Run, TL, Run

I have Drapetomania. Sometimes I want to run and hide away from the world. Not because I can’t face a problem or am trying to avoid responsibility. If there’s anything I’m good at its facing problems head on and carrying responsibility. Those two traits have weighed me down most my life. No, I want to run and hide when I’m scared, hurt, or lonely. I’m not afraid for my safety, at least not when it comes to the physical, but I’m sometimes afraid my heart can’t take any more abuse, my spirit can’t handle any more pressure, or my mind can’t deal with any more torment. I sometimes run to save myself.

I’ve been running my whole life. I’ve watched people I’ve loved very much walk right out of my life. Well, that’s not true. I left them. When they’ve hurt me, I’d leave. But it doesn’t mean I wanted to go. It was my way of protecting myself. It’s my reaction of self-preservation. I used to not be able to recognize it until very much after the fact, and by then it was too late. But these past few years I’ve started to notice the triggers, see the signs, and understand why I feel that way. Knowing the why still doesn’t always stop me from running, but it sometimes helps me find my way back. It’s not just a simple choice I can make. It isn’t a recent development. It’s very deep seeded PTSD from childhood trauma. It’s like an addict fighting an addiction. They know what they need to do, but the only promises you can make is to take it one day at a time.

I don’t do any kind of drugs and I rarely drink. I don’t have any addictions that control me, and my mind is often very clear and introspective. By all logical common sense, I should be able to keep my feet firmly planted and not run, but I still find myself sometimes running really, really fast away from the people I love most – because my mind fears them and the pain they can cause.

This running reaction has destroyed just about every relationship I’ve ever had. The only ones that have endured are my children, and it’s because they refuse to let me go. I think that’s the key. I have a few friends, very good friends, that I’ve tried to push away so many times, but they refuse to let me go. They don’t put up with any bullshit from me, and tell it to me straight, but they’re the ones who showed me the truth about myself… but they had to show me while holding me down and not letting me go. (I’m not talking about physically holding me down, but emotionally not giving up on me.)

The thing that hurt me most when I left my husband of 20 years was that he never tried to stop me from leaving – not in any way whatsoever. It doesn’t mean I was going to stay, but it does mean I wasn’t deemed worthy enough in his estimation to try and stop me from leaving.

I remember watching my father abuse my mother, me, and my brothers, and would just wish and pray he would leave, but he never did. Not only that, he threatened anyone who tried to leave, which only made me want to go even more. I eventually did leave, but the whole time I stayed it wasn’t because I was afraid to leave, I was afraid of leaving my family unprotected. So, I stayed and endured the abuse until they were old enough to protect themselves. I then ran and never looked back. What hurt more than anything, my sacrifice to stay was for nothing. My mother and my brothers never loved me enough to try and protect me. They let me run, and some even became the abusers and manipulators I tried to protect them from becoming. I have no relationship with them as adults. Every time I try to get close to them, they’d hurt me by stealing from me, lying to me, using me, trying to manipulate me, – so I’d run.

I don’t run because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Every time I’ve ever ran, it’s ripped my heart to shreds. It hurts so much it takes my breath away. I still can’t sometimes breathe. Someday, I’m going to love someone and that love is going to scare me, and I’m going to turn and try to run away… but they’re going to love me enough to grab my hand, wrap their arms around me, and refuse to let me go… and they’re going to have to do it often.

I’m not afraid to run. I’m afraid no one will ever stop me.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Lie to Me, Go Ahead

Okay, so everyone should know by now that I’ve been busy, busy, busy trying to fill my previously defunct music collection over the past few years. Having only listened to gospel music for nearly two decades (nothing wrong with that… loved the music), I’m really behind on my pop culture, often missing cultural references. While I love the music, I mean… I really love music, being viewed as naïve and defunct probably bothers me most.

Filling this collection isn’t an easy task. I don’t just listen to song after song after song. When I listen to a song, I may listen to ONLY that song for days, really letting it soak into my soul. I might also put it into part of a playlist I’m currently working on. Or, I might put it into another productive playlist that I use to work out, or work to. It really depends on the song. MOST often, I listen to it over and over and over and over until I feel I understand it, or I feel the emotion of it, or I feel I’ll never get it –that it just doesn’t mesh with me or my soul. However, 99% of the songs do. I can’t explain what music does to me. It’s a lot like the way stories move me – somewhere deep on the inside.

So, saying all that… this brings me to my current song “Lie to Me” by Jonny Lang. Wow! Oh, man I could have written this song myself. I don’t just feel it, I live it, breathe it, and I weep this song with many, many, many tears. “Lie to me and tell me everything is all right. Lie to me and tell me that you’ll stay here tonight. Tell me that you’ll never leave. Oh, I’ll just try to make believe that everything you’re telling me is true. Lie to me. Come on, baby, go ahead and lie to me. You know what I’m talking about. Lie to me, it doesn’t matter anymore. It can never be the way it was before. If I can’t hold onto you, leave me something I can hold onto for just a little while, won’t you… won’t you let me dream?”

Damn! This is a place I had never wanted to go, never wanted to be, but one I know very well. It’s darkness, it’s pain unimaginable – knowing the truth, and the truth hurting more than any lie. So, I plead for the lie - just to breathe. I still haven’t learned to breathe. Yet (yep… this is the hopeless romantic in me) I’m glad I got to experience what I have – every ounce of pain was worth it. I can’t begin to imagine going through this world never having experienced this kind of love – lost and unrequited love. I’ve had both and they both nearly destroyed me. Hell, they still overwhelm me. I’m fucking crying my eyes out right now just thinking about them. Tell me he’s still alive, still fighting for me, still looking for me and will someday find me. Tell me I’m the one he thinks about first thing in the morning and the last before he closes his eyes - though he chose her, it’s me he really loves. I know the truth – one soldier is never coming back and the other one loves someone else. But go ahead, lie to me, please.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Defining Moments

We all have special moments, defining moments, moments that will live in our hearts forever. I have a few special moments in my life, scenes that will live forever, well, at least as long as I keep them in my memory. I’m sure I’ve had special moments in my childhood that I’ve forgotten, but there are some that are still precious and with me today.

I’ve had some exciting moments too, like the time I jumped out of an airplane… that was exciting. While I remember those, and the excitement that went with them, those still don’t compare to a few moments that melt my heart and bring me to tears.

Here are few of my special moments. They’re not in any particular order of importance, because they’ve all changed my life in different ways.

#1 – about 5 years old. I’m lying in the vibrant green grass. The sun beats down on me and feels like a warm blanket. A tin pail sits beneath a water spigot on the side of a dilapidated barn, and crystal clear drops are dripping in rhythm. I smell honeysuckle in the air. Clucking chickens strut across a dirt road. I watch an ant carry a piece of white through a maze of green. I roll over and stare into the big blue sky, make shapes out of the white puffy clouds, and watch the black birds soar. I feel so small in a great big world, so insignificant, so alone – yet, I know I’m not alone, that somewhere beyond what I can see, touch, smell, taste, and feel is something bigger than me, something that made everything - even me. I want to know the real thing. I want to know what the trees know. I want to know what the birds know. I want to know what the ant knows. And then I want to know more. I ask, “Why am I me? What is the truth?”

This was the beginning of a journey I still walk today. Those two questions have changed my life so many times and in so many ways. I still don’t know the answers, yet I diligently seek them. I’m still that 5-year old girl who doesn’t understand the life she’s been given, yet tries to make the best of it the only way she knows how – honestly.

#2 – about 2 years ago. I’m standing in a living room of a home I raised my family in for nearly two decades. I’m looking around at all the things I’ve collected, pictures, books, furniture, games, etc and I ask myself, “What do I want?” I had meant to ask what “things” I wanted to take with me, but instead I heard something else. My mind cleared, yet filled at the same time. My heart ached. I was facing the truth – a truth – one where I didn’t have an answer. Who am I? What do I want? I’m not a wife anymore, my husband didn’t want me. I’m not a mother anymore, my kids no longer needed me. I couldn’t hide any longer behind taking care of others, because there was no others to take care of anymore. I had to face the one I had neglected all along, and she was angry, she was hurt, and she was now in control.

