Make Me Believe

What makes a good storyteller, in your opinion?

Every writer that I have fallen in love with has created within their story, a character that I can relate to. This character is essentially someone who appears so normal, so regularly, so average, but is taken on a journey of self-discovery where they discover their purpose, and have dedicated themselves to the journey, even at the risk of their own lives. “The Long Walk” by Stephen King, The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins, “The Alchemist” by Paulo Coelho, even “Jane Eyre” by Charlotte Bronte. The character in each book has some level of drive that pushes them forward even after all hope seems to be lost. I love that. I love characters like that.

Are your favorite storytellers people you know or writers you admire? 

For me, it doesn’t matter who tells the story, just make me believe that I can be that character. I recently read a blog in which the writer is talking about her recent break up from someone she was with for well over eight years and I just could not stop reading her blog. I’m not sure how well known she is as a blogger/writer, but I couldn’t help but share my blog with my ex who also related to her story. I thought her work should be published because it’s too good to remain largely unknown. But he disagreed. It’s a very reflective piece, very personal, very normal and sad, and yet there is a magical quality that makes me fall in love and want to keep reading even after my heart is breaking. I love that.

Taken from this prompt: The Daily Post

An awesome blog worth reading that’s mentioned in this post: Diary of The Departed


Crowns Always Sparkle

In response to The Daily Post: Sparkling or Still

I knew exactly what I was going to do for the last two days and I looked forward to it. Just imagine the feeling I felt in the pit of my soul as I went to work and couldn’t stop thinking, “Two more days, Crown. Just two more days and you’ll be there.” Imagine my pounding heart and my giddy feet as I gave report to the oncoming nurses just 30 minutes before I clocked out. Now imagine me clocking out, bolting out of the door at top speed, rushing to my car (extra fast because it’s freezing out this time of year), and speeding off the lot. I get home, shower, surf the web, eat, and go to sleep because in a few hours…tomorrow begins!

Well today is tomorrow and now you know what I couldn’t wait to do. 🙂 I love writing and on my days off, it seems like I want nothing else but to enjoy the experience of being…alive! In a few minutes, I’m going to take a nice trip over to my local Starbucks and get myself my favorite drink, a trenta Blackberry Mojito Tea Lemonade that I could probably make myself but which I am too lazy and too Americanized to make myself (no disrespect to the Americans on here). On second thought, maybe I’ll google where to get the exact same ingredients Starbucks uses so that I could make it myself, find it, then realize that I have to order it, and then realize again that it costs money and I don’t want to see money leave my bank account in lump sums. I’m probably going to check my email a lot too after I post this because “Crowns Always Sparkle” is a fantastic title and I think it caught a few eyes.

Maybe I’ll meditate or read or sleep a little more. The possibilities on a day like this. A day when there’s absolutely nothing planned absolutely no obligations to fulfill are endless! I love it. All this unstructured time to myself to do anything and everything I want to do and nothing I don’t want to do. I’m so excited. So far, I’m loving my day.

Before The Fall

Taken from the The Daily Post.

Is there a period in your own personal life that you think of as the good old days? Tell us a story about those innocent and/or exciting times (or lack thereof).

I don’t think I ever truly knew what sadness was until I was 12 years old. Before then, I often found myself so caught up in rapture that the idea that there was ever such a thing as “depression” was beyond me. Somedays, I’d feel so light that I’d find myself walking on my toes, feeling as though I’d be carried off in spirit form by the wind. In those days, I spoke to God and animals.

His name was Mido. That was the name I gave him. He was 8 weeks old when we got him. He never had a single vaccination. He was going to die. That was what the vet said. He had contracted Parvovirus and couldn’t keep anything down. It reached the point where he refused to eat. I remember it well. This little black dog with big paws that had the potential to become huge and intimidating in size one day. So much potential and yet at only 8 weeks old he was doomed to die. I wish I could say that I felt sorry. But in those days, I didn’t see death as anything special or tragic. Animals died all the time. So did people. It’s just how things were. I remember offering him dog food and watching as he’d eat two mouthfuls and then regurgitate. After a while, I stopped altogether and just sat on the stairs of our backyard and observed.

