Scribblings...Other Side of the Mirror

I'm doing a 50,000 word Challenge to write a novel in the month of November.  This is a tickler for you!

This is the synopsis of the book:

So it begins.  Just like always.  One word.  One thought.  One feeling.  An overwhelming craving.  A lust for life.  Yes and this is just like the first time.  No I take that back.  There is more intensity.  The thirst...the craving is for more understanding.  Where do I begin?  How do I explain?

I touch the wall.  Tenderly.  I can feel her touching the other side of the wall.  Her head resting on the mirror as my forehead now rests on this side of the mirror.  Her hand presses against the mirror and I seem to feel the warmth from it.  Impossible?  But nonetheless....I feel it.

And thus it begins...one feeling...one emotion...and then the intense desire...merging with the other side of the mirror...

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We are complex people with layers of who we are.  There is the side of us we present to the public and then there are other layers that only certain people get to see or know.  Sometimes we are so complex that we barely recognize our inner self.  This is about the other side of us . . . that other side that seldom do people see.

(end of synopsis)
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I stand straight. Almost rigid. Sigh. Uptight? Heaven forbid...yes. I stand there looking into the mirror. Where is she? I need her. Need her right this moment. Why do I need her! Is this not MY life. She is only a reflection from the other side of the mirror. Do I care what she thinks....notices no question marks after any of those comments. Always the question marks but are they necessary when the question is truly for me? (note: question mark is used)

(prose piece is in here)

 Be damned the insipid ones who cannot not feel. Those that use or put down others to make themselves feel important.

Thus...Insipid:

in·sip·id
inˈsipid/Submit
adjective
lacking flavor.
"mugs of insipid coffee"
synonyms: tasteless, flavorless, bland, weak, wishy-washy; More
antonyms: tasty
lacking vigor or interest.
"many artists continued to churn out insipid, shallow works"
synonyms: unimaginative, uninspired, uninspiring, characterless, flat, uninteresting, lackluster, dull, drab, boring, dry, humdrum, ho-hum, monochrome, tedious, uneventful, run-of-the-mill, commonplace, pedestrian, trite, tired, hackneyed, stale, lame, wishy-washy, colorless, anemic, lifeless
"insipid pictures"

That is what I am talking about. Commit to LIFE. Commit to more then a lackluster existence. Experience ALL that life has to offer. And that is meant for me too.

I am not like an “insipid” coffee. I am like espresso or Turkish coffee with substance. Body. Mexican coffee with a sprinkling of cinnamon. Not tea unless it is authentic chai with all the marvels of India and the spices that ignite the tastebuds and put a layer of persperation on the brow! The inspiration for dreams of abandonment under the hot sun with that cup of chai to increase the feelings of desire. Yes that is what I am – all of them...

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This is just an excerpt without the prose.  I have used "fiction" plus prose in this book.  Enjoy.  

Yes, Nicole, the SASS is back!  Namaste

Shadows...

Shadows on the walls.  Shadows on the floor.  Shadows in the byways of the mind.  Ever present.  Can the cobwebs ever be cleared away...brushed away.

I need to brush them away.  To put them far far away.  I can do that.  I can make the shadows go away...whether daylight, dusk or in the dark of night.  They can be put away.

You . . .

You are my sunrise.  You are my moonlight and everything between.  You are the air I breathe.  My first thought each day and the last before I fall asleep.  You are my dream . . . my reality.  You are the ying to my yang.  You complete my sentenses . . . my thoughts as I complete yours.  You are my beginning with no ending

Words...Words...Words

Words are my life as is music.  Each leave their impact.  Slightly different impacts...perhaps.  Words once they journey from the vocal cords to the tongue to be spat out...they can never be taken back.   Especially the words of anger.  Words of hate.  They hang in the air.  Reverberate until they echo with resounding reminder of what those words meant when uttered.

Take them back!  Take them back!  sigh...I cannot...I cannot

Words.  Impact.  Regret.

Lost: my Compass..

lost my compass...lost my balance.  Cannot find home!  Where did it go?

Clarity...