#3 – yesterday. I’m hanging out with a friend, someone I love, admire, and adore with my whole heart. There was a moment when I was watching him play his video game and the world stopped. It felt like it was in perfect alignment and at perfect peace. It was just a moment, nothing special happening, just an average moment, like one I’ve had a dozen times before. Yet, there was something different this time. The light scent of coconut oil, the sounds and whirs of the game, the warmth of his arms holding me, a laugh escaping from my lips, a heartbeat, life. It’s like a curtain was pulled back for just a second to show me that life was made for these kinds of moments… free of expectations, free of demands, free of disappointments, free of troubles. Happiness, true happiness, isn’t in anything we could obtain, any goal we could reach, any obstacle we could climb. Those are all great and they bring on their own version of joy, but for the first time in a long time, I was at complete peace with just being me. I wasn’t at war with the girl inside. I don’t think it had much to do with the friend that was next to me, but more to do with the friend that was in me. Too bad that moment only lasted a few seconds, but it’s now one of those precious moments I’ll treasure forever.

So, what are your special defining moments? I have others, some are great and magnificent moments – birth of my children, my first publication, graduation, starting my own company, jumping from an airplane, experiencing lightning at first sight and first kiss, meeting a great love at the airport, exploring a new world, surviving a hurricane while at sea, finding out the love of your life has died, etc, while others are small yet just as powerful – playing games with my kids, reading to my kids, watching my kids sleep.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

To Love Somebody

Change is a part of life they say. Who is they? (TPTB)The Powers That Be, the people in this universe who pay attention, observe, and speak about this life we live. Do they have all the answers? No. No one does. But we don’t always have to have all the right answers to understand parts of our existence. I know change. I’ve experienced it in many forms, and without doubt, without scientific evidence (though that really does exist), I agree with TPTB – change is a part of life.

I have a love/hate relationship with change. There are parts of it that thrill me while other parts scare the hell out of me, literally ripping my heart to shreds as I desperately cling to the things I don’t want to change. Yet, I also work like hell and push myself beyond limits at other times. I’m learning change defines us as human beings in how we adapt.

Life evolves. Love evolves. Relationships evolve. Understanding evolves. It all moves from one state of being and understanding into another, regardless of what we want or think. That makes problems for us, especially those of us that are creatures of habits. One thing I’ve learned – nothing stays the same no matter how much we want.

Who the hell am I to think I can stop change? I’m not God. Trying to stop things, or to make things happen, has only hurt me worse than has ever helped. I look around at my life and sometimes my hands start shaking because I’m so fucking lost. I see where I’ve been, but I can’t go back. I see where I want to be, but I can’t just go there. I want so many things, yet I am powerless to make any of it happen. The only choice I have is to breathe. But if you really think about that - I don’t have complete control over that either. I can choose to hold my breath, but there’s a safety mechanism in my body that when deprived of oxygen causes me to pass out. Once my conscious gets out of the way and goes to sleep, my body will resume it’s breathing due to natural self-preservation.

Life changes and so does everything in it. I’m not the same person I was a few years ago. I won’t be the same person a few years from now. The only thing I can define is who I am in this moment. When it comes to change, I will either learn to adapt and survive or suffer. I’m so fucking sick of suffering, so I must adapt. It’s only those who learn to adapt to the changes in life that succeed. I need to learn to adapt in everything… in how I live, how I believe, how I trust, how I approach, how I treat others, how I love. If you’ve followed this blog for any period of time, you’ll know that I only know how to live one way – honestly.

I can have all the best intentions, the best ideals, the best PLANS laid out for my life all the time, but change will fuck them up – every time, especially when it comes to love and relationships. Some days I hate myself for compromising, for being weak, mostly for being human and needing to bond with another human being. I want to be tough. I want to be independent. I want to be in control and strong and not allow another person to hurt me. So, I often isolate myself, put up my walls, and shut the world out – until I’m so lonely my body is starving for human contact. I want the fucking fairy tale, only I don’t believe in the fairy tale. But change will come, and there’s nothing I can do to stop from getting hurt. That’s the true lie I tell myself.

I listened to a song this morning, and it hit me hard (Yeah, once again a song tears me up.) It goes, “There’s a light, a certain kind of light, that has never shown on me. But I want my life to be only lived with you, yeah lived with you. There’s a way, everybody says, to do each and every little thing. But what good does it bring when I ain’t got you? When I ain’t got you? Baby, you don’t know what it’s like. Baby, you don’t know what it’s like - to love somebody, to love somebody the way I love you.”

Someday that certain kind of light will shine on me. I KNOW great love exists, because I possess it. I know others are capable to love completely- that somebody can love me – the way I love. It’s possible. Life is constantly changing – and one day it’ll change for me too, and this dark loneliness will go away. Even if not – I’d rather to have loved the way I have loved, than to have never loved at all. God help me.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Broken Hallelujah

I’ve heard so many interpretations of Hallelujah by Cohen. When I was in a different place in my life, this song meant something different to me. That’s one of the beautiful things about music and songs… the interpretation is not just on the singer/writer, but on the listeners too, each unique.


I’ve experienced three different versions of this song in my own life, and each just as powerful as the other. It never fails to touch me, every time, every version, every note… taking me on a journey, allowing me to feel every note, and then becoming overwhelmed. Tears stream down my cheeks right now as I write this blog post, because this last version is hard and hurts like nothing… well, it hurts like hell.


I don’t know what my mind understands at this moment, but my soul is crying out… with a broken hallelujah.


As best as I can, I’ll try to explain what this song means to me… today.


Well I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
Well it goes like this:
The fourth, the fifth, the minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah


Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah


This is one of my favorite stories in the Bible. David was always my favorite character, not because he was a king, a great warrior, or a forgotten son raised to greatness, but because he was the most human of all the characters, one that I could relate. He wasn’t perfect. He made a LOT of mistakes, he faced a lot of bad situations, but what set him apart was his heart. That’s how he did everything – with all his heart despite what anyone else said or did. The world operated out of logic, but David operated out of passion.


My greatest struggle in this world is the overwhelming passion that stirs inside me, and for so long I’ve had to stuff it down, hide it, suppress it, keep it hidden in a practical world. When I let a little bit of it out, I lost my whole world – it cost me everything. I found my broken hallelujah.


Many times I’d find myself sitting and holding my guitar, unsure of what to play. I had no conscious idea of what to do. I would close my eyes, lay my ear on the top of the body, and let my fingers slide along the strings. With each twang, I released the pain, the fear, and the passion with every chord. I’d play and play and play… and sometimes I would sing, but not with words… just sounds…it was just another string playing another secret chord.


I’m not being religious here, I’m trying to be as real as I can. In those moments, I can’t explain it, but I was just a baffled king – a failed, confused, and hurt human – composing a broken hallelujah. I played from my heart. Not in my head, I couldn’t replay what I played if I tried, but from my heart.


Music moves me. It always has. It always will.


Well your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya
She tied you to her kitchen chair
And she broke your throne and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah


Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

I know these are the stories about David and Bathsheba & Samson and Delilah. Again, each person has their own interpretations, and I’m not here to argue them. To some it’s a warning about allowing your heart to rule over your practical sense, especially duty. For most of my life, I thought these men weak for allowing a woman to come in and cause them to fall from their greatness. But experience has since taught me things are not as black and white as we’d like to think. These men weren’t weak, they were passionate. They were led by their hearts – the same hearts that led them to their victories, their greatness, their strength. When you let your heart lead you, the consequences are both good and bad. Yeah, they fucked up… but did they really? I see two men who loved just as passionately as they did everything else, and even when they fell to the lowest point in their lives (David committed murder, Samson to become a slave) they STILL cried out with their hearts. I could imagine them both in their darkest hours, humming the chords through their tears, composing yet another broken hallelujah.


But baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew ya
And I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah


Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah


Who’s ever been hurt, been disappointed, been abandoned by those who were supposed to love us? How many of us have fell victim to the wars of ‘love’? How many of us carry those scars… again, and again, and again? Nobody wins when love fails. To love is to be vulnerable. It is to be real. You can’t love without handing the banner (flag) of our hearts to someone else, to entrust it to them. That banner isn’t to be waved, but protected. I think of our passionate soldiers who risk their lives protecting the freedoms our flag represents. That’s the same passion love requires. It’s not fluffy… it’s cold, it’s marble hard, and impenetrable - and in the wrong hands or unrequited - devastating. It will bring the strongest among us to our knees with another broken hallelujah.


