Posts Tagged With: death

Recovery and Hope

Recovery and Hope

Good morning, world. We are a different place today than we were just a few weeks ago. It’s a worrisome time, and not one death is unimportant. Not ONE.  All lives matter.   Life is precious.  Life is not guaranteed.  There is no rule that states that if we do this – or do that – our life is guaranteed.  There is no promise for a tomorrow. BUT – there is hope.

If we’ve learned anything from this COVID-19 virus is that’s we are all connected, we do not live on our own island and the world around us can’t or don’t affect us.  Yes, it does.  We are all part of the societal machine – we all effect the world around us in either in a negative or positive way, but we are all ‘essential’.

In my recovery from this nasty virus, I can’t help but worry about the world around me.  Yes, I’m stressed like everyone else. Yes, I’m worried about the financial, social, and environmental effect this nasty virus is having on me, my family, and my neighbors.  Yes, I’m worried about the ultimate cost – not just of the direct effects of this virus – all the needless deaths, but of the emotional damage.  Those numbers are not just numbers – those are our neighbors, friends, mothers, fathers, grandmothers, grandfathers, aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, daughters and sons that are dying.  This virus isn’t racist or prejudiced and attacks everyone, so it will require everyone in order to combat and kill it.

I am in recovery. My body is strong and it was the only weapon I had against this virus.  There is no antiviral, there are no antibiotics, and there is no cure.  All I could do was treat symptoms and help my body fight as hard as it could from this horrible enemy inside me.  My body is winning and my amazing and miraculous machine is producing its own natural antibodies destroying the enemy within and building up a protective immunity that will help me stay strong as this nasty bug continues to circulate through our world.

My heart breaks for those who had family and loved ones who did not overcome their battle.  All of them were precious lives.  I’ve been in a very strict quarantine, not just to protect myself as I fight this virus, but to protect others around me. There is hope. We will recover …from this virus.  Now, I must have hope we as a society will recover from the grief and pain of our loss.

Let us all love each other, be considerate of each other, and remember that we are all essential in our roles as neighbors.

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, blogging, Complicated frustrations, Destiny, Faith, family, friends, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Musing., Philosophy, relationship, Relationships, respect, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Move On

Move On


Anytime something happens in my life, usually something tragic or a loss of someone I love, or the dissolution of a relationship, people always tell me to move on.  Move on?  What does that really mean, because that could mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people?  I was thinking about that this morning – moving on.

I suppose all of my life I’ve been moving …on – because I keep moving. I am always moving – either forward or backward. I’m growing or shrinking. I’m learning or wallowing in ignorance.  Well, if you really think it about it, I am always headed toward death.  If I stop and give up – I am digressing and dying. If I stop eating, I will die of hunger.  As I move forward and keep aging, I am slowly moving toward death – so I am essentially dying there too.  BUT, the difference is HOW I move toward my death, which is GOING to come.  Next week, if I make it that long (Scott’s workout is torture) I will have moved forty-eight years closer to my death. Pretty sobering, huh?

I’m not being somber here, just real, facing the facts.  Fact is …I am going to die. In my fantasies I’d like to go out in a blaze of glory, being with someone I love, filled with a sense of peace knowing I really lived and loved, and got to experience the best this life had to offer. Our definition of best will probably splinter at this point – but the best in life for me has NOTHING to do with stuff or accomplishments.  It has to do with love and the journey taken to achieve those accomplishments. I just want to be loved, I just want to love the people in my life, and I want to pursue something that fuels my passions. THAT’s it. I can do that in a mansion or a trailer, with a million or a penny.  Don’t make a difference to me – as long as love and purpose are present.

Life is a diamond and shaped with billions of angles.  It’s filled with pain and pleasure. Some of it I’d like to forget, but I can’t. What I can do is not wallow, not dwell, not stay stuck in that chaos – but move on.  Learn from it. I can’t forget the tragic shit.  I don’t want to forget it, because it was the fire that forged the steel that runs through my soul.  Moving on to me is being able to see things in an honest view – all the ugly and beauty of a thing, of a moment, of an experience, of a person, or of a lesson.  EVERYTHING has light and dark, good and bad. I can’t just look at part of a thing and truly understand it. I have to have balance and see all the facets to truly appreciate it.  That to me is moving on – seeing it (no matter the chaos) in its truth, accepting it in its truth, and then learning something about myself from it.

