The Coffee Explorations: Papa Nicholas Hawaiian Roast

This is perhaps an unusual post for a mostly creative-content blog. I bought a French press a month or so ago and don’t know what kind of coffee I like best because we only had an espresso maker at my house before. It might be interesting later for me to look back and see what I thought about various coffees while I was drinking them for the first time. For those of you who also love coffee, you might enjoy this post as well. I also wrote about Starbucks Sumatra and the Papa Nicholas House Roast.

This addition to the series has been a long time coming, as it took a while to drink a whole bag of coffee.

When I opened the bag this morning, I liked the smell of the grounds. It was not quite as “Wow that smells amazing” as the House Roast, but it was good. After steeping the grounds in boiling water in my French press, the coffee smelled slightly bitter but with a noticeable tinge of another smell. I’m not sure what it was, exactly, I’m still trying to decipher it, but it was good.

My first taste, after raw cane sugar and heavy whipping cream, was that it is very smooth. It has a stereotypically coffee flavor to it, followed by a sweet and tangy after taste reminiscent of the second smell I noticed.

It’s good, but I would like it to be stronger. It’s a light roast, so perhaps I prefer medium or dark roasts.

Overall, I give this coffee a 7/10 for flavor.

I’ll try brewing it with additional scoops of coffee in the press to see if that makes any difference.

 

 

Recap: Girl Defined Fixed My Anxiety

This is part of a series of posts called Recap. In it I will share my notes on the content I consumed followed by my response. The content could vary from a podcast, to an article, to a Youtube video, to a book I read. When applicable, I will link to the content.

Additionally this was written September 8th despite the url.

I recently watched Rachel Oates‘ video Girl Defined Fixed My Anxiety. I wrote about my struggle with mental heath on Over the Invisible Wall and I mentioned it in Why I’m Not a Christian. In my response to the video I share more about that.

Notes

Rachel Oates has dealt with anxiety and it’s been a big part of her life.

Girl Defined equates worry and anxiety in their video, but it’s not the same thing. Worry is something everyone faces frequently. Worry usually has an external cause. Anxiety on the other hand is more intense; worry on a way bigger scale. There’s more internal or physiological causes, and anxiety is longer term. It can have external triggers but is more internal.

First of Girl Defined’s points, you should pass your worries onto God. Rachel disagrees: what helped her with anxiety was feeling more in control; it was worst when she felt out of control.

Girl Defined’s 2nd point: don’t worry so much about the future that you forget to live now. Rachel shared how focusing on the present moment helped her at times when she was feeling overwhelmed because of anxiety. She said, “Things can change and things do change and you have the power to change them.”

Third point: worry isn’t helpful. Obviously. But you can’t just tell yourself to stop worrying or stop having a panic attack.

Fourth point: God promises to help those who trust him. Rachel wants proof that God exists, can help her, and has her best interests in mind before she’ll just trust him and throw out her medication.

Point five was to remember that God has a plan for you. Rachel disagrees, thinks better advice would be that while life is crappy sometimes it’s possible to recognize those things that make it so and make a plan to change them.

Girl Defined then tells people that following God more and praying is the best way to deal with and stop worrying or having anxiety. This is a dangerous mindset because it could stop people from getting the help they need and seeking treatment.

Rachel recommends Sane New World by Ruby Wax and Reasons to Stay Alive by Matt Haig.

Response

I grew up in a Christian home and I dealt with depression. Which, yes, is very different, and not related to this specific topic directly, but it is a mental health issue. And I’ve seen Christians suggest partial “cures” for it in the same way Girl Defined suggested things for anxiety-conflated-with-worry. I was told at least once that my depression was probably due at least in part to my poor relationship with God. If only I would fix things with God and grow closer to him, I wouldn’t be so depressed. But I’ve had the opposite problem.

