Confusing

Where would I be today if not for you?

Lost and alone,
I don’t know where to go.
Afraid and uncertain,
I don’t recognize anyone around.
 
Afraid and uncertain,
I don’t know who you are.
Here and there,
Why am I confused?
 
Here and there,
I’ll learn it all again.
Recovering and resting,
I feel safe enough to sleep.
 
Recovering and resting,
I’ll learn it as I go.
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Wednesday Pink Shirt Day

I faced bullying growing up, but it is nothing on the level that I have seen my nieces and nephews face. Support those who face bullying in a way that doesn’t make them flip to become bullies themselves.

Stop the Stigma

pink shirt day

Please remember to wear your PINK tomorrow in support of Anti Bullying!        

Where it all started:

Two senior high school students organized a protest in support of a Grade 9 student at their Nova Scotia high school in 2007.

The boy was targeted by students and bullied because he was wearing a pink polo shirt to school. The two young men heard about the attack and bought 75 pink tank tops at a thrift store and told classmates they were going to hand them out the next day. Word of the plan spread quickly and hundreds of fellow students showed up wearing pink the next day, some head to toe.

That action was the first Pink Shirt Day. Today, millions around the world participate each year in pink daysto stand up and speak out against bullying in schools, workplaces and communities.

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Not Wanted

The funeral had been hard to sit through. Her sons were angry and sad and didn’t know just how much he was missed.

Mary sighed as her eldest slammed the door behind him.

This isn’t what I meant.


Written for this week’s Trifextra challenge: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2014/02/trifextra-week-103.html

A little interlude somewhere in the Former Guardian story after her estranged husband dies.

Stop me?

Music has always been an important part of my family. My father plays the trumpet, the french horn and sings in his church choir when he has the time. My mother plays the piano and trained to be a professional opera singer (though she decided to have children instead of going into it as a career in the end.) She also writes and arranges music or the piano, voice, string and woodwind. My mother taught all of us some piano and how to sing correctly (posture and breathing and all that). None of us escaped picking an instrument to learn on the side.

My eldest sister learned a little guitar and flute, though she never went farther than the basics with those two. She did learn to compose and write her own piano and vocal music.

My second eldest sister learned the trumpet and was in every band available from ninth grade on. She is also very skilled with the piano and her voice.

My third eldest sister learned a little bit of everything as she majored in Music Education in college and actually taught orchestra, band and a little choir before having children. She still teaches piano and violin and has her own drum set (among other instruments: flute, clarinet, organ, etc.)

My elder brother learned clarinet. He didn’t go very far on the piano because he just didn’t want to. (You can make a child sit at the piano for an hour; you can’t make him press any of the keys.)

My fourth elder sister learned trumpet and a little guitar. She was fairly good at the piano, but loved her art more than her music. She was in the A Capella Choir in her senior year of high school.

My youngest sister is very talented musically. She mostly learned the trumpet and singing. She did take some piano but quit because of other interests. When she was a teenager, she taught herself to play the piano by ear using only what little she remembered from grade school. She also was in high school choirs and bands with her trumpet. She learned a little guitar and a little flute and learns most instruments fairly quickly. (Lucky girl…)

My youngest brother (the baby of the family) learned the trumpet and voice as well, but he did not pursue either beyond middle school (although he does sing in our church choir as well.)

I learned slightly more piano than some of my siblings, but never got to the same proficiency as my eldest three sisters. I learned the flute and all but mastered it though it was a very large struggle. (I once spent three months learning how to play three notes. And at least one month before that on my posture alone.) Like the others I also learned some voice and took part in choir in high school and then the church choir.

The flute, on the other hand, was hard. It took me several years before middle school with a private teacher (friend of one of my elder sisters who played beautifully and was a great teacher!) Many people thought later that I was a genius with the flute. I was not. I hated learning that instrument and it left me many times in tears, in frustration, in the physical need to chuck that thing at the nearest wall screaming.

I didn’t, but some days it felt like a very near thing.

I had initially picked the flute because my eldest sister had played it for a bit and then given it up. I had loved the sounds she could coax out of it and thought that I would learn it easily enough.

That did not happen.

I spent the first year only having learned one note and that from the other players in my little elementary school band. The teacher, a man that wasn’t the best teacher, didn’t like me. He didn’t do very much with the flute players in his band (he mostly ignored us even though we were in the front of the group). He informed me once that I would never learn how to play the flute.

I don’t like being told I can’t do something like that.

I decided that I was going to learn that woodwind if it killed me.

