about what it would be like to stand in front of a crowd, chanting my name, holding lighters up wanting more.
I wanted to be a rock star!
I didn’t want to do it for the money or even the fame. If I wanted that, my choice would have been to be an actor – I just wanted to sing – to be on a stage.
That’s half the reason I chose to be in band – the other half, because I love music. Being in band (I played clarinet) gave me the opportunity to be on a stage multiple times a year. But it wasn’t enough, so in middle school I signed up for the talent show. First year I sang a Britney Spears song, yes, seriously, I was in middle school in the early 2000’s. The second time I sang an ‘Nsync song. (It may be the other way around – I’ve slept a lot since then.)
I may have lost both years but it was by far the best moments of my life. (That’s sad, right?) I probably would have kept entering it but thanks to a group of guys and their screamo, they stopped holding it. They eventually started again, but it was after I dropped out. (That’s for another day.)
As I have gotten older the feeling has calmed however the feeling still appears. My job has an event center which of course has a large stage. Sometimes we’ll have classes and I’ll space out staring at the stage – daydreaming.
The feeling has exploded but not exactly for the stage. I may still get that fuzzy feeling for the stage, but now I get that feeling for the printed word.
I was told once, “If you’re meant to do something you’ll always be thinking about it. When you go to sleep, wake up, and in between.” When I was younger it was singing, performing; anything dealing with the stage – that I thought about all the time. As I’ve aged my thoughts have changed and it’s always thinking about writing.
When I’m not writing, I’m thinking about it. That’s, I think, why I get so frustrated when I get “writers block”. It’s also why I get so angry at myself when I think about ‘Frost’.
I know I question whether I’m supposed to be a writer or not a lot, but it’s not because I don’t want to, but rather – shouldn’t it be easier? Is it normal for someone to take over six years to write a book? I mean, technically, I ‘finished’ it back in 2015. Since then I Have been attempting to edit it – all I seem to do is change things. I basically rewrite it, become aggravated, stop writing for months just to pick it back up – starting over at chapter one, to begin rewriting it again. I swear I have rewrote ‘Frost’ at least thirty times.
I’m never happy with it. I even know that I’ll always be my biggest critic – so why do I do this to myself?
I have this plan! My plan! A great plan! Since I am my biggest critic, and I will probably never like my writing, I decided that after it’s finished – COMPLETELY – I would offer three people the chance to read it and tell me what they think. People I know won’t sugar coat it, or lie because they don’t want to hurt my feelings. I know it’ll be rough, most first books are – I am not going to be the next Jane Austen (I find her work hard to read). I just want to find my voice, my way – be the best Barbara Hightower I can. That’s all I can achieve. I can’t try to be another writer – just me. Because I know, if I am not, I’ll always be disappointed in myself and that’ll be a crappy life.
But first – I must finish ‘Frost’ – which I say a lot. For most, that’s a simple request, but for me – Queen of Procrastination – not so much.
I figured I would end this with a poem –
Silence! I scream loud! A void, I feel deep, expands, Forming frustration.
Until next time! Peace. Love. && Fried Chicken.
PROOF! That I am in fact, editing Frost. Was able to get two chapters done yesterday.
♥The Barbosphere♥ 