I left part 2

I left the first time my father verbally abused me.

I still leave to this day.  Better to cry and get the pain out then to wind up to now in the fucking looney bin again.   My dad will give voice to things I cannot,  because I am the "crazy one".  I am not a 35 year old woman who can think for herself.  

In Gilead I am a handmaid desperate for the little freedoms of life. 

Everyone who meets my daughter says she looks like me.  It is the first thing they say.  My daughter is 11 and gaining a figure. 

Don't be surprised if you ever see me in the papers over some pervert who looked at my daughter the wrong way.   I have an ocean of patience. But not when it comes to someone violating my daughter.

Something I've been working on

I've been working on a story that is inspired by Anne Boleyn and the book Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman.  This is some of the beginning of what I have so far.   It's just a rough draft so it won't be very perfect.  I've had a rather a block about it lately because I don't know what direction I want it to go.  I'm going to spend time this summer working on a different direction and see how it goes.  I'll keep you updated.

I had a lot of typos I had to fix just today.  I'm rusty with the process of editing.


 There are events that happen in every woman's life that are entirely due to the people Providence Forces them to meet.  The first and most prominent verb any woman ever learns is "Force".  It is learned before the new life even has the ability to speak.  Their mother Forces them out of their womb, their first breath of air is caught, and their world is forever changed.  Their world, my world, my gaze, encompasses Force, both as steady and as dependable as the orbit of the Earth I watch day in and day out from my own little perch in Heaven.  Orbiting, the lunar cycle, the push and pull of the tide, the magnetism that saturates inside and outside our brief Earthly forms live for this one word called "Force". 

A Room of One's Own

I haven't been keeping up with my paper journal.  I have done some writing the past year but I wound up losing most of my work since it was on my old laptop that crapped out.  I have most of it backed up, but since then I haven't worked on it at all.   I haven't done much writing of any significance in 2016.  I've been reading a lot and hanging out on twitch and laying low.

Right now I'm reading the diaries of Virginia Woolf.  I am realizing that we have a few things in common, our battle with mental illness being the main one.  I don't have suicidal tendencies, but we both have had nervous breakdowns due to the trauma we have endured in our lives.  Considering what mental health services were like during World War I and just the little information on mental illness in general, let alone in women, added with her having been a child in the Victorian period, I'm sure she had it much worse than I.

I suppose in this house it is very hard to feel like I really have a room of my own if I am to write.  I am rarely alone even when I am in my own room.  That is one of the hardest things to deal with from day to day.

Related articles

• The Years by Virginia Woolf
• Top 10 Tips for Writers: Virginia Woolf
• I might be a narcissist if
• Ralph Freedman, literary theorist and 'genuine mentor,' dies at 96
• What is it about a lighthouse?

Books on Writing

To Be

To be a successful as a blogger who has chosen the "personal journal" category to write under, I can't hold back.  When it comes to the internet, I don't owe anyone my social life, but to be a great writer is more than being a great reader.  It is being able to take great risks.  I risk unintentionally hurting the feelings of others or embarrassing people I care about.  I have so much I want to share with the world but I don't want to hurt anyone.

I suppose if I change names to protect the privacy of certain people who I literally cannot write about because if their boss or co-worker could sniff around the Google machine and the last thing I want is someone losing their job over some unsavory, off-the-cuff observations or anecdotes of mine.

I've been wanting to turn my journals into a book ever since I started writing a diary when I was first grade.  Even my father said I should do it (with discretion, of course).  I have so much to tell.  Years and years of trying so hard to find out exactly who I am.  It's raw.  That's the best way I can describe my journals.  Raw.  Especially after I fell in love with Anais Nin.  Should I create an expurgated version of my life and wait until certain "characters" have left this world in order to publish the full truth?   If my family cannot take what I have written, I suppose I should warn them not to read it.  There is a lot that has been held back from them.  Maybe the truth will set me free and the burden of my past will be lifted.

I have been deliberating this for long enough.

Semi-autobiographical.  I believe this is my best bet.  Lord knows I am good with making up characters on the internet.

I feel good about this decision.

Old diaries

I've decided to start posting old diary entries to my Hubpages account. I am not sure how much I'll be writing on other sites, such as Helium.com or other websites.
The more I post there the more followers and exposure I'll get.

This blog is mostly a way for my loved ones and acquaintances to keep in touch with me and to post things I know will make them laugh or think; I'm not going to use it for much creative writing.

Lifeline

I have lost count of the men I have met where I accepted the "genius-banker", the computer expert, the sexy bartender, the doe-eyed movie usher, the awkward store clerk as the reality, and the artist in any of them a very vague possibility. Even if they managed to play an instrument, were in a band, wrote poetry or essay
I have written my entire life, I have had a singing voice that comes naturally to me, I have read countless books, I have dabbled into jewelry making and sketching, yet I do not consider myself an artist. I have art in my bloodlines, and I would have loved to have inherited my paternal grandfather's ability to sit and sketch anyone, anything, at any time. I am sure if I bothered to take art classes, I could be slightly above average with my charcoal drawings, but it was never something I really decided to take seriously.

Writing has never been my art form, but more of a lifeline. It is something that I would continue even if I never have had anything published. If the internet never existed, I would still have the wonderful world of zines and zine distros.

Tips for Parenting Writers

I can say personally this article helped a lot, and it is written by one of my favorite authors, Janet Fitch, which is a huge bonus for me:

click here to read more

Lulu.com scam

"Lulu.com has much controversy buzzing on the forums. They have not been paying us royalties on sales even though the number of sales are listed on our creator's revenue."

click here to read more

Thank you to "SNM Horror Magazine's Blog" for providing this info. It is instances like this that make me really glad I'm a zinester.