Wednesday, November 13, 2013

Superman (It's Not Easy) Article


Okay guys, if you know me, you know my insatiable love of all things Superman.  So, check out my new article at SongPlaces.com featuring the song "Superman (It ain't Easy) by Five for Fighting and the mysterious location of Smallville.


Check it out and enjoy the article.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Here’s a snippet:

I wish that I could cry, fall upon my knees.  Find a way to lie about a home I'll never see.  It may sound absurd, but don't be naive, even heroes have a right to bleed.  I may be disturbed, but won't you concede, even heroes have the right to dream.  It's not easy to be me.

There were a lot of attributes about Superman that were very popular, but the ones that this song - and fans like myself - seem to value most was the ability to "never tell a lie". It wasn't that he could fly, leap tall buildings in a single bound, or run faster than a locomotive, but his honesty, his heart, and his passion that made him a true hero.  I relate to how he felt as an orphan, having that strong desire to find an identity, to belong somewhere  to someone.  No matter how magnificent Superman's abilities, his greatest attributes were his love and use of his powers to save an often ungrateful and selfish world.



Tuesday, November 12, 2013

Expectations


I wish there were no bad days or bad news.  I wish everything always worked out and the plans we’ve made for ourselves go off without a hitch.  I wish everyone loved everyone and that dreams really do come true.  There are a lot of things I wish, and I’ve learned over the years I’ve built those wishes into expectations.  When those expectations fail to be met, I then become overwhelmed with disappointment, depression and despair. 

What do I do about that?  What can I do?  Do I never dare to dream or wish again?  Do I stop expecting the unexpected?  Of course not, but that’s easier said than done and vice versa. 
Life sucks sometimes and it certainly isn’t fair.  It always seems as if chaos and karma target me personally more than anyone else, and as long as I am self-absorbed and wallowing in my despair, that’s all I can see.  I KNOW, I’ve been stuck there for some time now.  However, I’m beginning to look around me, take notice of other people’s pain, other people’s disappointments, and other people’s despair and expectations.  This evaluation doesn’t erase mine or take away the real pain and fear I constantly feel, but it does help me realize …I’m not alone. 

My depression lies to me and tells me I’m on my own, but I’m not.  I’m so thankful for the friends who have stuck by me, with me, and beside me through this time, because I’m beginning to realize just how much of a ‘downer’ I’ve been.  Yes, I’ve been hurt and afraid.  Watching those I really love and care about around me also hurting, makes me realize how much they’ve really been there for me and put up from me.  I feel so helpless to their situations, but I’m filled with compassion because I truly understand how they feel and know what they’re going through.  I only hope and pray I can be even the tiniest bit the friend they’ve been to me. I love them dearly.  I appreciate them more than I could ever express. 

Do I still have expectations?  YES, even greater ones.  I don’t have the facts and figures, the studies, the charts, or the evidence, but I have faith in myself and in my friends.  No matter what happens in this world and what we all have to go through, whether good or bad, the love we have for each other is really the only thing that truly matters.  Money, success, romance, fame, achievement, or status doesn’t mean anything without having people you care about share your life with you – and you share your life with them.  Their love for me and my love for them is truly where I draw strength and find the courage to live – to live fully.  I’m beginning to understand… our love for one another is truly where God lives, at least the God to which I believe.

We only get a short period in this world.  Life is too short to waste it being angry, disappointed and hurt.  Help me keep my focus on the love and friendship I have – and you know what… I will make it, I will survive and I will LIVE life to the fullest.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Monday, November 11, 2013

Thank you, Veterans

Thank You, Veterans
 


 I’ve had the honor of knowing many veterans, from several different branches of the military, and from several different countries, not just the United States. I can’t express how much gratitude I have for their service.

 I know many veterans who don’t like it or feel uncomfortable when people thank and honor them for their service. To many of them their service is simply their duty and don’t understand what we honor. They’ve been taught to be heroes, but not to think of themselves as such. That is another aspect of them that I honor. 

