Four Seasons: Spring

Spring

One

lone

fur

hat

melting in the snow. Long lost, but not forgotten. Waiting for something, impossible to begin.

The forest slept, week after week. Snow, piled above the hat. No tracks, no steps, it was barren. The hat was no longer a hat. Could it be without a head? The lump of fur caught each flake until it could feel

nothing.

Quiet purifies.

Silence descends.

Sound is relative.

Nothingness.

Madness.

A single drop of blood etched into the snow.

We are changed but we return. We can not be transformed from our past, before we go back. We examine the knife that flayed our skin. We check the bottle of poison for one last drop. The pain, radiates from the other side of the world. Tremors. Face the pain and melt the snow, frostbitten and wet, the fur will still be there.

Spongy soft ground. Mud, slides from snow to coat the Earth in a shell. We overflow, we soak it in. The green buds come back from the hidden places they run to in the cold before they are buried but light will never leave their faces. I exist. I am far, I am here.

I lost my hat in the woods. I came back. There was not fur. There were flowers.

De-composure is not and end to a means. Three, five, eight. Round my head. I am a queen.

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Four Seasons: Winter

Winter

I

was shot,

four bullets

four breaths

took me down.

Before my claws could rip

the flesh from the family that stood before me.

Before I could crush the bones of each child in my jaw.

I

was

knocked

down,

My blood that flowed into the first snow.

My body that was picked clean by scavengers.

My flesh that was butchered and eaten by man and beast.

My fur that was skinned and sectioned.

My back that became a rug.

The blood that flowed from my carcass

slowed

to

a drip.

A soft, hesitant

drip.

My life snuffed out to a meaningless drip

A drop of blood too small to measure.

That was my eulogy, my resting place.

There was no one to remember me

because I devoured the world

with

my

anger.

A rug, I became to keep them warm.

A hat, to cover their ears.

A meal, to feel their bodies.

I was consumed and processed

until there was nothing left but that rug,

and those hats,

and laughter from the children I once tried to crush.

They were not angry, they were loved and protected.

They cherished the hats of me, their monster.

An ever present reminder of what tried to destroy them.

They kept the last memory of me close.

I

faded

into

them

and

waited

for

something

to

happen.

I lost my hat in the woods.

Entry #12: I am so disorganized

So remember that plan I posted on New Year’s? My grand strategy for content, short stories, chapters and more? Yeah, I am behind. So behind. It’s comical.

Thank you to everyone who has stuck with me through the last few months. I have been cluttered, behind and sporadic in posting. Work outside of this blog is more consuming than I anticipates and I fall behind on Muirin Project. So I am giving in and getting organized. I am going to create an editorial calendar and write posts in advance which is pretty radical for me.

Everything I post on Muirin Project I post, excluding the history section. I post by pure inspiration. I write chapters of Udal Cuain as I think of them. Sometimes I open a new draft and see where my mind takes me. It is risky, but it is a challenge and therapeutic. Same with my poems, I write them on the spot. And so for the sake of losing all order and ability to write, I will pause this free flow of writing and plan this out. I will try better to stick to a schedule.

Here is what is going on lately on the site:

I have been writing some reflections in the journal section because I have been disorganized and overwhelmed. It has been a way to get my feelings out but I know it has been a little emo and I am sorry. The other way I have been getting my feelings out has been with watercolors. The watercolor painting sessions are keeping me sane and are giving me room to think. It is helping a lot with stress relief. I tend to get anxious when busy and it is hard to find an outlet to bring one out of an anxious spiral. Which, speaking of anxiety, does anyone else ever feel like your mind moves too quickly? Like when you are busy, do you feel like your mind is jumping from thought to thought like a manic Sherlock? I feel that way sometimes, like I am always a little caffeinated. It’s hard to be still and center yourself in those moments, but watercolor painting seems to slow that all down. It’s fantastic.

In other news, I have a poem series called Four Seasons. It is my journey through 2016 into 2017. The subject matter is personal but deserves explanation at a later time. I will do that after the next poems are posted.

Next, I want to consistently post two to three chapters per week again and I will try my hardest to get there. The story is at such a cool place and I can’t wait to reveal where these characters are going and what they will reveal about the past. It is going to be great.

Posting a book to a blog is not a smart idea but I wanted this story to be read somehow. It was too important to write and be unread waiting for a way to publish it. If you have not read a chapter, please give it a shot. This is my heart on a page, please explore my world with me.

Now onward to an organized tomorrow!

-M

Four Seasons: Fall

Fall

A broken soft peach lay lonely on the grass that lined the Grove of the orchard. Little, orderly trees shook when, I the bear lumbered in.

Frost on the ground.

Black fur on my back.

I the bear ate from the ground and devoured every peach from the cold September ground. I was ravenous, mad from hunger. A cold frost was coming.