Well there was a time when you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show that to me do ya
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah


Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Fading love. Sometimes I think it’s better to never have loved, to have known a great love, and helplessly watch it as it fades away. Love is the one thing we can’t control. Even God himself can’t make us, his own creation, love him. We can’t make who doesn’t love us to love us, or make ourselves love who we don’t, no matter how much passion we possess. God can’t make me love him. These last few years I’ve had a major crisis of faith – heart-broken from stepping out in the greatest hope I had, to fall on my face. There was a time I felt so close to God and knew I walked with Him, and He opened my eyes to the things of the world around me. I’ve experienced and felt too many things to ever doubt …but my understanding is in chaos. All truth isn’t pretty. I walked away from all I knew. No, my volitant heart took to the sky as fast as I could. I couldn’t breathe. Hell, I haven’t been able to breathe right ever since. I shed my robes, stepped down from my mantle, removed my mask, and have been standing naked in all my shame, covered in all my scars, with tears rolling down my cheeks, and a broken hallelujah on my lips.


Maybe there's a God above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew ya


And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Some of you will understand. Some of you won’t. This is all I have. I have nothing else. But if you have ears to hear… you will hear my broken hallelujah.


Hallelujah


~Tonya


This is the version I like best: https://youtu.be/llyADThAg5o

My New Obsession - Halo

Most of you know by now that I love a good story, and I especially love a coming-of-age or the making-of-a-true-hero story more than anything. And… if you’ve been following my blog posts over the past several months, you’ll also know that I’ve discovered FPS video games on the XBoxOne… starting with Destiny and now picking up the ever popular Halo. I dabble a bit with other games like Assassin’s Creed Unity, Grand Theft Auto V, Call of Duty: Advanced Warfare and MineCraft, but I’m mostly a Destiny gamer girl… and now Halo.

What draws me to Halo isn’t really the game play, which is a lot like Destiny, but the fantastic storyline. That’s where Destiny fails. They had the potential for a great story, I’m not sure the true reason for its incompleteness, but they really skimped out and the plot lacks drastically. It’s a good thing there’s enough game play, combined with the fact I’ve met a GREAT group of fellow players, that keep me involved in the Destiny universe. But with Halo, it’s the complete opposite. The game play so far (before you jump down my throat, I’m currently only on Halo 2 in the MasterChief Collection) I find is a bit lackluster, but the storyline is absolutely out of this world. I hear the game play gets better as I get more into the newer games. Part of me wants to jump ahead, but I’d really love to let this story unfold in somewhat of a chronological order. I’m excited and really looking forward to it. I’m already fascinated by the MasterChief and I want to know all about him, all about Halo, all about the Flood, the Covenant, the Spartans, Cortana, the Forunners, and everything else in the Halo universe.

Other than the game play, what was it that drew me into this new path of Halo discovery? A friend of mine, a fellow Halo fan I will call Zero (that’s part of his gamer tag), turned me onto the SoundCloud audio series called “Hunt the Truth” by narrator, journalist, and war photographer by the name of Benjamin Giraud . OMG… I spent half the day listening to audio episodes and can’t wait until the next one comes out on Saturday. I was pulled deeper and deeper into the mysterious origins of the MasterChief – John 117. I’m hooked. As a companion to the story, there’s also a Youtube series that breaks down each episode by Ben Halo Canon. I’m hooked on this too. I’m literally giddy with Halo nerdom.

Wow, the nerd inside me is having a serious nerdgasm. I haven’t been this excited since the Harry Potter universe exploded. Well, what can I say? A good thing is a good thing. I hate that I’m so late to this Halo party, with Halo having been out for some time now, but I’m just so glad that I made it at all. This is something I think that I’ve been waiting for - for a very long time. I’ve been searching for something new, something different, something exciting in the science-fiction/fantasy world and gaming and Destiny was the closest thing I had stumbled upon. (Yeah, yeah… I know gaming has been out for a while… I’m late to that party too. I’ve been hidden in the literary world and gaming just hadn’t appealed to me …yet. Now, I can’t imagine my life without it being a part… just like when I first discovered books.)

I heard about Halo a year ago, incidentally from the same friend who sent me those links, when I saw part of a collection sitting on his entertainment center, but I couldn’t fathom the draw. Not because I didn’t think there was one, or that Zero was strange for having one, only because I knew I didn’t know enough of the story. I admired his devotion, but hadn’t got around to poking around it to see what it was all about. Well, damn it, that nest has been poked now, and all I hear is the roar of the loud buzz. I like it. I’m a little miffed at Zero for not sharing this with me sooner, but perhaps timing is everything. I might not have appreciated the draw a year ago, not having played a single game, and now when gaming is such an important part of my life, I can fully appreciate it. However, knowing my love for heroic stories, I’m sure my eyebrows would have arched and I would have went sniffing. Maybe he thought I would think him weird (which would have so been in his favor) so he didn’t share. It doesn’t matter what could have been, the fact is… I’m in now. I’m totally immersed. I doubt Zero realizes the beast he’s unleased. The Halo universe can thank him for this fan… and the dozens of fans I’m going to help create as I continue to blog about this journey.

So, here I am. I’ve got a long list of Halo books, comics, games, companion references, and videos that I must read, watch, and study in the days to come. I’m a complete Halo novice at this moment, but just watch me… before long, I’ll be a Master. LOL!

Now… to find a copy of the book Halo – The Fall of Reach … and so it begins.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe

What Do You Want?

"What do you want?" She asks.

He replies, "I want what you want."

She shakes her head and smiles, "But, that's what I want. I don't need anything from you. I don't even need you. I don't know what you want, but whatever it is - THAT's what I want for you."

"It’s not about what I want," he says.

She replies, "Then what do you need?"

“I don't need anything."

"Then, why are you here?"

He shrugs, "To see you." He looks her right in the eyes. "I feel like myself when I'm around you."

"So, who is the real you?"

He shrugs, "You know me."

"Who am I to you?"

"A mirror."

"What do you mean?"

He looks down at his hands. "I can be anything to anybody, but you show me ...me. You don't judge me, push me, or expect me to be anything other than what and who I am. I try to play a part, but you see right through me. The way you look at me, I can't hide." He looks back up at me. "I sometimes hate you for it. Sometimes I hate I can't do the same for you. Your mask is too tight, and your walls are too thick."

"What does that mean?" She asks.

"It means, I want what you want, but you don't have any fucking idea what you want. You're so lost and I can't help you."

With tears bubbling in her eyes she answers, "Then I want to be found."

"You can't."

"Why?"

He tenderly touches the side of her face. "You won't stop running."

"I don't want to run. I hate running."

"You can't help it. That's all you know how to do."

"Couldn’t someone stop me?"

He shakes his head. "You have to stop yourself."

"I have, but there's no one ever there. No one looks for me. No one waits. No one fights. No one tries to keep me from leaving. They're Gone. They're all gone and I'm always standing alone."

He cups her face. "You're not that 5-year old little girl left at the gas station anymore, or the young woman waiting for her soldier that will never come home, or the wife waiting for her ex-husband to grab her before she can run, or the mother watching her children fly the nest. Let her go."

"Then who am I?"

"A smart, beautiful woman, who has overcome some of the darkest hell a person could imagine. You have an amazing mind and a beautiful soul, but you're obtuse when it comes to you. Choose what you want. Then do that. That’s what I want.”

“I want you. Can’t I keep you?”

He shakes his head. “I won’t be your excuse.”

“My excuse?”

“The next reason you run.”

She takes a step backward. “So you reject me?”

“No.”

“I don’t understand.”

He reaches toward her, but pulls his hand back at the last second. “I know. That’s why it makes this so hard.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Then why won’t you stay with me?”

“Because you’re not here.

“Where am I?”

“Lost in a prison of your own making.”

“Where are you?”

“Outside waiting for you.”

She stares at him, slowly shaking her head.

“Trust me.”

“I can’t.”

