Awakened at September’s end Friday, September 30, 2011

It’s four days past my birthday and I’ve not got the novel as complete as I’d like to have it at this point. That’s fine though. This is what I’ve been telling myself since 5:08pm on the 26th. “That’s fine though.”

One of the agents to whom I’d planned to send my novel has now stopped accepting manuscripts for the rest of the year, but I’d ultimately planned to start sending query letters in April 2012, so “that’s fine though.”

I’m at the end of my vacation and more relaxed than I was previous to travel, but I’m still rather annoyed by the TSA and further distraught that I’ve no means of complaint as, in that matter, I’m one small ant drowning in the Atlantic as I try to voice my displeasures. That’s fine though.

I’ve recently finished Persuasion again and have been watching the film adaptation almost every night for the last week or so. I love it so dearly and I’m feeling that something must be done about this. And…that’s fine though.

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Leaving Thursday, September 29, 2011

The sky is very grey and it’s drizzling; it’s not looked so sad outside since the first time I had to leave New England as a child.

The drive from the Cape was ridiculous and seemed even longer than the drive from it and I’ve just now realized that I’ve forgotten the 15.00 sunglasses I bought in Provincetown that were precisely the style I’ve longed to find for ages now…in the damn rental car…This day was dreary indeed.

Dorienne the prognosticator Wednesday, September 28, 2011

I can’t remember how old I was when these started, but I’ve long since had what I’ll call an “ability,” for lack of a better word, to sort of see things before they happen.

This little gift has proven far from useful since I’m not one to really believe in that sort of thing and also since these visions are never of any use since they aren’t clear until they actually happen.

The perfect example of this happened recently while we were on the whale watch. Late Monday, I started to get this premonition that my phone was going to slide out of a hand and then there was going to be a giant splash of water caused by the phone. This was all the “vision” brought to my mind’s eye. Not when this would happen or anything about the events leading up to this or even bits about the aftermath; nothing useful, but all this nothing just weighed upon my mind all day on Tuesday.

So, when I got on the boat, I made certain that my phone was wedged deep into my pocket, but even then, I still could not shake the feeling of what I’d “seen.” The phone was nearly stuck in my pocket, but (standing far from the railing), I struggled to remove it and finally put it in my bag and zipped the bag shut to keep the phone from somehow slipping from my hands and falling into the water.

This vision, however, continued even after I’d got off the boat and even into dinner, when we were far from the water.

I tried to push away all thoughts of the premonition while at dinner and used my phone to show my mother a particularly hilarious xkcd (http://xkcd.com/954/). She laughed at the comic and as she was handing the phone back to me, it slipped from her hand, caught the edge of my fairly tall cranberry juice and Sprite with lemon mix, causing it to fall over and send a shower of juice and ice all over the table, the nearby wall and my jeans. Shortly after we’d laughed about this, I stopped getting my little vision.

I suppose later in life, when I’m old and most people consider me unstable, this ability will become useful, but for now, it’s just a pain. What good are super-powers if I’ve no idea how to channel them?!?

Watching Whales among other things Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Today was truly a vacation day. We went on a whale watch and walked on the beach a bit before exploring the outer Cape in the car. This was all before my mother nearly had the hotel staff breakdown my door because she thought I was lying dead or dying in my room, but that’s another story for another day.

For the past few nights, I’ve not managed to study prior to writing, but tonight, I got the job done. Perhaps all I needed was a little rest; a little time away from my ordinary life.

Birthday Monday, September 26, 2011

It’s my birthday. 27 years on this planet. Phew! The entire day was spent at the beach; not including sleeping in and not getting breakfast until about 1pm. Such a glorious day to be spent just sitting with my feet in the sand with only the sounds of the ocean to lull me into a perfect calm.

While I’ve not done an incredible amount of writing today, I still feel invigorated by starting another year of life. I’m vowing myself to be a better adult today than I was on the proverbial yesterday and while I know I’ll trip up quite often like I have on so many other life’s endeavours, I’m just glad I’m able to make these mistakes and correct them.

