The Joy of Writing

I’ve read many of stories or books that start the title “The Joy of Writing,” but never really consigned myself to the concept.  Writing was anything but a joy. It was exciting, thrilling, frustrating, stressful, mind-blowing, and confusing and every other emotion on the spectrum from one extreme to the other. But, joy?

Do we categorize breathing as a joy? Or how about urination or yawning, or sleeping?  Well, I can see where sleeping might sometimes be a joy.  But how can we categorize natural occurrences, something that so much a part of you and instinctual be considered a joy? Writing is part of who I am. Constructing a story is a part of my every day, every moment existence. I see the world as one long epic tale, and each major event it’s chapters, and each segment a paragraph, a sentence, or a word. Those moments are what makes up life and as a writer I am a recorder, a scribe, and an observer of life. 

I don’t just write for fun, or therapy, or clarity, or need. I write because it’s who I am.  It’s like being a mother. While there are all the books out there in the world that tell us how to be a mother, I found out that being a mother is a natural thing, a instinctual thing.  My choice comes into play by deciding what type of mother to be – nurturing or neglectful, etc.  I am a writer and the only choice I have within this vocation is what kind of writer to be – and if you’ve followed me for any length of time you will find that I am a multiple-faceted writer – a writing diamond. I’ve dabbled in journalism, blogging, novels, novellas, epics,  punditry, op-eds, technical, business professional, auto-biographical, legal, free verse, poetry, screenplays, reviews, editorials, memes, short stories, flash fiction,  and songwriting lyrics. If I think about it, I’m sure I could add a few more in there – but I think you get the picture. Writing is just something I do. It’s natural. 

Yet, writing isn’t without its own rules, standards and styles.  So, I have to learn them. Grammar, spelling and punctuation are just basic skills needed to be a writer, because after that comes tense, perspective, pacing, style, structure, threads, inciting scenes, prologues, forwards, and on and on and on.  These are skills developed over time and experience.

So, how is writing a joy?  I suppose the joy of writing is the ability to do it, and love doing it in the first place. I do love writing. It’s a part of me that comes alive and thrives within me. I am a collector of stories, a re-teller of tales, a silver-tongue, a scribe, a keeper of legends. How can one not find joy in that? When we leave this world, all we leave behind is our story.  Who will read it or hear it unless it has been written? I don’t need a Sorcerer’s Stone to make me immortal – I just need to write. While my body will leave this place one day and turn to dust, my stories will remain until it is no longer retold or pages are lost.

That’s one thing that makes me sad – the forgotten of those that were here before.  I sometimes walk graveyards and whisper to the headstones, “Hey, I see your name. You existed. You once were here and you once lived.” I know it’s probably crazy, but I don’t want to be forgotten. I don’t others to be forgotten. I don’t our history to be forgotten. I am an orphan and often feel forgotten in the world, so I write. Oh, the joy of writing.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Pushing Through the Pain

I want to give up – EVERY DAY.  Not every once in a while, but every single day, sometimes even more than once a day.  Every time my back hurts, my legs hurt, my butt hurts, or my arms hurt, I want to nurse it, massage it, heal it, and make the pain go away.  But, I push through the pain because I want MORE what’s on the other side of the pain than just the release of it. There’s no magic pill.

I want to give up – EVERY DAY. Not every once in a while, but every single day, sometimes even more than once a day.  Every time my heart hurts, I feel unloved, unwanted, lonely, or forgotten, I want to feel loved, wanted, appreciated, and make the pain go away. But, I push through the pain because I want MORE of what’s on the other side of the pain than just the release of it. There’s no magic wand.

I want to give up – EVERY DAY.  Not every once in a while, but every single day, sometimes even more than once a day.  Every time I hear about another senseless death, injustice, abuse, and the evil of humanity, I want to save the world and make the pain go away.  But I push through the pain because I want MORE of what’s on the other side of the pain than just the release of it. There’s no magic wish.

Pain hurts.  It sucks.  I don’t enjoy pain, but I don’t fear it, I don’t let it paralyze me, and I don’t allow it to stop me. I’ve learned that the best things this life has to offer are most often found on the OTHER side of pain. It’s found in the healing, in the compassion, in the overcoming, in the accomplishment, in completing the task, in the rescue, in the mercy, in the victory, in the results, in the kiss, wrapped in the arms of love, in tangled legs, in silly giggles, in making a difference, in having a purpose, and in taking a stand. Have no regrets.

The things that make life worth living are ALWAYS on the other side of pain, so we have to push through it and NEVER GIVE UP.  We have to make that decision EVERY DAY.  Not every once in a while, but every single day, sometimes more than once a day …as many as it takes.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

What Do We Want?

