As always, let me know if the video below doesn’t work, I shall replace it. Thank you! ^_^v
Have a great weekend, everyone! ^_^
I’ve finished the first book of my possible three book young adult series! Hooray! This usually means that I take a break and edit the manuscript at my leisure, before starting up the next novel. However, I have my awesome blog, and so my “break” will consist of writing posts for it. Lucky you. =p
Anyway, today I want to share about how I am a thief in writing. No, no, no… I’m not speaking about flat-out plagiarism, which I highly believe that such an act is reserved for people who have ZERO talent or creativity. I’m above all that. No, what I am confessing to is that I tend to steal the personas of the people I run across in life and that’s how a lot of my characters are born. ;^_^>
The villains in my stories are satirized versions of my past abusers or just really annoying people I bumped into along my life’s path. My current book does feature a very annoying character, based on someone I had met and no longer speak with, although his satirization is a lot hilarious and a bit charming in a way.. Still annoying, though.
A year ago I had written a very fast-paced crime thriller, that featured some jerk on Facebook who had a fake profile, his intentions was to scam people on that social network. However, he assumed that I was a good mark and that I was not smart enough to do a check on him. I did and I blasted the fact that he was indeed a fake.
The scam artist wasn’t very bright, because he claimed to be a man confined to a wheelchair, that lived in Ireland, owned a horse racing track in Dublin, where he just happened to meet Bono Vox (the lead singer of my most favorite music group, U2), and proceeded to tell me stories of their conversations together. I know I’m not the smartest in the world, but come on! I instantly did some checking and tracked him down to being a healthy resident in Germany! >_<
And so, I wrote a crime thriller, where this person is badly hunted and tortured by a serial killer. My relatives and friends have read this manuscript and went wild over it! So, it’s one of the manuscripts I plan to get published someday. ^_^
Ever since I began writing at a very young age, I’ve been using the people I know or had met as characters in my stories. The people I love and appreciate often become the “heroes” of my stories or characters of great wisdom to guide my main hero through the story. A lot of times, the main protagonist is a polarization of myself. Yes… I have an ego. So what? It’s fun!
Although, if someone pisses me off or step over a line in my life, I have no issue creating an effigy of that person’s character and killing them off in very horrible ways in any of my stories. Sometimes this kind of writing can be lot helpful in my process of moving on from a failed relationship. Music artists do this all the time, why can’t I?
In my late twenties, I had a pretty cool friend in Ireland, and we would chat a lot on webcam. However, even though he was just a few years older than me, he was a lot child-like and these “play-dates” was under the direct control of his much older wife/caretaker. Him and I had found each other on a site, drawn together by our mutual child-like humor and ways. And one of the many things we had in common was that we believed that farts are funny! They are! ^w^
So, I would spend once a week on webcam with this guy in Ireland, as he would take out a whoopie cushion and set it off. We’d laugh for hours, until his very posh and elderly wife would storm into the room and scream “STOP!!!!”
Mysteriously, the whoopie cushion was stabbed and had a hole in it, ruining our fun. So my friend discovered a “fart program” online and would press keys on his keyboard to make the sounds. We would laugh forever, as I would scream out, “Press Q again! Press Q!”. The wife put an end to that as well, by threatening to call off all play-dates. And in the end, she did call them off, because she decided I was a bad influence on him. Le sigh… u_u
That didn’t stop me from writing a hilarious haiku about it, which I’m sorry to say that I didn’t save it and forgot how it went. It ended with the line: The wife screams, “STOP!”. It was my first attempt at a haiku and when I shared it on the site for my friend and others to enjoy, my friend was tickled pink about it. He was amazed that I had written something that he was included in and he believed that I was some kind of wizard.
Of course, a critic came along and pointed out that even though I had gotten the rhythm of my haiku spot on, it was not a very good one, because I failed to add the imagery of color, feeling, and one of the human senses.
To that I replied, “When a person farts, the room does turn blue, so that’s your color. And when a toot leaves a person’s bum, they certainty feel it, As for a sense… you can pretty much smell a fart or hear it, if it’s not a deadly one. So, my poem is perfect!” The critic was not amused by my response, but I thought it was clever. ^w^
I don’t always add the people that I meet in my stories, but when I do, I have a lot of fun with it. I make it count, to the point that removing such characters would collapse the foundation of the entire story. In a way, I guess I make my interactions and experiences with others important, taking the good with the bad. And that’s pretty cool, I think.