Rather than making me less depressed, it aggravated other problems. I feared I was not truly following Christ, that I hadn’t been forgiven, that my sins hadn’t been washed away, that I was one of the goats who thought they were Christians but were not and would burn in hell. This led me to hopelessness. I had some security in my faith to a degree, but it wasn’t enough. It didn’t convince me. It couldn’t convince me. The what ifs swirled on and on, building up. It took me to a point where there was no hope, no certainty, no reason to believe my life mattered.

I was taught that everyone’s true purpose was to glorify God. But I couldn’t discern whether I was truly glorifying him or if I was trying to glorify myself. There was no way to be sure. I kept reaching a point where my relationship with God, if you can call it that, felt ingenuine, more obviously fake than I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter™. And that drove me further into hopelessness and a fear of hell. It also drove me toward atheism.

If this God existed, he clearly did not intend for me to follow him. I can’t. I’ve tried everything and I can’t do it. It always flakes. I always feel like I’m faking it, going through the motions, holding a veil over everyone’s eyes, especially my own. So it seems that he is either not real or he is not good, because he is surely sending me to hell. I wanted to follow him. I wanted to believe. So badly. So badly. But I couldn’t. It always fell apart. Every time.

Deleted Draft: Drelkensoul Story

This was started with the prompt, “As our story came to a close, I realized we were the villains all along.” Where I went became a bit of a mess. I created a species, the drelkensoul, for N’Zembe, but didn’t have a solid idea how the function. Not only that, but I didn’t have any sort of plan and my loose plot was a convoluted idea. This may get a rewrite/complete restart, but for now, here it is:

As our story came to a close, I realized that we were the villains all along. By then, though, it was too late. All was said and done, we had already faced our judgment, we were dead. I had always assumed that after death was nothing, but it seems I was wrong. Otherwise I would be unable to record our story. It is my hope that others will avoid our path to destruction, learn from our mistakes, be better than we were.

I don’t blame anyone who assumes this whole tale, including our deaths, is a hoax. But what does it matter? I lived it, so did they. I won’t try to convince anyone of the truth of my recollection by claiming to have been tasked to write my adventure by one of the gods. Yes, there is a multiplicity of deities. There are many, both benevolent and malevolent, in balance.

This is not a religious text, so I shall move on. Surely it is more important to know who we were and what we did that was so terrible. At least, terrible in retrospect. I never realized until after we had died that we had done anything wrong, inflicted pain upon so many. I didn’t know what we truly were until it was too late.

I had my suspicions that we were villainous, but never were they very great. Our people were not known for their kindness anyway, but rather our cruelty and ruthlessness. We were drelkensheath.

I’m not sure how old I was when I became aware of another entity within me. Yes, another entity. A literal separate being inhabiting my body.

We fought for quite some time over control of my being, the external portion of it, at least. Eventually, I was offered a compromise.

Share this vessel with me, and I will grant you unfathomable power–power that will free you from your dependence on the sea. I can still hear those words in my mind, even now that I’m dead.

Knowing the alternative was to continue fighting, as the spirit had made clear he was unwilling to leave, I readily agreed.

Peace brought a strange sense of cohabitation within my own body. I was no longer one person, but two in disguise, if this other creature was even to be considered a person. Are they even a creature? The gods are unwilling to entertain my questions, so I’ll likely never know.

When I rose upon the fertile land, I soon met others like me–drelkensheath who were now cohabiting their own bodies, vessels as the spirits called them. We decided to band together, the seven of us. Perhaps we’d survive better, figure ourselves out quicker, understand these new abilities.

“Hey, we need to leave! Everyone get up!” I yelled at the five still laying on their mats.

Adesola consistently woke up early enough for us to leave, but she had also been out of water the longest–she was the most at home on land.

On Hiatus: Shapeshifter Story

This is a new series featuring partial and incomplete drafts of stories that I hope to come back to sometime after I finish Mystical Warriors. The length and quality vary and the amount of work I would need to do to revive the story are debateable.

This is all of this particular story. I didn’t get very far along before abandoning it. I have some clue of the plot and where it is meant to go, though, so it’s still a story I could come back to.