While I honor the individual and the choice they made to put their lives on the line for me, my family, my country, or in the defense of others, when I say “thank you” to a veteran, it is part for their individual service, but it’s also in part for those I can no longer tell those words, to those who did not come home.

 “Thank you.”

 Till next time, ~T.L. Gray
http://www.bubblews.com/news/1550740-thank-you-veterans

Friday, November 08, 2013

Song of the Goddess Review in West Georgia Living

Check out my latest review of Song of the Goddess by author Jason Argos in this issue of West Georgia Living Magazine. Check out the article on page 55-56.

Thursday, November 07, 2013

Say Something


*An Adventures of Jude and Tammy story*

Tammy slowly swung back and forth, the tips of her sandals gliding through the sand.  She looked up, hearing Jude’s voice across the playground.  He laughed and chased Katy around, trying to place a ladybug in her hair, knowing she was scared of them.  Tammy smiled and kicked off to make her swing go faster, higher. 

Katy’s squeals echoed off the brick wall of the school. “Jude, stop!”  She ran into the circle of her other friends.  “Help me, Alex, Chris, Rob.” 

The three friends circled around Katy and then grabbed hold of her.  The tall skinny boy named Chris blurted out, “I’ve got her, Jude.  Do it!” 

The five friends squealed and laughed in their circle as Jude pretended to place the ladybug in Katy’s hair. Tammy giggled watching the chaos from the swings.  Katy frantically searched through her hair for the bug and everyone else busted out laughing. Chris and Jude fell to the ground holding their stomachs, Alex giggled into her pig tails and Rob shook his head.  They then launched into a game of tag, covering the entire playground. 

Tammy swung higher and higher, closing her eyes so she could feel the catch in her stomach as her swing fell back down to the earth after soaring high into the wide blue sky.  The warm rays of the sun kissed her cheeks with a light burn.  Her pale, porcelain skin always turned pink when exposed and caused a patch of freckles to appear across her nose.  A soft, sad song played in her mind as she lost herself in the swing. 

“Hey, Tammy!” 

She opened her eyes just as she reached the apex of the back swing and then smiled as she soared toward 
Jude standing beside the swings, his hands cupped over his brows like a visor to block the sun from his eyes. 

“Hey, Jude.” It took a couple passes, her toes running through the sand to bring the swing to a stop.  

“What’s up?”

“You should have seen it, Tammy.  I pretended to put this bug in Katy’s hair and she went all crazy. It was so sweet,” Jude told her as his eyes sparkled with excitement.

“I saw it,” Tammy responded.

“Did you see how she screamed? She sounded just like you when you scream.”

Tammy nodded.  The bell rang, indicating the end of recess. 

Jude turned his attention to the school and then back at Tammy.  “Well, I’ve got to go.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With a small wave, Tammy responded, “Bye, Jude.”  She walked slowly into the building with a huge lump in her throat.

~

Tammy hung upside down on the monkey bars.  She closed one of her eyes and held out her tiger-eyed marble, catching a ray of the late summer sunshine in it and it sparkled. 

Jude walked up beneath her.  “Hey, you still got that thing?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Can I borrow it?”

Tammy wrapped her fingers around her marble and scrunched her brows at Jude.  The pressure in her brain grew heavy from being upside down for too long, so she pulled herself up and sat on top the bars.  “Why?”

“Chris wanted to play a game but I didn’t have a shooter.  We can play if I borrow yours.”  Jude held out his hand.

Opening her hand, Tammy looked down at her most precious treasure and then at the marble in her hand.  

She bent down, placing the tiger-eye into Jude’s hands. “Take care of it.”

Without looking back, Jude took off running toward his group of friends and waved over his head, “Thanks, Tammy.”

Her fingers ached where the marble had once sat.  She closed her eyes to stop the tears that wanted to fall.

~

Watching the pretty pink ink flow across the paper, Tammy carefully formed each of her letters.  Her teacher told her earlier that day she had the best penmanship in the class and her stories were very imaginative.  She lay in the grass, swaying her legs back and forth behind her as she scribbled words across the lined page.  The black beetle scurried across the moss-covered log.

