I am an author.

I am an author.

I have to reaffirm that to myself almost daily.
As I have stated many times before in this blog, I love writing. I love words.
I have written out of joy, I have written out of curiosity, I have written out of absolute emotional agony.
But I have yet to really finish any of my stories.
I have so many of them, both fanfiction and original fiction (along with a few non-fiction pieces) that I have plans for, BIG plans, but I just can’t seem to get any of them to stick around long enough to grow into mature tales.

Right now it’s Admon.
I love Admon. I adore Admon.
But, man… he is being a pain.
I feel like he is right there, sitting in front of me. Telling me his story from beginning to end, and I just can’t seem to make the words appear on my screen.

He loved his mother.
He loved her as deeply as any boy can love his mother.
He broke vows for her. He chose to turn his back on the way of life his kind has lived in for thousands of years for her.

Admon is now Josiah.
A new name, for a new man… that’s what he thought anyway.

Josiah still loves his mother.
He is living with the consequences of choosing his mother over everything.
But I just can’t seem to make the words show up on that white page.

How far back do I go? All the way back? That’s pretty far back.
Do I skip forward? Show him as a boy in school? He is excellent in math, fyi.
Math and physical tests. But he is… not good with social skills. Even among his peers, who are well known among other fantastical beings for their severe lack of social graces, he is bad at interacting with others.

Do I skip forward even more? Do I skip to the moment when Admon becomes Josiah, and for the first time in his life discovers he can love someone besides his mother?

Poor Admon.

I am trying, I promise.

I am sorry that as a character you got stuck with me as an author.

But, just like always, he only smirks at me, rolls his eyes and downs what is left of his whiskey.

“Perhaps next time,” he muses as he stands and pulls on his jacket.

“Tomorrow then?” I ask, my heart hopeful that he will continue to speak to me.

“Of course,” a small, mischievous smile grows on his face, “perhaps I will bring Mai.”

I shake my head, “then we won’t get anything done.”

He opens the front door to leave, “do we ever?”

And with a wave of his hand, he is gone.

Reapers. I swear, no social graces, the whole lot of ’em.

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Latest in SkinWalker

On the plus side… I finished most of that silly Kimono last night.

On the down side… I broke my machine’s needle working on the matching obi tonight.

*sigh* I suppose it’s off to the store tomorrow to buy some needles now.

I am going to have to re-evaluate the necessity of boning in an obi band.

I have discovered that I have a great love for creating cosplay outfits.

For those of you who don’t know cosplay is short for ‘costume play’, and is done in a wide variety of ways and for many reasons (mostly just because it is fun though). I have partaken in the enjoyment of cosplaying several times now, but for the first time this July I will be entering a contest. Needless to say, I am a little nervous.

For now I will leave you with some pictures, because they’re worth a 1000 words, right?

This is the previously mentioned Kimono... I love the fabric that was chosen for this piece.

This is the previously mentioned Kimono… I love the fabric that was chosen for this piece.

Playing with cosplay make up is 75% of the fun! An attempt at Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin.

Playing with cosplay make up is 75% of the fun! An attempt at Kenshin from Rurouni Kenshin.

The wonderful Nathan as Baldroy, the firearms expert Chef from Black Butler.

The wonderful Nathan as Baldroy, the Chef firearms expert from Black Butler.

Nate as a genderbent Ryuko from Kill La Kill.

Nate as a genderbent Ryuko from Kill La Kill.

The lovely Michelle as Kuranoske the cross-dressing protagonist of Princess Jellyfish.

The lovely Michelle as Kuranoske the cross-dressing protagonist of Princess Jellyfish.

Me as a genderbent Lavi from D. Grayman.

Me as a genderbent Lavi from D. Grayman.

Me as Grell, the fan-crazed Shinigami (Grim Reaper) from Black Butler.

Me as Grell, the fan-crazed Shinigami (Grim Reaper) from Black Butler.

So, that’s like 7000 words, right?

Good. That’s a good length post.

So, get out there… find something you want to do and do it!

Enjoy the heck out of life!

Happiness and some words…

I was a heavy heart to carry
My beloved was weighed down
My arms around his neck
My fingers laced to crown.