The darkness pervaded the room as well as my thoughts. They had arrived early; I wasn’t ready for what lay ahead. I was different; they had sent that back after the rigorous tests had been analyzed in three stages. No one has ever known for certain what they’re testing for, just that they’re trying to separate something. Anyone who has it gets sent away to the somewhere that supposedly exists nowhere.

They rapped on the door again. I knew if I didn’t go out to them, they’d come in to me. Rolling off my bed, I opened the door. As I trudged across the room, I snatched up the heavily-packed bag containing my basic belongings.

“You take nothing with you into the Nowhere,” the leader-looking man dead-panned, though I sensed the capital n on nowhere nonetheless.

As my mind started to go into overload, I dropped the bag. I was allowed no personal belongings but the clothes on my back, and I was being forced from my home. I crossed the threshold of my bedroom, my personal space, my hand lingered on the door frame.

“We must leave immediately.”

“Can I at least say–”

“No,” the voice is firm and I recognized my inability to argue here; I had no rights.

I nodded, submitting, following them out to the government-issued van that would transport me. The blackness, seemingly no stars, the missing moon, encased me without hesitation. How fitting that on this night I was to be taken away to the Nowhere. As the spacious van rumbled away, the inside as black with the lights off as my bedroom and the night outside, I found myself tensing in anticipation of the worst.

The ride was long and dark as well as silent. I didn’t realize I was sleeping until I was shaken awake by rough hands. Once I was somewhat conscious, I was dragged from the dark van toward a large, poorly-lit building.

“You will be assigned a dorm in the morning. Tonight you will reside in this guest bedroom. You will also be assigned a gray uniform–once you are in your section you will receive a colored uniform.”

I was too tired to fully take in what was said as I collapsed on the twin bed, falling asleep once more.

~*~*~*~*~

Bright light passing through my eyelids woke me. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked around at the cramped “guest bedroom” I had lodged in.

I’m still wearing my shoes, I thought suddenly.

I didn’t bother taking them off, but sat with my legs hanging off the edge of the bed while reading a list that was on the bedside table.

I had just finished reading this long list, seemingly of things I needed to to today, when the door opened.

“Follow me,” a black haired woman wearing a gray uniform quickly turned around without waiting for a response.

I quickly moved to obey. No reason to start my time in this new place punished. Without consideration, I abandoned the to-do list in the guest bedroom.

She guided me to an office-like room. The woman at the desk stood and came over with a measuring tape.

After measuring me, the woman led me through the next door. She handed me a gray uniform and then left. I quickly changed into it, not sure what to do with my clothes. I hoped to keep them, but realized that was unlikely.

“Leave those here and come. Classes are starting soon.”

I followed her through hallway after hallway, hopelessly confused about direction.

Finally, she stopped in front of a door. She opened it and gestured for me to enter.

“Good morning, Miss Reinback. Class, please welcome our newest student, Meran Fonshil.”

Everyone clapped, but they seemed quite bored.

The teacher, Miss Reinback gestured to the room’s only empty desk, “Please sit, Fonshil.”

I sat down and the black haired woman spoke, “Fonshil will be sharing a dorm with Crein. Twilth will move in with Gohn.”

I glanced around to see three girls nodding, knowing one of them was now my roommate.

The black haired woman left, and Miss Reinback finished the roll she had evidently been taking, scribbling my name at the end.

“As most of you already know, you have been brought to the Nowhere to unlock your full potential. The way to that will be different for each of you. Once you have accomplished this task, you will be sorted into a color category.”

Miss Reinback pulled down the white sheet in front of the board for the slide shows. She walked to the back of the room, turning on her computer.

“Blue, red, yellow, purple, orange, green, black, and white. You will be in one of these categories. You’ll be in classes with others of your color and will share a dorm with another of your color.”

A boy in the front raised his hand.

“Yes, Lenthris?”

“Will we ever get to see the color uniformed students before then? And anyway, what even is our ‘full potential’ that you harp on?”

“No, you will not. I can’t tell you what your full potential is because I don’t actually know.”

A number of students groaned.

