Sometimes I feel like a tourist in my own mind. I don’t always like what I’m seeing or hearing but I have to remind myself that I volunteered to come here.

Sometimes I feel like a tourist in my own body. It feels familiar yet unf61166-short-quotes-about-lifeamiliar at the same time. Like the people on the streets or the lights overhead.

I don’t want to feel like a tourist in my own life. I came here for a reason and there’s no going back. I’ve gotten where I am because I worked for it. Because I wanted it. I’m not just spending a few days or a week or a fortnight in this life. I’m here for the long haul. For every challenge and every experience. This life is mine and mine alone.

And what I take from this life won’t just be souvenirs left to gather dust on a shelf.

The Reason

I create

I create to open doors and windows and minds.

I create to satiate the need inside of me.

I create…

I create in order to love, to discover, to climb.

I create to find a way through the darkness, to be reminded of the light.

I create a “me” that I see and a “me” that you see.

I’m creating me.

Closeted Fear

In response to the Daily Post’s prompt “Closet”

When I was a kid I was afraid of my closet. The same way I was afraid to go to sleep with my door closed or the hallway light off.

In fact, when it came to sleeping, there were a lot of things I was afraid of.

I remember once in elementary school, we were having a Read-In. You know, one of those Midwest things where kids brought their sleeping bags to school and we would basically spend the entire day inside them while the teacher read us stories.

One of the stories that our teacher read to us was about a young girl whose bedroom window faced the cemetery outside. As I recall, as the girl slept, a demon or a ghost of some kind climbed in through her window. I don’t remember how the story ended exactly but I remember being terrified. So much so, that I still remember the story some 15 years later. (This also gave me a fear of cemeteries for a while)

So I was afraid of my windows. I would refuse to have my bed near the window for fear of something coming in through it to get me. I was afraid of my closet and would make sure that it was closed before I climbed into bed. I was afraid of sleeping with my door closed or with the hallway light off. It made me feel better to know that my parents were up and that they were the source of the soft noises as I feel asleep. I wanted to be able to see them going about their evenings. Knowing that with them there, I was safe.

Now, I can’t sleep with my door open. I have to have all the lights off, including the hallway or kitchen light to even entertain the idea of sleep. The closet can be open. In fact, it’s always open. I don’t even think I’ve shut it once.

I still have a slight issue with the window though. However, being on the 5th floor of my apartment building, it doesn’t seem to matter as much. But when I go back home to visit my parents, I sometimes think about unsavory possibilities that lurk outside the window of our ranch style home.

When I was a kid, I was afraid of a lot of things. Things that would seep into my dreams or prevent sleep altogether. I’d like to say that I’m no longer afraid. But I guess I’m just afraid of different things now. But maybe that’s okay.

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light. I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.

The Fight is Done, The War is Won…

Sometimes we must fight in order to be free…

I thought about trying to write something that would be just as powerful as the 30 Seconds to Mars song, “This is War”, but then I realized that the most powerful thing to be said is the song itself.

The connection I feel to this song, and the band itself, is a strong one. It’s one that I developed over the last few years and one that I feel to be unbreakable. This song, and the entire self-titled album, was written under the constrained circumstances of a $30,000,000 lawsuit with the record label EMI.

And although the band had to go through every possible roadblock to get the deal that they deserved, they were still able to make this incredible album and overcome everything that was holding them back. They made this album without a record label to their name and it turned out beautifully. They weren’t about to give up the fight for something that they wholeheartedly believed in.

So without further ado, This is War.

A warning to the people. The good and the evil. This is war. To the soldier, the civilian, the martyr, the victim. This is war. It’s the moment of truth and the moment to lie. It’s the moment to live and the moment to die. It’s the moment to fight. The moment to fight. To fight, to fight, to fight!

To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world from the last to the first. To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world. It’s a brave new world! 

A warning to the prophet, the liar, the honest. This is war. To the leader, the pariah, the victor, the messiah. This is war. It’s the moment of truth and the moment to lie. And the moment to live and the moment to die. It’s the moment to fight. The moment to fight. To fight, to fight, to fight!

To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world from the last to the first. To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world. It’s a brave new world. It’s a brave new world!

I do believe in the light. Raise your hands into the sky. The fight is done, the war is won. Lift your hands toward the sun. Toward the sun. Toward the sun. Toward the sun. The war is won. 

