Yawp!

Back in college, in order to complete my English major I had to take what is known as a Major Authors course – a class focused on the works of one or two major authors. Admittedly, I first had my eye on a Poe and Hawthorne course, but the timing for that class didn’t work for my schedule, so I found myself in a Walt Whitman course with a professor who had a profoundly positive influence on my academic career. In short, that class was the highlight of my college experience.

If you’re not familiar with Walt Whitman’s poetry, well… you should be. I now have a well-loved copy of Leaves of Grass in my possession and it’s one of my favorites. Anyway, after that class I also took a creative writing course with the same professor, and my time learning about ol’ Uncle Walt directly inspired one of my final poems for that class, which is below:

 

Yawp!

Walt Whitman could stand on rooftops
and he could sound his barbaric ‘Yawp!’ to the world.

I have stood on rooftops, but the most I have ever managed,
is a decidedly anticlimactic ‘squeak.’

Walt Whitman marveled at the splendor of a noiseless, patient spider
while I crushed their silken threads with a boot.

Walt Whitman made a promise to California,
but I have never seen those distant, golden shores.

Walt Whitman could hear America singing,
but it’s a tune I’ve never been able to carry.

Walt Whitman sang the song of the open road, a call to all the world,
I have stared down empty highways, fearful of where they lead.

I am no Walt Whitman.
But someday, I should like to lay in leaves of grass
beneath a splendid, silent sun
and the song of myself will take shape
and I will come out from behind this mask
set sail upon that sea of time
and while I am roaming in thought,
I will find that all is truth.

The world should take good notice
of men like Walt Whitman.
And the world should hope to see
many poets to come
who heard his song of the universal,
and learned well his lessons
and they shall sound a carol of words
to the kosmos.

 

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

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Me

This weekend, after attempting to take in a matinee of Hereditary only to have the projector fail so we had to settle for readmission tickets, my mom and I went shopping for some extra supplies for a bridal shower I’m throwing next weekend.

And, at a home decor/housewares store near the local Regal Cinemas, I found an item that made me stop dead in my tracks, turn to my mother, and say, “Holy shit, that’s me.”

So here I am, in a picture:

img_20180616_154036_8611138580990.jpg

There are multiple ways to interpret this quirky piece of Halloween decor.

Trying to project a sparkly optimism and remain calm while internally remaining at least partially dead inside. Trying to restore a glittery view of the world through calmness, introspection, and meditation. Trying to prove that you are placid and happy against expectations, but not totally convincing everyone.

Regardless, there’s a little bit of me in all of the above interpretations. I felt a kinship with this skeleton. A little bit of horror slathered in glitter – scary, but trying to be chill.

And then, after I posted a picture of this skeleton on my facebook, a friend asked where I had found it… and then she went out and bought him that same night. And there’s a lesson learned there, too.

Even when you’re a little dead inside, someone will still want to buy you. Or something like that, anyway.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Meant to Be

Last Wednesday night, shortly after 10PM, I was forced to take a detour on my way home from work due to the endless amount of construction that swarms my pocket of PA this time of year. So, I turned off of my usual route and embarked upon the back way home. I made a turn onto a dark street, and soon spotted a fuzzy lump in the middle of the road.

At first, I assumed it was roadkill. It’s unfortunate, but it happens – bunnies, squirrels, gophers, other woodland creatures attempt to make their way across the street when they meet their untimely demise beneath a tire. But, as I was maneuvering to pass over the lump without striking it, a furry little head popped up and I caught the gleam of golden eyes in my headlights.

It was a kitten, and it was alive.

Horrified, I had to turn off onto a different road and circle around in order to get back to the spot. I frantically called my mom (don’t talk on the phone and drive, folks…I’m a bad human, but I was at a stoplight and put her on speaker) and told her what I’d seen and that I was going to check it out further. Luckily, in the five minutes it took me to get back onto that stretch of road, no one else had hit the poor creature – though no one else had stopped, either. I’d hoped it would crawl away or get off the road in that time, but it was still there, curled up in the middle of the lane.