Ignoring their protests, Miss Reinback droned on about what things would be like after we had colored uniforms.

Finally, she stopped and said, “It is time for you to all go to the gym.”

Everyone stood and filed one after another out the door. I followed in silence with everyone else. I tried to note how to get there, but found myself confused and lost again.

Recap: I Came Out as Atheist and This Happened

This is part of a series of posts called Recap. In it I will share my notes on the content I consumed followed by my response. The content could vary from a podcast, to an article, to a Youtube video, to a book I read. When applicable, I will link to the content.

My response was written 17 August 2018.

I watched Genetically Modified Skeptic‘s video I Came Out as Atheist and This Happened. It was fitting for me, time-wise, because I was planning my post Why I’m Not a Christian. In the video Drew tells his deconversion story along with telling his family and friends that he was an atheist.

Notes:

Drew grew up devout fundamentalist Christian. He was a leader in his church’s youth group and went to a Christian college. His last semester of college he started having doubts. He stopped believing creation and accepted evolution. He changed his mind and accepted that being gay was not a choice, harmful, or wrong. He also admitted to himself the Bible has errors. He spent a long time in which he questioned his beliefs intentionally, avoiding non-Christian sources.

In late 2016 he admitted to himself that he was not a Christian, he was an agnostic atheist. He hinted at his doubts to his wife and soon told her he was an atheist. He thought life was over until she didn’t freak out at the news. He thought he would lose his job at the Christian homeless shelter, get divorced from his wife, move in with his parents, lose his relationship with them and his friends, and end up broke and alone. All because he was no longer a Christian. He came out to his parents about a year later. It went better than he expected but was still difficult. He started his Youtube channel after telling his parents. He got really into making videos, gained small following, and started to see it as a part time job.

A few friends found channel once it got hard to hide. Hiding it was taxing; still had to participate in some Christian/religious activities. Didn’t want to become “pet project” or lose friends, so it was worth it for a while.

Went full time on YT in May. Told in-laws and all friends who didn’t know. Very few people were surprised. A few found channel and waited for GMS to tell them. A lot of close friends had loving responses. Best response that he had permission to share, “I love Drew as Drew, not as Christian or atheist.”

Just didn’t want this issue to come between him and friends/family. Moved shortly after coming out; most friends helped him move and set up his new, larger studio. No one yelled at him or shut him out after he came out. Best thing you can do is assure someone that you still love them and value them. Just wants healthy relationship with people. That’s why he didn’t come out for so long. Some people prioritize religion over relationship.

Specified didn’t want to debate; if they wanted to, he wanted to schedule it and have it be prepared and not sloppy so it wouldn’t come between them and ruin the relationship. Cares more about the truth than holding to current positions. Knows apologetics, especially Christian apologetics, very well. Studied it a lot. Hasn’t seen anything new on apologetics.

Considered sad response a negative; big deal, prevented his coming out for a long time. Can’t control it. Sees that it’s understandable, but it’s their burden not his.

For those in the closet, seek out community, even just online. Recommends the Secular Therapy Project and Recovering From Religion Foundation. Openly secular, normalize atheism, make things better for those still in the closet. Humanize atheists to others.

Response:

 

I just came out as atheist to two of my friends personally. I wrote a blog post that’s going to go up tomorrow explaining why I’m not a Christian and mentioning that I’m an atheist. Otherwise, my parents have some knowledge, and my boyfriend is an atheist too. My grandparents, who live with us, are less supportive than my two friends, but did not want any sort of debate. They simply said they would pray for me until I came back to God. I didn’t want to disappoint them so I haven’t told them I’m pretty sure I don’t believe in God. My parents asked questions, not the first time it came up, or even when I said I was leaning towards atheism. We were sitting at the kitchen table with my younger brothers and they asked for my thoughts on some things. Some of what they mentioned I don’t have a position on yet, because I haven’t done research on it.

I’m at a point where I see Christianity as equal to other religions to a basic degree. I see that, in general, it’s not that different. The only reason Christianity seemed more believable to me was because I was raised in it. I was surrounded by it for my entire life until just about eight months ago.