A ball bounced onto her paper, causing her to mess up the letter-g.  She raised her head and shouted, “Hey, watch where you throw your balls!”

Jude ran up, his steps crunching over the fallen autumn leaves and grabbed the ball.  He looked down and said, “Sorry, Tammy.  I didn’t see you laying there. Your brown sweater camouflaged you.”   He cocked his head to the side.  “What are you doing?”

“I’m writing a story,” Tammy answered.  “It’s about that time at the start of school …”

“Jude, come on!” Chris yelled from across the playground. 

“See you later,” Jude said and took off running.

“… that we saw a black beetle in the woods,” Tammy finished saying.  She closed her notebook and placed her face into the crook of her arms and cried.

~

The cold winds came and snow fell, making the playground look like a winter wonderland.  Tammy loved her pink coat, boots, hat and mittens.  They had been an early Christmas gift from a grandmother she didn’t know who lived in the city. It was the last day of school before the winter break. 

Tammy stepped through the snow until she came to the familiar plastic tunnels.  She liked to crawl into the end of the one placed by the edge of the playground where the other kids rarely played.  She liked to write there, free from the sounds of laughter, the wayward ball, the stares, or simply the sight of anyone else.  She crawled inside and pulled out her tattered notebook, now almost full of her stories.  She pulled out her pink pen that was now almost empty of ink and began to write.

The princess swung her sword and slayed the mean dragon, saving the kingdom.

“What’cha you doing in here?”

Tammy looked up, surprised to see Jude peering into the edge of the tunnel.  “I’m writing.”

“You’re still doing that?” Jude slid into the end of the tunnel and sat next to her.  “What are you writing about?”

Tammy blinked.  Her bottom lip trembled.  She snapped her book shut and said to Jude, “I missed you.”

Jude looked up at her and answered, “What are you talking about? I’ve been right here.”

She shook her head.  “No, you haven’t.”

He smiled. “You’re being silly, Tammy.  I see you every day.”

“No, you haven’t seen me in weeks.  You haven’t played with me or talked to me.”  She stuffed her book and pen into her pocket and climbed over him to get out of the tunnel. 

Jude sat there quietly and stared at Tammy.  Confusion covered his face.

“Say something …” Tammy started, but then snapped her lips shut.  Tears sprang into her eyes.  “I was your best friend and would have followed you anywhere.”

“You are my best friend,” Jude muttered.

“You forgot me.” Tammy shook her head.  “I gave up on you when you took my marble and never gave it back.”

“It was just a stupid marble.  I’ll get you another one,” Jude said.

Tears coursed down Tammy’s face.  “It was mine and precious to me. You were precious to me.” 

Jude pulled himself out of the tunnel and crossed his arms over his chest.  “You’re being such a girl, Tammy.”


“I am a girl.”  Tammy turned away and started walking away. “Good-bye, Jude.”   

Till next time,

Wednesday, November 06, 2013

Inner Child


Inner Child
I had a sweet conversation with my best friend yesterday, and she mentioned that sometimes when people go through some sort of tragedy in their life, they often stay at the emotional age when that tragedy occurred.  I’ve heard something like that before, but I always just brushed the idea to the side, not really identifying with the statement, relating emotional age with the maturity level.  So, the concept never added up for me.  I’ve since been informed that emotional age and emotional maturity are two different things.  Most often kids who’ve been abused are highly mature, highly functional, and highly intelligent, yet often emotionally naïve.  Now, THAT I understand.

In my defensive way, I made a joke out of the statement.  It’s what I do when I hear things that I don’t want to think about or want to deflect. Though I never just right out ignore anything.  When I hear something, I hear it.  I may not respond immediately, but I will respond. I like to think things through, weigh them, measure them, and work them out through my own understanding.  The joke I made was about my emotional age would then have to be about 4-years old.  My friend didn’t laugh.  Instead she says, “I can see that.”

