I'm not ashamed to admit that I love a good horror show, but only the ones that take place on the Silver Screen. Y'know, the kind that involves actors and Hollywood-types getting paid a lot of money to be drenched in heavy FX. The kind that goes well with popcorn and peanut M&Ms. The kind… Continue reading Violence in Living Color
Eric's post about paranormal encounters over't MakeItUltra™ has inspired me to share my own thoughts about "strange happenings." When I was very young I would sometimes see and hear things that the grown-ups around me didn't seem to catch, and when I questioned them, I was routinely patted on the head and told that I had an… Continue reading When the Spooky Isn’t
My intended blog for today is now on the back burner, in light of the events of what happened overnight in our neighboring town of Dallas. Still too numb to know what to say, I’m sharing my sweetest Kat’s post here in this week’s ***Fierce Female Reblog***
I sat down to write this morning, and like I do I decided to check social media first. (Because nothing says “getting into the right frame of mind for making up stories” like “fiddling around on Facebook for half an hour.”) And my body grew numb with horror and sorrow, and my tea got cold at my elbow, and when I closed my browser I stared at the document open on my laptop and thought, What even is the point?
Check the news, a friend messaged me, and try not to cry.
I didn’t try. I read about police officers being shot in Dallas, about a man being killed in St Paul, another in Baton Rouge, and I wept. These are human beings, each unique and valuable and beloved, and they are dead. Who would not weep, at the shattering of these worlds?
And what good does it do…
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Fears. We all have 'em. Some of them are just practical nuisances but other can be completely life-altering. When I use the term "nuisances," I mean not being able to fall asleep until your feet are properly tucked under the covers, far from the prying hands of the mucussy goblins that live under your bed.… Continue reading Feast on This Friday: Fears & Phobias
I remember you. I dream of you. And, I remember you. My memories of you are heavy. How much do illusions weigh? My memory is selective. What do I forget when I remember you? I need to know. Because, I remember you.
For as long as I can remember, daisies have always been my favorite flowers. Symbols of love, purity, and innocence, they're such sweet, homey, and cheerful flowers. Daisies always bring me sweet memories of my childhood. They remind me of the whimsical little effeuiller la marguerite [pluck the daisy] game that I used to play -- only my translation… Continue reading You’re a Daisy if You Do