My life has had some hard truth and it’s been hard to move on.  But, I had to accept it and see it, and learn from it, to honor it and what it means to me. James’ death, my childhood, my divorce, losing relationships are all hard truths. NO relationship in this world is ONLY beauty. EVERY relationship has its weaknesses, its flaws, its ugly – because we are human, we are mortal, we are complex beings filled with both dark and light.  To truly appreciate a relationship, I have to look at it in balance and truth. Fantasy, the idea of what we think a relationship should look like, is the biggest destroyer; false expectations. What we think a person should look like, how they should respond or be, how we should feel, etc.  We make our lists, we set our expectations and then our human counterparts don’t (can’t) live up the fantasy we created in our minds and we get disappointed.  If we looked at people and relationships in balance, see the good and bad, the light and dark, and accept people for who THEY truly are, not who we hope or want them to be, then we will have more successful relationships.

I’m not perfect (shhhh… don’t say that out loud). I don’t always do the right thing. I don’t look like a porn star or supermodel. I don’t have the world to offer on a silver platter.  I don’t have all the wisdom of knowing everything. But, if you strip away all those vain, stupid, unimportant, shallow issues, and look deep at my soul – I think I’m fucking amazing. I love with my whole heart. I give all of me to everything I do. I learn from my mistakes. I own my choices.  I am loyal. I am faithful to myself and the people I love. I am a fighter. I am a survivor. I’ve learned to learn. I’ve learned to move on – to move in life – to keep going forward, not forgetting, but keep moving. My tomorrow is not guaranteed.  I may not be here in the next minute, so I believe with my whole heart that I just have to live the best life I can live, and never take a day for granted, or a person for granted, or a passion for granted. Love me or don’t. I’m going to keep moving on till I have no more breath.

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, blogging, Destiny, Dream, Dreams, Fairy Tale, Faith, family, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Philosophy, relationship, Relationships, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

A Warrior Weeps

for Scott


In silence, I saw a long shadow cast upon the ground as a warrior stood proud and tall,

With one long look upon her breathless form, to his knees I saw this fierce fighter fall.

No longer stood the man so brave and tough, but a little boy took his place as he cried,

He fought through the grief and the pain that overwhelmed him, to say to her his final good-byes.

He held her hand, caressed her face, and through teary eyes looked upon her full of love and grace,

This was his first friend, his guiding light, and in the storms of his life she was his anchor,

This was his first ever love, his North Star

… this was his mother.

How was he to face another day without her, to breathe, or even speak out loud?

Did he do enough, did he say enough, could he be enough to really make her proud?

As he kissed her forehead, I saw a broken-hearted little boy down on his knees so small.

Yet, silence and noise, reality and dream, gave way as this warrior once again stood tall.

In Remembrance of Elizabeth A. Vanaria – who passed away Saturday at 1:00 am on July 6, 2019

Elizabeth A. Vanaria

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, Dream, Dreams, family, Hope, Hurt, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Muses, Musing, poem, relationship, Relationships, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , | Leave a comment


Optimist Vs Pessimist


I love this meme with Charlie Brown and Snoopy. Chuck is just being real, laying it all out there and sharing with his best friend that he understands his reality. He’s having that existential moment and struggle with his mortality, like we all face at times.  We are all going to die. Oh man, that is so simple, yet so profound, and really sucks!  Though I’ve technically died twice, there is a final death waiting for us all. We only get (1) one life.  ONE. That’s it! Sure, there are faiths, beliefs, and theories that profess we come back again and again – but right now, as me (Tonya), that stubborn-ass girl born on a hot July back in the early 70’s – I get ONE trip on this big blue ball as the flesh and blood woman sitting here this morning typing this blog post. But how long do I have? Who knows?  It could be another half century, or just a few more minutes.  We have no control over that. When our time comes – Death will come and claim his soul.  But what kind of soul will that be?

