There’s not enough time


I sit still in my bedroom in front of a dusty keyboard, as my brain begins its daily internal ping-pong match with the same single thought.  The same thought just bouncing back and forth as it always tends to do, until I rest my mind and fall asleep. When I awake, it returns and follows the same pattern as it did the day before.  The thought that has forever haunted me is that of “I don’t have enough time.” I allow that simple sentence to deter me from getting the things I need to done. I know I need to write more, I know I need to sit down in front of this dusty keyboard, and email newspapers about a possible job, I know it would be nice to hear my aging grandmother’s voice through the speaker of my IPhone, but I seldom follow through with these actions, and chalk it up to “I don’t have enough time.” Today I fought back. I allowed my mind to embrace another idea other than that of not having enough time, and in doing this I fought off procrastination, and wrote the words you are reading. You see its not that I don’t have enough time, or there’s not enough hours in the day. The truth of the matter is, sometimes we as people lack the passion to get all the things we need to get done in a day, and we utter the words “I didn’t have enough time.” to help us sleep better at night. However unconsciously and sometimes subconsciously we know that twenty-four hours is enough time, to write down your thoughts, email that possible job, pick up that phone to call your grandmother, study for that econ test, tell someone you love them, and talk to your god. Twenty-Four hours is absolutely more than enough time to get everything we need, and even want done if only we gain one P word and lose the other.  Gain passion. Lose procrastination.



As a reader I want to ask that you gain passion for life, for the things you need to do to get you ahead, and I have no doubt that It will be time well spent.



Double Standards

Double Standard Living


“Hi do you mind hearing me out for a second?” How many times have we heard this and instantly tensed up, while immediately and frantically searching your brain for an exit strategy?”   Now I will be the first one to admit I am guilty of doing this, and have done so just the other day. In my admittance I also have to shamefully reflect on how many times as a writer, I have pushed for someone to read my blog, or a chapter in my novel. I have gone out and tweeted the link to this blog so many times that I should not have fingers to type as I do in this moment. I tweeted it with hope though. In hope that whoever is behind that computer screen is not just ignoring it, but actually clicking, and going on to explore the world that is my thoughts. However I have to take a step back today, and ask myself, how dare I ask for this , when I wouldn’t do it for somebody else?

This situation is an example of double standard living in society.  A topic that has come and fleeted across my mind for many years, but had not manifested into words of my own until now.  We live in a world where we say, and we tweet “What goes around comes around.” “Do onto others as you would want done onto you.” “Lead by example.”  But that’s where it stops. We say it, we tweet it, but we seldom live by it.  Even with this knowledge at the forefront of our consciousness, we still will give fuel to the problem, and we still will not change. This leads me to wonder is it human nature to be this way?  Is it in our genetic make up to tell our significant other   that they can’t have a friend of the opposite sex, but we can? Are we as parents allowed to tell our children to not smoke marijuana, but we can? And finally am I as an aspiring writer allowed to sell my dream to others but not buy theirs?


I know I cant change the world, and I have not yet scratched the surface of this topic, and in all honesty will probably write many more post about it.


However, I write this with a dream and a prayer that as a reader you will think twice in your decisions, think twice in your accusations, and think twice in your rules.


Don’t just say it, Don’t just tweet it, Live it.





“The Thinker” In me

A short conversation with another writer



The “Thinker” in me as I call it never gives me the pleasure of ever having a simple conversation.  I tend to find myself thinking about the most meaningless of my exchange of words between another and I; minutes, and in all honesty sometimes hours after they have ceased.  I do not have a true reasoning behind why I do this, the best I have to offer is it being the “Thinker” in me, and I am completely content with that being the only excuse.

This evening I found myself in a familiar situation dissecting a two-email exchange of thoughts on why we write between me and another writer. He told  me he did not write for himself, but to make the world a better place. A kinder place, a more loving place. He told me how he hopes his thoughts don’t go unread, because he writes them in hopes that they are read, and in the aftermath inspire change. After reading his reasons, for the first time —Though I think I always knew—I admitted why I write to myself, as I begin to type my reply to him.

I realize I write in hopes that my words, and sentences are going to be read one day, but I also write because I clearly have to. I have no idea what the result would be if  I decided to keep twenty years of: dreams, memories, thoughts, and imagination all piled up in the tiny space I call my head. I assume the result would be pure madness, and I am glad to have avoided that with falling in love with blank documents, and the alphabet.  I also realized, and said Though I want my readers to walk away inspired, I also want a reader to feel sorrow, pain, love, joy, regret, forgiveness, etc.. I simply want my readers to feel.  Tingle when you read my words, cry when you hear my stories, laugh at my mistakes. No matter what my words are doing, I can feel accomplished so long as they are making the world feel.






March 13th 2009


Where do I begin? Anybody who knows me remotely well had to gather or at least consider that this was coming. In my mind I picture a group of my closest friends glancing at the calendar and coming to the realization that I could not let the three-year anniversary of such a momentous day in my life go by without putting bewitching, and wondrous words on a blank white document reflecting on the start of my time spent with a girl whom I will never forget. In reality I could be the only one glancing at the calendar, and delving deep into a situation that seems to be long forgotten by all but me, but it brings a smile to my face during my wishful thinking that I am not the only one who still remembers.


