Bitter Taste of Anger

Persistent anger
molten hot
Wells and relaxes into apathy.
Bitter grounds mix with ghost pepper fire.
White hot light.
No container withstands this
fierce heat.
Melting layers upon layers
scorching everything it touches
and leaving behind the acrid stench of
spilled milk andĀ  burnt rubber.




Thank you all for your support and encouragement! 

Edit: apparently this was also my 100th post! šŸ˜‰

Visions Speak Louder



Energy crackles through my veins

forking lighting ‘cross the night sky

frantic, frenetic, and all consuming fire

burning bridges; caution whipping in the wind

like a white flag of surrender.

Impetuous failing desire to create

jumping from thought to action

and word to deed with the speed of light

inattentive to space and time.

The sum total of one word: unconquerable!

All at once or not at all. Racing against time

knowing full well the ship can hold no more

but still, taking on water faster and faster, more and more,

and more and more.

The bailersĀ flee in fear of sinking with the ship.

At the peak of the wave

there’s a crack and all comes crashing down.


A grand view of despair and

mighty upheaval. Murky gloom hangs upon my shoulders

cloaking and drowning

each thought in every passing minute

tumbling beneath the waves.

Watching from the ramparts looking

down upon the battle –

life for life.

Mercy has no place in this war,

It is the ultimate sacrifice, but for nothing.

No honor, only shame and defeat bear the victor

upon their shoulders.

Useless and motionless, stagnating among the decimated remains

of those who’ve passed before only too willingly.

Throwing themselves upon the pyre as though it had been foretold,

a prophecy of neglect and self-loathing lingering in the soul.



Part I: I recently started freelancing as a writer, editor, and proofreader; in fact, yesterday I made my third proposal, and for the first time, had it accepted and completed the job. Today, I got positive feedback from my client. I didn’t really make money from this transaction, but what I did get from it seems invaluable to me in some ways.

I took a risk; I stepped outside my comfort zone and did something I’ve never done before. I’ve never worked as a freelancer before, I’ve never written or edited promotional materials, and I’m not a marketing whiz, but that is exactly what I did – to the satisfaction of a client who rewarded me for my efforts. I now have more experience, a positive review, and a potential client again for future projects.

Part II: I recently began crocheting handbags/shoulder bags; this started out as something fun just playing around with a skill I have and now it has turned into a small business. I’ve actually sold things that I’ve created with my own hands!

I love being a creative. My word choice here is intentional. My artistic and creative endeavors don’t neatly fit into one category and that pleases me. Creating makes me feel alive. It allows me to channel emotional struggles into something of beauty and it makes me incredibly happy in the process. I feel productive when I finish projects because I can see the end result. It’s a labor of love.

Part III: These two experiences together have been so vastly different from my actual career, that thing I do that pays the bills, that I’m almost in awe of myself. For the longest time, I have believed that I truly have no marketable skills. Yeah, I am generally a nice person, but “nice” isn’t usually the number one qualification for a job. Skills are marketable; personality traits, not so much, right?

These experiences have allowed me to see myself in a slightly different light. My vision isn’t clear, the picture not quite in focus, but it’s there. I feel it creeping up on me and edging its way into my vision of myself. My new found puzzle pieces don’t quite fit neatly in line with some of the staunch older pieces of my self-perception – they don’t always play nice.

My career potentially allows me to influence the lives of others for the better, but the downside of that is that I often don’t see the results of my efforts; the rewards of my career are intangible. My passion for creating, on the other hand, offers more immediate and tangible rewards. Given an opportunity, I’d gladly trade their positions on my list of priorities; however, the biggest factor is financial security.Ā As much as I hate to admit it, I have doubts that I could be consistently productive enough to earn a living through my creative pursuits. And beyond that, I think it would be such a drastic change for me and how I view and interact with the world around me. I’m not sure I could cope with the fear and anxiety that would come with such a shift in lifestyle. I’m a creature of habit. In my mind, I know that change can be a good thing, but when things I’ve become accustomed to begin to change, I tend to overreact.