He ate grass. I wish I knew the name of that plant that he continued to consume. Because for 3 days that was all he ate. He’d go into our backyard, eat the grass and drink water. That was it! I just kept watching him. Something inside me told me to give him something to eat. so I grabbed his bowl and filled it with dog food. He refused it. Then, something inside of me told me give him food from our kitchen. I ran upstairs, and brought down a bowl with fresh rice and chicken. He ate. He didn’t regurgitate. And after he finished eating, he went back to the yard and had some more grass and drank more water. This went on for 3 more days. Somehow, we started to communicate.

It reached a point where he no longer would eat anything remotely related to “dog food”. In fact, I think for a few moments he forgot he was a dog and thought himself human. Many times he wouldn’t eat unless his food was warmed up and freshly made! It had to be fresh rice and meat. Nothing that sat around for longer than an hour. Not unless it was warmed. He started insisting on fresh water only as well. He beat Parvo. He was smart! And he’d follow me around everywhere that I went. Whenever it rained, he’d knock on our glass door, crying and howling, insisting to come inside. If I went upstairs, he’d follow me into the rain and then knock on the door there.

I remember him well. This was before “The Fall”. When I started seeing sameness in all things but feeling disconnected from everything. This was before I was taught that animals couldn’t talk (but they can) or that they didn’t communicate empathetically or telepathically with humans. This was before I felt the need to seek out Spirit, when He is there at all times, all around and always connected. But those were my good ol’ days.

Please check out other blogs containing Postadays like:

From Balderash to Epiphany

No Talent for Certainty

All About Being Human

The Golden Key: The Hearts and Minds of the People

Courtesy of The Daily Post’s “Postaday Challenge”. This one is called Golden Key.

The question is: You’ve been given a key that can open one building, room, locker, or box to which you don’t normally have access. How do you use it, and why?

So in the magical world of Crownite, there is a box that contains all the hearts and minds of every person on the face of this Earth. And finally I have the Golden Key to unlock this box. I think we all know what I’d do with it…

I’d leave the hearts and minds of all my patient’s alone. The general public would be safe from my own curiosity as well. I don’t think I need to know what’s going on in the hearts and minds of every single person on this Earth. Too overwhelming and many times my cognizance makes it so that I tend to know things without being told anyways. What I would like is to see the heart and mind of the two men that I have truly loved and carried high expectations towards and have been let down by in this life: my ex and my father. I want to know what their intentions were, what they really thought and felt about me and about us. In a way, I know. But it’s hard to accept sometimes that knowingness when there’s very little proof.

Sometimes people’s words and actions don’t align. For example, I do believe that my ex loves me, but that he didn’t feel mature enough, good enough, worthy enough to continue a relationship with me. At the end of the day, in his mind, the issue was marriage. He didn’t want to go forward with something that he just didn’t feel ready for. Perhaps he was right, I’m not the girl he wanted to marry. Maybe I’m not the girl he saw in his future. Or maybe I am the girl, like I believe I am, but he didn’t want me to be there to witness his progress. I feel as though he continues to tell himself (and consequently me), “I’m not coming back. I’m not coming back.” Because he doesn’t want to continue the cycle. But I don’t know this for sure, because he won’t tell me, won’t talk to me, and is still trying to figure things out himself. But I do believe that there’s something there, despite his silence.

Even though I’ve only mentioned two men, there is perhaps one other person whose mind and heart I’d like access to. My uncle’s. He keeps so much to himself. Even though he’s social and expressive and very much a risk taker, there’s a fear there, something there that’s been blocking him and preventing him from reaching the success that he’s so longed to reach. I’d like to access his mind and his heart so that I can further explore that, without his interference. Sometimes the human ego can get in our own way of true healing. I believe that’s what his ego does. But we can’t always help people who don’t want our help.