Now, I almost got offended, because in my understanding I took it to mean she thought I was immature.  She elaborated and said to me, “You have a part of you that still believes in fairy tales, slaying dragons, knights in shining armor, superheroes, and happily-ever-afters.”  I wanted to argue with her and immediately thought what she said was idiotic and ridiculous.  I didn’t believe in fairy tales.  I know they’re not real.  I live in the real world, feel the real pain, and face real consequences.  But, I realized my friend was right.  I do still believe in those things.  I still believe in heroes.  They may not wear a cape and hide behind a pair of glasses, but they do exist.  I do still believe in valiant knights, brave men who go out to slay dragons in defense of their love, their country, or their family.  I do believe still in happily-ever-after though I don’t see examples of it every day, nor has it ever been a part of my life, but I know it’s there… I just have to find it.     

I’m so thankful today that inside me there lives an inner child, a little four-year old girl, believing in the fantastical.  More than anything, I hope she continues to cling to those dreams and beliefs and never lets them go. The world needs them. I need them.  I need her.

What is your emotional age?

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Tuesday, November 05, 2013

Why So Cynical?


I don’t know if my cynical radar is amplified, but it seems lately it’s picking up a particular signal and I don’t like what it’s playing.  I don’t want to think it’s the people around me, that I’d choose to surround myself with such an attitude, but it seems to be like an infection spreading over the universe.  What disease or situation am I talking about?  Cynicism, especially when it comes to love and romance.

According to Webster – a cynic is:
1.   A person who believes that only selfishness motivates human actions and who disbelieves in or minimizes selfless acts or disinterested points of view.
2.   One of a sect of Greek philosophers, 4th century BCE, and who advocated the doctrines that virtue is the only good, that the essence of virtue is self-control, and that surrender to any external influence is beneath human dignity.
3.   A person who shows or expresses a bitterly or sneeringly cynical attitude.

Where are the romantics? Surely they don’t just live in novels, because that would truly prove a depressing world in which to live. So, I ask myself WHY?  Why are people so bitter and cynical?  What’s happened to create this atmosphere and social paradigm shift? 

My only guess would be pain, heart-break and disappointment.  But, that is something we all have experienced in one form or the other, or if we haven’t yet, we will.  It’s like a human right-of-passage.  Pain cannot be avoided.  But, allowing that pain to replace hope, romance, or a positive outlook on relationships shouldn’t be accepted. 

I know too many people who are romantic at heart, but refuse to allow even a modicum of romance in their lives.  They’d rather be alone, than risk being hurt or rejected.  They’d rather protect themselves with an armored coat of cynicism than get lost in the idea of romance.

I’ve been hurt.  I’ve been let down.  I’ve been rejected.  I’ve been unloved.  I’ve been disappointed.  I’ve been used.  I’ve been abused.  But, where is MY romance, adoration and the opportunity to be cherished? When do I get a chance to be the girl deemed worthy enough to put it all on the line and risk everything, to give everything, or to trust enough to place the most precious of hopes, dreams and aspirations into her hands?  I seem to always find the damaged men who have given up on love and romance because they have failed in a previous relationship.  You know what?  It failed in my previous relationships too, but I refuse to give up.  Instead, I hope even harder. 

Someone I once loved used to tell me, “I tried that romance stuff before… the poetry, the flowers, all that junk, and all it ever got me was looking like a fool, because the first jerk that came around and treated them like dirt walked away with them.”  Perhaps he was right, because he never used any of that romance stuff on me, in fact, he withheld all romantic and intimate feelings and acts, and I stuck with him for twenty years.  If anyone should be a cynic, it should be me.

I have a friend who says he’s no good when it comes to romance, and believes he will mess up any relationship he has that involves it, and thus has decided to abort all romance from his life.  He hides that part of himself from the friend whom he claims to love and honor most.  He has convinced himself the friendship is better without it; safer, truer, though it was initially built partly by romance.  Perhaps that’s true on his part, but doesn’t he think his friend would want all of him, including the romantic side?  If he keeps that part of himself isolated, he’s cheating them.  He gets all of them, or they are forced to deny a part of who they are and only give half of themselves, and they only receive half of each other. Two halves, in this case, don’t make a whole. His cynicism of romance and the rejection of it is damaging to the relationship. 