How could I forget though? That on this day three years ago I asked out –As it stands now—The love of my life.  I was a junior in high school, and I had been talking to the girl for about two months. It could be said that the public opinion was that we were already together, but that was not enough for her, and rightfully so.  She wanted that icing on the cake as they say, so eventually in a moment that I will never forget; I found myself on one knee on a Friday morning in a Kroger wine isle uttering the question “Will you be my girlfriend.” I know what you’re thinking, and the answer is yes. I am indeed the most romantic human being to walk the earth; Kroger is just so dreamy right? On a serious note, and with all sincerity, it didn’t matter to me where I was, or how I did it. I will forever remember that moment in my life because of the girl that was smiling in front of me saying, “Yes.”


The two years of events that followed that Kroger wine isle would go on to shape and change my life.  Those two years were every inch of wonderful, and so much better than your favorite romance novel, or movie. They were filled with laughs, and many kisses. There was so much pleasure. There was so much unconditonal, unrestrained true love.

Those two years were so unhealthy, and  by times end so much negative energy  had been exerted. There was so many nights spent crying, and so much pain.

Those two years are molded into a life force that drives me today.


Today I sit here having not talked to this girl in over a year, yet still feeling the exact same way I felt three years ago in that wine isle.  Ironically my feelings have only gotten better and stronger with time, as they say wine does.  I know what we had was not perfect, it could to be said to not have been very good at all by the both of us if asked, but that does not make it none the less real. Unhealthy or not we loved each other, and always will.  The other day as me and a friend discussed the topic of the impending anniversary she asked “She is so different now, you guys are both so different, what if you didn’t like the new her?” I pondered for a bit, but the answer seemed to be so clear. “There is no doubt in my mind I would love whoever she’s become. I would love her in any form. I just know it.”  I know I love her, and always will, but I also love her enough to never begin to discover if my statement holds truth, and let her continue to be happy with her new life.


On this day, However, I will always allow myself to fall in love all over again.  I am allowed to relive the picnic in the park, or the cheese dip fight in the kitchen. I willingly dive into the ocean of our memories, and mentally drown myself in the happy ones.



I completely accept everything, and I have surpassed every post break up stage in the book, but on this day let me pray my words can reach back to my past, and tell that smiling girl in the wine isle once more.  “I love you widdlebaby,sunshine, sweetheart,bb, baby,recklessdriver,brendabarrett and always will.”


As a reader let me leave you with a short poem I wrote in my reminiscent thought process.


Sometimes we love and lose

Sometimes we love and abuse

We never know what we have until its gone

And we never realize our wrongs until its taken to long.



A Short Story i wrote for my little cousin to face her fear of the boogey man.

Once upon a time in a densely inhabited town called Nostrillville. There lived a man named Hank who had a nose. Most men who are lucky, and healthy are born with a nose; I am aware of this, but Hank owned no common nose.  What was so extraordinary about this mans nose was the extremely large size of it. To put it in better perspective it was bigger than most two-story homes.  Everywhere Hank went, destruction followed his path like a shadow.  He unintentionally knocked over cars, people, trees, and even tall buildings. It was very hectic. What people in the town of Nostrillville hated most though were the BOOGERS. Needless to say they were gigantic, and also very frequent.  “Booger Droppings” (as the town people called it) would happen at least ten times a day. If you were unlucky enough to be around when they happened, you’d be said to have looked like you had been slimed at the kid choice awards. Hank always felt very sorry, and embarrassed whenever they happened, and did his best to help clean up the aftermath. However eventually the town’s people decided enough was enough, and took actions into their own hands.  They had Hank exiled forever and permanently from the town.  Many years later.. It is said that he came back to drop boogers on all the  mean and bad decedents of those town people who abandoned him. They also say that he dropped the name hank, and now simply goes by the name.. The Boogey Man.

And that’s the story of the boogey man, now all you have to be worried about is a few nasty boogers, but if your a good girl you dont even have to worry about it 🙂

A Simple Poem

Speak to you

Hurt, Pain, Sorrow, and Regret forever haunts my tone.

Compliments frequent my ears; Familiar faces surround my presence yet I feel so alone.

I miss you,

But no facts seems to be more true than that I can not pick up my phone.

I can not dial up your number and tell you how the will never ever be another.

Sometimes I think to myself If I did would it be crazy, or two old lovers reconnecting with each other?

Sadly but truly that answer I fear I will never begin to discover.

Because no facts seems to be more true

Than the fact that I can never ever reach out to speak to you.

I will forever be deprived of telling you how you are truly one of a kind

Or about my childhood like fantasies of wishing I owned time.

Because if I did I know would forever live the days when you was mine.

Physically of course, because mentally I am forced to already live them

You see because they have never left my mind.

Tears tickle my eye lids and eventually my cheeks as I write this line after line after line.

Because Though I don’t know why

In my mind a truer fact would be hard to find

Than the fact that I could never ever reach out to speak to you.

Vie Hebdomadaires

A little something I wanted to share…I had written this many years ago.

The burnt cigarette stub
Public spaces to drown out
The awkward silences
Meaningless banter
And cursory glances

Why does it always have to boil down to love, she asks
Isn’t platonic enough?
Why the painstaking flirting
The tension hanging in the air
Why the need to loop it to something

Why the need to define it
Love is where the heart is baby
And this ain’t it yet
Follow my heart

She’s a Gemini
One side wanting to roam the world
Free kindred spirits beckon her
Promising far-off lands
And never-before-seen adventures
The other half pines for home and hearth
The bliss of a fairytale

Why complicate it darling, she says
It’s perfect as it is
Frivolous? No, but serious it ain’t
She can’t love him unless she has him to blame

So, all her secrets locked…

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