“Then let me go.” He turns away.

Beautiful Attitude

I'm so sleepy, I'm literally zoning in and out while I'm sitting at my desk. I've had my coffee... it wasn't enough. While I've accomplished a lot at work today, I've also been sluggish. But there's this thought... bits of a conversation from yesterday, that's been playing in the back of my mind and I'm going to share it here.

While playing Destiny with my gaming clan Omega Victrix Mortalis​, there was this young guy (early twenties) hopped into our fire team and game chat. He was someone a few of us had met before from a rival clan (gamer tag GasMasked (something like that) fka ToxicGhost). Not that this other clan is a rival, because really they're not, it's just one formed from former clan members where the the split wasn't amenable.

Anyway, he jumped into a fire team with me and my clan leader and we played through some missions and strikes. No big deal, everybody seemed to be getting along great and we were getting things done. Now, Gasbag (that's my new name for him) started talking about the male/female ratio at his college and how his chances of finding chicks to hook up with were in his favor. I didn't have any problem with what he was saying, but I simply made a statement that it wasn't really an accomplishment when there was an average of 20 females to each male, and many of girls being eliminated through the process of dismissing awkward geeks that aren't really in the gene pool or in the running for the guy's attention. I simply stated that it would be considered much more of a conquest if the odds were flipped... and there were 20 guys to each female. There would be more reason to puff out your chest and walk around with a little swagger.

He must have got offended. He made a few comments about ONLY hooking up with supermodel-looking girls (yeah.. all other college kids claim the same thing) and how he had standards. I'm assuming his standards are not in morality or personality, but in physical appearances only. So, he threw in that these potential hookups had to be highly intelligent. So, by his confession, he only hooks up (not date, fall in love or have a relationship with - which makes me wonder WHY they need to be smart? You don't have to be smart to have sex, especially with a dumbass... anyway, continuing) - with nerdy supermodels. Sure, I get it. That's every guy's fantasy. At least that's probably the most popular porn scenario.

Anyway, the day went on, he was supposed to go running (for 3 hours he kept saying he wanted to go run but never left), and other members of my online gaming clan joined our party and fire team. He seemed to have went quiet. Then, I leave the fire team to join two of my other friends in a particular mission and a few minutes later one of my clan mates tells me that when I left the party with this gasbag in it, he goes on a tirade saying that he couldn't stand me because of my attitude and how I acted like I was the most beautiful thing in the world, but he thought I was so ugly he wouldn't even fuck me with a bag over my head.

I laughed. My boys (about a dozen of my clan members ages 10-45 who were in the party with me when I was told what Gasbag had said) also laughed. It was funny. Perhaps I was supposed to cry? It's as if this little prick thought he had any chance in hell of ever hooking up with me, bag or no bag. But it did get me thinking... wondering what was it that really got him angry and caused him to lash out like that? Also, I'd like to say... if you're in a party chat and you want to cut someone down, it's not a good idea to do it in a group of people that like and are friends with the person you're cutting down. Just sayin'. This dude just got blocked by a dozen or so players. I'll never play with him again. He'd probably need a bag for that too.

First of all... I wasn't hitting on this kid. I was minding my business, hanging out with my friends, completing my missions, etc. He's the one that wanted to play and chat with me, or with us. What was he really angry about? Sure, I don't think I'm Megan Fox (the girl of his dreams and according to him all the girls he hooks up with look like her), but I seriously doubt I require a bag. To each his own. But, why did my 'ugliness' offend him so much. Then I thought about the first words of his rant... it wasn't about how I looked (that's how it finished), but it was about how he hated the way I ACTED, confident in myself that I was an intelligent and beautiful woman, but how I was sorely mistaken because he neither found me beautiful nor intelligent... not even fuck worthy with a bag over my head. It seems his intent was to attack my confidence and degrade my self-worth, but why? Of course his attempts failed because (perhaps due to his age) my confidence and self-worth doesn't come from what anyone else thinks of me, but from how I feel and think of myself. Another's scales are not mine; I have my own set.

This gasbag (I call him this because he's full of hot air) doesn't know me and it's clear that he had no intention of getting to know me. I don't care. But, what he did and the way he spoke about me (he said what he said behind my back, not to my face) is the way I see a lot of guys speak about a lot of girls, and vice versa. Why does one person feel the need to tear down another? I'm not talking about not speaking truths that may hurt, but are used to help a person grow in maturity and wisdom, but I'm talking about small talks that are aimed at destroying, hurting, demeaning with an intent to dehumanize and demoralized someone. Isn’t this world ugly enough already? Why not see the beauty in a person and lift them up instead? You don’t know what they might have been going through, what kind of hurts and pains they may have been carrying, what mountain’s they’ve had to climb to get where they are.

I seriously doubt this kid really objectifies women the way he did yesterday, at least I hope he doesn’t. I hope he finds a good woman that will love him and treat him with kindness, goodness, and generosity so he can see women are much more valuable than serving merely as a hookup. Some of us just want to be a friend. I didn’t know simply talking to a guy was an audition. Perhaps I’m just too old (another jab he took) and don’t give a shit. LOL!

Till next time,



~KV Kvothe

My Confessions

I have something very important to confess. I’m told that confession is good for the soul, that it lifts the burdens of life from your shoulders and then your everyday existence becomes more bearable. I’m not so sure about that. I’m pretty much an opened book and have shared just about every horrible, scary, funny, embarrassing, humiliating, wonderful, exciting thing that has happened in my life these past few years. I’ve lost some bad friends, gained some good ones, and made a connection with a lot of people on a spiritual level like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Being open the way I am has shown me that I’m not alone in this world, in my fight, or in my struggles, even though I’m alone. There are others out there just like me and I’m not really an alien from a distant planet who was abandoned by her royal parents to save the world. I kind of liked that fantasy, but reality is turning into a pretty good story on its own.

So, by now you’re wondering, probably yelling in your mind ‘would she just friggin’ get to it already?’, what this big confession could be. I can only promise that’s it’s probably not anything you were expecting. I’m not a closet nymphomaniac (I’ve been quite open about that too), I’m not really a hairy 400lb skinhead currently serving on death row (though let me go without exercising, taking my vitamins, or shaving for a while and we’ll see if I can make that happen), but my confession feels just as big to me.

What is it I need to confess? What could possibly be in my life that requires this much drama to reveal? Well, it’s a little complicated because it’s something only a small percentage of people will truly understand. Most, if not nearly 100% of my friends won’t get it, my family (other than perhaps my son) would never begin to comprehend my choices, and my co-workers will look at me with a different sets of eyes. So, with great apprehension here goes …

I’m a gamer. I’m a girl gamer. I’m a hot girl gamer.

There I said it.

See, many of you right now just don’t get it. While this doesn’t come as a shock to some of you, most of you really don’t understand what it means to be a gamer, I mean a hardcore gamer. No, I’m not a great gamer, would probably never make it onto a MLG (major league gaming) team, or compete in any sort of tournament, because that’s not what I love about it. To some, the competition is all they care about me, but for me that’s the least important aspect. I love the whole gaming world. It really shouldn’t surprise anyone that I would love it, because it’s interactive stories… and not just stories that I get to see, hear, and interact with the characters, but I get to interact with other people at the same time. You’d be surprised at the stories that are bubbling inside of me just from the colorful characters I’ve met in my online gaming clan.

And I’m a girl gamer. There’s not many girls in the gaming world (I don’t understand why… come on… that’s where all the guys are –duh), so I really like the attention I get on there. I’m literally like a goddess queen.

This whole gaming thing was just supposed to be a temporary distraction as I battled my way through all the big changes in my life – divorce, empty nest, being alone, new job, new town, and facing Death. But it’s become much more to me. It’s not really the gaming itself but the people I’ve met and formed strong bonds with that makes all the difference. These guys in my clan (10 yrs – 45 yrs) have become my family, my friends, and the loves of my life. We don’t just play games together, we talk, we bond, we share our hopes, our fears, our problems, and our happiness with each other. There’s more communication during these gaming sessions than in most of the relationships I’ve ever been a part of in my life. It all started as a way for me connect with my grown son. Now it’s become a center piece in my life. I used to minister to teenagers and kids in community and church programs, but in those programs I was never able to connect to the kids the same way I connect with these kids now. I get to mentor them in life issues, in many ways more than their parents or friends could. I wish they had co-op gaming communities when I was younger. I could have used them.

