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What we don’t say

Let’s be honest, what we don’t say is probably more important than what we do say. Have you ever sat and thought about all the things you didn’t say in a single day? How strangled the words were, locked deep inside your mind? And why on earth would we strangle our own words? They’re only words after all. Words that we feel. Words that pop into our minds the very second something happens or is said, and we want to unleash them and just feel better for saying it.

Okay, I understand. Sometimes we might not think the most angelic thoughts…is that it? We might find what we are holding back is a tad, okay, very judgmental. Did that person even ask our opinion about what we thought? Probably, probably not. But you’re certainly giving it to them in your head. “That was the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Your girlfriend is a moron, and you need not spend one extra minute being around her. She might be contagious with her nasty.” Instead we might remain politically correct (ew, I hate that) and say “Maybe she didn’t mean to hurt your feelings when she said the job you have could be done by a fifth grader. Maybe she’s just having a bad day.”

Or we don’t say things in order to not hurt someone’s feelings. “This spaghetti she made tastes like the cardboard box the noodles slid out of.” Still…a good idea to keep the door locked on what we really think. Plus, It’s a bit amusing to do stand-up comedy in our heads sometimes. It can amuse us, especially when we’re gutting down tasteless spaghetti and smiling while it gets clogged down our esophagus.

But then there are the times that these little ol’ four, five, six, maybe seven letter words should be set free. Like when they’ve been bottled up for so long, if you set them underneath a rocket they would shoot it right to the moon. It’s been too long, too suppressed. They’ve made you ill. Poison seeps from the depths of where they remain locked away and slowly begins to kill you. Day after day. Slowly the jet propulsion ability they had become echoes in your mind like a deranged patient, clanging the cup along the cell bars of where they’re locked. “Tell them the truth. Just do it.”

Flip side: The person who does not own a filter. They were born sans any way of never letting you know exactly what is on their mind, what they think, and how you look. These people scare me. They’re a little like a talking mirror. You don’t want to go up to them and ask how those pants make you look. You already know, anyway. They can be rude, outspoken, sometimes hurtful, but when we want to know the truth, they are who we seek out. I can appreciate a filter-less person sometimes. If anything to go and have an honest talk with. No pretenses. No bull. Just a little of like-it-is. Yeah, the world isn’t full of these people. Remember there is a tiny delineation to being honest and just mean. I’ll take the honest and leave the mean.

Sigh.

That was certainly a deep subject. It was just something on my mind. Driving home tonight I pondered the words that keep me company inside my mind. Words that I’d like to share, but don’t. Words that may surprise some, but we’ll never find out. Or won’t we?

Okay, so enough of the knee-deep thoughts. Or were they head-deep? lol Back to what’s going on. It’s been forever, right? Well, I’m still working on my next series. I am so excited about this series. I’ve learned so much with writing my other ones. I’ll share a bit about what’s going on with this new journey….

This is Lucy…Isn’t she a lovely girl? Lady, whatever. Well, love stinks for Lucy. Or so she will soon find out. But on her way to the grand epiphany, she will meet…Martin. He’s a rich (of course) bachelor and the love interest of her good friend. But does he really feel the same way for this friend? I mean, really?

I get chills just thinking of all the twists and turns they are about to go on. And don’t think they’re hooking up. No, no, no. Oh, didn’t I mention? Lucy’s married. And before anyone rolls their eyes and tags my story for a cheater convention, let me stop you now. There is no cheating going on. Well, not with the people who matter. Look at that, I’ve already said more than enough. You’re really going to have to stay tuned to some more tidbits of where my mind wanders. It’s a crazy place, you know.

Stay lovely, friends! It’s Monday, but that’s okay. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to Friday. 🙂

 

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‘I hope you don’t die tonight’

This is one of the nicest things my youngest son has told me in awhile. Isn’t that crazy? Have I told you this story? About my up and down life with him? I dedicated my latest book to him and he was both amazed and skeptical that I did. haha  He started out so, so cuddly. Well actually he came from the womb a very angry looking child. I had to change the name we picked for him because it was too sweet. He appeared a bit rough around the edges. But boy was he a snuggler. So much in fact that when he was about two years old, he questioned why my husband shared our bed and tried kicking him out. Throughout his younger days, he maintained this bizarre story that he was raised by aliens and brought here on a ship. Like I couldn’t make this stuff up. We actually got worried. Grandparents worried. They would ask if I was told the same recollection about his days before earth. yeah.

Anyway, time passes and he turns five and decides he doesn’t like me. As if I’d grown twelve horns that only he could see. Eventually his heart grew cold toward me. He wouldn’t let me sit near him, look at him…it was awful. He was the last, so it wasn’t as if he were jealous that someone else was taking his place. He just didn’t like me anymore. I would go back and forth from leaving him alone, hurt from his actions, and to keeping resolve that this would pass and I would remain his constant…always there when he was ready. Some days were harder than others. He actually mumbled hateful things to me. FOR NO GOOD REASON.

Fast forward to tonight. It has taken quite awhile to remain a constant, but as he was saying goodnight, he remarked that it was possibleI could die while he slept. Okay. I rolled my eyes and said, ‘I guess I could’. Then he looked at me with those light brown eyes with five freckles marking the bridge of his nose and said, ‘I hope you don’t die tonight’. Be still my heart. My little boy cares if I live or die. Improvement. Finally. 🙂

I’ve been writing….

Okay, that’s weird. But I’m keeping it. Anyway, I’m writing, and it feels so good. I’m in the head of this woman, Lucy. ‘Woman’ sounds so much older than what she is. She’s early thirties. I really like her. She doesn’t appear to be messed up, but as her writer would have it…she is. It’s headed into a series, I believe. One book cannot begin and end her. I’m so excited about it. I have to be careful because so much of my time can be consumed by a new project. I try my best to keep structure to my writing times. I can make no promises of not thinking about it every second of washing dishes, driving my kids to school, and staring ahead at the dinner table. 🙂 I’ll post an unedited scene in my next post. This lady is going to be fun!! And messy…did I mention messy?

Until next post!