A dear friend once told me to write no matter what I do just write. Take five mins to write down any thoughts, ideas or feelings. I should make a promise to do this everyday. What happens is that word or sentence turns into a paragraph and that paragraph turns into a blog post. This is the process of a blogger.
Thank you Paulie for the sound advice, you are a truly great friend & a champion I am honored to have in my corner.
I say this because as of late I have been uninspired to do something I love to do “write”. Writing is my passion. I love to see the thought process behind the madness. Taking one single idea turning it over to my imagination creating a world on a blank canvas that didn’t exist before. I used to write clever, engaging blogs, reviews about reality TV stars, the episodes they appear in, TV interviews and personal appearances.
Today feature blog comes from on of the most intriguing person I know Catherine Mellen. Catherine’s story is one of victory because when you read her blogs (written as if you’re reading a book “cliff-hanger”) you realize she’s a brave soul. Her story of survival is remarkable and what I love and admire most about Catherine journey is that she doesn’t allow her circumstances define her as a person.
The power of Red fills my head with hatred and dread. Unlike the color of azul a Noble blue that binds the soul with peace. It’s not Red’s fault, she’s always been this way. Red is trying not to be so negative, so envy of her friend Noble Blue. According to plan, Red path is sealed with a kiss. Alone in her convictions, Red stands alone on the banks of Crossroads Benny beach waiting for a chance to make a new path to enlightenment. Off in the distant bobbing in the water, bottle but not any bottle. This bottle came a long way containing a message from an old friend. This friend message reads; “Hear these words, Red you’re not as hateful or dreadful. Even the coldest of hearts can be undone. Through these inspirational thoughts of love, compassion, empathy and respect can be represented in the hearts of the cold. It’s never too late for change and growth.”
Today I am feeling lower than I can possibly go. It’s shows. My emotions are compromised and my strength my armor is slowly being chipped away. With every frown or crossed stare I get from the powers to be, a crack appears on my armor. If I stay here in this space, I fear there won’t be anything left. It’s like that situation where you’re in a crowded room enjoying the scene then that evil force walks in sucking all the air and life out that’s how the current work space is. Here it’s quite clear we all play by a different set of rules. I should know this by now. Naivety I hoped things would get better but with each inopportune moment is a slap in the face. Yes they talk a good game but the truth is there’s no room for growth well if you are me in my position. With all my experience the only thing I am good for is to sit here answering the few calls that comes through.
Today I need you to be quiet. Very quiet, in fact I need you to be very quiet that you can hear the sound of my heart beating. Thump, thump can you hear it? Racing so fast you can hear a musical patterning emerge. My heart beats like this in anticipation of what I am about to say. Shhh, can you hear that? It’s the ringing in my ear. Nervously my reaction to the thumping my heart beat is causing because what I have to say is so simple but true and that is I LOVE YOU!
Driving down this road hatred fills my eyes. Seeing red, I can feel the flames burning inside. Waiting for that one slip up to release the beast that dances within. Cool as the morning dew sweetly fills the air, still can’t stop this living hell I am in. The more I drive down this dangerous road the more I feel alive and ready to fight. Lying in wait, to pull the pin to explode. Looking in the rear view mirror I see the road I left behind. Plenty of rocks left in my wake to over take that turn. It’s all in the past now as I look forward still reeling with this anger. Coming to the stop light blinker on left turn, then another left turn pulling into the drive of the fortress of destitute, realizing another nightmarish hell. Seeing that brick wall I’m about to come crashing into just accepting this is my fate.
Uncontrollable thoughts I have many of them. I’m a manic-depressive, what do you expect. These thoughts seem to come out of nowhere causing great distress. I find myself at the of the pen staring at pages of lists I created out of nowhere and for no apparent reasons. It’s quite stressful trying to organize my chaotic thoughts. My pattern is always the same which I found to be strangely ironic. I will start an idea write it down spend time on it then lose interest. When I go back I feel there’s nothing to go back too just a bunch of blah, blah. Sometimes I can’t keep things straight. I feel like my head is a cork-board filled with thousands post-it-notes. Every note is a piece of a puzzle I’m trying to put together. Once the puzzle is complete I now have to find away to express these thoughts to the outside world in away that is healthy. The stress is unbearable I’m thrown into a world that is dark with no light at the end of the tunnel. All my thoughts are lost in the sea of nameless void prompting me to start all over. I really need to STOP and PAUSE because this adds to my stress level and heavens knows we do not need anything else adding to the state of confusion I already feel.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder and yet as I stand here looking at the mess in the mirror I beg to differ. I’m not a beauty nor do I feel pretty. What I see is quite the opposite. I see ugly, useless, dirty person with no future. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as the actress that grace the silver screen. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as those models who are splashed on the cover of sports magazines. I wish I can be pretty, as pretty as the girl sitting across from me on the bus. I wish I had better eyes to see what you see a beautiful girl.
I sit here in my favorite red chair drinking my blueberry coffee from my favorite cup staring out the open window as the cool breeze hit my face, my thoughts speaking to me what seem to be in foreign languages. Trying to control and pin down my thinking is a process that is hard especially when my thoughts are all over the place. Sometimes I fear I’m losing grip on reality my mind is playing the ultimate role head-lining act of some cornball carnival,the main attraction of some freakish side-show.
“Ladies and Gents step right up to this here attraction watch how this manic-depressive handles a meltdown.“
“I’m going to Grandma and to Grandpa’s too. I’m going to Grandma wondering what to do. I’m going to Grandma please meet me there and I shall be all so happy apond thanksgiving day. We shall have coffee so shall we. We shall have pumpkin and tea, we shall everything all so nice when we get to Grandma’s house.”
A song sang through generations of Carroll’s family in honor of the women who shaped our lives. This short story is inspired by the love of the one woman who is the glue of our family. Through her guidance, faith and discipline she taught us respect and love. What way to honor my Grandma on Valentine’s day then sharing a memory of love.