For a Beagle, Snoopy is one profound puppy.  He has this silent strength about him.  If you notice, Snoopy doesn’t respond with his emotions, but with controlled wisdom.  He is often silent, yet profound. I’m the opposite. I’m very vocal, passionate, and extremely expressive on both sides of the optimist and pessimist coin.  I’m like Chuck, always questioning the universe. Always pondering the mysteries of life. Always seeking the answers to my issues, but there’s not always a Lucy with her $.05 stand to answer my questions.  I believe a Snoopy has recently come into my life that doesn’t speak much, but when he does – he speaks with a profound truth – a controlled truth, a truth often void of emotional strings. It’s refreshing, and helps tether my emotional balloons.  I really hope he knows how much I appreciate him.

Snoopy’s wisdom reminds me to look at what’s important in life. It really hit home with me this morning.  Truth – is so profound in and of itself.  Snoops doesn’t deny the truth in Chuck’s proclamation, but affirms it.  TRUE – we will all die someday, BUT … man, wow …but on ALL the OTHER DAYS we will NOT.  Boom! That’s it folks.  THAT is the fucking key to life.  We have to live – really fucking live on all those other days. We have to choose to live. We have to choose to look at the bright side – the optimistic side.  Don’t worry about that ONE day, be in the moment of all the other days.  Take the leap. Eat the cake.  Kiss the girl. Be grateful and thankful and appreciate the world around you and the people that make those days good and bearable. Love each other. Love yourself. Stop hiding behind fear and stress and anxiety and pessimistic outlooks.  Cut the bullshit out of your life. Stop clinging to the excuses.  So what if you fuck up and make a mistake? So what if you get hurt? So what if you fail? Failure is just an opportunity to try again or try something else.  Jump!

My friend wrote something the other day about all the pessimistic fears, lies, and worries the mind, the body, and the ego says to us on a constant basis– but the heart had the key – the heart had the single optimistic profound message that outweighed the mind, body and ego all together.  “Hooyah” says the heart. Hooyah, indeed. Maybe my friend will send me his quote and I can share it with the world.  It’ll hit the center of your soul with its profound message.

There’s a world out there – and we all have a life to live.  Live it.  Chase those dreams. Time is limited, so live life now. James and I made so many dreams together, but his day came swiftly.  Since then, I’ve been doing the best I can to live the best life I can to fulfill those dreams we made knowing there’s no promise for tomorrow. I won’t wait for tomorrow, because I know the truth – sometimes my tomorrow, my day, will come. But on all the other days – it will not and so today I say, “Hooyah!”

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

Categories: author T.L. Gray, Dream, Dreams, Fairy Tale, Faith, family, friends, Health & Fitness, Hope, Hurt, Independence, Inspirational, Instructional, Life, love, memes, Muses, Musing, Philosophy, relationship, Relationships, respect, Romantic, Spiritual, T.L. Gray, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Where the Dead Things Are

Where the Dead Things Are

*New original short story Where the Dead Things Are© by T.L. Gray  – Part One

My Mama once told me, “If a man only wants to see you when the sun goes down, he’s a vampire. Baby, run away. He’ll bite you, leave you all mesmerized until he drains you of everything that makes you alive, and then he’ll toss you into his collection of other dead things.” She told me that once while braiding my hair. I remember looking into a dirty, smoke-stained mirror, watching vacant eyes stare off at nothing with a cigarette hanging out the side of pale thin lips. I can still see those small jagged lines along the edges displaying leftover bits of dark red lip stick. She looked younger when she smiled, but she hardly ever smiled.

Of course, my wild imaginative mind took the story literally to heart and in my youthful naivety found myself fascinated with the supernatural; vampires especially. Then after Mama died a few years later, I became obsessed with stories about death. However, I look back on that moment and realize she wasn’t talking about vampires at all, not really. I never thought Mama had much sense, but as I’ve met my own sort of vampire and found myself struggling to climb out of this cavernous pit of death, I now realize she was much deeper than I ever gave her credit.