To quote a very true statement within a U2 song, “Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief. All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief.”
Thanks for reading! And to all of my new followers, welcome to my madness! All aboard the Crazy Train! ^_^v
I use to sit around in misery a lot, counting all of the things that I didn’t have in my life, all of the things that I thought I needed. I use to wish for so many things: I wish I was prettier, I wish I was smarter, I wish I was stronger, I wish I had more money, I wish I had a loving father, I wish I had the same things as my peers, I wish…
The wishes got stronger and it became: I need to be prettier, I need to be smarter, I need to be stronger, I need more money, I need a loving father, I need the same things as my peers, I need… I need these things in order to be happy! I need…
Pretty soon, this was my anthem to my depression. I began to fixate on what I didn’t have, forgetting what I did have, and I was so very convinced that the only way to find happiness is to gain the things that I did not have. Thus began a series of: If I only had the right romantic relationship. If I only had the right career. If I only had the right education. If I only had the right friends. If I only lived in the right location… I would finally be happy. I could be happy if I had those things!
The words turned into a babble of noise within my head, of wishes, needs, and “if I had”. The next word that would thunder through my mind was: WANT, WANT, WANT, WANT! By the end of it, I thought I was going insane. u_u
And maybe, in the way, I was losing it. I was so focused on what I didn’t have, believing that my answer to my happiness was something that I didn’t yet possess and was just slightly out of my grasp, that I was missing the big picture: Happiness is what I make it to be.
As Bono sang, “What you don’t have, you don’t need it now!”, I wondered to myself, “Uh-huh… so now what? How do I become happy without those things?” I use to scoff at that part of the song, until I realized that all along what I DO have I can derive happiness from it.
I enjoy writing, so I write. I may not be famous or well known for it. I may not make money from it, and I may not make sense with it all the time. However, when I blog or write a novel, I’m SO very zen and happy! It brings me joy to ramble, even in posts like this one, and it brings me great satisfaction whenever I sit back and admire the finished project and effort I’ve put into any piece, successful or not.
I don’t need a lot of “likes” or comments, I see each of my posts here as a work of art. My art. An expression of a soul, something that I’ve dared to share with a public, naked and vulnerable! I am proud that I am this brave to share it, even when I sometimes think “this post is too rant-y, too long, not entertaining enough, too dark, too preachy” and so on. I share it anyway! This whole blog is a work of art of my true expression and this makes me feel so very satisfied and HAPPY!
Why focus on what I don’t have within my writing, when the happiness that I do have is such a thing? I’m going to make it as notable writer someday, that’s my goal, but I’m happy with my writing RIGHT NOW all the same!
No, I don’t have a physical beauty about myself, but I am not ashamed to admit that I have a very BEAUTIFUL soul. It’s one of a kind, a work of art, and I don’t say that with an ego… I say that because I’ve earned it! My past pain didn’t break my soul, it didn’t smirch its beauty, my soul survived and she is a beautiful goddess! So why mourn what I don’t have on the outside, when I have that kind of beauty on the inside? Screw that! ^o^/
No, I’m not rich. I’m not even moderately wealthy. I’m dirt poor. However, with my little income I’ve enjoyed so many cool things in life, I have traveled across the country, I’ve experienced so many cool things in life, and I continue to do so! Why worry about what I don’t have, when I seem to have a wealth of things already? I’m not starving, I have a roof over my head, I’m in a warm house in the winters, and a chilled house in the summers, I have running hot water, and the internet. Why should I feel sad for anything else? o_O
Happiness is all about perspective. It’s true that those who suffer with mental illness can’t always see this perspective and for that I understand. However, for the rest of the world, I don’t get why so many people are unhappy about what they don’t have, when they have so much already. I probably don’t have as much as some others do, and yet I am happy. I mean, I really feel happy and content.
Maybe not all the time, because everybody hurts sometimes (Wow, a lot of song references today. Hmm.), but for the most part I can say honestly with a smile on my face, that I am happy! I know what contentment feels like. And I’m not going to stop there, oh no no no… I’m aim to keep moving forward and continue to add more happiness to my life. I’ve learned to replace the grumbles in my mind with: I HAVE, ^_^
What I don’t have, I may get it someday, and perhaps I may not. In the meanwhile, that’s not going to affect my happiness NOW. So, I write.
Thanks for reading!