One morning you wake up and there is clarity.  We hold on to things....things?  Feelings.  Material objects.  Baggage.  Baggage of the past.  We hang on desperately.  To what end?  Are we afraid of moving on?  Are we afraid without the baggage, the material things we become less or even do not exist?  Is it a holding on to something rather then to experience life?

One morning you wake up and the fear has dissipated....you realize that the only thing that stops you from experiencing all that life has to offer is you.

We lose our focus and along with it goals.  When I first started this blog - oh seems like ages ago...it was about the places where I landed for awhile to experience life.  From Minnesota it was Red Lodge, Montana and back to St Paul for a brief balancing of my spirit.  Now North Carolina.  Oh North Carolina has been most interesting...not what I anticipated at all.

Red Lodge was about learning about myself.  A part of me that I denied - as a friend told me (a very wise friend) claim who you are.  I did claim who I am before I left Red Lodge.  North Carolina has been thoughts...ponderings and clarity.

One morning you wake up and the fear is less and there is more clarity.  One morning I shall wake up and there is no fear and the clarity is ever present.

One morning...

Shifting Sand...

a sigh...silence...some people do not like change.  They prefer a static condition.  A constant in their lives. Monotony. Boredom.  Static.  Stagnant.  I find that hard to comprehend.  Life is like shifting sands.  Movement.  Ever so delicately.  Almost unnoticeable by the naked eye.  And undercurrent. Ever shifting sands.  Of time.  Of emotions.  Of thoughts.

Wall Paper on the Wall

Red and white...well off white...dirty white vertical strips....a low 6 inch border...wainscot level.  Labradors.  Then off white...dirty white wainscoting.    I have looked at these walls for over a year now.  It has been my home.;  My room in this house.  My refuge.  My retreat.  Peace.  Quiet.

The Labradors on the border along the wainscoting look like Lucky the house Labrador - the real lab.  He's an old Southern gentleman.  Waits at the stairs until I tell him to go...don't wait for me Lucky.  Thinking to myself (selfishly) that if I were to slip and fall, Lucky would make a comfortable obstacle to block a real fall and knowing Lucky he would just turn and look at me as if to say...I'm always there for you.  And he is...he loves to come into my room when the house is quiet.  He'll find his spot on the rug where the sun has decided to settle for a few hours and, of course, he moves accordingly as the sun moves.  He's such a warm, gentle dog.  Hate to refer to him as a dog .... he's more like a Southern gentleman indeed.  Caring and loving.  So funny to see him around the cat.  Oh yes this big Lab gives the Frady Cat wide berth.

Then there is what we refer to as "the Princess".  Winky...a Boynton Spaniel.  Her eyes are so soft.  She'll come into my room and up she goes onto the comfy corduroy covered chair by the window.  Winky likes the sun too but prefers it from the height of that chair besides she loves to look out of the windows at the Boulevard and make sure there are no other animals staking out "her" yard.  There is a pink blanket on the arm of the chair and Ms Winky loves to push it around with her paws until she is totally comfortable exactly where it is.  Depending on the chill in the house, she may find a spot to pull over so her nose is covered by the blanket.  Pink is her color afterall.  However, I do have to confess, her dreaming creates quite an interesting sound from her and then the snoring...oh my heavens.  She snores worse then my father did and I could hear him from two doors down.  But she is a sweet, adorable little thing.  All exuberant and ready to go on adventures and who knows what she might bring back as her quarry.

Then there is Frady Cat....once upon a time a cat of the streets.  Born on the streets.  Lived on the streets for a good portion of her life.  And then she found this house.  As I understand, she really wasn't sure she wanted to live the life of a domesticated cat but she did like a warm bed to curl up on and food that she didn't have forage for.  She was prone to staying out days at a time but then in the mornings she would be perched on the washer on the back porch waiting for the door to open.  The door that said you are always welcome, Frady.  Amazing how creatures can change...can be open to a new way of life.  Some people can't even do that.  Seems to me over this past year that the times she has come home with a scratch over her eye or her tail looking like something took a bite out of it have diminished.  She spends less time wandering the boulevard and the roads below the hills and more times in the house where she finds the warmth of the furnace, the warmth of her housemates - Winky and Lucky.  And enjoys the hands extended to her to pet her and say love in their own special way.  She knows she is safe.  She knows she is with family.  She knows she is home.

