Blood Is Beautiful

I know you all think I am a little emo wannabe... But I don't care...

I love the way blood looks against pale skin. And I think nose bleeds look interesting.

I have only had a few myself, but I let the blood pore away with no attempt to staunch it. Until my mouth and chin and neck were covered.

Fuck Happy

Yes. Fuck happiness. Because you know what happiness does for a writer? Do you know what the absence of emotion does?

It kills your writing.

Writers (at least this little writer right here) feed off of emotion, brooding dark and deep, allowing all of their pain and hurt to spill out into their stories, making them more real and tangible.

But lately, I have been... content? Yikes... Its such a strange damn feeling...

And I have noticed my typing and penciling dwindling a bit.

So quick, someone hurt me, cause me pain!

Fuck the happiness and contentment!!!

Goosebumps and Laughter

It was this past Saturday. My family gets together once or twice a month for food and fellowship, and this time to celebrate Mother's Day. My papa passed away almost a year ago now, and it is getting easier to gather our family (minus one), but it will never be the same. And we will always be minus one (then minus 2, 3, 4, and so on. It is the nature of the beast).

I am not one to enjoy being in other people's company for long periods of time. I can for some extended moments... but at the start of the second hour, I was ready for a break.

I walked around outside in the woods behind my aunt's house, then I went to the upstairs office to work on my writing.

In that upstairs room, you can hear everything in all parts of the house, so I was very aware of the goings on of my family under my feet. After two hours of computer time (yes, our family gatherings have been known to last all day) and many muffled questions of "Where is Mandy?", I decided to trod downstairs, maybe for a game of cards.

Then I heard something that stopped me in my tracks.

I heard my papa's laugh.

I honestly could not move. For a split second I could see him with my family downstairs, but then the cold realization of his death came back to me. The hair on my neck and arms was on end. I wasn't even breathing, listening for it again.

My papa had a VERY unique laugh. And voice in general. It was deep and booming. No one else in my family has that sound. I've known these people for 24.5 years, I have their nuances memorized.

I wasn't even aware what I was doing until I was all the way downstairs and sat on the floor in the middle of the living room. Everyone was looking at me strangely.

"Mandy, why are you crying?"

Lookin' Out My Back Door

Going home to see my parents is hard for me. We do not always get along or bring out the best in each other. There have been times when either I or they have left in tears, anger, or hate, wanting nothing more than to see the other person NEVER again. How short never is sometimes.

They are family. We are family. And somehow we always manage to make up and still love each other dearly. Even though they heavily disagree with some of my life choices, and make no small reproach about pointing that fact out to me.

I am at the old homestead this weekend. The house I was brought home to right after my delivery. The house I said my first words in, learned to walk in, met my family in. It holds many many memories of loved ones hear and loved ones past.

Walking down the hallway is enough to make me reminisce.

We got off to a bad start Friday morning, at my arrival. It was not pretty. In fact it was quite ugly. Instead of leaving, I went to my room, opened the window, and fell asleep.

A light rain came by while I was sleeping, the smell of dampness waking me up.

This is what I saw...

Waking up to see this peaceful scene, I did my best to put aside the fight from earlier. I walked out to the living room, pretending it had never happened, and they all did the same.

So far, this weekend has been better than all of my other home visits combined. I would like to keep it that way.

Happy Mother's Day, mom...

Waterfall On Roadside

I think I missed my calling in life.

I'm going to be a water nymph from now on.

Specializing in roadside waterfalls and moss covered rocks.

That is all.