“Carry On, My Wayward Son”

Carry on, my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more…

Once I rose above the noise and confusion
Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion
I was soaring ever higher
But I flew too high

Masquerading as a man with a reason
My charade is the event of the season
And if I claimed to be a wise man
It surely means I don’t know

Carry on, my wayward son
There’ll be peace when you are done
Lay your weary head to rest
Don’t you cry no more…

I realize that if I saw the title of this post, I would think one of two things: A/ This post is sure to have something to do with the Winchester brothers, or B/ What the heck’s she talking about Kansas for?

Actually, it has to do with neither.

I know that I’ve been all but silent, but for the occasional likes and shares. I know I’ve not been social in any sense of the word. I know that conversation takes effort put forth by both parties, and I know that I’ve not been very forthcoming to any of the people that really care for me, but my mother said it so well the other day when she apologized for not taking my call [something she never does]:

“I just really didn’t feel like talking.”

Lately, I just don’t. Maybe that’s a bad thing for a writer, because apparently, being a writer means I have to be anything but what I feel like being, which is not even a social introvert. Lately, I feel as though if I say what I feel, it will be the wrong thing to do/say/think/feel. I think that if I say “this is how I feel,” then someone will say, “well, that’s YOUR fault” or “you feel that way because you’re a selfish b*tch” or “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me” or WHATEVER.

I feel damn near invisible. No, that’s not right. I feel unnecessary. I feel like that person everyone knows is there, but that no-one really takes the time to get to know. Honestly, I kind of feel like if I closed up shop, no-one would know the difference. I feel like the only reason that people at work would miss me would be because there’d be no-one to open/close the restaurant, and I kind of even feel that way here in cyberspace, too. There are a couple of exceptions, but for the most part, I really understand that video that circulated a month or so ago–the one that talked about people having 250,000 “friends.” (How would a person go about maintaining that many relationships?)

Maybe I feel like this because I’m nearing the big 4-0 in March. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been someone else’s heart. Maybe it’s because I never did get to be a mom like I wanted when I was a kid. Maybe it’s because not having a family of my own [life partner/wife/kid/et cetera] means not having ANYONE at the end. Maybe it’s because I’m not as talented as I wish I was and I’m beginning to wonder if I should find a new career choice. Maybe it’s because I’m angry at myself for missing the last opening night for a Tolkien movie and still not having put forth the effort to see it. I don’t know! I don’t know much of anything and I’m not even sure why I’m telling anyone this, but I haven’t updated this since that ill-fated Christmas special I’m ashamed to say did absolutely nothing to help my kind collaborator, Miss Leona Windwalker.

Before that, I think, aside from reblogs, it had been at least a month since I did anything, and so I felt an explanation was needed.

I haven’t made any rash decisions, and I don’t plan on it. I just know that this jumbled up whine-fest is the best explanation I can come up with, so if there are people out there that read this little thing, know that I’ve been listening to Carry On, in Kansas form and in 200th Episode Supernatural form in effort to build myself back up, but that it may take a concerted effort to do so.

Strange Days

It’s been a weird few days, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s just me getting older or if I’m started to be less accepting of the things that are not in my control. I know that while my head is a mess, it’ll be like trying to see through a muddy window, but I keep trying. The song I’m listening to at the moment is actually quite a good soundtrack to this convoluted post.

“I know you know enough to say
I know you know enough to play the game

You want to be the one in control
You want to be the one who’s alive
You want to be the one who gets old
It’s not a matter of luck
It’s just a matter of time”

Yeah… gotta say I love Thirty Seconds to Mars. Most of Leto’s lyrics touch home in some way, shape or form. He might be a weird person, but the man can act and the man can write, and he’s often not bad on the eyes.

I don’t really know where this funk came from, but trying to sort through it is making it hard to focus on what really matters. I can’t help but wonder if what’s causing it is really not in my control? I mean, seriously… is it my pride that is keeping me from seeking out a different day job, or is it my pride that keeps me at my current one? Am I incapable of writing my own About Me section on a dating site, one that will actually spark the interest of my match or should I give up on the damn dating sites? If I’m supposed to give up on dating sites, then where the hell do I find a nice woman who wants to spend her life with me? It surely isn’t going to be at a bar, so where in Vegas do I look? *sighs in frustration*

And while I’m at it… I know that a bit of my frustration comes from looking too keenly at the stupid sales reports on Amazon. I’ve “sold” eight books from all the sites I’ve published on, and I am quite happy that eight people in the world took the time to purchase World’s End, because it’s great, but apparently, someone took it back to Amazon and asked for a refund.

This… this makes me sad and god, but it doesn’t help the rest of the crap going on in my head.

To whomever is out there that reads my blog, thank you for listening.

Independence Day

Kind of a weird day… and yet it doesn’t really feel like freedom. I do my best to keep upbeat, but my head’s a mess.

Will be immersing myself re-formatting and editing on Brandon and maybe later working more on TBF 3.

Finished writing my submission for the open anthology charity call. I think I did well, but we shall see what my editor/beta reader has to say.

Soon to work on my Behind the Scenes piece and count the days until my promo tour for World’s End.


… bills all paid, Omorphi bought, library card obtained. I thought somehow, today might be a wee bit more exciting, but it’s not. To top it off, I don’t think that Clark County Library District’s connection to Overdrive includes anything that looks like yaoi or gay romance.

But I got a library card so that I could borrow books from Overdrive!!! *cries*

Hopefully… I’m just doing it wrong.

Working Hard on Submission for Love Charity Anthology

I have almost a thousand words on it, and I really like where it’s going. Not to say it’s been a while since I wrote something like this, but I like that I get to touch on something I feel on such a personal level. I was bullied when I was a youth, not to the extent that I see these days, but I remember how hard it was in elementary school to be your own person when so many were telling you that you were doing it wrong. How do you be you wrong?

It still puzzles me to this day. Haha.

Still, thinking back on it as I write, if it was hard to be yourself correctly, then falling in love with someone was a hell of a thing. Adding in the small simple fact that you realize that you’re in love with someone of the same gender and that is your best friend–forget about it. There ain’t no goin’ back– you’ve dived into the wrong end of the pool and it hurts as you attempt to come up for air only to find you’ve not reached the surface.

Yeah, I can feel that. I can remember that pain. That is something I can write.