The act of NO romance will eventually kill a relationship just as much, if not more, than previous failed romantic endeavors.  I hope cynicism doesn’t destroy this relationship and the cynic is able to keep his friend, even if it’s just as a friend.  Unrequited love hurts more than lost love. With lost love, at least the love was there at one time before it became lost.

I have another friend that doesn’t even try to have a relationship at all, who cuts themselves off from even being in any position to accidentally stumble into a romantic relationship of any kind.  Yet, sometimes I can see a small glimmer in her heart that tells me the harder she pushes the possibility away, the taller and thicker she builds her walls, the stronger I know she really wants it, but too afraid to open herself to it.  She’s convinced herself she doesn’t need love and romance at all.  We all need love, that’s how we were designed… to love and be loved in return.

I hope I can inspire her to heal her cynicism, though I feel I’m a terrible example.  She’s watched me go through my pain, my adventures, my new meetings, new experiences and new hopes, saw my tears, felt my heart-break and listened to my disappointments when I failed, yet again.  She is there with me as I fight through these fears and even with a freshly-wounded heart, watches me as I open it yet again knowing full well it could get crushed, abused or used.  I could very much fail again and fear the solidification of her cynicism. 

I believe with all my soul that as long as I keep my heart open to romance, no matter how much abuse it receives, someday… someday it will receive the love, desire and romance it deserves… that I deserve.  The only thing I know is … if I close my heart and allow this disease of cynicism to consume me… I will never receive it.  The love I have for myself continues to heal me, sustain me, and give me the strength to get up and try again.  I may get my heart broken over and over, but I also… just maybe… maybe find love.  

I choose to remain optimistic.  I wish I could inspire my friends to do the same because I truly want them all to be happy and deliriously in love.  Maybe they are perfectly happy in their cynicism and it’s my romantic notions that don’t understand. If that’s the case, and it could very well be, then I don’t want to understand and become cynical too; I am meant to be romantic.  I could love and accept them as a cynic, and hope they can love and accept me as a crazy romantic in return.  I’m not saying they’re wrong in their methods, I’m just saying their methods are not right for me.  My methods may be the wrong kind, especially in light of my constant failure, but I can’t give up.  I hope they still love me after they read this blog post… they are cynics, after all. 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Monday, November 04, 2013

Dog River Library Festival '13



One of the joys of being a writer is the opportunity to meet fans and readers face to face at local writing events, festivals, signings and conferences.  It’s a chance to connect to the reader, gauge responses to the work you’ve worked hard to create, see how well our vision translates, and just have a moment to witness the fruit to all our labor. 

Last year I attended over 42 appearances all over the state of Georgia.  I went as far south as Columbus and Milledgeville, east to Lawrenceville in Gwinnett County, north to Marietta and west to Bowdon Junction.  I could be found at festivals, cultural art centers, bookstores and libraries.  I met readers as young as ten and as old at 110, and I loved every moment. This weekend I attended the Dog River Library Festival '13.

My life has since been turned upside down (some for the good, some not so good) and took a little break from appearances.  I also took a little break from the marketing and business side of writing and publication and spent a little time being reminded of my joy and passion for the art of writing.  I learned a few new styles of writing, and dabbled in a few new genres.  I developed a love and appreciation for poetry, short stories and flash fiction, and danced around with the construction and exposition of romance and erotica (two genres I loathed to read).  I spent some time in the company and awe of other talented writers. 

It’s really important for writers to be surrounded by other writers, to learn from, to associate and to relate.  I needed the writers that have come in my life so much I doubt I’ll ever be able to fully express to them how much they have all meant to me. Recently, I’ve reconnected with some of my readers and fans and have made a few appearances as local festivals and appearances.  That’s important too.