Anyhoo, back to the Tenth… I very much identify with his personality SO very much. Him and I are almost identical in many ways. Therefore, I love this fan video of him, set to the song “Handlebars” by Flobots. I love the song, I love Doctor Who, and both come together brilliantly in a very accurate portrayal of the true nature of The Tenth Doctor.
When it comes to trying out new food, new media, new clothing styles, new hairstyles, new philosophical ideas, new reincarnations of The Doctor, and so on, I tend to dive in head first and without issue. I think that’s why I’m not a writer whom generally sticks to one kind of genre, I’ve experimented with and written almost all of them. Poetry, funny haikus, teen/young adult fiction, sci-fi, horror, comedy, romance, political satire, and crime novels – just to name a few.
Anyway, I find it a bit odd that I am able to accept something new in culture, art, expression, etc., yet when it comes to physical spaces and personal social situations I can’t stand “new” or changes. It’s okay if a person changes the playlist to some new music I’ve never heard before, but when they try to transport me to a new location for it, I will flip out! O_O
in August 2013, I had no choice but to leave the only home and city I ever known. My old home was one that I grew up in since infancy. The room that I had occupied the most and called my home, shabby that it was, is a bedroom that was given to me as a little girl after my older brother had moved out. I was so happy to get it, to have my own room at age eleven, and I first decorated it with my crayon drawing. I had made it my own safety bubble.
As I grew older and my mental issues got worse, this room became my personal hiding space from the world. This is where I isolated myself and spent hours writing, listening to music, and playing video games. I became a hikikomori (a hermit) since age sixteen, but I didn’t really began to stay indoors full time until after high-school age. At that point, I wouldn’t leave the house for YEARS at a time.
As I hid indoors, the small park in my neighborhood, that I use to play in as a child, was removed and replaced with a bank. The sidewalks were redone and other familiar landmarks were removed. When I did finally step outside again, I felt like I wasn’t in my neighborhood anymore. This disturbed me profoundly and encouraged me to try to get out a little, because I didn’t want to be disturbed like that again. I would leave my home in Philly once a month, after those changes. In Minnesota, I leave the house four times a month, which I am quite comfortable with that number and don’t plan to change it.
Gradually, my safety bubble was no longer safe in Philadelphia, as my mother insisted on having a violent drug addict living with us. And he often bought shady friends to visit, although a few were actually nice guys… I never understood why they were the addict’s friends in the first place! Anyway, the shady friends would steal items and take advantage of my mother’s trusting nature of handing them her credit card to buy groceries for her.
Every time she handed over her card, they would steal money from her account, which resulted in us not having said groceries or being able to pay an utility bill. I’ve spent summer nights with her, sitting in the dark, because the electric bill wasn’t paid. That’s because two or three hundred dollars was stolen from her account before. So, my safety bubble was highly compromised!
However, it got worse… much more worse! The violent addict decided to have fits, whenever he couldn’t get money easily for drugs, and began to threaten both myself and my mother with “You’re old and D is sick… so if something were to happen to either of you, the neighbors are not going to be suspicious of me.”
I bought myself a nice hunting knife (because I couldn’t afford nor would be able to apply for a firearm) in order to protect us, in case he ever tried to make good on his threat.
He would kick down doors and break appliances, in order to intimidate my mother for drug money. It worked, as she began to pay him just to go away for a night. And then my nephew was murdered, unrelated from this addict’s chaos, but with the loss of my nephew on top of everything else, my home AND city didn’t seem so safe anymore. I was stressed ALL THE TIME. u_u
At this point, I decided that I wasn’t going to stick around and virtually fade away in such an awful and abusive situation. In my desperation, I had decided that I would give up all of my things and live in a homeless shelter located in a nearby city… which probably wouldn’t have made things any better, but I was panicking. I had no living relatives in Philly who would take me in, no friends to speak of, and I knew that if I had stayed things were going to turn deadly.
I asked my mother to kick out the addicts and make our home safe again, but she would not. So, I had to make the very painful decision of leaving her behind and saving myself. I had to leave my beloved cats behind too. I sent an email to my sister, letting her know that if she didn’t hear from me anymore, that I was okay. That it meant I was without my laptop and no longer in my old home in Philly. I guess the email was a little too ominous, because she was frighten that I was sending her a suicide letter and rushed to call me! Oops! O_O
Anyway, I told her what was happening around me and she refused to let me run off to a homeless shelter. She had a talk with her best friends/roommates, and all three wonderful ladies agreed that I should move to Minnesota and live with them!