Don’t get me wrong. I have a full time job, I have activities I’m involved with, I still exercise, hike, cook, play music, and date. I’ll get back to the dating in a moment. But, to make room for this new part of my life I’ve practically stopped watching tv (which that’s another blog post for another day) and arguing with fellow writers on the fundamental of writing on author sites. My gaming has also cut severely into my reading and writing time. However, both are a part of who I am… and I will always find the time to do them.

I’m an independent, beautiful, sexy, active, smart 43-year old divorced woman. I’ve no shortage on date requests. But as I venture out in this area, I’m discovering more and more what I don’t want in my life, but not so much of what I do. As I think about it, I think as much as I’d love to date an artist (whether music, cooking, painting, writing, etc… makes no difference) I’d love to date a gamer… or a gaming artist. BINGO!

I’ve had a few “game dates” (something I totally designed and arranged myself) and I have to say that they were more fun, more connecting, more exciting than some of the live dates I’ve had. The conversation was of course fun but deep and open, and not having all the hormones and signals mixing everything up, made it a more relaxed environment. Of course, these game dates I’ve had have been with guys I’ve met and went out on a live date before, so I already knew the chemistry was there. These game dates were to see if we were able to bond on a different, more intellectual level… and just enjoy the game together.

What is a game date? It’s when you meet your date online at a specific time, in a specific game lobby, and you two join a private co-op party and play a particular game together, or against each other. Competition is always good fun, but I particularly love when two people are working together, helping one another out to meet a particular goal. I find it romantic when one of my game dates tries to protect me, help me, revive me, cover me, or depend on me to do those things for him during game play. There’s always a lot of praise and appreciation going around. What girl doesn’t like that? It’s a great opportunity to gauge how attentive your date can be, how polite, or how competitive. I’m beginning to think people should have game dates before they jump into live dating, because it’s a great way to weed out certain behaviors that you’d find intolerable… and it’s best to discover those things together, yet separated and at a safe distance.

Also, on a game date, you learn a lot more about your date than you would while you’re stuffing your face, watching a show, or busy in a strenuous activity. You’re together – while your fingers are busy on the controls, your mouth and most of your mind are communicating. Playing while talking helps me focus more because the game play is keeping the part of my brain that tends to overthink and fumble things busy while I talk about everything else. It puts me at ease.

However, here are the problems I’m running into. Most of the guys in the gaming world are really young. In real life, most of the guys I meet for dates are highly professional or highly driven (Yep, I’ve got a type) and so far… very few have turned out to be gamers. While I wouldn’t want some dates to come in and disrupt my gaming world, I would love to date a gamer, if for the simple reason that they’d understand me for who I am right now. There’s been so many times I’ve been on a live date with a new guy and when he asks me what I love to do, I try my best to steer away from mentioning the gaming, but I can’t hide who I am. While they’re impressed with my resume, my accomplishments, my hobbies, and my talents… they look at me blankly when I mention I’m a gamer. It never fails to be asked when I plan to get back to all the professional things I had done before – the writing, publishing, editing, networking, etc., as if those are the only important things in life. I disagree. I love those things. They’re part of me. But when I thought I was dying, none of those made a difference. But that small group of young boys who loved me just as I was, who didn’t expect me to be great or be successful or ideal, meant the world to me. Where were all the writers, agents, artists, religious leaders, co-workers and family during the darkest days of my life? They were not there. I was all alone except for my gaming friends.

There was one low point that I wanted to end all the pain, all the loneliness, all the disappointment I had in myself, in life, and from everyone I thought had cared for me but realized didn’t. Instead of fighting death, I wanted to give up. But, I got online and my boys were there laughing, joking around, playing with each other, and greeted me with such love and warmth I couldn’t help but smile (and cry at the same time). They saved my life that night though they don’t know it. Perhaps that’s my true confession. Their love for me, combined with the love I had for myself, gave me the strength to keep fighting… and I’m still fighting. I beat cancer. I beat loneliness. I beat change. I beat divorce, with the same determination I learned to beat Atheon and Crota.

Now I only wonder… where the hell do I find the gamers? Local gamers, I mean. My online gamer friends are all over the world, but I want to date a local gamer, but I don’t know how to find them. However, not just any kind of gamer. I still have a type. I love soldiers, nerds, athletes, dare-devils, adventure-seekers, artistically talented and sexy gamers. Uh – 30-something’s still living in their mama’s basement and puffing the bong every night is NOT my type of gamer. I don’t think my perfect gamer exists, but maybe… just maybe I’ll find a decent one someday. Until then.. I suppose I must endure the weird looks, cocked eyebrows, and ruffled noses on a bunch of first dates when I mention I’m a XBoxOne Badass.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe

Addiction

*This is a new song I recently wrote.  Though these are lyrics, I thought they also made a good poem.

I have an addiction that binds me,
An addiction that finds me,
No matter how far I try to hide.
Burn me, consume me, devour me alive.
I have an affliction that burns me,
An affliction that haunts me,
Not matter the songs I try to write.
Burn me, consume me, devour me alive.
~
Kiss me, touch me, and set me on fire.
I’m under your spell, the flames of my desire.
Use me, abuse me, but then set me free.
I’m bound to you, can’t you see?
~
I have an addiction that binds me,
An addiction that finds me,
No matter how far I try to hide.
Burn me, consume me, devour me alive.
I have an affliction that burns me,
An affliction that haunts me,
Not matter the songs I try to write.
Burn me, consume me, devour me alive.

~lyrics by T.L. Gray

Compassion

I’m an over-thinking fool. It’s my blessing and my curse. It’s a blessing because it allows me to see the mystery, the majesty, and the beauty of this world. I’m amazed almost on a daily basis. On those days I’m less amazed, it’s only because I didn’t open my mind far enough to see the wonder of it all. It’s a curse - because with the same gift I can also see the ugliness, the hate, and the hell we create for ourselves. What do we have if we don’t have each other? Compassion is what makes us the most beautiful of human beings. The lack of it makes us the most evil.

Compassion isn’t empathy. We can all relate to different things in each other’s lives. Understanding is very important, and often the first step that leads to compassion. Yet, empathy doesn’t do anything for one another, it’s just a state of being.

We live in a world that has no commitment. We have so many choices these days, that when things get complicated, people get complicated, goals get complicated, we tuck tail and run. It’s easier to be on the outside, or in the first ring of commitment. It’s easier to stay in that excitement phase of friendships and relationships where everyone is just getting to know each other, where we focus on the good, where our imaginations fill in the fantasy because we haven’t yet had to deal with the truth or reality. But, when truth and reality begins to break down that fantasy, and we begin to feel the pull of adversity, noting differences and complications - we run. It’s so much easier to run and jump right into the next friendship, the next relationship, the next fantasy. The choices are plentiful. But what is being lost?

I see a man stuck in a rut. He’s miserable, unhappy, and really sailing through life without a compass of where he wants to go. He’s in an endless cycle of ups and downs, jumping from one pivotal problem to the next. By all worldly standards, he’s successful. He desires a great love, but he’s not willing to open his heart. When someone extends their hand of friendship, he turns away, choosing the uncomplicated, the stranger, the fantasy –knowing full well that it will only keep him in his rut. Perhaps he loves the rut. Perhaps he loves the struggle, or else perhaps that’s all he knows and it’s familiar to him. Where is his compassion?

I see a man riding a carousel. He loves all the pretty horses. When he sets his sight on one in particular, it consumes him and he puts all his wondrous focus on making his way through the vibrant colors to ride the horse of his dreams. He loves the journey, the spinning, waiting for the perfect opportunity to jump on the carousel, studying the timing, listening to the music. Once he mounts the horse of his choice, he rides with glee, proud of his achievement. His fantasy comes alive and he closes his eyes. But, then them again because the carousel stops. The wind no longer blows in his face, the music no longer fills his ears, and his horse no longer ascends and descends beneath him. So he dismounts and stands on the edge of the carousel until he spots another horse… and so the cycle goes. Why is he not satisfied to stay upon the horse he just rode? The ride will start again. He just has to wait. But, in his mind he wonders if the ride on the other horses is different, better, more adventurous. There’s too many choices. Why should he deal with the down moments of one particular horse when he can use that time to seek another, because in truth it is the hunt, the chase, the newness he desires most of all. Where is his compassion?

