#self-story

[mae-mei-blog1]

Plots that I prob. not continue but stick to my head #2 PLot plOt

Note: Slight mention of suicide please read at your own risk!!! Also for those that this post can reach, hope you enjoy!!!

Whispers of things bystanders only know nothing of, statement of truth that is hidden for it is not worthy of time. Gossips turned truth by the power of media. Innocent judged guilty for the wrongs they didn't do. A young girl wishing the justice that was stripped away from her, her rights crumpled, her voice unheard, is this the power of those with money? With her future taken from her, with nothing to do but watch as everything, her hard work crumble to dust. With a knife at hand, tears dripping she wishes everything will be better in the afterlife. Raising her hand as she readies to take her life, a hand stops her, demanding her presence and her will for justice. What will happen to her as she uncovers and reveals the truth of her case and the profile of those who saved her?

[sallyreaderblog]

Have some faith on fate.

I am currently reading Maybe you should talk to someone by Lori Gottlieb.I haven’t finished it yet but this story the narrator is telling has fairly made a lot of sense and could at least solve some of our issues that we face day-to-day Chapter 22 of this book says about the story or a short essay as mentioned in the book “Welcome to Holland”.see this a sneak peak and do read the book. To briefly…

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[sheadyatwork]

The Love Drugq

Love is a drug.

It makes you crave it once you've had a piece.

Most people tend to fall into this love drug, going in clueless and blindness.

But is this so bad?

Ignorance becomes a beautiful thing in this drug.

I guess having the knowledge doesn't always prove beneficial.

Some people need love, some people want love and others...either already have it or never accepted the drug into the system.

Me? I'm still waiting for the one, where ever she may be, I'll be ever.

[supaxryry]

Be still!

Be still you pitiful, little thing.  You've caused too much trouble in the past, almost ending my life and ending the light that resides in myself.  I know you are dying to just reach out and touch him, but he belongs to another hand.  I stood before him, amongst the ocean, breathing in the salty air, as the mist danced through his hair.  The moon echoed it's voice through the fog from above.  "There is no god, there is only this.  The here, and the now.", I utter myself under hushed breath.  He steps with me in the ocean, cold and baron, and forty feet away is the cold mist of the fog, glaring back at us.  If there was only the here and now, and the only thing that lay between us were the articles of clothing, then why were his eyes gazing into my soul?  Why were you beating so loud that I could hear you in my head.  I wanted to take him for all that he was, and all that he was not.  He made me smile, and I could already feel the cold creeping up my spine from the echoing horror that resonated from my chest.  Be still, you misunderstanding creature, for what you wish to touch, belongs to another's arms.  I know you ache, and long for the touch of another of your kind, but it will come in time.  you wish to run, skip, and prance for joy, but you are quickly yanked back into submission, because you must be reminded that true love is only in the books you read.  It is not a four letter lie that I seek, nor is it a four letter word of a passionate embrace.  It is simply to be choked by the ocean, and taken back to the sea of horrors from which I was born from.  "Love, hunt me down!"  Find me, and take my breath away.  "You feel like breathing." I say to him quietly, and perhaps that's all that would need to be said.

Be still, you fragile thing.

[shim-feira]

My 1stday on my new workplace

I don't how to explain mw feelings now... nervous, yes. Affraid, yea. Burdensome, maybe. Well, to be honest in this project, that will be only 2 woman. Hummm... i wish i got a good team later.. I have to improve my communication skill more... i need to concentrate.. Because this project will fly me to almost all of the provinces on my country... I need to be come a more responsible person. I need to show them that i'm okay... my first baby step into a larger environtment. More new people, new environtments, new experience, new friends, new conflict, new responsible, neq attitudw, new adaptation, new things will be happen on this journey..

So let's we say that this is the prolog of my journey that will lead to become a better person in the future..