I put my blinkers on, carefully stepped out of my car, and approached the kitten. It made no sound, and it’s eyes were closed, but it was half-upright and didn’t appear to have any grave, visible wounds. So, careful as I could manage, I scooped the kitten up and carried it back to my car, and it sat on my lap the entire ride home. Halfway home, it started purring – which made me hopeful that it wasn’t grievously injured.

When I got home, my mom came out and wrapped Kitty in a towel – after determining the gender as female – and I ventured back out to grab kitten chow and a disposable litter box from the grocery store. We called the emergency vet, who informed us that they would just put Kitty down if we brought her in (especially if she was injured, but mainly because of her stray status) though the only apparent injury was an abrasion on her lip. So we resolved to keep her in a crate overnight (our adult cat was less than pleased by this) in my room and revisit the issue in the morning.

Morning came, and though Kitty was still groggy, she chowed down on kitten food and perked up quite a lot. I let her explore a bit around my room, sniffing and inspecting everything, and she eventually snuggled up on my lap to take a nap. She was so thin – when I ran my hand along her spine, I could feel each individual vertebrae, and her hip bones were protruding. After some phone calls and research, we resolved to go to the SPCA just to ask for some advice on what step to take next.

The dire nature of Kitty’s situation was revealed when we arrived, and the SPCA workers informed us that, because Kitty was so frail and possibly sick, they would likely euthanize her as well. Besides, their shelter was full because it’s kitten season, and they had no room for her. Because we couldn’t surrender Kitty without giving her a fighting chance, we kept her with us. A call to our regular vet to schedule an appointment for the next day and a stop at a local pet store yielded better results, as the manager gave us some helpful advice, a sample of wet food for free, and an abundance of well wishes.

The next day’s visit to our vet proved that Kitty was healthy, but thin – which made me doubly glad we hadn’t surrendered her anywhere that euthanizing was an option. They speculated that she had possibly been tossed from a car, due to the brush burn on her lip – which made my blood boil. The vet didn’t even charge us, because he and his wife asserted that we were doing the right thing by trying to save the poor kitten’s life. So my mom gave her a bath and I continued to let her explore my room, and her spirits seemed high. She even began to meow, though she’d been mostly silent since I’d found her, and her purring was nonstop.

After a handful of social media posts reaching out to family and friends proved fruitless, and local no-kill shelters informed us that they were already full, I began to really believe we wouldn’t find anyone to adopt Kitty, and, by default, she’d stay with us. I’ve wanted a cat to call my own for ages, and it seemed like the universe was telling me that it was time – a kitten had practically fallen into my lap. I was the one to spot the glint of her eyes in the headlights of my car, the one to scoop her up out of the road before a car could hit her, the one to buy her kitty chow and a litter box, the one to let her crawl around my room and explore and let her curl up and fall asleep on my chest, so she wouldn’t feel alone.

My friends and coworkers were convinced it was good karma in action, and I was meant to be the one to find Kitty. Though I had attempted not to grow attached to her, it was an impossible effort. She was just so adorable, and I even picked out a name for her in my head – Ripley, after one of my favorite badass female film heroes. Even my dad started growing attached to her.

Then, on Saturday, my mom called me at work, and informed me that she had pinned down a new home for Kitty – with a woman who works at a local vet’s office, and who is used to handling young kittens. And the wind was promptly sucked out of my sails. I didn’t want to let her go. I wanted her to be my cat, and I felt like she already was, even though she’d only been with me for a couple of days. She would even rub her face against mine, purring like a motorboat, and give me little kitty kisses before curling up to take a nap on my lap or chest.

And though I so, so badly wanted to tell my mom to call it off – to tell her that I was going to keep and care for Kitty on my own – I relented. Though I did make her drive Kitty to my job, so I could give her a cuddle and a kiss goodbye, and ensure that her last memory of me wouldn’t be when I’d put her back into her crate that morning.