Looking down at the shimmering Vodka, I see my dark red lipstick mark along the glass lip and can’t stop Mama’s words from echoing in the deep part of my mind. How did I get here? When did I lose myself and turn into Mama? Where had my soul gone? Will I find it among all the dead things?

I can tell you the exact moment, the particular hour, the definitive minute everything changed. It all started with the sound of tires slowly crunching over gravel as he pulled into my driveway. My heart started beating so fast I thought it would literally jump out my chest. It sounded too loud and I wondered if he’d be able to hear it. I quickly checked my underarms for moisture, because I was nervous as a chicken in a fox hole. My body may have been hot, but thank goodness I was dry and smelled like fresh flowers. My cinnamon breath caught as I gasped, almost letting out a small squeal as I heard the car door open and then close again. I never heard the engine at all. It’s like he floated in on a dream.

With shaky legs, I walked out the French doors that led to my patio-porch, and then to the privacy gate. He’d parked his car just on the other side. I could see the light green hue of his exterior between the fence slats before I caught a glimpse of him. It was only a slither of a glance of one of his long, bronze skinny legs sticking out a pair of basketball shorts, but I was transfixed. I tried to calm my breath as I opened the gate, but there was no controlling it. I’d lost it completely. It evaporated from my lungs altogether when my gaze locked onto those dark, brown, mesmerizing eyes and that soft crooked smile. The setting sun behind me cast a golden spotlight on his beautiful caramel skin, highlighting his chiseled face, full lips, and aura of authority. He looked like a god bathed in glory and I felt myself wanting to fall to my knees in worship. I mean I literally felt like falling when my knees suddenly buckled beneath me. I had to grab the wooden gate to keep the ground from jumping up and slapping me in the face.

Sometimes I wonder if he knew the effect he had on me. I doubted it, but I often wondered, still do. He always had a way of bringing the hidden things out of me, and reflecting my own image back at me when I tried so hard to focus on his. He didn’t have one. He was a mystery, yet something I understood without words, without explanation, and I loved him deeply. I still do. But he left me where the dead things are, tossed me to the side once he’d drained me of all the vibrant life I had once held. But I’m not without hope, not without magic. That’s what’s brought me to this bar in the middle of nowhere. I’m trying to escape, trying to save the last bit of my soul, trying to put some distance between me and him so that I may one day find the strength to resist him, breaking the power he has over me, and crawl out of this place of dead things. He doesn’t want me, but doesn’t want to let me go either.

I threw back the shot of vodka, feeling the burn all the way down my throat and settle into the emptiness of my stomach. Alcohol on an empty stomach always hurt, but it also helped the numbness rush in faster. I glanced down at my watch and realized the sun had surely already set outside. I needed to be on my way. He’d be able to find me. If he ever found me, I know I’d never have the strength to resist him. I pulled the small wad of twenty dollar bills I’d kept in my front jeans pocket. Slapped one down on the bar and then threw back the last of three shots I’d ordered. I wiped my soft lips with the back of my shaking hand and walked out of that dead place filled with other dead people, into a city where all the dead things are. Yet, I’m a survivor, and though too faint to hear, my heart still beats.





Categories: author T.L. Gray, Blog Post, Life, love, Short Story, T.L. Gray, Uncategorized, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment



Happiness.  Is it real?  Does it really exist? What does it look like? What does it consist? What are the rules, parameters, stipulations?  How can something undefined, unsolidified exist?  How can something so distinctly relative and individually interpreted be definable in any common sense or in a general definition?

According to Webster’s Dictionary, happiness is the state of being happy; an experience that makes you happy.  But, what is happy? Again, Merriam-Webster declares that happy is an adjective that means feeling pleasure and enjoyment because of your life, situation, etc.; showing or causing feelings of pleasure and enjoyment; pleased or glad about a particular situation, event, etc.

Well, then everyone in the world has had such moments, even the most depraved, repressed, depressed, enslaved person has at one time or another experienced such moments.  But, does that make them happy?