I see a woman who constantly loves the unlovable, the unattainable, the shallow, narcissistic, and vain. While there are many lined at her door holding out hearts full of devotion, she passes by without so much as a nod in their direction. She is cold and seeks the dancing fire. Oh, the fire burns bright and hot. She’s lived in the cold darkness for so long the fire has become intoxicating to her. She dances among the flames. They lick her skin and warm her cold bones until she begins to burn. The flames are wild, yet she foolishly tries to control them. Where is her compassion?

Compassion. Where has it gone? We don’t have time for it anymore, or the patience to see it through. I am as guilty as my neighbor on the left, and not quite as guilty as the one on the right. There is still compassion in the world. The only thing that is changing is my ability to see it. That vision stems from the temperature of my heart. It grows colder and harder every day. Will I too soon be in a rut, not satisfied with my horse, or burn among the flames? I don’t know. It’s too complicated to think about. Why should I waste such energy when there are funny cat videos to watch, a dozen or more date request waiting for a reply, a new fantasy in which to escape? Compassion is for the truly great, and convenience is for the fools. I am a fool.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

I Hate You So Much

I hate you so much.

I still ache for you.

I hate you so much.

You still invade my dreams.

I hate you so much.

You still take my breath away.

I hate you so much.

I can still feel the sweet brush of your lips.

I hate you so much.

I can still smell the dizzying scent of you.

I hate you so much.

I am still transported by all our songs.

I hate you so much.

Your name still falls from my sleeping lips.

I hate you so much.

I still can’t breathe.

I hate you,

But I can’t stop loving  you.

~T.L. Gray

Stay a Little Longer

*Flash Fiction/Short Story by T.L. Gray*

~

The second hand on the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.

Father Time, make it stop. Keep me in this moment. Hold me in this place and time the way his arms hold me now. How long?

Sensations prickle all over as he runs his thumb lightly over my shoulders and down my back. A steady heartbeat sings to me as my head rests on his chest. He’s so swarm, so hard, so safe, so beautiful. The scent of him makes me dizzy. My whole body worships him, aches for him, even now as our legs lay tangled. How long?

I’m home in his arms. Please stop, clock. Please let me stay a little longer.

Where do I end and he begin? The most delicate flower, so intricate, so complex, doesn’t compare to his beauty. His eyes, more dazzling than the darkest rose. His scent, more intoxicating than the honeysuckle. His beautiful skin, more exotic than any lily. The power he wields over me, more potent than the poppy. How long?

I lay bare before him, more than skin, more than flesh, all of me open and exposed, every deep and secret part of me, my soul, my heart. How long?

I’m lost in his arms. Please stop, clock. Please let me stay a little longer.

When we come together we become one. We burn hot. When we turn away, magnetic polarity ensues and an invisible force comes between us, pushing us apart – life, yesterday, tomorrow. The world dims. I become numb, a pile of cold ashes. How long?

The second hand on the clock ticks, ticks, ticks away.

~

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

The Lioness

*A poem by T.L. Gray


Alright... slap my hands if you want, but this meme made me think of Maroon 5​'s song "Animals"... and I like it. LOL! This will be my new poem for today.

"... Baby, I'm preying on you tonight. Hunt you down, eat you alive, just like animals... animals... like animals, oh. Maybe you think that you can hide. I can smell your scent for miles, just like animals ...animals... like animals, oh."

This is the Second of five poems which I have agreed to write for the ART AND POETRY SERIES

(A crusade of poets around the world to spread our poetic love.)

The challenge:

*Each nominated poet/poetess will post a poem daily for 5 days and will nominate 5 poets for each posted poem. The purpose of this crusade is to make a huge poetic chain.

Here are five nominations (everyone's a poet). Take the challenge if you would like, or not. Your choice.

Nan Shartel​, Christian Fennell​, Adam Hornyak​, Kelly Gray​, Chris Martin​

~

The Lioness

She's wise and stealthy, and works hard every day.

But when the sun sets, her pride is fed, and her kingdom free,

A different hunger stirs inside, one only her king can meet.


She walks around with a regal gait,

too wild to be tamed, too vicious to be caged.

Only by her side and beneath his mane, can he satisfy her inner rage.


Listen to her purr like a kitten, when her king is a king.

Safety Mechanism

The more I learn and the more I comprehend, the less I know and the less I understand. ~T.L. Gray

As you all know, I have some of the most thought-provoking friends in the world. I suppose that’s how they become my friends in the first place, they provoke me to think outside the box, to delve into the depths of understanding and enlightenment. My soul burns with conflagration. Do I ever reach the pinnacle of wisdom and complete understanding? I make no such claims. The more I learn and the more I comprehend, the less I know and the less I understand. But it doesn’t stop me from trying. On the contrary, it fuels me and stirs my passions.

The subject this morning is ‘safety mechanisms’ we put in place to protect ourselves from allowing our imaginations to create a relationship with someone else more in our minds than what it is in reality, and therefore getting hurt when that relationship dissolves, or turns out to not be what we imagined. Because, in essence, it was the dream we created that we loved or desired more than the person. It’s a sticky subject, I know. Most people don’t want to admit the fantasies they create, and tend to blame the other person for their failure to live up to those fantasies, but that’s another post for another day. I’m getting off topic.

If two human beings are honest with each other (first we have to be honest with ourselves), then we can attempt to apply the correct boundaries, put up the correct walls, set the correct parameters for the type of relationship we will allow with another person. But when the fuck do we ever do what is correct? Anyway, back to this ‘mechanism’ - what is it really? My response this morning was: “It’s a safety net so no one gets hurt and it tames the imagination. I’ve discovered when most relationships don’t work out, most of the pain comes from the dream of what could have been more than what really was. I’m a dreamer. I have an exceptional imagination and I have to be careful what I allow myself to dream. I’m also an artist, which means I feel deeply. I’m learning to protect myself and use these ‘mechanisms’. So far, they’re working. I think.”

My wise friend responded, “I totally get that. I have to control my dreaming these days too. I’ve allowed myself to make bad decisions based on hopes and dreams, and it’s just not smart or fair to the other person.”

He’s so right. It’s not fair. We get hurt when the other person doesn’t live up to our dreams and expectations, and it’s not fair that they had to try in the first place. When we put people on pedestals, it puts a pressure and responsibility onto them that they neither deserved, nor asked for. I understand the pressure to live up to another’s expectations and ideals, and it crushed me when I failed. It hurt. It still hurts. It wasn’t equally fair to set such high dreams for them to fail to meet in my life, either.

I truly am learning to love people and appreciate the beauty of who they are, just as they are, because their lives have been an incredible journey to get where they are. They’re human beings with souls and feelings. We’re all fuck-ups. I quit trying to change them, or change myself, to meet my, their, or our expectations. It’s futile. As Ecclesiastes states, “it’s meaningless… a chasing after the wind.” I tried my damnedest to be what they wanted, what they needed, and only ended up hating and losing myself in the process.

Our conversation continued and I responded, “I have learned, but not necessarily good things. I’ve learned how to run, how to hide, how to make beautiful deflecting masks. I’ve become strategic, defensive, prepared, my guns always ready and loaded, and my armor securely in place. Yet, a kiss could unravel my defenses. But what hope will I be kissed on the battlefield, beneath my cover, and on the alert? Yet, I still believe in miracles.”

My friend replied, “Ohhh, I try my damnedest to learn from my mistakes and pain. I know there are those that try to hide it as well though. Which is the majority? Just looking at today’s society, I’d guess most people hide from it. That is, until they become more self-actualized.”

When has hiding ever solved anything? Hiding delays. Hiding blocks. Yes, it provides a sense of safety, but it’s a false sense. What are we really saving ourselves from? Living? Loving? Learning? Can we truly hide from pain? If so, I haven’t discovered that secret yet. It’s only when we take a risk to do something that we make a connection. We can’t connect within the shadows. We were not made for the shadows, but to dance in the light, to fly, to soar to great heights. As an unknown wise man once said, “If you want something you’ve never had, do something you’ve never done.”