But, it’s time to get back to work.  I’m now diving back into my writing and pushing my literary agency to the next level.  Thank you, everyone, to all those who have supported and stuck with me through what has been a very wild and changing season in my life. 

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Friday, November 01, 2013

NaNoWriMo 2013 - Day 1


Day one is over.  Now it's time for me to get to my 'regular job'.  
Here are my counts for this first day into the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) 2013:

I started with the first three chapters already written.  I wrote them several weeks ago, but as always... life got in the way, the brick wall of writer's block slammed into my face and the story was pushed to the side.  I wasn't even sure if I was going to participate in NaNoWriMo this year, knowing the dedication, determination and drive it requires to reach the 50,000 (+) word goal, but with the encouragement of some of my friends, I jumped in.  Mostly because some of my other writer friends wanted to do it and needed the encouragement, and how can I encourage others to do something I can't or won't do myself?  So, here I am.

Start Word Count: 3,794 words
Added Word Count: 2,584 words
Total Word Count: 6,378 words
Words left to go: 43,622 words
Days left: 29 days
Daily Word Goal: 2500/week day - 12,500 words per week

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray


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http://www.bubblews.com/news/1464902-nanowrimo-2013
http://www.bubblews.com/news/1472021-nanowrimo-2013-day-1
http://www.bubblews.com/news/1472901-mid-morning-break-day-1

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Happy Halloween


Halloween is one of my all-time favorite holidays, especially when my kids were little and we had to stretch our imaginations to discover which costume we would wear,   not to mention the whole process of trick-or-treating.  Don’t forget to work out extra hard tomorrow to work off the party food and candy.  It’s also my time of year, autumn.  The air is cooler; the trees are turning colors, farmers markets are overflowing with their harvests.  People are just happier in the fall.

Take a moment, just one moment, and really enjoy the day.  Have fun. Laugh.  Celebrate living.  Tell someone you love and appreciate them today.
Happy Halloween.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Monday, October 28, 2013

Emperor of Thorns by Mark Lawrence Review

I can't truly express how thankful I am this series ended on a high note, a sad note, but an extraordinary note nonetheless.

So much wisdom, so much pain; so much to learn, yet nothing to gain.

The wheel of life turns and our sins rise to meet us; our own thorny scars stretch across the planes to greet us.

Yet who's to say what truth we'll meet on that day?  Will it be a heaven or hell we'll find as we make our own way?

Which is the dream and which is the echo?

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray



New Dreams




Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Matthew Keith Reviews: Review & Giveaway -- Beyond the Tempest Gate by Je...

Matthew Keith Reviews: Review & Giveaway -- Beyond the Tempest Gate by Je...: Jeff Suwak's novella Beyond the Tempest Gate is the perfect example of a story that doesn't have to use filler or worry about a w...

My Songs Know What You Did in the Dark - Fall Out Boys



"My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark"

http://youtu.be/LkIWmsP3c_s


Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.

B-B-B-Be careful making wishes in the dark, dark
Can't be sure when they've hit their mark
And besides in the mean, mean time
I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart

I'm in the de-details with the devil
So now the world can never get me on my level
I just gotta get you off the cage
I'm a young lover's rage
Gonna need a spark to ignite

My songs know what you did in the dark

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark

Writers keep writing what they write
Somewhere another pretty vein just died
I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see
That you’re the antidote to everything except for me, me

A constellation of tears on your lashes
Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes
In the end everything collides
My childhood spat back out the monster that you see

My songs know what you did in the dark

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark

My songs know what you did in the dark
(My songs know what you did in the dark)

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

So light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
Light 'em up, up, up
I'm on fire

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark
Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.
In the dark, dark

Oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa, oh, oh, whoa.

Image: http://b.vimeocdn.com/ts/434/934/434934876_640.jpg

Man, I really, really love the beat and the passion of this song.  It's perfect for a good work out or run, steady and upbeat.  
Yeah, that's me ... that girl in the gym or on the trail singing out loud to ear phones as she's running or working out.  