At that time, I was drifting out of religion and wanted to be honest about my disinterest in church. It happened to coincide with starting to date my boyfriend. I worried it would look like I left church because of him, and in fact, my parents told me once that they weren’t sure if that was the case. I assured them it wasn’t. It was a coincidence. My boyfriend has made clear that he is not concerned with my religion, I can believe as I will for my own reasons and he will still be there, it won’t change anything for him.

Knowing that Drew’s situation was similar to mine helps assure me that my friends and family could also react positively. I agree with him that a sad or disappointed reaction is a negative. That’s a large part of why I kept quiet about my disagreements, disinterest, and disbelief.

I plan to revisit this topic later to give an update on how people reacted, what they think, etc.

Deleted Drafts: Once Was Garmasapon

I’m not sure how much of the original draft of this story I still have, I’ll have to search for it. This is just chapter one. I had at least three chapters.

It’s a rather strange story about the island country Garmasapon and a woman who has an Esther-like situation where she marries the king by arranged marriage. I don’t even know where the plot was going. There was supposed to be a conflict with Malaposie, a near-ish island country that hated Garmasapon. What I actually have, though, is just weird.

Once upon a time there was a far away land called Garmasapon. In Garmasapon there was always peace among the people, never violence. The people who founded the land had found the island by chance — it was completely secluded. As far as the townspeople knew they’d never been invaded by their enemy — the land of Malaposie.

But that’s just the beginning! This is a story about Garmasapon’s leader Garlasha who absolutely hated Malasha, the leader of Malaposie. First off I bet you’re wondering who I am? Well I’ll begin our story by telling you — Garmasha, wife of Garlasha. Now on to the story that I promised to tell you.

My husband was born into royalty — in fact he was a descendant of our founder Garmasapon. As a boy he wasn’t allowed to dirty his clothes, cause mischief, or interact with villagers and servants! He was full of hatred because of this rule, until he found that he would soon be king of all Garmasapon! When he found out he told the servants to go through all of Garmasapon and bring all virgins who are not married and are over eight years of age to the palace for him to decide whom he’d marry! The servants naturally obeyed.

I was (as you can guess) one of these girls. I tried to get them to let me stay, but they said it was the king’s command — so I consented. After pageants, beauty contests, and a filling out of many personality profiles, the last twenty girls were presented to the king. After he narrowed it down to ten, then five, he chose me as his bride. This to me was shocking because I was only thirteen! Still three years under the marriage quota!

He was sixteen and he ordered the wedding to be arranged at once! The cooks made cakes of all sizes, and invitations were sent out to all the nobility (and my relatives). The next week we had the wedding.

I was in a huge, white dress covered in gold adornments. He was in a matching suit and breaches. (I have to admit, he was stunning!) The wedding ceremony was simple: we both said our vows and pledged our hearts to each other. (I didn’t have much choice in this, but I was still excited about my wedding.)

After the ceremony had taken place, the festivities began. We cut the main cake and we (as was the custom) shared the first piece. Then everyone received their piece and we sang, danced, and enjoyed each other’s company. After what seemed like days we (Garlasha and I) went back to the Palace.

We had a four-poster bed and a giant room. The closet was very large as well, and amazingly it already had about fifty dresses! I asked him how the dresses got there.

“When you filled out the personality profile these dresses were made for you,” he replied simply.

“How did you know if they’d fit?” I asked.

“You had a dress fitting early on, like all the girls.”

“Oh yeah,” I said remembering.

“Yes, now if you’ll excuse me I have to go take my royal bath.”

“Is there another bathroom for me to bathe?”

“This one, you’re royalty now so you will bathe in the royal bathtub.”

“While you’re in there?” I asked shocked.

“No! After I’m done bathing.”

“Oh, good. You had me worried for a minute!”

“Well you had no reason to worry,” he said calmly.