I want a great love affair. Just like that Hunter Hayes song, “I want Crazy.” I want that whole damned song. I’m so tired of being safe, practical, careful, or responsible. I’ll post the lyrics and a YouTube link below. So, if I want Crazy, then I suppose I need to be Crazy and hold onto the dream and hope that someday somebody will come along that can appreciate my kind of crazy, and not change for those who can’t. I’ve got to learn when to fight and when to lay my weapons and armor down. I usually fuck that up. It’s a good thing I still in believe in miracles.

The conversation with my wise friend this morning ended with, “Knowing the truth and acting on it are two separate worlds. That’s why we keep getting into trouble. We ignore what we know and follow how we feel. We try like hell not to feel, yet that hurts us most of all.”

“So true,” he answered.

So true. Thank you, my friend, for the stimulating conversation this morning. Such friends are as a precious jewel to me. I appreciate you.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

~

Hunter Hayes

"I Want Crazy"



Mmmmm...

I'm booking myself a one-way flight
I gotta see the color in your eyes
Yeah tellin' myself I'm gonna be alright
Without you baby is a waste of time

Yeah, our first date, girl, the seasons changed
It got washed away in a summer rain
You can't undo a fall like this
'Cause love don't know what distance is
Yeah, I know it's crazy

But I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"
I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"
Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn't make sense to anybody else
Who cares if you're all I think about,
I've searched the world and I know now,
It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind
Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy
Are you with me baby? Let's be crazy

Yeah

I wanna be scared, don't wanna know why
Wanna feel good, don't have to be right
The world makes all kinds of rules for love
I say you gotta let it do what it does

I don't want just another hug and a kiss goodnight
Catchin' up calls and a date sometimes
I love that we're rebels, and we still believe
We're the kind of crazy people wish that they could be, yeah

Oh, and I know we're crazy, yeah

But I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"
I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"
Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn't make sense to anybody else
Who cares if you're all I think about,
I've searched the world and I know now,
It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind
Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy
You with me baby? Let's be crazy

Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, na

No, I don't want "good" and I don't want "good enough"
I want "can't sleep, can't breathe without your love"
Front porch and one more kiss, it doesn't make sense to anybody else
Who cares if you're all I think about,
I've searched the world and I know now,
It ain't right if you ain't lost your mind
Yeah, I don't want easy, I want crazy

Yeah, look at us baby, tonight the midnight rules are breaking
There's no such thing as wild enough,
And maybe we just think too much
Who needs to play it safe in love?
Let's be crazy!

Na na na na oh na na na na oh

Who cares if we're crazy? We gotta be crazy!
I know that we're crazy, so let's be crazy!
Yeah-ah-ah...

*Cover photo by digital-art-gallery.com

Werifesteria

Werifesteria – to wander longingly through the forest in search of mystery.

I hear the call, the wild animal inside, as my inner black beast stirs. 

She wakes.

She hungers.

She thirsts.

She hunts.

Werifesteria.

The scent of Eros wafts through the forest as I prance across the earthen floor.

He twitches.

He licks.

He crouches.

He growls.

Werifesteria.

We circle. My head spins. We pounce. Every muscle in my body burns. 

We hiss.

We seize.

We bite.

We scratch.

Werifesteria.

I am prey.  He is prey.  We are prey. We are devoured.

I lick the blood remnants from my claws and remember.

Werifesteria.

Feeling as an Obligation

I’ve experienced many humiliating things in my life, many things I don’t like to even talk about. The damage from those things have left deep scars within me, but none as pronounced as the consequence of feeling as an obligation. Actually, this one thing makes me run for the hills faster than anything else in this world. I don’t run to keep from hurting. On the contrary, I run because I’m hurting very badly. I’m not so strong these days to just ‘suck it up’ and paint a smile on my face as I pretend all is right with the world. That dam blew a few years ago and I’ve been running since.

I suppose this feeling started early in childhood, being told repeatedly that I was a burden, unwanted, unplanned, and a nuisance. Even my nickname was a daily reminder of how much of an burdened obligation I was to my family. I was called “Sap”… because I was that sticky mess one got from a tree and was almost impossible to wash off, no matter how much you hated it. I was bitter and left a bad taste in the mouth. I suppose I wasn’t as sweet as my younger half-sister, whom was called “Sugar”. Later my oldest daughter was called “Sweetie”, but I was always “Sap”.

I became so independent I wouldn’t let people help me. At first, to hide all the secrets that needed to be hidden so that I wouldn’t be taken away from my family, the family that didn’t want me, yet I loved them as all children do. But as I grew older, I became even more independent because I learned to hate them and wanted to get far away, as far as I could. Every relationship I’ve had since, I’d never let anyone have control over me by becoming dependent on them, especially in becoming an obligation.

What I mean by obligation is have someone do something for you NOT because they want to, but because they have to out of responsibility. There’s a lot of things that come with obligation… things such as resentment, bitterness, pity, frustration, blame, and strife. This is true not just in relationships, but for every aspect in life… from work, recreation, socializing, friends, etc.

When the first (I believe only) man that ever really loved me, scars and all, died in combat in Somalia in the early ‘90’s, something else died in me right along with him – I went numb. I soon afterwards got pregnant and married a man who wasn’t in love with me so I could fulfill my own obligations to my children. I was a zombie, yet I searched diligently for years for that spark of life. I search in marriage, I searched in family (his family), I searched in faith (church), I searched in career, I searched in my dreams. Yet, every day I felt unloved, unwanted, as an obligation, and it seared my soul. A couple years ago I left it all. I ran. And slowly, I began to feel again. Granted, I’ve spent pretty much the last few years hurting, crying, with a huge lump in my throat… and some days just begging to be numb again and not feel anything. But, I can’t. There have been some days where I have felt love, I have felt freedom, I have felt so happy and alive. So, no matter how much I may hurt, I can’t shut it off again… because I know there is good to feel too, and all the pain is worth it for those brief moments.

So, I find myself, at the first hint of feeling as an obligation, running… and running fast. It’s the strongest trigger into my PTSD. I wish I was perfect and always responded with perfect reactions, but I don’t. I’m broken, and damaged, and a mess. I’m doing the best I can to be something beautiful and positive in this world. I’ve seen too much ugly. As much as I’d love to promise to never run, I know I can’t make that promise. Just make me feel like an obligation and I don’t think I’d be able to stop from running, even if I wanted. It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It doesn’t mean I don’t want you. It simply means… I can’t be “Sap” anymore. She no longer exists and I won’t resurrect her.

I believe… someday, someone will love me enough to stop me.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray

Who Cares?

*A Poem by T.L. Gray


Restful body stirs just before the morning bells.

Eyes open. Stretching. Reaching for the last tendril of the last dream.

Musing. Contemplation. Wondering why I exist, why I continue to breathe. Who cares?



Body moves in motion, burning calories, fat, and stress.

Heart beats. Sweating. Pushing myself toward the next healthy goal.

Thinking. Planning. Wondering why I push so hard, why bother. Who cares?



Fingers fly across the keys, examining, researching as I stay busy.

Mind races. Working. Fulfilling the requirements to take care of myself.

Living. Paying Bills. Wondering why I struggle, why I can’t get ahead. Who cares?



Smelling the wonderful aroma, mixing the ingredients together.

Mouth waters. Smelling. Enjoying the tastes of my creations.

Cooking. Eating. Wondering why I sit alone, why the empty table. Who cares?



Tapping the buttons, playing the character on the screen.

Mind occupied. Distracting. Losing myself into another world.

Gaming. Playing. Wondering how long I can disappear. Who cares?



Pulling the covers over my head, as I snuggle up to my pillows.

Heart broken. Crying. Wishing I could just disappear.

Dreaming. Not Sleeping. Wondering why I’m unlovable. Who cares?



Repeat.

Distorted Image

Okay, here’s another one of those politically correct moments that really grate on my nerves and has inspired today’s blog post. I actually had an idea to post something positive and funny today, you know… ‘cause I was in that sort of mood. But I read an article and that got my thoughts spinning, and that was all well and good. But then I read the comments concerning the article and the floodgates of ‘ah hell’ have opened. So, this is sort of a rant. I apologize in advance, but I’m not sorry for what I’m about to say. I mean every word.