To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world form the last to the first. To the right, to the left. We will fight to the death. To the edge of the earth. It’s a brave new world. It’s a brave new world. It’s a brave new world. 

A brave new world. The war is won. The war is won. A brave new world. 

To learn about the lawsuit with EMI, check out the band’s award-winning documentary, Artifact (2012), directed by Jared Leto, currently streaming on Netflix. It not only follows the band as they record their album, This is War (2009), but it exposes the harsh truths about the music business and shows that sometimes, the only thing you can do is fight.


Key Takeaway

Give your newer sisters and brothers-in-WordPress one piece of advice based on your experiences blogging.

The best advice I can think is one that I had to tell myself for a long time. It’s one that I sometimes still have a hard time accepting.

Don’t pressure yourself into writing just because you feel like you have to write. 

With a blog, it can feel like you should have new posts all the time. Something fresh and clean that your readers are excited to read about. However, if you don’t have anything to write about, then your writing won’t feel authentic to you.

Don’t write because you feel pressured into it. Write when you have something to say. It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be something that you deem important. If it’s important to you, it will feel important to your readers.

There are many times when I go a while without writing. And in that time, I feel like I should be writing all the time. And yet, I don’t have anything to write. I get writers block quite often and when that happens, my blog is filled with tons of drafts that never get published.

In fact, I’ve only published two posts in almost a month. And that’s okay. Or so I have to keep telling myself.

I found that the best thing I can do is find something that inspires me to write in any way possible. Even if it’s just two sentences or two words. And sometimes you just need a little…prompting. A little something to get your juices flowing.

But at the end of the day, don’t feel the pressure from others, your blog or yourself to write. When you have something to say, it will flow lovingly from your fingertips.

But until then, take the time to find your inspiration.

Robert Parr is Dead

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Dog Named Bob.”


Robert Parr is dead.

But the mailman doesn’t know this. Neither do the letter senders, the former of which continue to pile up inside the mailbox. After all, the mail never stops. Not even for the rain. The mailbox is old and rusted by now. The hUnknownand painted blue jay no longer visible, except for a small sliver of the tail. It’s no longer completely waterproof. The hints of rain droplets falling through the cracks and onto the hand written letters. The ink in several letters has begun to run. Staining the congregated pile with red, blue and black tears. The most recent letter has yet to be damaged. Its contents are written in blue crayon. It’s a painstakingly personal drawing of a large plate piled high with pancakes. The syrup running down the sides of the stack and onto the plate. The thought bubble above the stack asks how Bob likes his new chew toy.

The letter is signed “Carolyn Parr, 5 years old”.

This Shattered World

Another response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”

I can feel myself losing sight of a long forgotten dream. The child in minds eye is no longer one of grace and innocent being. The world has fallen into chaos, spinning off of its axis; tossing our lives every which way. We’ve lost control. Our fingers grasping at nothing but straws and thinner than thin air. We’ve come undone. We can no longer describe ourselves as irrevocably unbroken. Our hearts are falling to our feet;  in fleeting after fleeting piece. We are slipping between the earth torn cracks; fissuring on the glass of this already shattered world.


I am splintering into myself. Out of myself. Away from myself.

“Show me your soul,” the darkness begs. The shadows loom up behind me, threatening, promising to fully and completely consume me. At the very last second, it ebbs away like the moon possessed ocean, receding towards the edge of this world.

Wading through the broken hearts and war-torn souls, through the tear stained eyes and pitfall stomachs, we find ourselves, not in a ocean of despair, but on an island of vengeful hope.


The dreams come to me not behind closes eyelids but through pupils exposed to effervescent light and pitch worthy, violent white noise. I find myself exposed to the thoughts but not feelings of others and wonder just what lies beneath the surface. Despair, diligence and disgrace.

I imagine that this place in time is in an ever spinning standstill. The surrounding world one of colorful black and white. I wish for things my heart cannot see. The feeling is there but never fully formed.


-You can find my first response to this writing prompt here

Never Gonna Give You Up

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “The Satisfaction of a List.”

In case anyone was unaware, I watch a lot of television. In this television year alone– Summer ’14 through Summer ’15–I watched/am watching around 40 television shows. That’s not even an exaggeration. Want proof?

In order to keep track of all of these shows and what days they air, I’m constantly making lists with the hope that my brain won’t implode from all the different plots and character arcs.