A writer friend of mine, Tom Piccirilli, well, more or less a writer acquaintance of mine, passed away a few days ago. I had the pleasure of interviewing him last year for West Georgia Living Magazine.  I think fondly on our interview, on his appreciative words about my article, on his gifts as a wonderful writer.  His wife posted about his passing today on his Facebook account.  My heart broke that he had finally lost his battle with cancer, but it wasn’t sadness I felt when reading his wife’s words, it was something deeper than that, something precious.  I was being shown what happiness was in the midst of grief. His wife spoke of the happy years they had together.  Sure they had plenty of bad times and bad moments, he battled cancer – it was tough, but they spent those times together, loving each other, supporting one another, and that is what made them happy.  Bad moments couldn’t destroy their overall happiness; they didn’t matter.

I remember loving James during the most stressful time of my life, and when he died and the darkness settled in on me, that’s when I knew I had been happy right in the middle of the struggles.  I have many, many happy moments with my kids: I remember playing outside in the rain with them, splashing in the mud, lying in bed telling them stories, slip-n-sliding in kitchen floor (it was my way of mopping), smack-talking during a board or card game, having Guitar Hero competitions, letting them show me how to pop waves on the jet ski, playing the clean-up-race-game, dressing up in costumes for a mid-night book release party, and so on and so forth.  My kids loved me and I loved them… and I was really happy.

Things change.  People grow up, lives get disrupted, and some leave this world and leave us behind.  My world has changed so much in the last few years and I’ve shed quite a few tears because of it, but you know what… I’m still happy, I still know happiness, it’s just in different things and comes in different ways. It’s never in what I think it should or would be. I’m kinda lost trying to figure out who I am and where I belong.  Happiness, for me, is now found in a random text, while killing aliens, in an occasional touch, in a sweet kiss, or in a simple embrace.  Some days I’m so sad I can’t breathe, but even in that I find happiness.

I can’t go back and grab happiness from anything in my past.  Those things don’t work for my present. I can’t sit and wait for happiness to happen, because it’s not something you can make happen, and tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.  It’s a present state of being, regardless of feelings, because of what is happening here and now.  I’m learning happiness comes from loving and being loved… and I love very much, and am loved very much.  Is it ideal, how I think I should be, or consists of what I should do, or wrapped in a way I think it should come?  Does it matter?  No.  I can’t fit my life into the shape, the mold, or the ideal of anything other than what it is.  It’s crazy.  It’s odd.  It’s different.  It’s unconventional.  It’s weird.  It clashes with every group of society and I’m really sick and tired of trying to make it fit somewhere.  I don’t fit in, and those strange creatures who don’t often understand why they love me, love me for all that I am.  They can’t seem to get rid of me, but they can’t define me either.  Doesn’t matter… as long as they love me, I’m happy.

Should I leave this world tomorrow… know that I lived today and I was happy.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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One Last Night

One Last Night

*A Flash Fiction Piece*

Gray clouds billow above the white foamy surf as fog rolls like a trampling stampede upon the surface of the cerulean sea.  The crash of waves upon the rocks reminds me of my lovers tryst; the sea spray our wild release. I stand at the widow, staring out at the cold, magical, monochromatic morning, my chest heavy with sorrow, but no regret.

The view before me blurs amid the hot, silver tears as they fill my eyes.  I flush as each warm memory fills my mind’s eye.  I wrap my arms tight around me and let the images take me back, take me into our one last night.


Dark eyes stared into my soul, undressing me, exposing the deepest part of me, stealing my breath.

Strong, gentle fingers slowly traced the side of my face, moving slowly down my neck, and onto my shoulders, shakily leaving a trail of prickling anticipation and sweet adoration.

I shivered.

He smiled.

I let go.

Two hearts beat in unison as our bodies converged into one, staring into each other’s eyes, feeling the love, forgetting the world outside.  Nothing else existed.  Nothing else mattered.  Giving. Receiving. Loving. Worshipping. Sharing. No words. No promises. No lies.

My eyes grew heavy as my head rested on his chest, listening to his strong heartbeat, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapped around me, his fingers gently caressing me.  A perfect moment.