Do we really know what we want?  What drives our wants, what fuels our needs and desires? Is it the propaganda that our mind is bombarded with on a consistent daily basis of our culture, education, media and social media? Is it with keeping up with the Jones’?  Is it tradition, idealism of the American Dream that has been planted in our minds from birth? Is the very idea of entitlement grated to us by our own Constitution – in that pursuit of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness?   I’m sure it’s a mixture of all of that – plus our own imaginations. 

I think everything we want FIRST starts as a thought and/or felt as a need. We want love, we want passion, we want purpose, we want vision, we want success, we want wealth, we want health, we want fame, we want direction, we want faith, we want family, we want connection, we want understanding, we want enlightenment, and we want freedom, etc. 

I think about other countries not as fortunate as this beautiful country in which I live and sometimes ponder what my wants and needs would be if I was from a different place, a different race, a different culture, or a different life.  But, it’s foolish and a waste of time to think on those terms, other than for better understanding of our neighbors’ plight, because I am NOT that person and THIS is the life I’ve been given. I was born into this body, in this race, into this culture, into this part of the world.  That doesn’t make me any better or any worse than anyone else – it just makes me …Me. Who I am and who I choose to be – is in every choice I make, and in every want and need I have, and how I go about fulfilling them.

What I want and need today is different than yesterday and tomorrow it will be different than today - because life is fluid and ever changing.  I don’t want to get tripped up always thinking “what if” and miss out living life today. Yes, I have dreams and hopes for tomorrow. Yes, I have memories and some regrets for yesterday.  But today – today I want – to live my life to fullest, to be happy, to be loved, to love, to laugh, to appreciate, to work hard, to be in the moment. I have many fears, because I’m over-thinker, and those fears haunt me always – fear of failing, of getting it wrong, of misunderstanding, of making a mistake, of being naïve, of being taken advantage of, of being used, of being vulnerable, of being hurt, of being unwanted and unloved.  But, I face my fears because I’d rather be all those things  - WHILE I’m living my life to the best of my ability, than having missed all those things, and the good opposite by hiding away in my fear. So, I will kiss the guy.  I will take the chance. I will make the move. I will face that PF360* machine. I will spend the money and book the trip – because I only get one life.  I only have one chance to live. That’s what I really want – to live, to really fucking live.

So, let’s do this.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

 

Make Me Laugh

Want to steal my heart? It’s not hard. It’s simple - make me laugh.  Be silly. Make funny faces. Do silly dances. Share silly memes.  Dress up in silly costumes. Stay clever shit.  Look at the bright side. Snort when you laugh. Pee on yourself if necessary, but laugh.

Life is hard. Every day is a struggle to fulfill our responsibilities to ourselves, our friends, our families, our communities, and our world. We grind and grind and grind and grind. It’s our curse. It’s our burden to bear. 

Life is full of struggles and atrocities and sometimes pure evil. I feel all of it down to the very center of my being.  I grieve for the broken, the abused, the neglected, the tortured, the hungry, the homeless, the fatherless, the orphans, the elderly, the sick, the disabled, the forgotten, the battered, the lost, the weak, the addict, the dying, the bullied and the rejected.  I feel the pain, I taste the earth’s salty tears. I’m not blind to them. No, I am very aware of them – and because I feel so deeply and love so passionately, I’m often overwhelmed with grief. 

So, make me laugh.  Show a little kindness. Stand tough, stay firm, fight the good fight, and do what is necessary to protect, to guard, to save, and to defend – but don’t forget to live, to laugh and to love.  Power to love and to laugh in the midst of this cruel world is the greatest power.

Don’t be idealistic.  Don’t be unrealistic. Don’t be a bleeding heart and shut your eyes to the truth to embrace an ideological fairy tale with unrealistic expectations. Leave that shit for the fantasy books.  Make REAL observations. See the UGLY truth. Do the hard shit – so that there can be a REAL solution. 

Rev. Daniel Patrick used to tell me, “Confirmation of new information, without consideration is ignorant and arrogant in the highest order.” Don’t be stupid, face the truth and then find something good among all the ugliness. Be a hero, make me laugh.

Laughing in the moment isn’t denying the pain – it’s facing it - it’s being balanced. The only true thing that can conquer hate is love, loneliness is being friendly, selfishness is by being selfless, being in need is by giving to others and addressing other’s needs, and being sad is by laughing.

Want to steal my heart? Make me laugh.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Doing What I Love

Life is short.  I do what I love.  If I don’t know what I love, I’ll figure it out.  Sometimes what I used to love, I don’t care so much for anymore, and other things that I never dared to try before, I’m finding I really enjoy.  I have to be careful not to put myself or my ideas in a box, else I’m going to miss out on something beautiful, or terrible.