So here’s just a bunch of lists in regards to the television that is so dear to my heart.

5 shows that have utterly rearranged me:

  1. Hannibal
  2. Orphan Black
  3. Peaky Blinders
  4. The Walking Dead
  5. The Flash

4 Shows whose past seasons have made me say: “Over It”:

  1. Scandal
  2. Pretty Little Liars
  3. Marvel’s Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D
  4. The Mindy Project

3 Summer shows that make me jump up and down in anticipation for:

  1. Hannibal
  2. Teen Wolf
  3. Halt & Catch Fire

2 shows that piss me off (and not in a good way):

  1. Pretty Little Liars
  2. Scandal

1 show that keeps me going when the days are most dark:

  1. Parks and Recreation

Reminisce With Me

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Weaving the Threads.”

Shay wasn’t the sentimental type. Wasn’t one for keeping things for years in shoe boxes collecting dust in the closet. Wasn’t keen on writing things down to remember for years to come. As someone who was very familiar with disappointment, there was never quite a good enough reason to want to keep the outside world fresh in mind. But when coming across an abandoned bookmark outside of a beloved bookshop, things changed. Covered in tiny uni-bomber hand writing, quotes spilled over the edges of the bookmark. Quotes from pages taken from well-known artist and authors, this bookmark gave Shay a new lease on life. Setting a reminder for the reasons why this bookshop was constantly visited. Why there was never enough space on the shelves in the bedroom or living room. Why a backpack or bag was never complete without pages full of laughter, tears, long sought dreams and unbearable heartache. It represented the moment when Shay not only wanted to remember the place inside a book, to remember the world recently jumped out of, but instead to remember every single thing, inside and out.


We shared a lot of things, you and I. We shared clothes and boyfriends and grudges. We shared heartache and happiness and complete utter breakdowns. We shared tissues stained with tears and boxes bought from Girl Scouts. We shared a hard day’s night and sleeping like logs. We were each other’s shrink and each other’s crying shoulder. We were each other’s best friend and each other’s worst enemy. We trusted each other’s flakiness and begrudged each other’s punctuality. This world through your eyes, was the world through mine. Your feeling of the earth, the sky, the grandeur, were also my feelings. We shared the light bright corners and the deep dark crevices. We shared a childhood, you and I. We shared pigtails and food experiments. Scrapped knees and chalk stained clothes. We shared a world on the horizon and infinite possibilities. But there’s one thing that we can no longer share.

The shadowed memory of your heart beating in unison with mine.


You came to me in a dream. A dream of madness and magic and sinful bliss. The light emanating from your body eclipsing all around you and casting it in darkness. I wondered what your presence meant, following me, leading me through this dream space. The spectacle of you was almost too much to bare. I imagined what you would be like in the real world. If you could even exist outside of this wandering plane. If space and time could have only conjured you up. You spoke to me with a roaring voice. One of peace, brightness and understanding. My mind wandered far away. Not wanting to have to truly accept your greatness. Coming towards you, I found that I could only reach so far. You hovered above me, glowing in the light of the skies shooting upward. The ground beneath my feet falling out from under me. You lifted me up and I stood beside you. I feared the falling and ending of this dream. You spoke to me not of endings but beginnings. And when I opened my eyes and the real world once again revealed itself, I realized that you would soon become nothing but a distant memory.

An Offer I Couldn’t Refuse

We’re only as insignificant as we let ourselves be.

I found that what was being offered was not something I could pass up. I had to act quickly. Otherwise this opportunity would slip through my fingers and be lost forever. I’d never come this close to having what I wanted before. I used to think that I could just sit back and wait for something great to happen. But I’ve come to realize that I can’t do that. Fate is just an excuse people use for not making things happen. I was going to make things happen for me. Finally. I wasn’t going to let this one chance silently float away, leaving me with nothing but regret. Regret is no friend of mine, nor should it be yours. I’m going to take my life into my own hands and do what I want with my time here. In reality, this offer seems almost too good to be true. As if it came up from a long sought after dream. But even if I’m dreaming, my wants have not changed. They will continue to remain the same in my dreams and my waking hours. I will take this opportunity by the hand and run off into the sunset. I will create my own happy beginning.

So what is this offer that I simply couldn’t refuse, you might ask? Well, I’ll tell you.

Why yes, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you Mr. Hiddleston. Thank you for asking.