Worry Friday, September 23, 2011

I wonder why I work as hard as I do. At the end of the day there’s no real benefit for myself and there’s still more work to do.
I’m worried if this trip is really going to happen. Furthermore, I’m worried about my dear grandmother’s health. This is the second time this year that I’ve sat up nights praying for a grandmother and I really don’t like it. I suppose this is what comes with adulthood, but I’m still not accustomed to it.

The boss Thursday, September 22, 2011

The other day, I heard my employees talking about Words With Friends and it occurred to me that they must all be friends on Facebook. I could not help, however, being a little hurt to realize that they all seemed to be Facebook friends, but were not friends with me. I know this is because, regardless of how friendly, amiable and open I try to be, I’m still their boss, with “control” over whether they get raises or remain employed.

In realizing all of this, I grew a little disgusted with myself because I don’t remember it being this way several months ago, but it’s a fact that I’ve got to get over if I expect to do anything with my life. As long as I continue my career at first-job, I’ll be someone’s boss and I can’t blame them for occasionally treating me like such. I know I most likely would not add my own boss as a friend on Facebook and I’ve declined friend requests from other past employees as well (though I’m a bit unsure why anyone would want to be Facebook friends with someone who fired them).

I suppose it’s just a bit jarring to realize that you’re one of “them” now. I’m one of the bosses. A part of it feels okay, but mostly the idea of it makes me a little queasy.

I think it comes as such a surprise to me because most of my employees are around my own age, so I don’t feel like the old mother hen over her chicks. In fact, with several of them, it’s a balance between remaining the “superior” and still respecting those are far older than me. It all goes back to adulthood jumping from out of nowhere to surprise me, I guess.

I wrote 588 words today (Why didn’t you just stay on the curb) and I’m finally starting to believe this book may get done after all. I remember writing the notes for scene I finished tonight years ago and I remember thinking that the scene had to take place much “later” in the book. Character personalities would have to have been established and a hint of the underlying message (for lack of a better word) would need to be already present in order for the scene to work…and yet it’s been done.

563 Wednesday, September 21, 2011

A hard day fought is still a hard day. I told myself that I wouldn’t give it credence by mentioning it anywhere, but I can’t help myself sometimes.

I hate how the media is so crafty in its deception of the people and I hate how so many people can be sent the improper messages to the point of rallying them under a flag of ignorance.

Perhaps I’ve watched too much Law and Order (and this is probably true), but I can’t see how people can rally around a person who was in all actuality a lowlife who was caught beating a homeless man in the street for a single beer. This wasn’t an individual who was harmlessly driving to his suburban home after spending the day with Habitat for Humanity and was then pulled over by the police for no reason, only to act in self-defense. This was a man who ran from the police after performing crimes only the lowest of the low perform, shot and officer and then went back to make sure he was dead.

I don’t wish to cast that proverbial stone by saying that if he was low enough to beat a homeless man for a beer, then shooting a cop is certainly not beneath him, but I still say it’s worth noting. Twenty years have passed since this man was put on death row and my question to all the naysayers is what the heck have all these people been doing for the past twenty years? Why recant your statements now after multiple trials and hearings? Are you of so little strength of character that you allow yourself to be brow-beaten by the anti-death penalty crowd into saying something other than what you know to be fact? And, what is fact? I can barely remember what I did with myself yesterday other than roll my eyes over this drivel, but you can say for an absolute certainty what you did or did not see twenty years ago?

At the end of all things, this man is now before his Creator; whether he is facing the judgment for his crimes or is finally at peace is not for me to know. All I can say is that he was not the first to face the death penalty and he is not the last. If he was innocent, God will take care of that. If he was not innocent, God will still take care of that.

I wrote 563 words today (should’ve said something…supposa-bly.”) and I’m glad I’m to get them. Only prayer will get me through some of these thoughts I’ve got swirling through my mind.