I have to be careful and protect my time, my access, my money, and my tribe circle, because life has a way of putting obstacles between me and what I love.  But, one of the things I’ve discovered in life is – those things I’ve had to fight for, I’ve had to sacrifice for, I’ve had to achieve through perseverance – were much more rewarding and worth the struggle. If it came easy or was given to me, I may have enjoyed the experience, the thing, or the moment, but there’s always this ‘other’ moment that follows all those moments – and that is the moment I don’t want to experience again in my life – and that moment was when I wasn’t proud of what I had received or achieved because it cost me nothing. I didn’t appreciate what it was, because it had no value.  It wasn’t earned.

I sometimes underestimate the value of a thing, an action, or even a person – and think my pride and esteem doesn’t matter, but it really does. It matters a lot.  I would rather be valued, respect, appreciated, and deeply loved than be wanted, desired, or a momentary fascination.  I want those accolades – but I am much better than that. I’m not cubic-zirconium – I’m a hardcore diamond.  I want to be told I’m beautiful, but not because I have a pretty face – but I have pretty, caring, and loving soul. 

The more I value a soul, the more beautiful that person becomes to me.  NOTHING is more beautiful than looking into a pair of eyes and seeing an amazing, beautiful soul.  A kind spirit. A warrior. A great body is nice, a healthy body is even better. But a beautiful soul – transcends the body.

I once fell in love with a man because he had shared a meme with me that said he fell in love with souls, not faces.  That turned out not to be true for him, but for me it’s the very core of my existence, it is the true center of my heart. I could never love someone for a shallow reason like their looks, sex appeal, body shape, or any kind of physically attractive attribution.  Don’t get me wrong – a beautiful sexy body is nice to look at and fantasize about, but my Superman could be a paraplegic like Christopher Reeve – and I would fall hopelessly, deeply, madly in love with him if he had a beautiful soul. It’s just how I’m made and it’s how I love, and I’m on a journey to do what I love, to appreciate the important things in life, because I only get one go around on this big blue orb.

I’m becoming happier and happier every day, because I’m now doing the things I love.  I just had a recent discussion about camping. I love camping. So, guess what I’m going to be doing soon???

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

First Steps

No matter what struggle or difficulty or achievement or success we find ourselves, whether it’s physical, emotional, or spiritual, we are not stationary in our positions.  ALL life is fluid.  Everything is always moving, changing, and transforming.  Even within our bodies, we are constantly evolving.  Our feelings change. Our ideas change. Our faith changes.  Our knowledge changes. We are born. We live. We die.  In the midst of that journey, based on our understanding and observation we make decisions that effect that life. Some good. Some bad. Some really good and some really bad. Regardless of the state – it won’t remain in that state for long.

Going through a huge heartbreak and recent death, I have felt many times that it’s too much for me, that I can’t even breathe.  The world I imagined, I had hoped for, and I had loved with my whole heart crumbled around me. I saw the destruction coming, I felt the change in the wind, and I noticed the warning signs long before the walls fell. And I fought like hell to stop them, but I was powerless. For me, the reasons why were not good enough to justify the pain. But the pain came anyway. The storm came and blew against the walls, and the house fell. 

All life is fluid.  The storm has passed. Now comes the calm. At times I thought the storm would kill me, and sweep me away with its waves into the abyss, but I survived. I’m standing in the middle of the destruction, but I’m still standing.  Nothing is recognizable around me, except me.  I’m still here. I’m battered, bruised, but I’m standing. My life has changed from what it was, to what it is, and will change again to what it will be …to change even beyond.

I still see the storm raging in the distance.  I still feel the wind blowing. I still see dark clouds hovering, the lightning striking, and the waves beating against the shore. The storm still exists.  It didn’t fade and its winds are still causing destruction, but it’s moved on from me. I’m not part of it anymore.  I can’t save those within it, but I pray they survive. I pray they get out of the storm, but the only way out requires a first step – as with every program and every faith that exists in this world, the road to recovery, to escape, and to freedom is - acceptance.  

The moment I accepted I was powerless to change anything, that I could see the truth of my situation, my life, and my circumstances as they were -  instead of struggling to hold tight to my hope of what had been and what could be, that’s when the storm finally swept me away. We can’t move forward in our life without acceptance.  We can’t change in ANY positive or good way without the acceptance of the truth. We can lie to ourselves and continue to circle the same issues over and over and over and over again – deceiving ourselves into thinking we can change things, or that WE are in control, but that keeps us bound to our destruction, bound to our pain, bound to chains that weigh us down, making us addicts to our own destruction.  Just as an addict or someone involved in destructive behavior will not, nor cannot, change their behavior until they first accept the truth about themselves.  No matter how much we hope for them, plead with them, try to reason with them – they cannot hear ANYTHING until they accept the truth.  Until then, it is a vicious cycle – over and over and over and over and over – some NEVER overcome.  Healing will NEVER come until acceptance. That is the first step.  In faith – acceptance of who we are and that we are not in control of the universe around us, but that there is a higher power – is the first step. 