It didn’t, but it was still a great pain in my neck. (Have you ever had to practice holding up a rod on metal for thirty minutes without the end dipping too high or too low? My teacher used a pencil in the end and if it moved then I had to start all over again. I had to do this for practice every single day until I could do it and play and not dip the end of my flute and wreck my posture and breathing.)

The only thing I had going for me with music was that I had perfect pitch. I had to learn everything else the hard way. I didn’t mind doing so as my mother taught me that if you really want something, you will see it through and do it right.

No power in the verse can stop me. -River Tam, “Firefly”

On the bright side, my parents had purchased most of the instruments prior to ever having children when my dad was in the Air Force. Even with little money as children had a nice selection of musical instruments to learn from without having to worry about rental costs.

Music comes easily to some of my siblings, but we all have a passion for learning it even if our reasons differ.


Written in response to today’s Daily Post prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/25/daily-prompt-we-got-the-beat/

If you have the persistence to learn something that you’re bad at (and trust me, I was truly awful) then you have the guts to do just about anything with your life.

Safety in Death?

The ritual had worked, Comet was far from here and safe. Safe for the first time since long before the War had started. Their enemies would never find Star’s sister, not without Star or the Queen actively helping them and even then it was a long shot.

“Star, she is safe.”

Star nodded and bowed her head as her queen smiled tiredly at her before leaving the room.

She did not respond to anyone else as they spoke quietly both to her and around her before they, too, left for a well-deserved rest. The ritual they had used to both heal her sister and to send her away (because in order to heal her, they’d had to block her connections to those still here, and the only way to do that had been to send her away) had been a success.

Soon, Star was the only one left in the room. She didn’t bother looking around the room, just walked slowly towards the center where a cot had been placed. The cot was still warm from when her sister had been under the blankets and Star knelt by the cot and placed her hands in the blankets. She clutched them to her face and bowed her head. Silent tears began to soak into the fabric as her slender shoulders shook with the weight of her sobs.

She couldn’t feel her sister in her mind, in her very soul, anymore.

It was like she was dead in the worst possible way.

After all, even when their Queen had been dead, before she’d been brought back by the power of the Lunar Healing Crystal, they had still felt her presence within their hearts.

There wasn’t even that to indicate that Comet had ever existed. No torn threads, no aching apology for leaving them behind. Just…nothing…


Written for this week’s Dungeon Prompt: http://theseekersdungeon.com/2014/02/20/dungeon-prompts-season-2-week-8-when-did-death-become-real-for-you/

Man-Made

Silence is not real,
Not in the terms of actual sound waves.
Not to me.
Silence is something else entirely.
It is when you are not speaking to someone,
When you see one another and you pretend that the other
Does not exist.
 
Silence is not just in speaking,
It is in actions and thoughts and-
It is more than we are aware of,
Because nothing is so simple in life.
Life is not meant to be simple,
It is meant to be complex and full of color.
Silence and sound are much the same.
 
There is sound
As long as there is something to be the medium.
There is no real silence,
But that does not mean that we cannot try to create it.
Silence is not natural,
It is completely man-made.
Silence, real silence, is only found among men.

Written partially because of the weekly challenge from Daily Post (https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/02/17/the-sound-of-silence/) and partially because once I’d gotten the thought of silence in my head I had to keep writing this.

Also, been spending the day mostly with vertigo that shifts the world to the left more than it should and concentrating on writing anything else failed at every turn.

Not Even That

You’ve often heard people say that they aren’t in charge of their lives, that they are just ‘along for the ride.’

How does it feel, then, to know that you don’t even have that?

When you are not even along for the ride in whatever is happening in your life? You are nothing more than a bystander watching as everything else goes on and everyone else leaves you behind?

How does it feel to be invisible, well and truly invisible, in your own life?

It feels like you are dying, slowly and surely and yet are already dead even though you are still moving and walking and eating and sleeping and doing everything that people do when they are alive and yet you are not actually living because you are not acknowledged at all.

You’re not even really surviving because parts of you are dying every day as life goes on all around you and yet not with you or even within you. To be in this perpetual funk that is truly killing you with each and every passing moment that it stays entrenched within your heart and mind.

Maybe some day that will change and you will live once more.

(I will live once more.)

But you don’t know when or where that will be.

(Or even if it will be.)


Written partially for this week’s Trifecta challenge (http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2014/02/trifecta-week-112.html) and partially because I heard the sentence ‘along for the ride’ and this was what jumped into my head and out of my fingertips.