The article that started this whole thing can be found at this link: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/education/11477512/Schoolboys-should-tell-girls-their-idea-of-a-perfect-woman-says-expert.html.

The piece encourages young men to tell young women, especially during their formative and puberty-challenging years, what they find attractive from physical to personality traits in order to help the young women form a more realistic and healthy view of their own bodies. I found myself nodding my head several times while reading this article.

If you really think about it, the way a girl feels about herself and the level of her attractiveness is dictated by the society around her, all in the effort to attract the young men they interact with. It’s human nature. However, the definition of what ‘beauty’ consists of is portrayed by media and social forums, and most of them have really fucked up views of beauty. They lead many young women to feel bad about themselves due to unrealistic expectations and displays, everyday chipping away at the young women’s self-esteem because they can’t live up to that fantastical image, leading to unhealthy practices, eating disorders, mutilations, etc.

Every woman/girl wants to be attractive and beautiful. We want to be pleasing to the men in our lives, so we go to great lengths to try and fulfill what we think are the ideals of beauty and sexiness. What better way to really learn what is truly beautiful and sexy than directly from the men we are trying to please in the first place? It’s just a thought.

Wait.. I can already hear all the feminists reading this post screeching with.. .”I ain’t trying to please anybody but myself… and “another example of women being told to get our self-esteem from what men think of us. “… yeah, yeah… I know. I’m not disagreeing. I’m a feminist and the first person I try to please before anyone else is ME, including the men in my life. But, I’m also not lying to myself either and pretending I don’t want to look sexy and have my man drooling all over me. I’m a woman. I celebrate being a woman, and as a woman - I want my man to look at me not ONLY with respect and admiration, but lust and desire, and a raw sexual want and need. I want him to be at times unable to keep his hands off me. I want to make him growl wanting me, and grunt while having me, and groan when I’m gone. In all reality, that isn’t going to happen unless I’m attractive to him. So, the ‘smart’ thing to do is find out what he finds attractive and see if that is reasonable and applicable. Yet, the only sources young women have to try to discover this is found in our social media markets… magazines, television, public displays, etc. Hearing the truth from the source is always a better idea than a secondary source.

The other thing in these responses that really set me off was a comment, one I’ve heard a million times before so there’s no animosity toward this certain responder, is: “Though his idea of a girlfriend is that she has to have a model body but also intelligence. I keep telling him he's looking for a needle in a very big haystack.”

My response: “I really hate the idea that just because you might be beautiful you're more than likely stupid. Most beauty comes from confidence... and confidence comes from achievement... and achievement often comes from wisdom, knowledge and determination. What's wrong with someone hoping to find a partner that is not only pleasing to the eye but the mind also? It's phrases like "looking for a needle in a haystack" that encourages people to compromise on what they want and settle for what they think they can get, or doubt something because it comes in a beautiful package. I want beautiful AND smart.. because that's what I want, and I have no bones about saying it. I also think this professor has the right idea. I don't think all the males in the world are idiots either and all of them think their perfect woman is some brainless-model-sex-kitten. That's their sexual fantasy, but they love real women for different reasons, and I've learned its mostly confident women who are honest with them, nurture them, encourage them, and inspire them. I have a male sexual fantasy, Superman, but I wouldn't want to have a relationship with him.. or expect any real man to live up to that image. Nor do I expect any real man to truly expect any real woman to live up to their sexual fantasy. That's why it's called a fantasy. However, love will beat a fantasy any day.” I would like to add, “…but I’d do all I could to try and live up to his sexual fantasy, because it’d be fun and as a woman I naturally like to please people I love and care about. It pleases me to do it.”

But the whole issue comes down to honesty. There’s not enough of that in this world. We live behind our masks. We lie to the world around us. We listen to the lies around us. Mostly, we lie to ourselves. And in this politically correct world, we’re often too afraid to speak out in search of that truth in fear of being outcast. Deception is all we see. The disguises we wear are all we notice. And our young women continue to fight through these self-esteem issues with the lies they’re fed and bombarded with every day. It’s sad how many of them lose that fight and succumb to the peer-pressures and never truly discover the real beauty within them. I mostly feel for our young men who never get to get the opportunity to see that true beauty either, only the distorted image. This whole issue works just as well for men as women in reverse. But, hey… let’s not talk about it, ‘cause we might hurt someone’s feelings.

Till next time,
~T.L. Gray

Falling Out of Love

Is this really possible? Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’ve experienced it on both sides of the coin, am experiencing a form of it now, and yet I still don’t understand how such a thing can really occur.

It’s easy to get angry at the opposite end of a love affair falling apart. We are beings that change, adapt, evolve and go through several metamorphosis on a constant basis. There’s no such person that always ‘stays the same’. Yet, as much as we change we are also creatures of habit.

I think the part that hurts most in a Falling Out of Love experience is the change that occurs when the habits, especially the habits that made us most happy, are the ones that change. I.e. – Simply saying ‘good morning’ and ‘good night’… and having that suddenly or slowly stop. I had a friend and it drove him crazy with me simply sending him a good morning and good night text every day. He never understood that it was my way of saying to him that he was important to me… that I thought about him in my early morning thoughts, wished him well through the day, and then as I meditated before I fell asleep he was a part of those thoughts as well. But because my habits bothered him, I stopped (mostly)… and with it… I stopped thinking about him so much. Days sometimes go by where I barely think of them at all, or mention his name, or concern myself with his well-being. I miss him terribly, but I don’t want to bother him either. The daily wishes… were more for me than for him. I’ve been forgotten, left behind, and abandoned a lot… and I never wanted anyone I care about to ever feel that from me. So, I try to keep the ones I care about most fresh in my thoughts. Yet, I still sometimes find myself reluctant to send a simple, “good morning” thinking I’m bothering them.

When you’re in a relationship, regardless of the type of relationship, we develop habits on how we relate to one another. Those tend to be the first things that change when the relationship changes. It’s always small changes, a slow pulling away, that happens when a relationship is fading out. Those are painful if you are observant enough to see them. The absence of these habits produces emotional holes. If you are used to communicating with someone every day, consistently, and they suddenly stop or those communications get farther apart, it hurts. It hurts because you know the embers are dying and unless the coals are flamed, they will fizzle.

This is where my stubbornness hurts me most. If I feel someone withdrawing from me, I slam up my walls preparing myself for the pain I know is coming. I should be pumping air onto those smoldering coals, but instead I withdraw further away. I run… emotionally and physically.

I’m not saying that’s the thing to do. On the contrary… that’s the thing NOT to do. I’ve never saved a relationship by walking away or letting them walk away. But, it’s one of my triggers. It’s one of my self-preservation psychotic moves. Just because I will stand back and allow people to walk away from me, doesn’t mean I don’t care or that it doesn’t hurt. It hurts. It hurts a lot. I still have holes where people have walked away from me and I let them go. But it doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving them. How is that even possible? For me, I have truly loved them all, and in some ways still do. What died was the relationship, the communication, the connection, but the beautiful things I loved about them are still there. Perhaps it’s just me because it sure seems they stopped loving me. I don’t think any of my exes hate me, but did they ever really love me? Do they think fondly of me on those rare moments I brush across their thoughts? Who knows.. it doesn’t matter because they’re not here now. They walked away or else let me walk away. I had friends I thought would be in my life forever that are nowhere to be found. I had lovers who I couldn’t imagine my life without. Yet, here I am today alone, yet still breathing, still living, still existing, just not in their world.

So, did the love just fall away? Did it just stop? Or just the effort to fight for it? Will I ever be worth fighting for in someone’s life? To maintain a relationship with me, they’ll have to fight for me, because I won’t stop them if they ever chose to leave. Watching them leave is the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, because I’m helpless to stop, to change, to save the fall. I’ll never be where I’m not wanted. Never. Being in a relationship like that doesn’t just hurt emotionally, it kills the soul.

I don’t the answer. I don’t know if falling out of love is possible, but falling out of habit is very much real.

Till next time,



~T.L. Gray