At first, I tried to wave away the offer, because I didn’t want to be a burden to anyone. I tend to wave away offers from others, because I’m always afraid of asking for too much or taking advantage. So, I bought up the issue of how would I get there, because I’m always poor financially. And there was the issue of me getting onto a plane for the first time and being around a crowd of strangers! Eep! And wouldn’t it take some time to sell my things or give them away?
My sister is very patient with me, so she walked through each scenario and possible answer to all of my concerns. She was kind enough to pay for shipping of a few of my things to Minnesota and the storage fees for the rest of my things in Philly. I was very adamant that I didn’t want any of my stuff left behind for the drug addicts to profit from. I rather give my items away on the street, even to other addicts, than for those particular addicts to win my home and my items too. So, most of my things are still in storage to this day.
I took my gaming system, laptop, collection of video games, a few books, my Kindle, some DVDs, an old iPod, my Doctor Who figures, my music CD collection, and cheap cellphone with me. I had very little clothing at the time, so I stuffed those into a duffel bag. My sister would fly in for a week to help get my things into storage. Next she would travel with me on the flight, that way I wouldn’t have to face a crowd and find my way through a huge airport alone.
She would have tried and pay for my flight too, but I insisted that I had to do something! It took me four months to save for a ticket to Minnesota, one way with one layover ($450!). The airport was a new space and there were so many people. I began to panic, the moment I stepped into that place! However, I somehow stepped out of myself and kept an internal dialog of, “You’re escaping to a better life! You’re getting away from the abuse! This is important, so don’t freak out, otherwise you’ll have to go back to that house!”
I made it through security checks and I asked my sister if we could sit down on a bench before reaching the gate. I was tired from the long walk through the airport, but I was also trying to calm myself, because panic attacks were rising to the surface. I made it onto the plane and when it took off from the ground… I had a blast! It was the best experience I ever had in my entire life! Whee!!!! \^o^/
I enjoyed both flights, but when we landed, I was ushered off to a new neighborhood, a new house, and new housemates. My problem with “new” sucker punched me in the neck. The environment was so very different and on the first night I got here. I cried and had a panic attack. u_u
I kind of pissed off my sister because I took off my shoes and she told me I could place them by the front door with everyone else’s. I gasped and said, “Won’t someone steal them!?” I was so use to living so long in that old house, where the rule is that if you leave anything valuable out and in the open, and an addict steals it, it’s your own fault and you won’t be compensated. It didn’t dawn on me yet that I was no longer living with or around addicts.
Even now, I still hoard my items in my room and fight the urge to hide my laptop, before leaving the home. It’s just ingrained in me to protect my items from thieves. I’ve lived here for a year and no one steals! The guests who come over sometimes, they never steal! Not even toilet paper, or the laundry soap that’s just sitting out for people to see, or condiments! Seriously, that was the world I once lived in, people stole condiments! o_O
I fell into panic attacks, every other day, for the first six months of living in Minnesota. I was having a hard time coping, because it was so new to me. I felt like a fish out of water, like I didn’t fit, and I missed my safety bubble like crazy! Oddly enough, I had gotten so use to the chaos and the rampant thievery, that it had became sorta “normal” for me… it’s madness! u_u
Finally, in April 2014, I decided to go to therapy and talk about it with a professional. It was luck that I got a therapist who is originally from New Jersey! In Philly, I would travel that bridge all the time to Jersey, so it felt like I was in familiar company! Everyone else here is Minnesotan and is use to the brutal cold winters, but around her I don’t feel so out of place. We talk about the old stuff in Philly and Jersey sometimes. We both think the cold weather here is crazy.
Before I knew it, I’ve felt more and more at home in Minnesota. My anxiety went back to its usual: crowds = panic, and home/room = safety bubble. I guess, I can adapt with a new environment after some time, it’s hard, but it can be done!
And I feel more safe in Minnesota than I ever felt anywhere else. Honestly, this is the first year in my entire life that I’ve not lived with or around addicts. I am age 33, almost 34 in two months and a few weeks, so I’ve spent over thirty years around or living with addicts,,, not just drug addicts, but also a few alcoholics and gamblers too. I love not having to pay the consequences of someone else’s addiction. I am not an addict, so I shouldn’t have to.