I took my first step. I accepted. I am surviving.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

We

We

We speak from pain, words of pain, in cries of pain, we sing.

We speak from love, acts of love, in songs of love, we dance.

We speak from truth, move in truth, in steps of truth, we feel.

We speak from touch, inflict in touch, in response of touch, we reveal.

© T.L. Gray 2018

Letting Go

Letting go isn’t as easy as it’s made out to be, or as easy as it sounds. Hell, it sounds so simple… you know, just open your hand and let it go. Elsa even understood it so much she sang a song about it. Holding on is hard. Holding on is scary. Holding on takes so much out of you; it breaks you down and pulls at the very center of who you really are. The way ‘letting go’ is made to sound so easy is like saying holding on is a bad thing. But is it, really? Isn’t holding on what makes a relationship work? Isn’t holding on what gets you ‘through’ the tough times in life? Hold on to the promises. Hold on to the hope. Hold on to faith. Hold on to love. Right? How come I feel like I’m the only one that ever ‘holds on’ to anything in my life? I’m sure that probably sounds like such a selfish and self-centered attitude, but I can’t help but feel the lump in my throat when I think about it, and feel the warm tears streak down my cheeks as I think of all those that found it so easy to let go… to let me go.

Yesterday, I was faced with the stark reminder that I’ve once again been left behind, forgotten, that life has moved on without me, that they have ‘let me go’ and are busy with their new life, without me. Yet, feeling the pain of it made it clear that I’m still holding on. The tears that flow this morning are tears from facing the reality that they’ve moved on. I suppose it’s time for me to do the same. It’s time for me to let go of the fairy tale that will never happen, the knight-in-shining armor moment that’s never coming. He’s got his Cinderella and I’m faced with the reality that I was just another faceless dancer at the ball; all dressed up, but didn’t quite possess the right shoes. Obviously, that wasn’t my fairy tale.

So, what do I do now? Let go? That’s easy to say, easy to think, easy to plan, but… what everyone fails to explain is ‘HOW’. How do I turn a part of my heart off? How do I stop dreaming? How do I stop hurting? How do I start to breathe again? I should know how to do this; I’ve done it so many times before. I should be an expert, or know how to write a how-to book on “letting go” and “starting over”. Yet, I know as much now as I knew every time before. I’m lost. I’m just lost. Nothing’s familiar in my life right now. For a few seconds in the mornings I forget I’m in a new town and separated from everything I love. I’m in a new job, and haven’t yet started back writing. I have everything I own and possess stuffed away in some storage unit, waiting to be reclaimed. That’s how my life feels: stored away just waiting to be reclaimed.

I have to let go, I have no choice. Those decisions were made without me. I may have been the one who moved away, but they left me long before that. The tears this morning remind me I’m still holding on, but there’s nothing in my hands except broken pieces of myself. Was it worth it? Is the pain I feel now worth the joy I felt while falling in love? Yes. I loved falling in love. It was scary, but exciting. For just a little while, I was the princess at the ball in the beautiful gown, and it was me with whom he was dancing. I felt the magic. The music moved me. Everything about it was beautiful. He was beautiful. I don’t know how long it’ll be before I dare dress up and attend another ball, but before I do I have to somehow “let go” of this particular fairy tale. Elsa, help me. My friends, please just hold me close and very tight. I love you all very much, and it’ll be your love that helps me find my magic again.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Manly Man

I’ve often heard a guy talk about being ‘manly’, like his actions determine his level of maturity. But really… who makes up the rules? What is the measuring rod that determines the level of manliness that determines whether a male is manly enough? I hope to God it isn’t his ability to spit a nasty wad of tobacco half way across the yard, hit a chicken in the head, and bounce off a bell. That’s just stupid. I also hope it isn’t the deepness or squeakiness of his voice, because I’ve heard some squeaky men and some deep-toned whiny babies.

So, what truly determines the level of manliness accepted by men? Or do the women set this level of acceptability?

For me, what makes a man a man is simply the way he treats the women in his life. Does he respect his mother? Does he refer to females as bitches and ho’s? Does he treat his girlfriend like an object? Does he treat his daughter like a burden or mistake? Does he treat his sisters like they’re not important? How does a man treat the woman in his life? An imbecile treats their women deplorably… and their accomplishments, achievements or abilities mean SHIT, regardless of their virginity status or deepness of voice. An asshole is an asshole is an asshole. A manly man, in my opinion, is someone who loves, adores, respects, protects, worries, and defends the women in their life.