My 14-year-old self Tuesday, September 20, 2011

The other day I finished watching as much of Scrubs as I cared to watch. There was never a dip in quality throughout the first 8 seasons, but that 9th season was too much of a departure to be watched any further and so about ten minutes into the 9th season, I decided it was time to move onto a new show on Netflix (Oh, Netflix! Why doest thou dishonour me so?!) After browsing about the various shows in my queue, I settled on Ally McBeal, which I hadn’t watched since it went off the air when I was about 17 or so.

This was the one show that I’d watched from the very beginning to the very end. Every single episode, from pilot to finale. That in itself makes the show an adventure down memory lane.

In watching the first few episodes on Netflix (Oh, Netflix! Does my loyalty mean nothing to you?!) with my almost 27-year-old eyes, I couldn’t help but become 14 again in my chair. The same little crush on Gil Bellows existed as it did then and I had the greatest urge to queue up an episode of X-Files prior to watching the next episode to make the illusion complete.

Mostly, however, I was amused by how well I remembered all the words to the songs throughout the episodes. As a surprise birthday gift when I was 14, my mother had bought my “Songs from Ally McBeal” and I wore out that CD before Christmas. Even now as I write, I listen to my favorites from it. I wrote a lot of Evan and some of Alex to it around age 14 and I still love it dearly.

I wrote 541 words today (and went to Facebook) even with every part of me wanting to go back to my show.

So, I’m not sure whether it is the show on its own that sets me in a world of reverie or whether it’s the music that reminds me of the world when I was 14, but I can’t help thinking about it: Clinton hadn’t been impeached yet, Aaliyah was still making music, Beyonce was just the lead singer of Destiny’s Child, soccer was still just a niche sport that was barely gaining momentum, the Red Sox had yet to break the curse, The X-Files was still amazing and September 11th was just another day. Ah, 14…

The caffeine struggle Monday, September 19, 2011

The entire day was spent writhing in agony over my caffeine addiction. The only thing I can think of is perhaps all the memories of this struggle will serve for good writing material when I final start to write about Michael Connor.

Michael Connor…

Michael Connor will be Connor and I have very few notes on his story though tonnes of it in my memory. Connor is who I call my oldest character. When I was eight years in the third grade, our teacher made us write stories to help us learn our spelling words. Inadvertently, I not only learned to spell the words (I was already a spelling bee champ by third grade ;)), but also developed my love of storytelling. Somewhere towards the middle of third grade, I thought of a little boy with dirty blond hair who did not always do as he was told to do and I named him Michael Connor. Unlike the other characters featured in all my other stories, I wrote about Connor outside of the third grade. Into fourth and fifth grades, I continued to write little stories about him, occasionally adding new characters to his stories and at the end of sixth grade, when I started writing Evan, I kept Connor as a subsidiary character. Evan turned into a four-part series and I made sure that the last story featured Connor.

I’ve grown up writing Connor and it’s almost like I’ve watched him develop into the horror of a person he is by the time he is 18 in his own story and every time I struggle with trying to rid my body of caffeine addiction, I think of him and the story that pends with him.

I wrote 718 words today (it’s a rose, but it’s mostly dead), but I suspect much of what I’ve written over the past few days will require massive editing and lots of cuts. I suppose it’s best to just keep on keeping on and think of all the other stories I’ve got waiting once I’m finished with Damen.

A thought today Sunday, September 18, 2011

I spend a lot of time thinking about life and death; probably more time than I really should considering this is the only life I’ve got and I ought not waste it by thinking about matters over which I have no control. I can’t help it, though. I suppose this is because I don’t like not being in control and I hate surprises and death is an aspect of life that I cannot control and will, in the end, surprise me.

What’s got me pondering today is what will become of me after I’m long gone. How will I be remembered and how many people will there be who will actually know the real me? What has really got me thinking today is learning of the passing of the “other” Dorienne Smith.