I hope I can adapt with new people someday. I’m so use to the usual types that seem to fit my “safety bubble”, which isn’t a good thing because my usual type can be real jerks! I’ve yet to try getting use to different people who are outside of my comfort zone, nicer people who have their “crap” together more or less.
Or to try being in crowds… Ugh! Just the thought of crowds makes me feel a LOT anxious! I don’t want to go! But… maybe someday. ^_^
Thanks for reading!
Here’s another song released under Monstercat named “The Mentalist”. It a pretty song and if you like, do buy it on iTunes or Amazon. OR choose the Beatport link, as all proceeds from there goes to the International Mental Health Research Organization to help fund medical research and find cures for such illnesses, like depression, bipolar, schizophrenia, etc. ^_^v
Enjoy! And have a great weekend everyone! ^_^
Actually, I’m on several quests at the moment: to finish a young adult novel series (I’m nearly done with book one), to demand and gain my soft contacts (for my Keratoconus), and to finish any one of the video games I’ve started! Seriously… I have Portal 2, Okami, Resident Evil 6, and The Sims on hold and incomplete! O_O
However, my main quest is the namesake of this very blog, I’m on a quest for more happiness in my life. The reason why I created this space was not to find sadness and misery, I have enough of that already from my past and sometimes in my present, but I wanted to encourage myself to be happy.
A lot of what I write, I do share with readers because after all this is a public forum. If I wanted it to be private, I’d set this one to “private” and block Google from listing it, it only takes two clicks to do in options. I know this, because I do have two private blogs already.
However, this blog and its posts was created for two purposes: to be a hub for huge reminders to myself. If I forget anything or need some encouragement, I only need to open this blog in my browser. And two, I hoped that my scribbles could serve as inspiration or entertainment for my friends and family. Hi, mom! ^o^/
I’d say that 90% of my life was sadness and misery, I experienced such tragedy and loss a bit more than most people ever get to in such a short time period of life. And now that I’m in my 30’s, I believe it’s time for me to experience more happiness and good things in life, not misery.
That’s not to say that life doesn’t have it’s ups and downs, sometimes life can really SUCK, and I know just how deep that rabbit hole goes on a very serious level. That’s why I have two categories to my blog “sadness” and “stuff”… which the second one is code for “sh$t happens!”. However, you won’t find a lot of sad posts or too many tragic gripes on this blog, because I don’t try to dwell on the negative.
It solves nothing for me to dwell and only lulls me into a pity party that never ends. Just like that annoying “Lamb Chop” song… “This is the song that never ends. Yes, it goes on and on, my friend. Some people started singing it, not knowing what it was! And they’ll continue singing it, forever just because… This is the song that never ends!” Kill me now! u_u
I much rather talk things out with my friends, family, and therapist, than to vent out the really deep and overly negative things in my personal life on a very public blog to strangers. This is not a judgement to those who do so, especially those who suffer with depression! I’m only stating my personal way of coping with situations. And for those suffering with depression, I wish the utmost best for you. Hugs! ^_^
Meanwhile, I’m on a strict diet of not hanging around people who wish to be miserable or negative on purpose. It doesn’t matter if I like a person because, at this point in my life, I want more for myself than to be dragged into other people’s created drama. I finally believe that I am worth something more than that and I have the right not to be burden by people who purposely seek sadness, death, chaos, and mayhem in their lives.
That’s not to say that I will not be a support to my friends, especially those who aren’t purposely seeking drama and have real issues they’re battling with. I’ll always be a support to them and my shoulder is there for them any time they need it! However, for anyone else, I’ve adopted the old saying of “Not my circus, not my monkeys.”. Sorry, I don’t see pain as a fun game and I decline playing it just for the sake of.
Sometimes I feel a little mean about this new attitude, but then I come to my senses again. I’m wise enough to know that my time in this life is limited and I don’t want to waste it with being depressed (or adding more depression on top of what’s already there) and becoming misery’s best friend. I refused to be buried under, either from my own issues or the issues of others.
I work really hard to dispel my own drama within my past. I go to therapy and work ferociously to chip away my issues. I work hard to fight my own battles and drama in daily life. And I don’t want my hard work to go for naught, in order to feed into dramas created or encouraged by some people. I don’t care if someone doesn’t like my stance or not. I’m on a serious quest and I’m not going to let anyone stop me from experiencing my happiness. Not anymore! I deserve to be happy!
Everyone deserves to be happy, if they want to. ^_^
Anyway, that’s all I feel like sharing today. As always, thanks for reading!