So I waited for him to finish, but after a few minutes I got bored so I decided to try on a few of the dresses. The first one was an elegant, flowing, blue ball gown with pearl adornments! I tried it on at once (not knowing if I’d get in trouble for this). I waltzed around the room until I stopped in front of a full length mirror. I looked so elegant!

I hurried and tried on the next one. A blue, silky, flowing gown most likely for dining purposes. I rushed back to the mirror and looked at myself in the gown. Then I froze; I saw my new husband looking at me from the doorway to the bathing room. I slowly turned around, and saw him start to smile at me. I started to relax and smiled back.

He moved out of the doorway and gestured inside.

“I had the tub filled with fresh water for you,” he said.

“Thanks, I appreciate it. About the dresses –”

“Don’t worry about it, everything is fine,” he interrupted me.

With that I headed into the bathing room to take my bath. I undressed and eased myself into the hot water and bubbles. I had just fully encased my body, not including my head, in the hot water when three ladies came in through a door I hadn’t noticed. They were the royal bathing maids.

“What scent of soap would you like?” one of them asked me.

“Umm, do you have orange?” I asked mostly just wondering.

“Yes, we do,” another one told me.

“We’ll be right back with the soap,” the first maid told me.

They walked into what must have been a servant entryway to the bathing room. After about five minutes they returned with a large container of orange colored soap. They walked over to the tub and set the container on the side of it.

“Are you reader for this?” the third asked me.

“Honestly, no.”

“Would you rather wash yourself?” the first asked.

“Yes.”

“The king said this you’re to have that option.”

And with that she handed me the wash rag, opened to soap and left.

I washed quickly, stepped out, and then noticed they had not brought me a towel! Then someone peeked their head in and brought a towel.

“Thank you.”

They nodded their head in response, then left. I dried quickly then went to ask my husband (wrapped in the towel) where to find my night clothes.

“In your closet, at the very back,” he told me.

I walked to the back of the closet and pulled out a thin blue dress and undergarments. I went back in the bathing room and donned my night clothes. I put my towel on the rack and went back out into the bedroom.

He was sitting in the bed, waiting for me so he could turn out the lamp. I climbed in on the other side, and made an effort to be as close to the edge as possible without falling out. Then I heard his voice piercing the darkness.

“I understand your discomfort to this whole situation. I know that I’d be uncomfortable if a strange woman requested that I marry her,” he said barely above a whisper.

“Yes, I am uncomfortable, but I think it may be for the better of the people.”

“It is for the people. In a way… I didn’t want my father arranging my marriage to a girl I didn’t want to marry, so you know what I did from there.”

Somehow I felt comfortable talking to him, I think because he talked to me first.

“Yeah, I know how that feels,” I whisper so softly I didn’t think he heard.

Then he answered, “I’m sorry you didn’t have a say in this situation, but it was a bit urgent as my father was very sick. If I didn’t marry before his death I’d marry the girl he had hand chosen.”

“Have you met her?”

“Yes, only once, but she was as snooty as they come. That’s part of why I wanted someone who wasn’t as rich.”

“Thank you,” I said realizing this was meant as a compliment.

With that said we both fell asleep quickly.

Life Is What You Make It (2)

I frequently think about my life, what I want to accomplish, what I’ve done so far, and how long I have to do everything I dream of. This is a series featuring things I’ve written about such things, both poetry and prose.


Whether the earth is only a few thousand years old or several billion, we live for only a few fleeting moments in the grand scheme of things. What we choose to do with that time, those moments, is up to us. For some, it is directed by religion, for others it isn’t. In either case we are each in the driver’s seat of our own life, we are in control of where we go and what we do. We only have so long, so we should make the most of it and live the best life we can, whatever that is for us on an individual level. For some that means marriage, parenting, for others singleness, creative pursuits, generosity, showing love and kindness to those who are lacking in some way. There isn’t just one way to live a full life, to feel your life wasn’t wasted, to have as few regrets as possible before you die, if your life is not cut short by some tragic accident. Knowing we are in control of our lives, our direction, our purpose is both freeing and frightening. You can choose to live directed by religion or not as well as so many other things. Life is what you make it. You have one life. Make it count.