Thoughts...

thoughts...feelings...emotions all entwined like the legs of lovers enraptured within one another - just lying together experiencing one another without words...just touching...just being in that moment..that exquisite when everything merges and there are no clear definition of self of boundaries.

The Ability to Love...

some have an enormous ability to love...loving of a person or more then one.  Reasons are complex sometimes complicated perhaps.  Can one person fulfill our every need?  Doubtful.  People are complex beings.  One has certain qualities that others lack or simply have never cultivated.  One person fills a need - the other fills different needs.

Human touch...we all need it.  Emotional connections...we all long for that.  The ability to love two people at the same time exists.  It's complex.  Layers of feelings...of emotions...of need...all resulting in human touch...emotional connections.  Not always making sense.  The reasons are many...

the ability to love

Pick me! Pick me!

Sometimes revelations happen at least expected moments...perhaps epiphany is more of the word.  An ah ha moment.  You wake up suddenly understanding what was not understood before.  The need to fill a void that is ever present...thinly veiled but still there.  The distance you unknowling create between that which you deeply need...deeply want.  The void that is constantly there.  Constantly needing to be fed.  A cycle needing to be broken and yet almost impossible to change.

Pick me!  Pick me!  They never picked me.  The void was created.  The void was small.  The void grew.  Perhaps I give too much of myself forfeiting part of me.  I give too much and then there is nothing left for me.  Is that how I fill that void?  Another cycle hard to be broken.

Pick me!  Pick me!  I am worthy.  I have value.  Pick me!  Pick me!

Thoughts & Feelings on a Sunday Morning...

It's brisk out.  26F  blue sky and sunny.  No profound words have I but a gentle reminder from several friends about footprints left in the sand on gently placed on the spirit and soul.  Sometimes we forget that words and actions are so powerful.  We negate them because...well after all we are just one person.

A reminder on this sunny January day with a nip in the air that we do each of us make a difference in lives...in the lives of those that we may not see every day, but we do make a difference.  Just be genuine.  Use words and actions wisely.  YOU will find a richness in life that you never expected.

No profound words this sunny day.  Just a gentle reminder that you are not defined by hurtful ugly words from decades ago...uttered by someone who wanted to hurt you...you are defined by your words and actions not by another's.

Compartmentalizing

Compartmentalization is an unconscious psychological defense mechanism used to avoid cognitive dissonance, or the mental discomfort and anxiety caused by a person's having conflicting values, cognitions, emotions, beliefs, etc. within themselves.

Compartmentalization allows these conflicting ideas to co-exist by inhibiting direct or explicit acknowledgement and interaction between separate compartmentalized self states.

Yes that is what compartmentalizing is!  I know I do it under certain circumstances.  Those things that I truly am not comfortable with.  Those things that don't fit into those damn ticky tacky yellow boxes.  OR do they?  Perhaps I really am in one of those ticky tacky boxes looking out.  

Compartmentalizing helped me.  Some could call it denial.  Perhaps.  Some could call it stupidity.  Perhaps.  Survival.  Yes a better word.  It fit in my life at that time.  The unfortunate thing is that when you no longer truly need it...it continues and becomes habit and habit becomes something that becomes how you are, how you live and you don't realize that it is now part of your core.

A Pair of Glasses

I have one pair of glasses.  A single pair of glasses.  Not two.  Not five.  ONE pair of glasses.  Now on the other hand I know people who have many pairs of glasses.  There are striped pairs.  Wire glasses that bend precariously when placed in the wrong places.  Bi-focal.  Tri-focal.  Progressive lenses.  Reading lenses.  Glasses put in obscure places.  Glasses put in every room.  Every purse.  Every jacket.  Every winter coat.  A red pair.  A blue pair.  A striped pair.  A rimless pair.

I have one pair of glasses.  A single pair of glasses.  What does that say about or does it say anything about me.  What does it say of others...if anything.

Just a pair of glasses.  One pair of glasses.  A single pair of glasses.  But they are mine.