I don't care.  I can sing pretty good and I'm pretty sure most of the time in key - because I usually sing most of the song a'cappella.  

I sing out ballads too.  I also sing in the car and don't stop when I'm at a stop sign or red light and others look over.  I can't let someone else mess up a good part in the song.  I'm just not the type to stop what I'm doing because it may embarrass or make others feel uncomfortable. I am who I am. You either love me just like I am, or you can walk off and talk about the crazy girl.  It makes no difference to me, because I'm the same always. You'll know what I do in the dark ...the same thing I do in the daylight. I don't have anything to hide.  I'm not ashamed.  I'm just me.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray
www.tlgray.blogspot.com
www.authortlgray.wordpress.com
www.facebook.com/AuthorTLGray
twitter.com/AuthorTLGray

+Fall-Out-Boys
+My-Song-Knows-What-You-Did-In-The-Dark
+Singing
+Exercise
+Embarrassing


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I Could Be Wrong


Yeah, you’ve heard it here.  I’ve even went to the trouble to write it down so there’s proof of my admittance.  I’m not one of those people who can’t admit when they’re wrong.  In fact, I’d say I probably admit my failings, weakness and misunderstandings a little too much. 

Admitting I could be wrong about something, doesn’t mean the choices or ideas I expressed were not what I thought were the best options for me at that time, or were the best according to my understanding, because that is where I find most of the problems lay.  Not that I committed an intentional infarction, but that I operated mostly from a position of misunderstanding. 

We, nearly all seven billion of us, have different experiences, ideas, hopes, values and morals that we draw from, react with, or use when it comes to the things we do and the choices we make.  While we think we’re right in our own eyes, we’re essentially only right within our own concepts.  Forcing someone else to respond or react to our outlined prescriptions is truly an invasion upon their will.  It’s not that one is right and one is wrong – because by which standard is the measure for what is right and wrong? 

Just because we don’t think and respond the same way, doesn’t mean our thoughts and actions are not valid.  I have my own opinion, and I can make up my own mind, but my mind isn’t so adamant that it cannot see a different way or learn a different value.  Compromise isn’t always giving up, selling out or surrendering in weakness – but often comes from a place of wisdom and enlightenment. 

When I hear people say things like ‘there just isn’t a way’ or ‘I can see where this will pose a problem in the future’, or ‘this is just how I am’, I become sad.  I know they’ve solidified their opinion and there’s no longer any hope for further enlightenment or compromise.  I can’t promise I’ll always be right, or expect others to always be right, but I do promise to always do my best, keep an open mind, and be quick to forgive.  That’s all I expect out of others in return. But, then again, I could be wrong.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Behind This Window


I stand behind this window and peer into a cold, wet world, but not with sadness.  The silver raindrops of my soul have stopped falling and the sunlight threatens to break through the clouds. 

I stand behind this window and peer into a cold, wet world, but with gladness.  The colorful rainbows of my hope have risen and the dark clouds that threaten have dissipated.

Don’t give up on me.  I haven’t given up on myself and I need you to help keep me strong. It’s so easy to stand behind this window and peer into a cold, wet world, but so hard not to open the window and let it inside.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Friday, October 18, 2013

Welcome Home


For as long as I remember, I’ve always dreamed of home.  It was never a particular four walls, in a tree-lined street, or had a white-picket fence, but a feeling of being loved and belonging.  I’ve imagined a moment when I walk across a threshold, and no matter what chaos stirred outside, inside I’d find safety, security and serenity.  I’d feel a sense of solace and strength, a place to rest, lay down my weapons of warfare, and know I was connected in completeness with another life force.  It’s been the greatest dream I’ve ever had, and the influence to many of my life-changing decisions.

I sometimes think it’s unfair that some people have this reality their whole lives, and often are unappreciative.  They take advantage, use, or abuse the people who give them that sense, yet enjoy their benefits.  I learned early that life is ever unfair.  Had I not had the unfair life I’ve led, I doubt I’d love and desire that sense of home the way I do.  But, then again, perhaps that would be better, because then I wouldn’t be left with this empty, unwanted feeling all the time.