I did not want to sleep.

In the cave, my den was my cage in slumber, stuck in the chains of the seasons. The rotation of the wheel. I Had things to do. Not sleep. Sleep was a drag to my soul, I would never give in. I ran back to the woods.

Rumbles and gurgles shook me to my spine.

Winter was not.

I reached the stream, empty. I walked up to the bushes of berries, wild greens. Hollow.

It was all hollow, like my insides.

The world was devoured. An egg shell without its yolk.

Red flashed. Eyes clouded and claws bared. I found a harvest. A fury, a downpour of vibrations, a growl. The effortless flutter of a flesh separating from bone. The restless rhythm of bone divided from memory.

Emotion kills.

The hollows were desolate.

No sound, but one bear hibernating in rage. The wild places were tamed by the anger of one. Who said words were just words. See where they get you when you loose control.

Feed the animals, find the Beast.

Indulge and find the end. Is your life better alone? Is your only friend the gun pointed at you aimed to kill? The hunter finds hibernation.

One

shot

blood

drops

into

the

Earth.

I became a rug.

Four Seasons: Summer

Summer

Yellow, golden, light ushering heat.

The night stands still with its back against a wall, cowering from the unyielding light, unwilling, wild to June days.

Bud became bloom.

I bloomed from the days forming my heart and mind. I waited and I learned how a flower should be.

Delicate. Ideal.

I took my time, I watched others who popped open beside me.

I took my notes.

I chose my day.

The winds and rain pelted me and shed my petals away.

A green round firmness.

Small, fresh.

New transformation from one phase to the next. The cycle turns on its wheel of life.

The sun baked my skin. I grew in size. I became ma peche. Full grown and swelling of promise.

Red, yellow, orange.

I watched the other branches and saw what we were waiting for.

A small hand.

To stretch up their arms, to the sky, choose the most beautiful of the fruit.

I bound my time. Sunburn made me desirable. My juice, my skin, the shape.

All for my goal. I was promised I would be delicious and devoured to serve something bigger than myself.

To please the others around me, to serve the bigger ones who would make something of me.

I am lovely if they choose it. I am satisfied if they will it.

I am

a

falling

rocket

soft

rotten

smashed

my skin exploded against the dirt.

The hand did not reach up.

No one caught me.

I watched them from below, the other ones they plucked. My broken skin, my juice spilled out to grass.

A feast for three legged scavengers.

I became a bear.

Entry #11: Where Do I Want to Live?

This journal could sound like a first world problem whine — but it’s not! I am so excited to have this dilemma. It is a huge blessing to have the opportunity to move wherever I want to and feel the freedom that comes with a freelance existence. That being said, making the decision of where I want to live is much more complicated than I expected. It is hard to pinpoint what the priorities are of what I want out of a future hometown. Unexpectedly, this has challenged me to consider what experiences, culture and lifestyle I want for my future self. Because I am really bored with the life I have right now, also feel out of place. What do I mean by that? I don’t know where my home is anymore.

It sounds more depressing than it actually is. I don’t know where my home is because my hometown doesn’t feel familiar. I am drawn to so many places, little pieces of my heart are scattered in Georgia, Nashville, Maine, Pacific Northwest, Colorado, Asia, Europe, Canada. The list goes on and on. There are so many places I want to be. This has left me in a desert of indecision. A no man’s land.

To be brutally honest, I’m anxious and completely overwhelmed. I have been this way for months. It’s terrible. I miss the feeling of being content and comfortable in the place I am existing. I don’t want to go anywhere because I hate my current location so much a temporary trip anywhere puts me into a spin. I feel a heaviness, a deep questioning of why I live here. And will I ever get out of here?

Anxiety is a ruthless enemy. It can and will chain you to one spot and taunt you that you are weak. It will run you into the ground. Anxiety about moving has owned my body and mind for a year. It steals the clarity of decision. It pushes me away from my friends and family. Anxiety will manifest in fear, in sadness and the worst – in rage. I don’t trust my emotions, they have betrayed me for a year and have run my relationships into disarray. They wreak havoc on my marriage. Disgrace my reputation and ruin my ability to be a steadfast friend.

I want to move but I don’t want to move with myself and all my flaws. I say I don’t want to move because I’m scared to move and do not trust that my husband and I won’t fight to death, but truly I’m concerned I’ll move and feel just as trapped within my flaws that oppress me here. I’m afraid nothing inside me will change and I will never grow out of these insecurities holding me back. I don’t want to take the baggage of all the mistakes I have made in my hometown with me. I’ve made a mess of everything – what if I do it again? What if I am a restless animal deep at my core that devours everything good I have? Self-destruction is my vice. I feel it every time I smell a cigarette drag. I want to smoke and make myself sick from the poisons in the paper.