I just couldn’t do it. I still live at home, and I’m trying to move out – potentially to a different state. I’m trying to get my second book published, and pay off student loans and my car. Not to mention that it would be very difficult to get a consistent training schedule in place for Kitty with my work schedule, and getting our adult cat, Reese, used to being around a rambunctious kitten would be a gargantuan challenge, considering Reese hates other cats and basically spent the entirety of the three days Kitty was with us hiding under my parents bed and hissing at us. My parents were okay with my keeping the kitten so long as I took full responsibility for her, and I would have done so – but since I haven’t been able to move out yet, I’d still be inflicting a curious new life (and her little claws) on their home, and their new furniture. The timing was bad – and though I know I could have eventually managed, and Kitty wouldn’t be a kitten forever, I just couldn’t do it. It wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved, including Kitty.

img_20180609_150858_2561305050343.jpgIt’s been almost a week now, and initially, I was pretty bummed out – like, “have a nice cry in the shower” kind of bummed. But I know that I did the right thing, in the end. Everything that had happened in those three whirlwind days seemed to indicate that my finding Kitty was meant to be, and I do think that’s true – but in a different way. I think I was only meant to be the in-between, Kitty’s pit stop on the road to her forever home. And I am so thankful that I was able to help her, even a small amount. And in a way, Kitty helped me realize that in order to obtain the life I want, there are steps I need to take, and her sudden appearance in my life has inspired me to start taking action instead of letting fear and doubt rule me.

Too many people adopt pets without knowing the work involved – they see a cute kitten’s face or hear a puppy’s whine and think “Aw, I want one!” instead of considering that it’s an actual life you are committing to care for. That’s how shelters fill to the brim with poor creatures who don’t deserve to be mistreated, and how pets who deserve nothing but love are left to the wilderness to fend for themselves because irresponsible owners didn’t realize the level of care involved, and that’s cruelty to the highest degree. What happened to Kitty before our paths crossed is an unknown – perhaps she was dropped from a car, abandoned by her mother, or climbed up into a car and fell down mid-drive. Whatever it was, there’s a good chance it was cruel. But in the time she was with my family and me, and thanks to all of the outside help we received – advice from friends, kindness from pet store managers, and generosity from our vet – I realized that despite acts of cruelty and hate, kindness and love can still prevail.

And someday, when the time is right, I’ll have a cat to call my own.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

The Middle

Recently, the mid-twenties doldrums have been bogging me down. I feel as though I am not where I need to be, but I lack the courage and confidence to get myself there. But those thoughts of “Get it together!” get drowned out by fear of failure and doubt in my abilities, a dark cloud consuming every spot of brightness I try and scrounge up.

But sometimes, the perfect song comes on the radio at the perfect time. This week, it was Jimmy Eat World’s anthem The Middle, which goes:

Hey, don’t write yourself off yet,
It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on.
Just try your best,
Try everything you can,
And don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away.
It just takes some time,
Little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride,
Everything, everything will be just fine,
Everything, everything will be all right…

This song came on as I was driving home after a difficult day, and I heard it three more times over the course of the week. And it just… made me feel better each time I heard it. Like being stuck in the middle isn’t the worst fate, or even something to be distraught over, because it doesn’t have to be permanent. There is a way out, a lantern to guide your path, no matter how rough or dark a road seems, and it might just take some time until everything is all right. Cliche or not, I think that message rings true.

I think, sometimes, the universe knows what we need to hear, and we need to take it to heart – especially if we hear the same message four times in one week. Or, maybe the local radio stations lack variety, because they also played “Eye of the Tiger” three times this week…or maybe, the message I was meant to receive this week is dual-layered.

It’s okay to be stuck in the middle, but you must have the eye of the tiger to stand up to the challenge of climbing out, and everything will be all right.

…Or something like that, perhaps.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Favorite Words Vol. 1

*Definitions gleaned from the Merriam-Webster online dictionary*

Lament
Definition(s): To mourn aloud; wail.
To regret strongly.
To express sorrow, mourning, or regret.
Lament is one of those words that carries a greater weight and paints a clearer picture than most of its synonyms. “Cry” sounds so weak and pathetic compared to “lament,” and “lament” is a much more layered choice, and carries multiple meanings. It’s a word you can practically hear, as it seems to indicate a greater depth of sorrow or regret with an accompanying cold you can feel deep in your bones.

Sanguine
Definition(s): Bloodred.
Consisting of or relating to blood.
Confident or optimistic.
I like this word precisely because it has two very different meanings, and when you meld them together, it makes me think of a charismatic, yet deadly predator, like a snake. The unique connotation the word carries due to those two meanings make it fun to play around with. “Sanguine” is a solid word, and whenever I see it on paper or onscreen I think, “Oooh, good one!” I can’t say I get to use it often, but whenever I do, it’s a treat!