Recap: Legends and Losers Ep 181

This is a new series of posts called Recap. In it I will share my notes on the content I consumed followed by my response. The content could vary from a podcast, to an article, to a Youtube video, to a book I read. When applicable, I will link to the content.

I recently listened to episode 181 of Christopher Lochhead’s podcast Legends and Losers, “Digital Body of Work.” Lochhead shares his thoughts on episode 170, where he interviewed Isaac Morehouse, the founder of Praxis. I plan on listening to that episode soon, and will share my thoughts on it when I do.

Notes:

Morehouse really pushes this idea that you should be your own credential; college is buying it, today we should be our own.

What happens when someone googles you? See what happens.

What happens after we get googled is critical. People look online to find out about you.

Being a podcast guest is a good way for authors and thought leaders to get their name out.

Do you blog, post on social networks, podcast, have you written a book? Even if it’s not a best seller, you put in the work to put something valuable out there.

Are you on Quora? What are you doing on other social networks? What are you sharing? Are you contributing content? Do you have a TED or TEDx talk? Are your speeches available online?

Also, what are people saying about you? Are you featured somewhere?

Response:

As someone who is going to go through Praxis, I definitely think that Isaac Morehouse is right about a lot of things concerning the new job market. I also think the Praxis approach is valuable, especially as an aspiring author.

Presence is important. The community and the response to my work is important. It’s easy to think about all the various online communities I could be part of and think, “If only I had more time, I’d work on my presence there.” And in some cases, time can be an issue. If I’m spending too much time on Facebook or Discord or Quora, in excess of doing other things that are more important at the time, then it’s my fault I don’t have enough time. On the flip side, if I don’t have enough time because I’m really actually working, that’s a bit different.

Between my cowriter Justine and I for Over the Invisible Wall, we are not ready to add Twitter to our social media. We already manage the Facebook page on our own and we both have a lot of other responsibilities other that our shared blog. But for just a few extra minutes, I could make a personal Twitter and share my personal blog posts and maybe reach some people who aren’t on Facebook.

A lot of my friends aren’t necessarily taking the same steps I am now to improve their online presence and such. At least in part because of that, I don’t have a lot of social proof. I want to have people respond to my blog, or to guest write on a different blog, etc. to do that better. For now, though, I have a lot I’m working on and I’m adjusting to the workload I set on myself and balancing it with what I do for money.

Past Poems (August)

All the poems I have here were written in August in previous years. Each is the first poem I wrote that August.

Welcome to the Movie Theater

31 August 2013

The midnight atmosphere,

Hardly any light.

The expected brightness

being processed instantaneously.

Music booming,

Sound-absorbers throbbing,

shocked by the sudden onslaught.

Images appearing magically,

Color-processors reeling,

trying to comprehend the attack.

Then, in surprise, it darkens again,

Leaving behind

a sense of mystery

and excitement

Coupled with

an overpowering feeling

of being full.

A story having been told

before the attendence,

Come to be amazed by

Today’s wonderous, fantastic, dreamlike

Movies.

 

Pretending Mirrors

27 August 2014

It is often easy

for me to

Pretend

that I am

Someone, Something, else…

Then I look

in the Mirror…

And it all comes back to me…

 

Confusing Frustration

9 August 2015

I wonder, why can’t I be stronger,

why can’t it take longer for

tears to overtake me,

to drown me,

to pull me away from control over myself?

 

Another Trip to Holiday World

6 August 2016

Up, down, all around

these mem’ries swirl

around me.

Soon I’ll relive

a few of them

with new friends that

surround me.

“Cigarette Stench” (poem)

This was written 19 July 2018. It is day two of my current poetry writing streak.

It smells like cigarettes,

I think from the guy,

it’s really gross,

but, hey, it’s not my life.

Doesn’t make it smart,

but still, who am I

to regulate another’s choice

Unless it also affects me?

There’s a line,

somewhere, on what can

and cannot be

Chosen for others,

And this, I think,

cannot.

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