About five years ago, I was standing in front of a friend of mine as they were searching for me on Facebook to add me as a friend. To my absolute shock, we saw that there were two Dorienne Smiths. I immediately added the other Dorienne as a friend and we marvelled together over our similarities.

Aside from looking vaguely similar, we were born in the same year, our birthdays were less than 10 days apart meaning that we were both Libras, we were both born in New York and we liked some of the same things. I’m not good at being friends when I don’t see folks every day or hear from them often and our Facebook friendship became like so many of my others, despite our similarities.

Earlier this year, however, I noticed that I’d gone from seeing numerous updates from her in my status feed to seeing nearly none, but since I’m not good at being a friend, I imagined I had just been unfriended and did not further investigate.

Today, while perusing my list of friends at random, I saw that Dorienne had not unfriended me and was still in my list of friends. To be honest, I was shocked, so I clicked on her profile to see why I saw so few of her updates lately.

The first few posts to her wall did not strike me as out of the ordinary when I saw a few “I miss you” posts; I imagined she had perhaps moved or was out of town or something. As I continued scanning her wall, I felt a growing dread in my chest when I saw that this was not the case and that every single post on her wall was a post of sincere expression over someone who had been lost.

I probably read through two months worth of posts hoping to catch something that told me something different, something that would tell me that I was mistakenly…but I didn’t. It was very, very clear that Dorienne had passed and, though I never got a chance to know her, I was heartbroken.

I sent a message to the last person who had posted to her wall to inquire what had happened and even after I learned the truth, I was still very unsettled. Someone like me…no, just like me had passed away a year earlier, even before her 26th birthday.

It’s difficult to explain this feeling. I expressed to send my condolences to her family, but I still did not know what to do and even now I still don’t. Why did God see fit to send one Dorienne Smith home August last year and not another is a mystery to me and I’m not sure how to grieve.

To say that I’m out of sorts is an understatement. I managed to write, but still I’m seeking comfort and asking God for answers I know I’ll not get, at least not today.

I wrote 764 words today (took a new piece of sketch paper to start again. and I think this is really all I’ve got to say today.

The Eternal Struggle Saturday, September 17, 2011

As I noted about a month ago, I never run into so many obstacles in a day as when I’m trying to follow a Christian path. This week has been the most difficult for me in terms of writing and posting and I’ve been late almost every day this week with my postings. I attribute this to the new task I’ve given myself prior to writing: studying my bible.

Never has writing become such the unwanted chore as it is now that I am studying before I actually get to write. Even this evening as I attempted to read the chapter, I could barely keep open my eyes, despite being perfectly energetic just twenty minutes earlier when I first opened my bible. Not that I want to let the conspiracy swirl in my head, but I can’t help noticing that all of this started only when I decided to study, not just read, my bible every night prior to writing.

It’s a struggle to walk the Christian path; this is neither the first nor last time I’ll acknowledge this. I think I’m just surprised at how difficult that struggle can be when it’s so easy to do the opposite. It’s so easy to just give up and move on with my life.

It’s so easy to just stop writing for a bit. It’s so easy to sleep away my life every morning and evening. It’s so easy to just let the body go and eat whatever I want, whenever I want. It’s so easy to just live life the way I think I want and just go to hell because, as often noted by one of my friends from another life, “I don’t mind going hell because all my friends will be there anyway.”

Being anything is hard. Being a writer…hard. Being a good worker…hard. Being strong in my principles…hard. Being a Christian…harder than anything I’ve ever put upon myself. But, like my mother has always said, “If it was easy, then everybody would do it.”

I wrote 539 words tonight from what I’ve said. Create…rose, though I failed in my endeavour to study prior to writing, but it’s okay…for now. Tomorrow is another day and I’ve got the determination to keep going regardless of that small whispering voice that asks me why I bother.

570 Friday, September 16, 2011

I’ve not got much to say about today except that I’ve been considering the people I’ve got close to me whom I consider to be friends lately. The list is far shorter and far different than it was five years ago.