Traipse
Definition(s): To go on foot.
Tramp or walk.
Traipse is a word that I use whenever possible because for me, it has an accompanying visual. In my personal word world, “traipse” indicates a certain lightheartedness and innocence, akin to a good frolic, so I picture someone enjoying themselves as they set off on a journey, no matter how far. It’s a creative alternative when you want something a bit more descriptive and maybe a dash more fun than a bland ol’ “walk.”

Raze
Definition(s): To erase.
To scrape, cut, or shave off.
To destroy to the ground.
Why say “destroy” when you can say “raze?” Raze sounds so utterly complete. Definite. Like a doom that there is no returning from, a ruin that will never rise from the ashes. Of all the other options, I think raze is the most powerful, and the one that implies a more permanent result. Plus, who doesn’t love a word with a good “z” in it?

Whimsical 
Definition(s): Resulting from or characterized by whim or caprice; lightly fanciful.
Subject to erratic behavior or unpredictable change.
Full of, actuated by, or exhibiting whims.
This word makes me think of magic, of dreams and wishes, of happy things and fairytales. “Whimsical” seems like such a pleasant word, that implies a free-spirited recklessness and impulsiveness that does not result in any sort of bad ending. It indicates happiness, lightness, and makes me think of fantasy-like music with a cheerful undertone. We all need a little whimsy, now and again – so this word gets used whenever I find the space to fit it in.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

 

Allergies

Friday evening, I worked until 7PM and decided to do some grocery shopping on my way home from work, so I wouldn’t have to contend with weekend crowds. I generally loathe grocery shopping, so I ensure I get in and out as soon as possible. The whole “scan it” and bag your own stuff revolution is a marvelous thing.

In total, I had about re-usable five bags full of food and a jug of milk. I wheeled my cart back to the vestibule and weighed my options. I could take the cart out to my car, or I could risk it and carry all my bags with my spindly noodle arms. I think you can discern what choice I made, because I imagine myself to be a moderately self-reliant person who can handle her own groceries. I don’t need a cart. Spoiler alert: I needed a cart.

So, I hooked two bags onto one arm, two onto the other, had the milk jug in one hand and the final bag in my other hand, and my purse over one shoulder. I was somewhat overburdened, but it was manageable. I just had to make the long trek across the parking lot as the setting sun cast an orange-gold glow over the land.

I made it across the crosswalk just fine, and then they struck. The dreaded allergies.

Pennsylvania has had a temperamental spring thus far, as we can’t seem to shake the last remnants of winter. But the last couple of days have been practically balmy compared to some. One might say that spring has sprung. I was fine all day on Friday, but as I was journeying to my car, arms laden with bags of sustenance, my eyes began to water and my nose started to run.

And this wasn’t just a couple of tears and a sniffle or two. It was a full-on assault, both nasal and optical. I also am one of those people who park their car far away from everyone else because I can’t stand the way people drive in parking lots, so my little Nissan was WAY out in the distance. I have never hated my parking habits more than in that moment.

I couldn’t back out, or slow down. My eyes grew so blurry with tears behind my glasses they started coursing down my face. My nose was running so badly I could barely breathe. My arms were weighed down with bags, milk, and my purse, and I don’t exactly give the impression that I am the pinnacle of strength. I am sure, to the strangers who witnessed this event, I looked like I was having a public breakdown on a Friday night in a grocery store parking lot with my weak, struggling arms full of bags. Quite a picture.

When I finally made it to my car, I slammed the milk down on my trunk, dug my keys out of my purse, propped my bags against the side of my car and threw open my driver’s side door and scrambled for my tissues. It took me two minutes to get myself under control, eyes red and stinging and nose stuffy, then I packed up my bags and thankfully remembered to retrieve my milk from the trunk. With a deep breath, I drove off, and made it home without another strike from the dreaded allergies.

But, while this was happening to me, my parents were at a child’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese. So, I suppose, it could always be worse.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Forking Irrational

Lots of folks have irrational fears. I have a few myself. Jewelry, car washes (I have been making strides against this one, however), mascots, and things with holes in them (not as severe as most who share this fear, thankfully).