Also, the way that a man is in life, often determines the type of woman he inspires in life. A cheap, lying, asshole creates a long line of damaged, hurt women. But a real man, a manly man, creates a long line of strong, creative, loving, independent women.

So, I suppose there is a measuring rod for ‘manly’, at least one I use… and I hope the world has enough manly men to help build up these beautiful women. I don’t see many ‘manly’ men these days, but I do have to confess that I’ve some of the best manly friends. I can’t help but become a better woman because of them. I hope they know I love them and am proud to call them my friend. I really am a lucky girl.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

My Personal Epic Fantasy

On my jog this morning I noticed something peculiar that set my mind pondering all sorts of odd ideas. Not new ideas, but really a particular idea that’s been percolating in my mind for a very long time. It’s been years of study really. It’s also been a subject, or at least part of the subject, that’s come up recently in a few casual conversations. Mind you, these conversations are with the male species ranging from 18 to 45. You see, I’m an avid gamer, well, I’m a Destiny gamer, and 99% of the gamers I meet online are male. So, it’s reasonable to expect that 99% of my daily conversations are with the male species. I’m thankful at the moment that my roommate is female, so that way I get a splash of female perspective at times. But, then again, she’s not your typical female roommate, because if we were a lesbian couple I’d definitely be the feminine aspect of that coupling. Not to stray too far from the topic, let me bring it back to my peculiar finding.

It’s very populated where I live now. What a stark contrast from just a couple months ago when I practically lived in a Siberian wasteland and could go a whole week seeing only 2 or 3 people, if I was lucky, and only have to talk to maybe half of those if I was extremely lucky. I now can’t walk out my front door without being greeted by a neighbor or two. So, jogging around the bungalow complex, or down and around the park, or along the sidewalks by the various strip malls, I see a lot of people. Typically, I’d have my earbuds blasting away an upbeat tune to keep me motivated and moving, but mostly as an excuse so I didn’t have to talk to anyone. I also usually glance at the people I pass but keep my eyes forward to avoid contact. Well, that’s NOT what I did this morning. I made eye contact with everyone I passed (mostly men, btw), smiled at them, waved, but kept moving. Every one of them responded, even the ones who moved as I normally do with only a glance and eyes forward to avoid contact.

So, what was this deep thought I had? It involves porn, but I’ll get to that in a minute. Well, this thought occurred to me when this older gentleman, clearly in his mid-50’s, perhaps early 60’s since he’s running and in shape, made no subtle attempt in letting me know he really liked what he saw. He stopped in front of me, took his ear buds out of his ears, and put both his hands up to his heart…as if to say he’s having a heart attack, but certainly not under any true duress. The smile on his face lit up his whole countenance. Against my usual judgment, I stopped. “Darlin’, I just have to say, “Wowzers”. There’s no other expression I can imagine that would fit any better.” You must remember, I’m not 25 with legs that go on forever. I’m 44, short, curvy, and have a wrinkle and a gray hair or two (with hair dye you’ll never see those). Though I look young for my age, it’s clear to see I’m a mature woman, not a ‘young, hot, thang’. I smiled and thanked him for his compliment and continued my run.

That’s not the first ‘older’ gentleman to hit on me since I’ve been here. I live on the Space Coast in sunny Florida, where the rich recreate and the elderly retire out their golden years. If I so choose, I could easily snatch up a “Sugar Daddy” or two, IF material possessions and money really meant anything to me. Unfortunately, I’m sort of a gypsy, a wild soul looking for adventure more than possessions, love more than money, and living life more than just surviving it. I’ve been in survival mode for too long. It’s time I got back to being my wild, adventurous self.

I can’t help but think about what men really want in women. What do the young want, the old want, or the lover want? I listen to the guys talk in the game chats, and while they talk a big game (in most cases dehumanizing women into sexual objects, something to be fucked and tolerated… seriously… I NEVER hear the guys talk about how a woman is beautiful, smart, amazing, something to be cherished, adored, appreciated, and such… what a culture we live in), but I believe they all want the same thing; they just have different ideas of how to obtain it. I.e. I have this one friend that falls in love easily and often. While he’s very wise on a lot of things, very knowledgeable on a lot more things, very brave in almost everything, I wouldn’t take love advice from him because he doesn’t even know what it is he really wants. While being in ‘love’ with one woman, he keeps a small circle of good female ‘friends’ on a string (not too loose they disappear, not too close to be committed) just in case things don’t work out, more than likely so he won’t be alone until he falls in love again. I’m pretty sure he feels deeply, but he doesn’t express those deep emotions, in a failed attempt at protecting his heart from getting hurt. He hurts. He’s human. Failed relationships hurt, no matter how badass you might be. He’d be quick to protest that he doesn’t fear anything, or isn’t affected when something falls apart. But what is it he’s really looking for? What is it he hasn’t been able to find yet in choices he’s already made? What was it about the women chosen before where he thought he’d found it, to only discover a short time later he can’t see that same thing to sustain it?