Life isn’t what I thought it would be when I was little.
I mean, don’t get me wrong, I never imagined what my wedding would be like as a child. I never daydreamed about my future husband and being the perfect housewife when I was little. That came later. The wedding still wasn’t my focus, but I did think about my marriage, what I wanted in a life-mate, and what my home would be like as an adult.

I was a heavy heart to carry
My feet dragged across ground
And he took me to the river
Where he slowly let me drown

I wanted to be a missionary.
I wanted to move to Africa and work in orphanages, to care for children who had lost their parents, to help feed those who had no food, and to love everyone I came into contact with. I just assumed I would find someone who’s heart was also there.

I wanted to be a teacher.
This isn’t completely gone. I can still teach with the degree I am working towards just not in a same way I had always imagined it.

I wanted to be a mother.
Most of you know the struggle and pain that I have carried in this department. As I have said before, I cannot begin to explain to you the vast emptiness that comes with infertility.
I feel empty. All the words spoken to me about what women are and can do are empty and devoid of meaning. What am I now? I cannot do anything, all I want is a family. How can my children rise and call me blessed if I cannot have any? My whole life I have prepared to be a mother and that dream is slowly dying.

My love has concrete feet
My love’s an iron ball
Wrapped around your ankles
Over the waterfall

I have struggled for most of my adult life with feeling inadequate in one way or another. When we were young and married, I was unhappy because I struggled with feeling unwanted and unloved. I thought moving closer to my family would help. I continued to feel unhappy. My unhappiness spread into my faith, and I began to hate going to church.

I hated seeing all the happy people with their smiles and their ‘God bless you!’s. I wanted to scream and tear my hair out at the falseness I felt in it all. Even when we found a church I was comfortable in I still felt unhappy.

Through all of it I still felt God.

And is it worth the wait
All this killing time?
Are you strong enough to stand
Protecting both your heart and mine?

It wasn’t until we began to push 7 years of marriage with no accidents or maybes that I began to feel like God wasn’t listening.
I cried out. Just like Hannah. I would go to our church at night, when no one was there and lay on the floor, begging God to at least tell me why I wasn’t allowed to be a normal woman. I began to hear the vast silence around me, it started just in my mind, but slowly pushed its way into my heart.

Who is the betrayer?
Who’s the killer in the crowd?
The one who creeps in corridors
And doesn’t make a sound

I felt like I was going insane. The emptiness and silence that filled my mind and heart were overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep in the same bed as my husband without feeling like I was a complete failure, and totally alone.
I finally asked God to do the one thing that I had never asked. I asked him to take the pain away. I told Him that if He wouldn’t give me the things I thought I needed to be happy, He could at least take my sadness.

The toughest part was when I realized He did. Well, sort of.

This will be my last confession
I love you never felt like any blessing
Whispering like it’s a secret
Only to condemn the one who hears it
With a heavy heart

It was slow. I began to care about things less, things that before would bother me beyond control. I wasn’t as irritated when my husband would do things that only months before drove me nuts. I could feel myself become numb to emotions I had felt before. I pulled away from things that before had created the feelings of emptiness and pain, I would put more time into the things that I enjoyed.

I’m so heavy, heavy
Heavy in your arms
I’m so heavy, heavy
So heavy in your arms

I began to realize that the idea of happiness that we are shown in media, and taught through social impressions is false. Happiness doesn’t come. You make your own happiness. You and you alone determine how happy you are. You choose to be content with what you have, and to strive for things to make yourself better. No one else makes you happy.

Happiness is a choice, and it’s not always what you think it will be.

I was a heavy heart to carry
my beloved was weighed down
My arms around his neck
My fingers laced to crown

The positive feelings have been coming slowly. I have whole days where I don’t think about kids.
I am able to imagine a positive future without kids. I don’t get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I think about all my friends have kids. I don’t cry when I see the happy faces of babies on Facebook.

I have been content with where my marriage is. It’s not what I want, and I have accepted that it will probably never be, and that’s okay.

I was a heavy heart to carry
But he never let me down
When he had me in his arms
My feet never touched the ground

I still go one day at a time. I still pray for many things, but I don’t pray for children. I don’t pray for my marriage to be something it isn’t. I pray for the happiness of those around me.
I am still working on getting past the ever-present silence I feel from God. I know He is there, I just don’t feel Him.