Deep down, I punish myself to make all my flaws learn a lesson. In a twisted way, I hope it will heal them. But it doesn’t.

Where should I live? Will I feel better if I put a thousand miles between me and my hometown where I have bad memories? I hope so. Being stuck in an anxious anger and boredom that melts into sadness is futile. Nothing good will come out of this, it is just a waste of time. I don’t want to be a waste of time. I want adventure and I want a meaningful life. I need a balm of nature, the distraction of a lovely wilderness to get lost in. I need a culture to tame my bad decisions and distract me, bring me back to searching for good and for knowledge. I quest to become better. If I do not find that place, I know I will regret moving more than if I stay.

It is a big decision, a frustrating blessing to have so much freedom to go where I am called. I know that I must keep this in perspective when I get down because anxiety is swallowing up my mind. It could be much worse than it is. Perspective and patience are the hardest things to keep.

What do you need out of the place you live? Is your present existence meeting all of your needs? How do you cope if you are stuck in a place that feels futile? Why do we feel this drive for everything to have meaning? Does anyone know?

-M

Entry #10: Your Attention Matters

 

Tonight a friend of mine shared this VlogBrothers post with me and I believe it is incredibly profound. I think it is to the benefit of all to consider where our attentions go, and for us as humans, to take back some control of our attention from the distractions that ensnare us on a daily basis. It is not easy to be mindful of the distractions of the internet. Social Media is seamlessly being knit into the fabric of our everyday lives. I’m realizing this everyday as I work on an app to engage employees. Our attentions are the biggest things for sale, choose wisely where you invest your mind.

Never forget that the internet is a new construct and it is not the source of truth. We are all trying to figure this crazy world out and “the voices that are the loudest and most divisive,” as John Green said, are the ones who tend to gain the most clout on here. But we all have a voice. My hope is that the quiet ones, the wise ones and informed ones, will find a way to break through the chaos that has become the norm, so that we can knit ourselves back together instead of ripping each other apart. We choose. Together let’s choose well.

 

-M

Entry #9: Gilmore Girls is not a great as I thought it was.

Gilmore Girls. It’s a show that my generation grew up with and now that I am in my twenties, all I can see is the flaws. I have browsed several articles that echo this sentiment  — 24 Reasons why Gilmore Girls is Infuriating, 33 Things About Gilmore Girls That Don’t Make Sense, 14 Plot Holes You Didn’t Notice, the works. It’s a popular show to tear apart. But this is not a ranting list of reasons why I don’t like season seven, or why the original finale lacked closure, or what was wrong with ‘A Year In the Life.’ This is about how Gilmore Girls was a poor role model, even though it seemed to have such promise. So here are the ways Gilmore Girls taught me some inaccuracies about the world, and how my favorite character when I was young, Rory, is actually the worst.

1. It’s okay, even charming, to unload your emotions on the people around you. 

What is a Gilmore Girls episode without a rant or an emotional outburst in a public place, classroom, a social event or workplace? Lorelai and Rory are characterized by their lack of emotional maturity, yet the show portrays their emotional immaturity as charming. They’re a mess but isn’t it adorable? Rory falls apart when she doesn’t get her way, but look how cute and independent she is. Lorelai refuses to have decorum and lets her temper fly if she feels like someone disagrees with her. What a bad ass role model, am I right? No! This is not a mature and responsible way to hold down a job, maintain a relationship or have any friends. In real life, Luke, Sookie and Lane would have left these emotional train-wrecks in the dust.

2. It is okay to use people as a means to an end. 

Rory and Lorelai have a nasty habit of using people to get what they want and not returning the favor. Lorelai takes advantage of Luke’s kindness almost every episode. She is independent until something goes wrong and then Lorelai turns into a helpless baby. She calls Luke and whines until he leaves his job or his prior engagement to save Lorelai once again. I can count how many times in the show Lorelai helps Luke out – three times. She paints his diner, she helps him with Uncle Louie’s funeral and bails him out of jail. It’s not bad, those big things, but this is when she isn’t angry with him. If he is doing something she disagrees with, she will not swallow her pride and be supportive of Luke’s needs. She refused to be supportive of Luke with Jess. She refused to be supportive with April, Luke’s daughter. She refuses to respect Luke and tell him about her friendship with Christopher.

Lorelai continues this pattern with Sookie, Michel, etc. and if Lorelai is really in trouble, she uses her parents to get what she needs. Lorelai is the epitome of a privileged rich kid. She rebels against her parents and their lifestyle until she runs out of money. Then she whines and cries until they help her, usually these situations happen when she is ironically pushing Rory into their lifestyle. Lorelai despises her mother and father’s world yet she molds Rory into a private school brat that chases after an Ivy League education that they can’t afford.