Not getting off topic, but shifting gears to come at it from another angle. There’s another discussion in my gaming chat groups about pornography. The guys love it. Many of them watch it regularly, especially the friend mentioned above. They think I’m a prude because I don’t watch porn. I don’t not watch it because I’m a prude or think I’m too ‘goody’ to watch it, as if it’s garbage. I don’t watch it because it isn’t necessary and I feel sends the wrong message about sex, love, AND relationships. I love porn… but not to watch. I love making porn with someone I love. Not filming our sexual acts, but sharing our sexual, emotional, and psychological expressions together, using our imagination to play, have fun, and be together in every way. Being intimate. Porn lacks ALL that intimacy and imagination. I’m not anti-porn, I’m pro-intimacy. I love to be kinky, sexy, and fun. There’s NOTHING in porn that can beat my imagination, but when I feel a man expects what he watches in porn, it stifles my imagination. I can’t fake it, so I shut down. What little porn I’ve watched was filled with a lack of emotion, lack of imagination, and minimizes sex to a mere physical act - with strangers. Does a stranger deserve to see and share that part of me, that part of my imagination, that part of my intimacy? Hell NO. Yes, I’ve done it. I’ve had a casual experience with a stranger. While it was a little fun, and sexually charged, once it was over… it was over and I was empty. Yet, I’ve had a better experience when a man I loved very much simply ran his fingers over my hair. So, I’m sorry… I just can’t get excited or get off watching other people who don’t love or care for one another fucking, and doing it in a boring way. If your sex life is like a porn scene, that’s boring and I feel sorry for you, because your love life is going to be just as emotionally empty, because you’re training your mind and your body that ‘the porn way’ is the way sex is supposed to be done. I also believe that this is the number one killer in relationships for guys, because they’ve set up their relationships like a porn scene < Boy meets girl, sparks fly, they fuck, think they’ve fallen in love because they had chemistry and the orgasms were great, but then the orgasms subside and when they look at each other all they see is a stranger. They might fuck a few more times, but then that episode gets old, that page is starting to stick, and they want to see another one, meet another stranger>… and so the cycle goes.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying ALL men are like this, but many are… and they don’t even know it. I’m not harping on just men, either. There are many women in the same boat. I hope my friend someday learns to shut the porn off and swim into deeper waters, because I’d love to see him truly happy. I hope all the Sugar Daddy’s out there finds beauty in the older women they may overlook, while they’re tripping all over themselves over the pretty plastic ones. As for this gypsy, I’m still not going to watch porn, and I’ll still avoid the Sugar Daddy’s and their pockets of sweets, and keep running and smiling until I find my personal epic fantasy. I suppose that’s why porn doesn’t work for me, I’m not into the small and empty, but epic and fantastical magic. It’s no wonder my gamertag is Kvothe from The Name of the Wind. The music this Edema Rue plays has a meaning so deep the Chandrian will try to hunt me down and silence me, and the Arcanum doesn’t have enough room to record it.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Liebster Award Nominee

What a pleasant surprise to wake up this morning and browse through some of the comments on a few of my latest blog post, while I thought about what I wanted to blog about today, to find that I'd been nominated for a Liebster Award by author D. Wallace Peach of Mythss of the Mirror Blog {http://mythsofthemirror.com}.  

I've heard of the Liebster before, but have never been nominated.  I'm feeling quite honored, mostly because this nomination came from a complete stranger and someone who clearly enjoys reading my blog.  To me, I'm already a winner just for that fact alone.  

Well, being nominated for a Liebster doesn't come without strings... and here are the strings.  I've got some questions to answer and a little bit of homework to do.