I used to think this sense of home was a myth, especially after living for so long in what would be deemed the ultimate family dream.  Yet, it was all just an illusion.  I never felt loved, wanted or accepted.  I always yearned still for my home as I did my best to provide such a sense for someone else.  I’ve felt it, briefly, in what seems like a blink of an eye, but completely.  So, I know it exists.  That only makes me want it more.

Someday, someone will say to me “Welcome Home” and I will know dreams do come true.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Wednesday, October 16, 2013

The Art of Cooking & Plating


I’ve picked up a new hobby, one that really brings me joy and also something I take pride in learning …and that’s gourmet cooking and plating. 

I love food, but not in the addictive sort of way.  I’ve never been controlled by fare, but I have grown to appreciate good flavors.  I have also learned the hard way that some foods just don’t mix well with others and some are better for me health-wise.  But when you discover the right mixture, the right portions, the right textures, the right consistency, and the right nutritional value, food can be quite enjoyable.   I’m building quite a list of unique recipes, though I’ve yet to write any of them down.

That brings me to plating, which is really a new form of art. I love art of all kinds: paintings, photography, music, sculptures, natural exhibits, nature reserves, literature, dance, design and film.  Creating a beautiful piece of art with the plating of food brings a smile to my face.  It makes the process of preparing, cooking and eating so much more enjoyable. My focus becomes more on the presentation and taste than the idea of eating.   

The last thing that makes cooking and plating dinner more enjoyable is the company.  Dinnertime seems to be something that once was the center of family communication, enjoyment and social interaction.  In today’s fast-paced world, dinner is often rushed, filled with processed fast food, or consumed on the run in our busy lives.  In most ‘family’ restaurants the volume of food seems to be more important than the quality or display.  While raising my children, dinnertime was an important part of our day, and it was the place I built the intimate relationships most with my family.  Now I’m alone and often eat in solitary silence.  However, I still cook most nights and now I’ve found the enjoyable art of plating. 

I lift my glass to the hope that one day I will find that special someone to share my new gift and a great meal.  Until then, I’m determined to enjoy the beauty of the art of cooking and plating on my own.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Picking Myself Up


I know what the dirt tastes like.  I’ve had a mouth full of it so many times I can almost recognize the earthy elements and distinguish between the minerals, how the gritty grains get stuck in your teeth, and the metallic taste it leaves in your mouth.  That’s the result of intimate knowledge.  But, before you get too lost in this blog post, I’m speaking metaphorically here.  Though as a very active and imaginative child, one unafraid and daring, I’ve had my mouth full of natural dirt plenty of times to be able to draw a complete illustration.

I missed my mark and have fallen on my face.  It hurts, especially along the jawline, the end of the nose and my eyes are swollen almost shut.  Yet, as I try and catch my breath, blowing dirt all into my face, my eyes and up my nose, I’m moving.  My hands are firmly pressed on the ground and I’m pushing.  I can barely bend my neck back and see anything but the ground beneath me, but I’m starting to make out the road set before me. My back hurts, my knees sting, and I smell the tang of blood in my nose, but I’m alive.  I have survived and I am picking myself up.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray


Monday, October 14, 2013

Mecca Fest '13



There are few things in this world I enjoy more than hanging out with fellow writers and artist, except meeting new and old readers.  Most of a writer’s life is spent alone sitting behind a computer or in isolation somewhere as they get lost in their current work.  But we have to be careful not to disconnect. 

One of the most important and crucial part to a writer’s life, in my opinion, is interacting, learning, communicating, and being in fellowship with other writers and readers.  No matter how much of an introvert we are, we cannot isolate ourselves from the very tools that are meant to sharpen our skills.

I learn something from every interaction I have with my fellow writer friends and responses from readers; every time.  This past weekend was no exception.  Though I’m exhausted, I enjoyed every minute of the 2013 Mecca Fest at the Carrollton Cultural Arts Center.  When I move away, this will be one event I hope I never miss.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray