Poetry: "Please Take Some Deep-breaths"

Please Take Some Deep-breaths



I sit, aging
Brain wars waging

“You look good for your age”
I don’t hear it anymore
Eyes brim to the dim
Subtle glances toward the door
The panic
Creates static
Pulsing lines
Throbbing veins
I breathe, heavily
Pain will be the death of me

“You can break free from the cage”
I don’t fear it anymore
Lips shake from the break
Swiftly moving, I soar
Fly higher and higher
Until I am no more

2-21-2015

Flashback Friday- Jonathan Hyde

There’s probably no reason why you would know who Jonathan Hyde is. Not by name anyway. If I said, “The dad in Jumanji” or “that one rich guy in Anaconda” then maybe you’d know. But if I said “Hey, what’s Jonathan Hyde been up to?” you’d look at me like most people already do–like I’m from another planet.

I don’t know why or how but he was an actor I saw in movies as a kid who I fell in love with. I think it had to do with the British accent. I did this thing (and sometimes I’ll still do it) where I try to write off a celebrity crush as something else. “Well, maybe he’s not ‘cute’…he’s just…’cool’ ya know?” I did this because I didn’t need another reason to be picked on. Everyone else my age was losing it over New Kids on the Block and Devon Sawa.
Not me, though.
I liked this old British dude who played Richie Rich’s butler.

I want to do a #FlashbackFriday type thing here on the blog. Share a piece of writing I wrote “way back in the day”. I’m serious when I say I’ve been writing since I was six years old. And I do have a lot of it still. So without further ado, here is a story I wrote probably at the age of 13-14 about the douchebag who was the owner in the Titanic movie…

Photo Courtesy of appledore.net
“Like Father, Like Daughter”

“Hurry up! We’re going to be late, luv!” My father was yelling.
“Correction, Dad,” I said as I came downstairs. “You’re going to be late.”

He just gave me The Look and went back to straightening his tie. Being the daughter of a ‘world famous actor’ was very hard. He never paid attention to me. You see, my mom died when I was three and my dad has raised me all my life. But he’s never really, truly, honestly, one hundred percent been a good father. He’s never really talked to me and when we go places there’s always a bunch of people running up to us wanting ‘Jonathan Hyde’s autograph’.

“Karen…you know how my job works. Hustle, hustle, hustle.”

It was my turn to give him The Look.

“Come on,” He grabbed my arm and practically dragged me out the door. The actor’s daughter’s life: Being hustled, being hustled, being hustled.

*

When we arrived on the set of dad’s new movie the perfect word to describe it was: KAOS. (Author’s note: I had to leave it this way because that’s how I wrote it and if you’ve ever watched ‘Get Smart’ you’ll get it.) There was really nothing I could do but sit around and read my newest Mary Higgins Clark novel.

“Jonathan!” I heard someone call. “You’re in the next shot!”

I sighed. I really loved my dad.I just wish he would love me back.

“Hey, Karen. What’s new?”

I looked to my left and saw Tammy, the executive producer.

“Not much. So what’s this movie about, Tammy?” I asked.
“You mean your dad didn’t tell you?”
“He never tells me anything.”

As she explained the plot, I thought about what I had just said. It was true. I never knew anything about his movies, his character, the ending. Nothing. “Why?” I asked aloud.

“What?” asked Tammy.
“Why doesn’t my dad ever tell me anything? He doesn’t even talk to me.”
“Maybe you should talk to him, hon. Like, tell him your feelings. Your father’s a busy man but I’m sure he has time for you,” she said.

Yeah, right.

“Well, gotta go!” Tammy said as she got up. “See ya. And think about what I said.”
“Ok,” I sighed. “I will. Bye.”

From what I heard from Tammy about dad’s movie was that it was a romantic comedy about an Englishman (my dad, who was born in England and has an accent by the way) who comes to America for the first time, falls in love, and still tries to adapt to his new lifestyle. Sounds good, but I still don’t know the title.

*

Back at our mansion, my dad and I were having a glamorous dinner prepared by our cook. I’m not some spoiled rich kid, but I do have a lot of privileges. I decided to take Tammy’s advice.

“So, dad,” I started. “Did you have a good day?”
I thought dad was going to need a doctor or something because he gave me a really weird look. I don’t blame him, though. I had never even tried to start a conversation with him.

“Uh, well, it went rather well,” he stammered. “Why do you ask?”
“I was just wondering.”
Then I got the Silent Treatment.

Finally, during dessert, I got a blast of courage.
“So, dad, why don’t we, um, do something this weekend?”
“Like?” he asked.
“Um,well, I don’t know. Like, go bowling or something?” I sounded like an idiot.
“Bowling?” He looked ready to laugh.
That was it.
“Well, then, maybe we could just down a couple cocktails at a Karaoke bar!” I got up, stormed out, and left my dad choking on his wine and calling after me.

*

Up in my room, I packed my things. I was tired of it. My only choice was to run away. I grabbed a couple pairs of jeans and some tee shirts, shoved them in my Duffel bag, and grabbed my sweatshirt. It had been 15 minutes since I tried to talk to my dad and he still hadn’t come up to apologize. I wrote him a quick note and left it downstairs for him to see. It was 8:45 pm and it was dark out. But I knew where I was going. The only place I really felt wanted.

*

At the Old Cutter’s Bridge I settled myself in a good place where I could watch the stars. I came here often to talk to any fish or birds who would listen. The bridge had been closed for years but open to daring teenagers, homeless people and runaways like me.

I gave a lot of hints in the note in case my dad wanted to look for me. I just enjoyed the silence. Suddenly, I heard a soft coo behind me. I looked over the side of the bridge and saw a little baby bird caught between two guardrails. I had to bend over to reach it. The water was a long way down and I couldn’t swim very well but being the animal lover I am, I just couldn’t let it die.

I stooped way over the guardrail and as my hand was inches from the bird, I slipped and went falling. I landed hard on the water and struggled to stay afloat.

Suddenly, I heard the wail of a police siren above me. I heard a mix of voices and then my dad’s face appeared on the bridge above.

“I’m down here!” I shouted. “Help!”

Then my dad did something that made my heart soar. He dived right over the side of the bridge!

I felt his arms around me, pulling me to dry land under the bridge. He hugged me and I just sat there crying.

“Is everything all right, Mr. Hyde?” I heard a policeman shout.

“We’re fine!” said my dad.”Now, get us out of here!”

*

The EMS people checked me and my dad out for any damages and then offered us a ride home. My dad said he’d like to walk, though. I knew I really was gonna get it now.

“Why did you do it, Karen?” he asked.

It was cold and even colder now that we were wet.

“Because,” I began. Then I just let it all spill out. I told him how he never paid attention to me and all he cared about was his work. We walked in silence for a moment and then I said, “I’m probably going to be grounded this weekend.”

“No, I know what I’m going to do this weekend.”

I was puzzled. What could be worse than being grounded? He knew I hated to be stuck in my room. I waited for him to say something but then couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “What?” I asked.

He just smiled, took my hand and said, “I’m going to take you bowling.”

The End

Please, feel free to call me a total dork. I’m aware of this. 🙂

At least I can say I was cool enough to write fanfiction before I even knew what fanfiction was.

Poetry – "In My Defense"

Oh, the great defenses!
How every word we say
can often be misinterpreted
by others’ failures to
communicate.
We are stating how we feel,
Owning how we feel,
Breathing how we feel,
and sometimes transforming
what we feel.
It falls on blocked ears.
And these days it is read more
by clouded eyes. 
It’s sinister really, this game
this struggle,
and is power really the object?
I feel it’s about expression,
and the impression
we give isn’t the one they want.
The one they need,
the one they clamor for.
It’s such a hardship to be that,
and not be this.
And not be boxed,
and not let our own flow stop.
­­But it’s worth it.
It’s always worth it.
Once the ink dries,
or when we can finally
hit the save button.
We are saved.
The poem is finished.
We are saved.  

My Love For the "Side Character"

I’m a fangirl. I have been since childhood, I’m sure. The advancement of the internet over the years has definitely shaped and changed my fangirling ways time and time again. There is way too much to get into with fandom and the possibilities of how you fangirl (or fanboy) are pretty endless. Maybe sometimes I like to moderately cosplay (I don’t have the skill or energy to REALLY cosplay like so many fans do and I love and applaud their efforts because I believe it takes talent to be a good cosplayer. And it takes effort to actually make your costume, do your makeup exactly right, etc.) Sometimes I even (gasp?) RP. I read more fanfiction than write it but that doesn’t mean I haven’t dabbled in the craft. Mostly I just delve into storylines and characters because yes, I’m well aware it’s all fiction, but I want to know who I’m watching/reading about. I want to really know who they are and why the writers wrote them how they did. What is the meaning behind certain things they say? What does that expression mean?

Photo courtesy of Fanpop.com

Books help us get a clearer picture of course. The author allows us into the characters’ heads. He or she allows us to possibly be ahead of our favorite’s next move because we may know something they don’t know or something that side characters may not know about them. It’s incredible really. And I form relationships with these fictional characters. They become my friends. They make me care about them. They make me want to know how they are doing. It’s all pretty magical.

When it comes to choosing a favorite character in a book, movie or TV show, I always gravitate toward the side characters. Alice and Jasper in Twilight, Alec and Isabelle from The Mortal Instruments and currently Eliot Waugh from The Magicians (I haven’t read it yet but it will be arriving at my library soon so I can really get into Lev Grossman’s world because I watched the Syfy show’s first two episodes and I am so hooked!). Now, yes, they’re side characters typically. They’re either there to add some wit, there to help the main character learn something important (Luna Lovegood in Harry Potter) and sometimes they’re the villain. But side characters do something else too. They support our heroes and heroines mostly. They are who the main characters often lean on during troubled times. So, let’s start over. I love supporting characters because that’s what I’m going to call them from now on.

I think the reason why I have such love for supporting characters is because my whole life I really wasn’t interested in being the main event of anything. A lot of people said I wanted to be, but I didn’t really. I have always been pretty happy and proud of my own minor accomplishments and especially in how I am able to help others sometimes. I don’t know how I help a lot of the time but people say I do and I’m good with that. Helping to ease others makes me happy. It always has.

I’m totally happy with being a supporting character in others’ stories of their life. I have friends who compare me to the “manic pixie girl” characters in films and at first I was like “What?” but I get what they mean now. (Even if there are a handful of “manic pixie girl” type characters that I find annoying. No one can spend too much time with themselves, right?) This doesn’t make me feel like I’m less than Katniss Everdeen or anything. Like I’m not as strong or heroic or whatever. It helps me to be even more happy that I can be the Prim to someone’s Katniss. That’s just who I am.

Photo courtesy of jabberjays.net

So, this blog will be showing a lot of supporting character love. My current healthy obsession (because there is a difference) is Eliot from The Magicians. Have I mentioned The Magicians and how amazing it is? Have I?) I know there is so much more to him and reading and watching more will help me get a better picture in my mind of who my new literary bestie and role model is. (They change all the time too so…yeah…deal with it. 🙂 )

Photo Courtesy of syfy.com

I’m really excited about this new blog space for me to just be me in. I hope you enjoy my writing and want to stick around and read more. There will be all kinds of creative things happening here.

Until next time, stay true to you. That’s the only person you ever really have to be concerned about making happy, honestly. ❤