11 Random Facts:

1. I love to cook gourmet foods.  I love the small portions, the way that different textures and flavors come together to create a party in my mouth.  I love the healthy aspect surrounding the foods I cook.
2. A man in a military uniform is one of my greatest weaknesses.  It doesn't matter how he looks, I find every man in a military uniform quite handsome. I honor and respect them.  I admire them.   
3. I'm an adrenaline junkie.  I like activities that scare me.  If it doesn't take my breath away, I'm bored.  But if it does take my breath away... I can't get enough. Going skydiving in two days.
4. I'm a Superhero nerd.  If it wears a costume and has a supernatural or extra special ability... I'm hooked. 
5. When my world feels like it's caving in on me, I go out to the woods and being in nature helps relax me, helps me regain my center.
6. I love to sing out loud in my car, even serenading my red light neighbors.  
7. I've kissed a gorgeous stranger in the grocery store once...when I was 23 and had just earned my degree.  I just walked right up to him and smiled.  When he went to open his mouth to ask me who I was or what I wanted, I put my finger over his lips, shook my head, and then slipped my hand behind his neck, pulling his face down to mine (I'm short he was taller than me) and I kissed him... good.  I'll never forget the look on his face just before I walked away.  I never saw him again, and don't know a single thing about him... but to this day, it is still the best kiss I've ever had. 
8. I love epic fantasies.  The bigger, the better.  I love tales of heroes and anti-heroes... even reluctant, prophesied, or arrogant ones.  
9. I love sushi.  My friends tried to get me to try it for years, but it took a fifth failed attempt, an attitude, and a strawberry Mojito to get me to try it... and I fell in love with it.
10. I've lost nearly 100 lbs purely through exercise and diet, yet NOT on a diet.  I made a change to my eating lifestyle to a more healthy and proportionate menu... and nature has done the rest. I love to work out.   I've worked hard to get where I am... and I've still got a ways to go and I won't allow a destructive influence or lifestyle come into my life that will be detriment to my success. 
11. I hate 11 questions.  What's wrong with 10? 

11 Questions:

1. What am I working on right now?  I'm writing a urban fantasy based on the arch angel Michael and features an Army Drill Sergeant at Fort Benning, Georgia and a Peace Corp Teacher in Butha Buthe, Losotho, South Africa. I'm really enjoying the research... and actual Drill Sergeant and Peace Corp Teacher.
2. Where do I write and why?  At my home office.  When I sit down to my desk, my mind goes into work mode.  It's how I've trained my mind and body to respond.
3. What was the first creative piece I remember writing?  I grew up telling my five brothers stories.  But the first piece I ever wrote where I realized I could write was in high school and I was feeling frustrated writing a creative term paper.  I could do anything that was structured and involved research.  Facts, details, getting things right... I felt like Nancy Drew and there was a mystery to solve.  But, given a free writing term paper where I had to use my creativity... I felt lost. I don't even remember the teacher's name, but I do remember sitting in her class and she walked over to me and asked me what was wrong.  When I told her I didn't understand, because there were no rules, and I couldn't narrow my focus to a single idea.  I really think my problem was... there were endless possibilities... and I couldn't just pick one.  She asked me to pick a word - one word.  I chose cat.  She then smiled and said, "Okay, tell me about this cat.  Where is it from, what is it doing, why is it doing it, where is it going, who is this cat?"  Voila... my imagination took off and before the end of class I had nearly written eight full pages of story and didn't want to stop because my Cat, who was an alien, had just  decided it has picked the wrong species to mimic upon landing, and was finding it difficult to complete its mission in that particular form.  
4. Where do I find inspiration?  In the people I meet and interact with in this life.  People are interesting, fascinating, scary, unpredictable, evil, kind and beautiful.
5. When did I decide to become a writer?  I think I was born a writer... it just took me nearly 35 years before I realized it.
6. The book that has most influences me as a person?  I'd have to say the Bible, it's helped me pay attention to my motives, my intentions, my character... but then my morals, ideas, and open-mindedness have really been developed over the years through Nancy Drew, Jane Austen, Piers Anthony, J.K. Rowling, Patrick Rothfuss, Mark Lawrence... and all the other writers I've grown or enjoy reading now.  I love a story that has something to learn. 
7. What book(s) most influence my writing?  All of them.  None of them.  
8. Why did I choose my genre?  I didn't.  It just happened to be what the story that filled my head happened to be.
9. Is there a book I'd like to see on film?  All my favorites.  Definitely The Kingkiller Chronicles by Patrick Rothfuss, The Broken Empire Series by Mark Lawrence, Blood Song by Anthony Ryan, or any of the short stories written by David Holton and Jeff Suwak.  Of course.. all of my books. 
10. What am I currently reading?  The Prince of Fools by Mark Lawrence.
11. Elevator pitch for my WIP?  When there's a war between the General of Angels and the General of Demons on the horizon that threatens the existence of humanity, there's no room for the complexity of human emotion.  But that's exactly what they have to conquer to either save or destroy the world. 

11 Bloggers (with less than 200 followers) Nominees.  I nominate:

1. http://jeffsuwak.com/blog/
2. http://menhealthiswealth.wordpress.com/
3. http://amoscassidy.com/
4. http://www.jamesharl.com/
5. http://thisunitedstate.com/
6. http://theroyalarmoury.com/category/tales-from-the-warrior/
7. http://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/61246061/
8. http://jennasands2.wordpress.com/
9. http://www.daveholton.com
10. http://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/23134124/
11. http://wordpress.com/read/blog/id/67573638/

Well, I've done my homework.  I appreciate the nomination and I hope those whom I've nominated do the same.  

