Sunday, November 21, 2010

Do You Find the Smell of Death... Refreshing?

My story: I will admit I'm poor. I don't have a job, but I didn't quit working because it made life easier. I wasn't thinking whooo hoo now I can stay home and play with all the free money I'll have. I quit because of illness.

I'm young; I don't even have a credit card (except an old Kohl's card). Everything I've ever bought, I've paid for. I can't drive much these days, my car isn't the best, but I paid it off the day I bought it. I own an "expensive" bed, which I bought before I learned of my illness thinking I'd be more refreshed each day. I've lived an extremely stressful life and dealt with it. I tried hard to do the best I could in school, went to college for a couple years (to which I owe no debt) to get a "decent job," something to pay the bills with.

I planned to go back to school after finding employment. However, I was turned down for the jobs I applied, because even with schooling and internships, I didn't have the experience required. I found other work. All the while, I had applied for insurance, received insurance (all costs out of my own pocket), and experienced such great price increases that I could not afford the only plan I was told I could be offered. My only choice was to drop the coverage I had. Shortly after, I was diagnosed with a new illness. All tests and lab work were paid out of my own pocket. Think I was getting coverage then? Yeah, right. I tried and fought as hard as I could to stay in work, but it became too much. I had to quit, and I've been denied disability. Believe me, I didn't plan for this life. I don't want to ask for money. I'd like to earn my own!


There is a problem when people are constantly talking about the poor class, the middle class, as if they are all on drugs, popping out babies, and asking for free government help. That isn't the case. I believe our attention is being diverted, we're being forced to put blame on each other and point fingers. We scoff at others, act as if they are asking us to pay their way.

The problem is not with your neighbor, it's with the large corporations who have sent our jobs overseas, refused to offer health care for their employees, kept hours down so they wouldn't have to, and wouldn't allow vacation time, which in turn, causes people stress and illness! We've allowed this to happen, we watch the little box and believe everything it has to say. We get the magazines and go out to buy the things inside on credit. We put the items inside our pollution spewing cars, and we bring our findings inside the extravagant homes we don't own to fill up the space we don't need. And then we shout socialist at those who say we don't need it, those that try to DEPRIVE us.

We allow our fellow humans to be put to death for an imaginary war, an image that was created. We call Anti-Americanism on those who don't support this, those that don't believe this. We don't read the important words because we're too busy staring at the pretty faces on the magazine cover. AND we sit here arguing over topics we ALL only know snippets about. We could spend this time educating ourselves, finding our own solutions, working toward ways to bring this about to our government. Yet, we sit here arguing. I am poor, but I would not dare complain if about paying a bit more in taxes to help others receive life and health if I made, oh say... $200,000 a year. It's sickening the way we treat other humans. It almost makes me wish I were one of the cows waiting to be on your dinner plate next week.

Friday, September 3, 2010

The Road Ahead

I've been spending time lately with documentaries and articles. For some reason I've been hit with the need to learn more! It's been a point for me to learn something new every day for a long time now, but this is reaching a new point. I'm going out into the realm of things that make me uncomfortable. I'm writing about these topics once I face what I learn. Maybe through this, there will be an answer for me... It's possible that I'll be able to understand why people are doing certain things, or why the things they do are bothering me! If anything, it's possible I'll at least find an answer that is somewhat satisfying. I hope that will be the case. And when I'm not trying to figure out what I don't like, I'll read the opinions of others whether I agree with them or not.

Here is a link to an interesting article: Intelligent Article Against Porn

I hope that in the future, even though I both do and don't agree with this, I can convey my feelings as well as Naomi Wolf.

Still working on my novel of course :)

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

The Dreaded Block

I've been wondering why or how I can possibly write something so beautiful one day and the next find myself with absolutely nothing to say. Sometimes it's almost as if I have given up on it all, and I realize that something is standing in the way. I don't really want to give it all up, not really. So what's the problem?

The door has shut on my last few chapters. I'm brave enough to admit this: I have writer's block, and I hate those two words together. Admitting this and typing it, making the realism of it come to life, is causing a burning deep inside my stomach. It's almost like the pain of a broken heart, a death of a loved one, salt in the coffee instead of sugar.

But I've had a great deal of pain in my now 24 years of life. I know how bad it hurts to admit something is wrong, to face it instead of shoving it someplace deep inside. Actually, that's what I've been doing. There is a fireproof, keypad entry box somewhere inside me that I've managed to shove everything into and now it's full. Opening this box is going to destroy me for a few days, especially when the Narcolepsy gets wind, but it must happen. This is now unavoidable.

So my brain has concluded, it's time to get out the Therapy Monsters notebook "we" created. No matter how difficult this will be, it has to happen. "We" wanted to follow Tracy's advice a couple months ago, really! "We" knew it would hurt so bad, so "we" only created it, and didn't follow her advice.

It's time... and I'm distracted by the Lion King in my head when they raise the next king over the crowd of animals... a happier memory from my childhood.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


I question every detail, making extractions, turning them over in my hands. Then I wonder why... Why can't I, too?

She speaks to me without even a whisper, never saying a word. "You can, dear, you can."

And when I look up to the summer sun through the shade of the weeping willow, I can't help but cry too.

"Everything you ever wish for will come true. Simply ask the stars," she says.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Above the Moon

I'd ride to the top of the mountain at the end of the road by sailboat if it were possible. I'd climb the vines that crawled up my building if they'd hold me. I'd cry more tears if my tear ducts still worked properly.

Things are feeling a bit off. Numb.

I took a walk to clear my head yesterday so that I could work hard on my book when I returned. Something had been blocking my vision inside that tornado wearing goggles. When I arrived at home after knowing peaceful fresh polluted air, I realized that I'd been afraid of the monsters, the cobwebs and the snakes.

So I climbed up the spider string, my hands slipping, and I dangled above the moon. We talked and sang and ate cheese and drank the stars wine. And I felt better after that.

Emotion is everything.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Bees Hate My Writing

I am honestly trying my hardest to finish this novel. Of course, this brilliant idea popped in my head... "Oh, Crystal! Go outside! Go outside to the front porch where you can write to the music of the birds and feel the wind's hand breeze through your hair!"

However, I'm outside, and the music of the birds is distracting, the breeze of the wind is distracting (yet wonderful), and bees have decided I smell deliciously sweet. I've tried to talk to the bees. I thought maybe there is a bit o' bug whisperer inside me, after all, my bunny understands me. So I said, "Hey bees, I'm not a flower. You won't get any pollen from these pale legs!"

Sadly, bees have tiny ears. They don't listen very well.

Bet the elderly neighbors are enjoying watching me hop around the porch constantly swinging and shouting.