This blog post truly has no purpose other than to allow me to flesh out my thoughts and feelings and begin to put them into words. I’m attempting to sort out what it is I really want before I jump off the cliff and find that the plunge is not at all what I expected.

WordPress One Year Anniversary


Happy Anniversary with!
You registered on one year ago.
Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.
One year! After a whole year of writing, do I feel any older or wiser? I suppose the answer is yes. I’ve learned much from my blogging experiences and I’ve grown considerably. I have more confidence in sharing my work and taking risks with my writing – expanding my comfort zone. I’m proud of this accomplishment and I’m looking forward to many more years of growth and understanding. I am so happy that all of my readers have joined me in my adventure. Thank you! Without you, I’d surely have lost faith in myself and given up. Thank you for being such an open and welcoming community and sharing your thoughts and lives with me as I’ve been able to do with you.

I can hardly watch movies anymore

only comedies

because any amount of feeling

is too much to bear.

It’s difficult to read fiction

these days

because I connect too deeply to characters.

Feelings flood in and wash away

my own feelings of security.

These things reach down to the depths

and pull the rug from beneath my feet.

I cannot stand on the quicksand ground

without a sense of anxiety and dread.

If I used to be able to consume to escape

now I must create to escape.

Box Dweller

Envious of life beyond the glass cage

watching as time passes with each season’s change

longing for some greater adventure

a leap of faith, a risk, so far untaken.

Fear of change, thoughts of “it could be worse”

but standing caught between reality and dream

– a fence rider.

Bit by bit, emerging as from a fitful slumber –

eyes first, toes testing waters, but

fear of failure drives a return to the known.

Persistently dreaming of life beyond the walls

of safety, of conventionality, of knowing the rules.

When we come to the end of life, will we have done

all we could muster – breaking free of shackles binding,

or just passed our time in the shadow-life of the box

envious ’til the last drop?

If the human is caught within the box,

is it dead, or alive? And, does it matter?

Box dwellers must scratch, claw, and climb

out of the box, stretching like a feline yoga master – into the sunlight

which honors beauty and creativity

and all the things we cannot be –

within the box.




280 ml

How long does it take a heart to explode?

I ‘googled’ it; result: Ā no such thing.

Why then does it seem a possibility?

Perhaps when our hearts feel so full and heavy,

the weight becomes more than we can bear,

perhaps it is then because we wish it were so.

How long does it take a dream to die?

I ‘googled’ it; result: you can survive dying in your dreams

That somehow seems profound, but not very much like a satisfying answer.

How much can a human heart hold?

IĀ don’t have to ‘google’ it to know:

It can hold all the joy and the sorrow

of human beings, of life and dreams and expectations,

and it can hold the universe and the stars in the sky.

I ‘googled’ it anyway; result:

approximately 280 ml.

Reconciling what I know and what is real,

I can only assume that all the joy, sorrow, dreams and expectations of a lifetime,

the universe and all the stars in the sky are equal to approximately 280 ml,

on repeat.



Project Update – Finished!

So I finished my project yesterday. As I worked on it, my ideas morphed a bit from my original intentions and I ended up bringing it back here to WordPress in the form of a photographic essay rather than a magazine style publication; however, I’m proud of the final product. So without further ado, here it is:

What We Stand to Lose: Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area

Feel free to let me know what you think and by all means, feel free to share.


New Project

Hey all,

I’m actually working on a new project with a very specific purpose. I want to do a creative nonfiction piece on Middle Creek Wildlife Management Area since their funding is under attack at the moment due to the Pennsylvania Game Commission’s budget issues.

I’m not sure how this will turn out, or if I will have enough energy to pull it off, but I’m going to try because it is something I care about. I’m hoping that will be enough to motivate me to keep going. If it turns out okay, I’ll share it via all my social media outlets.

Anyway, just throwing this out here as an added incentive for me to complete this project because now I’ve told you about it. Accountability – Check!

Have a great day everyone!

[Side note: I changed my idea from a magazine layout to something a little simpler to handle. I’m creating a separate blog page for the project instead.]