Good luck, all!

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Writing with Emotion

If any of my friends from school or even those I worked with in the corporate world read any of my writings or blogs today, they’d think they’d stumbled upon an impostor,  someone with the same face and name but perhaps the victim of an alien body snatcher. I not only live differently, from quiet and reserved to open and honest, but I write with a different method. I write with emotion; I bleed part of my soul onto the page.

I’ve had other writer friends ask me why I do this.  They personally feel like it’s an invasion of their privacy.  Some see it as a weakness, a weapon to be used by the public to discredit their hard work and talent.  I suppose that could be true, but I see things a little differently. I believe in giving my best – and my best is of myself.

While I care what my readers, fans and followers think, feel and how they respond to my work, or even to me as a person, but to be quite honest - I don’t live or write for them – I live and write for me.  I invite them to journey with me AS I journey, but I don’t put on a show.  These words I write are who I am; the real picture, the real me. All these emotions, experiences, and thoughts are raw. I do not apologize for them, nor am I ashamed. 

If I could convey anything to those who read these blogs, it’s I hope they can serve as an example of humanity.  I write fictional characters.  I know how to create an image, a character and a personality - and I know many bloggers who write in such fashion. I’m currently setting up a fictional blog for one of my characters in a new book I’m writing, and it will be written from the character’s POV.  But the Whimsical World of T.L. Gray is just that… MY whimsical world.  For those who read it – thank you for allowing me to share.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Why Won’t My Skeletons Disappear?

Ever made a wrong decision, a bad investment, or simply made a mistake?  Join the club of humanity.  We are ripe with failures.  There’s no one on this earth who has not messed up at one time or another.  That puts us all on the same playing field.  What makes us different, and what proves the caliber of player we are (not who we think and say we are), is how we handle those mistakes. 

I’ve watched time and time again a player boast of their abilities, their talents and their skills right up until the moment the game starts.  That’s when the truth of their abilities (or lack thereof) became apparent and the truth was revealed.  Granted, sometimes a player had a good day and sometimes a bad.  However, if you watched enough games and the player long enough, you’d see their true potential, their true talents and their true skills.  The truth lay in the evidence of the results. 

I’ve also seen players who have been endowed with great natural talent, but lacked wisdom and knowledge on how, when and where to execute the right use.  In fact, their ego and lack of understanding of the rules were often their downfall; the time-bomb that killed their best efforts with a foul or a play at the wrong time.

 

What I’m trying to get at is this:  We are fallible, and sometimes do stupid stuff – thereby stuffing skeletons in our closets.  We ALL have them.  But, I’m observing a trend in our society that really frightens me.  Time and time again I see people avoid their skeletons, instead of facing them.  They wait to be bailed-out, to be rescued, to be forgiven for their mistakes, but take no responsibility to remove the skeletons from their own closets.  They just keep shoving them in, cramming them together, and expecting someone else to clean them out, some even going as far to proclaim they are entitled to a clean closet.

 

The bankruptcy rate in this country (the world in fact) is at the highest level ever recorded.  In the writing world – many writers are too eager to get in print – which they forgo the time, and effort to really study their craft, in their impatience self-publish and put out a bad manuscript. Then, they expect their readers to forgive, to support and to bail them out of their bad decisions by continuing to buy their books.  Yet, they don’t take the time to go back and clean up their mess and remove the skeletons they’ve created.  Or, they publish a decent book, but make the mistake of not properly marketing and networking to get the word out, yet expect someone else to come along and do it for them.  That’s like people who run up bad credit card debts in their ignorance, which they can’t pay, and yet expect the debts to just disappear, or for someone else to absorb the debt because forgiveness has been asked - then are shocked back into reality when they start to get their lives back on track to find out the ‘mess’ they created is still there for them to clean up.  What’s most surprising is the bad debtor gets angry that the skeleton is still in their closet.  They’re confused and don’t understand why it’s there.

Where did this mindset come from?  Where did personal responsibility go?  What happened to the concept of making amends or reparations?  Does the world even know what those words mean anymore?  I’m sorry doesn’t mean – “I feel bad because I messed up or I got caught”.  We are all sorry.  It means – “I acknowledge my mistake and I will do whatever I can to make amends, and change my habits so I don’t make it again.”  It’s insanity to keep doing the same thing, yet expect a different result. It’s just as insane to keep trying to help people with that mindset.  It’s naive of us to sit on our butts and wonder, “Why won’t my skeletons disappear?”

 

It’s time to get off our butts and start cleaning out our closets.  We ALL have skeletons, we ALL make mistakes, and we ALL are responsible for our own skeletons.  Learn to apologize, but most of all, learn to quit making the same mistakes. The only real entitlement we have is to our guilt and repentance