I didn’t look back as he left. I couldn’t.


I now stand empty, cold, and alone.  I can still hear his gentle breathing and feel the lingering sting of his touch, but only as ghosts and silhouettes.  I walk toward those cold, crashing waves, letting go of my will, my fight, my resolve, shedding my earthly shell and the last tendrils of my humanity. I disappear into the abyss.

Death holds his bony fingers out toward me and asks, “Was it worth it, your one last night?”

I take his hand, look up at him, and smile, “What night?”

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Complicated Life

Complicated Life

Some of the most profound conversations happen at the oddest times, often unplanned and unexpected.  As I was falling asleep last night, my mind half suspended between listening to the repetitive beating of my heart, being grateful to be alive, and trying to catch the swirling thoughts filtering through my mind, I focused on one particular idea fading in and out.  Without thought, perhaps subconsciously my soul reaching out to a distant friend, I sent the following text message, “Will life always be this complicated?”

I didn’t expect a response.  I closed my eyes, pulled the blankets up to my neck, and hugged my pillow as I started to drift once again into the land of dreams and thoughts.  A deep sense of longing for something familiar overwhelmed me.  Scenes of my life, people who’ve come and gone, flashed through my mind’s eye.  The world keeps changing, nothing ever stays the same, and the people I have loved most in this world have disappeared from my life for various reasons. I hated that moment. I remembered the shallow promises from each one, reminded that life never works out the way we plan, the way we hope, or the way we’ve been led to believe.

I have no regrets, because I’ve lived my life as open and honest as I could, and tried with all my heart to be enough, to be my best, to give my best. It was never enough. It’s my own fault, because I believed the lies, I hoped for the false dreams, I set my expectations high.  I thought I could control the outcome with discipline, faithfulness, honesty, faith and hope.  I controlled nothing.

The response I received was but a simple word, but it opened the floodgates inside my soul. His words have always been able to do that to me. No matter the state of our relationship, which at this time is non-existent, my muse answered, “Ahuh”.

I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, the tears of disappointment, of heartbreak, of facing the reality of a situation.  I saw the good of life mixed with the bad, the happy moments meshed with the moments of utter pain, a brief glance of love mixed with the face of indifference.  It was all one big mess.  I responded, “That’s nice to know, good night.”

He responded, “If it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be life.”

That broke the dam inside and I lashed out, “Why doesn’t it come with an instruction manual, or at least a YouTube video, with guidelines?  Instead we have fuckups leading fuckups into one rut (a ditch without end) after another, and the independent sojourner aimlessly wandering in never-ending wastelands.  Yet, I still dream of paradise (which turns out is actually a sectioned portion of Hell).”  Meaning – nobody knows the answers, and if we think we do, it’ll turn out to be another lie.  We have preachers, prophets and priests telling us their interpretation of God’s guidelines, but all live as hypocrites.  We have the politically correct demanding its own set of rules in the name of intolerant tolerance.  We have the pacifist, atheist, and various deist all demanding a voice, screaming over each other, but not listening.  I am as a child standing in a desert, looking for an answer, but only able to hear a roaring sandstorm.  It’s choking me, filling my ears, my mouth, my eyes, and my lungs full of bitter sand. I can’t breathe.  My soul needs water.  I’m thirsty.

I long for the day when I can close my eyes and finally rest, yet I fight like hell to keep that day from coming as long as I can. Ahuh, life is certainly complicated.

Till next time,

~T.L. Gray

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Daily Lessons

Daily Lessons

Everything in life poses a lesson, even the good things right along with the bad.  Having an open mind makes all the difference on what lessons we learn from those experiences.

I can go through my life and tell you good things I’ve learned, and also how I was really stupid at other things.  I wish I always chose the right choices, learned the right things, and made the right decisions, but most often it was the mistakes that taught me the greatest lessons.  I don’t regret my mistakes… only perhaps the lessons I might have missed along the way.