But what about irrational anger? Or hatred? I mean, at some point in life, I’m sure almost everyone is guilty of being irrationally angry about some scenario or comment or interaction, or someone feels irrational, inexplicable hatred toward some being or item.

Me? I have an irrational hatred toward forks. Three-pronged forks, to be exact.

Three prongs simply are not enough. I must have four prongs on my forks. I’m not so anal about it that I specifically request four-pronged forks when I go to restaurants, but if it is within my power to procure a fork with four prongs as opposed to one with three, I will do so.

If I could eliminate three-pronged forks from the universe, I absolutely would, no question. I do not care about any potential detriment to etiquette their extinction would cause, three-pronged forks are an abomination and deserve to be destroyed.

Where did this irrational hatred come from? No clue. But the sight of three-pronged forks fills me with intense, fiery hatred. They are the most inferior members of the fork family, of that I will never be dissuaded. In fact, they might even be the lowliest of all utensils… or perhaps that is reserved for the spork.

And, since it’s not causing harm to anyone, I have more or less accepted the fact that, although this particular hatred is 100% forking irrational, there’s nothing wrong with it, and so I shall continue my fork hating ways undeterred.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

 

The Kitty

A poem inspired by Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Raven.”

Once upon a morning dismal, while I slumbered calm and blissful,
Dreaming of all the joyous things that make my spirits soar –
I was wrenched out from my sleep, well before the alarm clock’s beep,
As I heard the faintest cry come from behind my bedroom door,
“Not again,” I bemoaned, “Christ, it’s only half past four –
I can’t do this anymore…”

Warm blankets I did shed and heaved my body from my bed,
and braced myself to face the purring harbinger of doom.
With cold feet set upon the floor, I sighed and threw open the door,
And a slinky furry body crept at once into the room,
thus my rage began to bloom.

With her golden eyes so round, she uttered a meek and pleading sound,
And the dread fell upon me like a blanket of cold snow,
She flicked her tail against my leg as her whiny voice did beg,
“It’s too early,” I complained, and though I nudged her with my toe,
still, her meows echoed with woe.

I sighed and led her down the stairs, past the table and the chairs,
And like a queen she sprawled herself out upon the tile,
I fetched her early morning meal, and she released a happy squeal,
And thus began to gorge upon a tasty kibble pile,
Though the stuff smells rather vile…

I trudged back up to my bed, and put the warm pillow to my head,
and hoped the demon would cease to pester me until the morn,
My thoughts began to drift, and I slipped slowly into the rift,
Until I heard that telltale meow, so pitiful and so forlorn,
but piercing like a thorn.

Once again, I let her in, though it was much to my chagrin,
And she leapt upon my bed and made herself a little nest,
With a sigh I settled down, my face set firmly in a frown,
But she snuggled at my side, and I knew that though she is a pest,
kitty cuddles are the best.

~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon / Amazon UK. Paperback is also $9.99 on BN.com.

Snirt

Whether you like snow or hate it, it’s difficult to dispute that it is beautiful to watch. There is something particularly calming about looking out the window and seeing smooth, unblemished white conquering all traces of green, and flecks of cold crystal falling from the sky, covering everything in a sparkling sheen.

And it remains beautiful for about… two days. Maybe longer, depending on how much snow falls in the first place, and sometimes it’s gone overnight. But when there’s a decent chunk of snow, it can take a while to disappear.

When dreaming of snow and winter wonderlands, no one ever thinks about the later phases of it. After snow, we have snirt.

Snirt – as you can probably put together – is what happens when snow meets dirt. And it is unpleasant. It’s a gross, ugly eyesore, like heaps of cold, brown and black-stained, gravel-speckled sludge collecting on the sides of roads and places where the sun can’t quite reach, persisting long after the snow has vanished from lawns and gardens and driveways. It clings to curbs and parking lots like a disease, determined to destroy.

Snirt is that horrible in-between phase, the last pesky remnant of winter that seems to take forever to go away… and it does, eventually. The foul mountains of old snow will melt, and it will be safe to wash your car without fear of sneaky snirt attacks. Warmth will return. Spring will come. And then green grass shines through, once more.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Paperback is also $9.99 on BN.com.

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