I am reevaluating my whole life. My whole faith. My whole me.

I am choosing happiness, whatever that looks like for me.

{Lyrics from the lovely Florence+The Machine, Heavy In Your Arms}

Prayer Cycle

Do you ever lie in the dark, able to feel the presence of the person next to you, longing for them to reach out and touch you? Praying for the feeling of their skin against yours? Aching for the smallest hint of human affection? Yet, nothing comes… only the seeming eternal darkness as the space between you grows into a chasm so wide you as far apart as two stars in the night sky.

I cannot begin to explain to you the pain that comes with infertility and years of trying to have children. I cannot begin to explain the toll it takes on your mental, emotional, and spiritual well being, especially if the problem lies with you.

I attempted once to convey the emptiness I felt inside, the loss of faith and pain that comes with the void of an empty womb, to my husband. Do you know what I got in reply?

Job. He spoke of the pains that Job suffered and how he didn’t loose faith.

I am not saying my husband was wrong.

I am saying that in that moment I felt as though it was more than just God abandoning me.

In that moment, I felt the darkness of space as a star does… light years from the next closest body or source of warmth.

“She stood, planning to run deeper into the woods. She would let the wolves have her, and if she found herself on the other side before then, she would start over in a different land, she could recreate herself into someone who didn’t desire a family.”

The only difference between Dyre and me is that my Connor isn’t coming for me. He does not search the woods for me, or see the pain on my face before words are even spoken. So I lay on the forest floor and wait for the wolves to find me, so that maybe in that moment, my pain will be gone.

We have slaughtered
In the garden of beauty
Digging graves instead of planting
Mercy for the crucified
A bitter justice
Begging eternity for love

Muddled Mind

Sometimes I want to write.

Sometimes I feel the need to write.

Tonight my mind is too full to do so.

I have written words of a demon tied to a hunter, of a shark drawn to a dolphin, and of a reaper caring for a fox. But they were all short and void of the feelings I wanted.

My mind is muddled.

Even sitting here, listening to the words of the songs that reflect the feelings in the stories I am working on I can’t seem to see the scenes. I can’t touch the characters. I can’t be in the moment they are in.

I want to write them so badly, not just for those that I know read the stories I post, but for the sake of the characters themselves. Their stories need told. They deserve for the their stories to be shared, but I can’t seem to find the words to do so, at least not tonight.

I have a demon who still needs to fall in love with the daughter of his partner.

I have a high school boy who needs to accept that he is loved, even when he doesn’t feel loveable.

I have a reaper who still needs to tell the woman he has been following for over a century how he feels about her.

I have a fox and a satyr that I need to lead to their deaths.

I have a kitsune god and a tengu god that need to find a home.

I have a dark elf who needs to find her jester.

I have characters that are relying on me to finish their tales, to bring their stories to a climax and ending, to bring them to a place of ending… and I can’t seem to.

Maybe I will try again tomorrow.

The Beginning…

So, it’s been a long time since I’ve tried starting a blog. It’s not out of a lack of desire, simply unmotivation. So here’s to a new one, hoping that perhaps, given a little luck, this one will stick.

I have been seeking a writing outlet I suppose. I enjoy my fiction, love it actually. But writing fiction is often slow and tedious, with little to no feedback from those who read it. I am not seeking feedback here (although, all authors love feedback), I am simply looking to write and connect with those around me.

Sometimes I feel as though I would float away into my imagination if I weren’t securely anchored to my body. It’s as if I could close my eyes, slip away and never return to reality, simply float in the fictional realms I have created, residing with the characters I have created. However, I am not sure I would be welcome with them. They don’t need me around, they don’t know me or desire to know me, they have their lives with their families and I have mine.

I can’t tell you what may end up on this screen for you to read. It might be some of my characters coming by to say hello. It might be my thoughts on the traffic I faced today. It could be what I made for dinner three nights ago. It could be pictures of my furbabies. It might be heartache or joy, but I can tell you one thing… it will be me.

For now I will leave you with a picture of my brother and I, because I love it.

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