What are my lessons now?  What are my struggles today and what can I learn from them?  Again, life poses many struggles for me, but right now the consuming ones would be how to get through the day after losing the friendship of someone I loved very much, how to love the new friends in my life, and how to live in the moment – and to let that be enough.

I can’t change my past.  I can’t make someone love me that doesn’t, or hate someone I love.  I can’t control what tomorrow holds.  All I can do is live the best I know how in this moment, in this day, in this time.  Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed. I’ve died twice, and I can’t help but think I’ve lived for a purpose.  Have I already fulfilled that purpose?  I don’t know and I honestly don’t care.  The purpose will fulfill itself.

In living today… for today… I’ve become very picky about the people I let into my life.  Dating is complicated. I hope with every date, but have learned to let that hope leave as quickly with those dates when my princes turn out to be frogs.  I’ll find my prince someday, but until then I’m determined to remain content in being alone.   Yeah, it’s lonely, especially when I’m cold, or scared, or excited and want to share that excitement, but I’m not without love or friends… or lessons to be learned.

I find out later this month if I’m going to be able to move forward, or if I need to jump into the trenches to take a step back.  Until then, I can’t thank God enough for the love, support, and distraction that my Destiny clan, no my Destiny family, has provided for me.  I have made some connections that I know will be lifelong family, and I have made some friends that I hope will always be there.  Who knows… Destiny may even lead me to the love that has evaded me for so long.  In that world… I am KV Kvothe, beautiful, sexy, and a greatly loved goddess.  My clan and my friends never fail to make me feel wanted and appreciated.  I’m not the best gamer, but I hope I’m the best goddess they know.

What are my lessons during this time?  Persistence.  Stubborness.  Strategy. Loyalty.  Clans.  Leaders. Romantic gestures. Friends.  Determination. Letting go.  Breathing. Losing a muse, a god, a hope, a fantasy, a love.  … that life is meant to be lived in the moment, to still love the world even when it doesn’t love you back.

Till next time,

~KV Kvothe

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What Does Your Rockwell Look Like?

What Does Your

I love Norman Rockwell paintings.  I think they’re probably some of the best artwork out there, in my opinion.  I’m by no means an art expert, but his work NEVER ceases to make me stop, pause, ponder, and feel.  Isn’t that the purpose of an artist?  I’m an artist too – I paint with words.  Sometimes I produce masterpieces, sometimes garbage, most of the time it’s something in between.


How we see the world, how we see truth, how we see each other, how we see nature, science, faith, justice… all these various views stem from who we are, where we are, and what we have, are, or will experience in this life.  How I see things today is not how I saw them at 5, or any age in between.  The pictures have been colored in more, the lines have become more defined, delicate and broad brush strokes have been added, techniques have been developed and experience has happened.  Also, time has moved – aging the older paint, making the fresh paint even more prominent.

I think about death and life.  I step back and look at the picture I’ve painted.  There are a lot of black and white, sharp images, dark images, but there’s also vibrant colors, soft strokes, and beautiful pastels.  But what does the big picture show?

The way Rockwell is able to capture a time, place, feeling, and ideal in his art, you can clearly see the story he’s trying to tell – and it’s a beautiful story.  It’s an ideal story, one that I’ve longed for most of my life.  In my crazy, mixed up, violent world – I’ve always dreamed of a Rockwell existence.  I almost had that kind of world, once.  I had all the appearance – the look, the sound, the image, the right job, the right family, the right standing in the community.  The only thing missing was real passion and love.

Why are we such cowards?  We cling so tightly to our ideals, we miss moments of adding a beautiful stroke of brilliant color to our pictures by being afraid to love one another.  We think love makes us weak, but it’s our greatest strength.  Love is what makes all the difference.  Love is what colors our pictures.  I may not live to see tomorrow.  Every day is a gift.  I don’t want to die alone and unloved, or having missed an opportunity to love someone else.  We only get one life.  There is no do-over.  Paint your life with lots and lots of love – and throw all that other garbage (expectations, philosophies, religion, tradition, rules) out.  What does your Rockwell look like?

Categories: Blog Post, Inspirational, Philosophy, Spiritual, Writing | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

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