So.... Let's staaaarrrtttt!!!!! >.</

[thereisonlymake-blog]

WHATS BeeN GOinG On?!?! 1st: Grandma Turned 90

My grandmama turned 90 a couple of weeks ago. Me, my mama, her two sisters and everybody's respective kids and partners gathered in western mass. to celebrate. and wow.

my grandma was always extremely strong, direct. encouraging. with her dementia she has softened; she is kinder than ever, constantly grateful, always smiling, shaking her head and saying things like "i cant believe it" or "youre gorgeous." it's like all of the love juice that has always been a part of her actions is now bubbling to the surface, being articulated in the only words she thinks worthwhile saying. what used to be what she did but never said, now she says. she says love. i realized that this wasnt new (i used to think that her dementia was bringing on this new uber-loving thing) when i saw all of her children gather for her birthday. her children are all, first and foremost, incredible mothers. the three sisters are strong, deep, giving, unbelievable mothers. they are fierce. they support eachother. the incredible mothering that my grandma provided has extended itself and thus increased exponentially, as the next generation has taken her love in, digested it through each personal lens, and spread it onto their own families. at the birthday i saw the magical transmutation of love and skillful mothering through the generations. it doesnt stop. it is steady fire. the more you give it, the more it grows. this is a clan, there are secrets to these skills; not discrete things you can write down, but ways, intentions, care. all hail grandmothers.

[thereisonlymake-blog]

self-story: It Didn't Wait, and Why Should It?

These days are so long I could drink a beer now and sober up with the sun still reminding me I'm metabolizing.  That backpack has held so much. It's crazy. I asked for two cups, one with ice and one without. I waited a few minutes, then switched the ice from one to the other and poured my beer into the cold empty glass. This made me feel clever, effective, and secretively excellent. Earlier I sat by a river that's been chewed out from below, tugged across itself more than once to fit different money's meanings and now it's pretty and where it is and there's a weeping willow behind enough grass that the willow looks like maybe it's dangerous. I sat there and read, remembering only between chapters and at slow parts that I'm alive and that means I don't know anything. A soft bending cord which was also a branch brushed my face, so I stopped reading but not because I remembered but because I am and that's very different. On the leaf I held between fingers loosened suddenly from pages it took me seconds to realize that the tiny beatle was giving birth. You know, birth in a patient way, the way egg-laying creatures can squeeze and push all for a life that right now is smooth, featureless, unrecognizable as "next" but might be next one day. When maybe isn't maybe worth it, it's definitely everything. I debated for 5 egg-lays if I should take a picture. I was confused because I had immediately wanted to do this; then when I decided that it was hollow and modern and therefore bad I had wanted to write about the egg-laying instead; then I decided that it was fucked up that all I could do while watching the violent honesty of egg-laying was to try to stop wanting to capture it and make it mine forever. The tiny beetle made me sad. I was reading about love and women and mothers and jealousy and murder and broken-hearts and the foreverness of certain types of sad. That beetle worked. It would barely finish one impossibly long yellow egg before its butt found a new dot of leaf to establish sticky contact with and place the next maybe life just-exactly-so. Its diligence made me sad, like here this beetle was, giving its whole life simply to its task of maintaining eternity, and it didn't hate itself or its pregnancy or its decisions. I wanted to call it love. And this one thing that loved simply was going to walk away soon; the distance would be huge. There's a sweaty palmed closeness in our human families and so my heart broke wondering if the only way to hurt was to stay and the only way to love was to leave. Now I feel safe and a little drunk at a table far from things too dangerously simple they might break my heart. It doesn't look like it to the other people here, but this is all I have. I can see my bike out the window and there is the bag for clothes, there is the bag for books. It's a funny feeling, to sit down next to a stranger at a cafe and let them see everything; the whole house piled against the table legs, the water botter is also the cup and the scarf is also the blanket. Maybe my sadness back at the tree came because of its easy potential for home; that could be it, my water bottle resting just so in the roots and everything already there so why do I keep leaving? I bought a beer so I could make it make sense. This public life means that dropping 3 bucks makes me feel normal. Yeah, I'm a customer; I'm not sitting here for hours because it's inside and quiet and almost like a private sort of space and cause there is no other private space for me to go, this is as close as it gets. I wonder if the bags give me away, but I'm white and young and have a camera and they didn't even card me cause they already trusted me. Back when I was at the willow I took out my camera, and by the time the lens had focused the tiny beetle had crawled completely out of the frame.

everything that existed at the moment of writing this.