I’d heard it said that the older one became, the fewer friends there were to be found; I’m quickly seeing the truth to this. In the same way, I looked around my first apartment while my roommates and I watched Law and Order: SVU while studying and I thought, “Wow…these are my college roommates.” I find myself seeing of the people I work with and thinking, “Wow…these are my co-workers.” What’s odd in this is that I’d also heard that half of one’s shrinking circle of friends are actually just co-workers and again, the evidence of this is glaring.

I wrote 570 words today in her cheek, eyebrow, nose and lip and I suppose it’s just coincidence that I’m writing now about Damen about to embark on some new friendships at the same time I’m considering those of my own.

Trapped/Faith Thursday, September 15, 2011

Trapped

Light blue walls are grey
And within them, I am trapped.
“Business needs” outweigh my own,
Exits are blocked with no help on the way.
I am trapped. I am trapped.
I give my all; days in with no days out.
I smile and uplift, but none even see,
And still, I am trapped.
I must get out. Please God, help me!
I can’t stay. I can’t go on
And continue to be trapped.

…

As I sat at my desk tonight, thoroughly disgusted with everything that touches my life, I felt the slightest pangs of despair and went first to what I always reach when I feel myself reaching a precipice, thus the poem.

Shortly after writing it, and a cry of self-pity later, I brought out my bible to study, praying first for “help” from whatever I was to read tonight. As always, God delivers and the message I really needed to hear came from Matthew 14. Peter was fine while he kept his eyes on Jesus, but the moment he started to let worldly things (i.e., the fear of sinking) deter his thoughts, he started to sink. Jesus plucked up him and gave what I equate to a verbal sigh from his lack of faith.

I don’t know why I allow the little things to get to me; I suppose it’s the human way. What I enjoyed about this evening, however, is how I got to my lesson. I’ve long since turned to writing in times of stress because it seems that if I just write it out of me, I’ll be okay. Tonight, turning to my writing turned me to the bible and a reminder that it’s only when I take my eye off Jesus do the little things start to pile and bite at me all at once.

I wrote 1014 words tonight (what we all are thinking deep down) and I pray that I live to see a day when I turn to my faith first in times of strife instead of everything else.

The bad girl Wednesday, September 14, 2011

Five years into my Christian walk, it’s often difficult to remember what my “old life” was like. I can remember blurs and pieces here and there, but I can’t recall if much of it was a lot of fun because I didn’t really like myself then and worried about the person I would become.

I like to think that declaring myself a Christian shuns away all wisps of my “bad girl” days, but I know this isn’t true. Every once in a while she appears, often when I least expect it.

Things are going well and there’s no sense that anything could deter me from the path on which I’ve set myself and suddenly, she appears. When she arrives, I start thinking the most bizarre things: Just go ahead and write a little and put off your bible study for another night. It’s just one night…You can have an affair with a married man. You’re not the one who’s married…Why not just quit your job and not do anything? Who could stop you…You’ve got some cash in your wallet and credit card. Get that Bailey’s you’ve been craving and just have a little drink.

The only thing that really keeps from letting the “bad girl” takeover is that it’s just too easy. As my mother often said when I was a child, “If it was easy, everyone would do it.” It’s easy to give into temptation just like it’s easy to procrastinate and let life’s troubles slide, but it’s very, very hard hold onto your principles when all those around you seem to succeed by not having any.

I’m not sure I’ve got anything significant to say about this tonight. I guess it just annoys me that I can no longer do whatever the heck I feel like doing because I now know and fear the repercussions of my actions and I know that I can’t go into sin by asking for forgiveness first.

I wrote 519 words tonight (his focus from his still uneaten sandwich.) and read the 13th chapter of Matthew (unfortunately in reverse order) despite the bad girl’s whispers in my ear that told me I really didn’t want to do either. I can’t say that I never listen to her anymore, but the harder I work to put God first in my life, the easier it is to ignore her.