Rory follows Lorelai down this path of using people. Rory wants her boyfriends to be at her beck and call. She does not take kindly to Dean, Jess or Logan having a life outside of their relationship. Rory and Lorelai criticize Dean, Jess and Logan as being selfish for having hobbies, friendships, jobs and families. Rory uses Marty, Tristan, Paris, Madelyn, Louise, and Lane to build her up constantly but she does not return their emotional support. She lets Lane crash briefly at her dorm and promptly kicks her out, all the while Lane basically is Rory’s maid. When Rory drops out of Yale, Rory ignores Paris until she needs a place to live.

Rory mirrors Lorelai’s relationship with Luke. She runs to Luke when she falls apart. She runs to a married Dean when her freshman year is challenging. Rory runs to her grandparents anytime she has a disagreement with her mother, like when Rory loses her virginity to married Dean or when she steals a yacht. Rory uses Emily and Richard and then turns on them when they try to correct her. When Emily and Richard call Rory out for throwing away her future, Rory spitefully makes a public scene at the DAR and sends Logan’s friends to move her out. She leaves without a thank you or explanation. Rory uses, consumes and destroys relationships. She is a not a caring person. By the end of the show, Rory is a leech.

3. Do not live within your means, expect others to give you what you want. 

Don’t get me wrong, Lorelai works hard at the inn. I believe she has some semblance of practicality except she doesn’t manage her money well. Lorelai raises Rory by eating out all the time. Their spending is out of control and she complains often that she is broke. Lorelai complains in a manner than makes her seem entitled. Lorelai preys on the kindness of others. Rory doesn’t need to go to Chilton, but she uses guilt to manipulate Emily and Richard into paying for the expense. Lorelai teaches Rory that is it okay to do this and when Rory goes to Yale, instead of taking out a loan, Rory uses guilt to manipulate Emily and Richard into paying for Yale. Later, when Lorelai goes over her budget for The Dragonfly, she uses guilt and sympathy to manipulate Luke into paying off her debts. It is ridiculous.

4. Ambition is not about taking the safe route. 

Rory doesn’t have a regular job in the show. She swipes meal cards for one episode at Yale. Rory does not go after internships or jobs to help her journalism career either. She goes to Europe with Lorelai and then later,her grandmother. Then Rory works at the DAR. Her resume has to be a mess. It is no wonder that Mitchum gave Rory harsh criticism. She is all talk and no preparation. Rory pursues the easy opportunities, like The Franklin and The Yale Daily News. Rory stays within a bubble instead of chasing after what she wants. Does anyone remember that trip to Fez? Richard repeatedly hands Rory money for Fez. Why does Rory go to Europe two years in a row if she has the money to go to Morocco?

But I digress…If Rory had true ambition, her life outside of a classroom would reflect it. Instead, Rory in truth, wants things to be handed to her. She chooses Yale instead of Harvard because her grandfather can help her meet people. It’s the safe option. Rory throws a tantrum when Mitchum gives her a performance review and doesn’t praise her. She harasses the Stanford Eagle Gazette when they don’t magically have a job for her. She swoops in and takes Paris’ editor position at The Yale Daily News instead of helping Paris when she gets overwhelmed. Rory didn’t earn that position. She makes Paris look bad because it is easier than interviewing for the job.


Gilmore Girls vs Grey’s Anatomy

If you stay on the surface, Gilmore Girls seems like a show of strong female characters. But if you take the time to look deeper, you can see that Lorelai and Rory are not strong or independent, they are bad archetypes. A show that has created better female characters is Grey’s Anatomy. Meredith Grey is a mess at the beginning but she is aware of it. Like Cristina Yang says, “You know, being aware of your crap and overcoming your crap are two very different things.” This is a great summation of the difference between Rory and Meredith. Meredith is aware she has problems and works to overcome them. Rory is too self-absorbed to realize she has problems and her problems can hurt people. This is why Rory is not a good role model and Gilmore Girls is not as great as I thought it was.

Entry #8: Looking to 2018

It’s New Years Eve and I am grateful to have made it through 2017. It was a rough one, but this blog has been a bright spot in months of gloom. Thank you to all my readers and followers! You guys have been a great source of encouragement. I have grown as a writer due to your support!

Now looking towards 2018 I have some big plans:

  • I’ve scrapped my Isle of Searbh series. I don’t want to do it anymore. I want to explore new novels and works of fiction. Committing to a trilogy, seems like a bad idea.
  • I plan to finish Udal Cuain in 2018. I thought of the last words of the book the other night, and I can’t wait to write it.
  • I’m going to create a new category on this blog — short stories — and I’m really excited about it.
  • After I finish Udal Cuain I plan to start another novel. Many novels.
  • Next I plan to expand my journal section with regular features and publish new historical research projects.

Cheers to 2018!

-M

 

 

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