What Do You Meme?

2016 is coming to a close, and the year has been ruled by meme culture. Whether it's Harambe or the Obama-Biden memes, social media has blown up with these snapshots of 'humor.' There are some people who share on a constant basis the latest in the meme-o-sphere. Though sometimes funny, certain shared posts make the sharer appear unintelligent, even if they're well educated.

Yes, I'm talking about political memes.

Often racist, derogatory, slanderous text is strewn across a smiling portrait of someone in the political arena, these images do not help support what you believe. In fact, you portray yourself as a close-minded individual who is unwilling to tolerate or accept those with different ideals than you. Humor is subjective, and is not a valid justification for sharing hateful things NOT covered under freedom of speech like racial slurs and defamation.

Now, this doesn't mean you need to baby step around when posting on your own social media account(s). Becoming offended by every little thing has become the norm nowadays. But you do need to be conscious of what you're posting online. Just like you, others have a right to voice their opinion. Be prepared to have people disagree with what you're sharing or posting. That could be supporting your views, or it could be learning to ignore those people's comments. But they will come.

I've shared a few memes myself, tagged friends in posts, and even saved the really good ones to look back on on a rainy day. It's okay to enjoy a good meme! But just remember: we will never be able to overcome the mindset of racism, misogyny, rape culture, and white supremacy if we won't stop talking about it, making jokes on these issues acceptable, and if we aren't trying to actively change what is happening in society today.

Everyone can post what it is they like on their own social media accounts. Try and withhold yourself from lashing out at others when they share memes that meet the negative criteria of this post, or the negative criteria in your own moral standing. Instead, do something to change the way you would react and in turn, it could change how the people sharing these things conduct themselves online. Please, feel free to argue and defend your own views if they are being attacked. But don't utilize memes or two minute "news" videos to rely on when forming/supporting your opinions, do your research and use credible sources.

Let's change the direction social media has taken over the past few years, particularly 2016, and put our best foot (and best selves) forward.

Adventures in a Pumpkin Patch

As a former beach-side resident, the idea of going to a pumpkin patch seemed to be a right of passage for someone having moved to a state where the season actually change. With my husband in tow, I convinced him that every pregnant woman needs to go to a pumpkin patch in order to take cute pictures of their belly with a pumpkin.So, off we went.

If you've never gone to a pumpkin patch, you should most definitely go at least once in your life. Take lots of cheesy pictures too, you can never have too many cheesy pictures.

At this particular patch, there were playgrounds and a bouncy house for the kids. A tiny train-tractor combo was waiting by a sunflower field to drive children aged 10 and under up and down one of the rows, and the attraction's line looped through the parking area. across a huge open field, where the playgrounds and bouncy house were, there was a corral with two ponies and two horses. There, kids could ride around a real carousel. (As long as they had a helmet on, of course.)

Now, many of you might not know, but horses don't always smell nice. Not even the sunflowers across the way could help the smell. I'm not sure if my super-human pregnancy smelling powers were making everything worse, but I DO know one thing: the six pens of baby animals next to the corral wasn't helping.

You may be wondering where the pumpkin patch actually was in all this. In order to get there, you had to take a hay ride. Yes, a hay ride. Once out in the rows and rows and rows and rows of pumpkins, you got to pick out which pumpkin(s) you want. For me, it took quite some time to pick out a pumpkin for my husband and one for me. Thankfully, there was no time limit.

Before I had my husband take any pictures, I made sure to inspect every single pumpkin I came across to ensure the two I chose were the best ones out of the entire patch. (They were!)

Ladies and gentlemen, if you ask your husband or significant other to take pictures of you somewhere, please be sure to tell them exactly what you want them to snap pictures of. There's a good chance that they'll take some great candid shots of you.

My favorite part of the trip was watching my husband lug around two huge pumpkins, and eating a jumbo corn dog. This wasn't any ol' corn dog. Look at your arm, and bend it normally. From your elbow all the way to your wrist was the size of this thing. HUGE and covered in ketchup and yellow mustard. Deep-fried, salty goodness all conveniently skewered on a stick. The heavens opened and the angels sung; the corn dog was better than ambrosia.

Hopefully, if you haven't had the opportunity to go to a pumpkin patch, and you get the opportunity, jump on it. Don't be afraid to take the cheesy pictures or look like a tourist. It's about having fun and enjoying yourself. And if someone snaps a candid photo that might not be exactly what you're looking for, it might just turn out to be your favorite.

Photo by: Amber

Adulting Done... Right?

The days of October are snailing by, and I'm starting to get increasingly nervous. Not too long ago, I was cramming class material into my brain in a last study effort to try and pass an exam. I would wait all semester to write a research paper until the night it was due, and hit submit at 11:59pm. The last possible second. There were even times when I would find myself in the middle of an email to fellow classmates, hoping and praying someone else was as much of a procrastinator as I was.

Now, I find myself in the third and final trimester of my pregnancy. Only twelve more weeks to go until I bring another human into this world. No, I haven't been reading any pregnancy/baby/parenting books (until VERY recently) to help prepare me for what is to come. No, I have not taken any childbirth classes or any classes whatsoever (I did just sign up for three classes; today). No, I haven't started thinking about a birth plan for what my ideal delivery is, other than to have a healthy baby. So, what do I do next?

The good news is that I've signed up for the classes I want to take in preparation for baby and delivery. Hopefully, those classes do not get cancelled on me! I've also been reading through a few baby books so that in these final doctor appointments, I can ask questions pertaining to my particular pregnancy symptoms, clarification on policies, and what happens at upcoming appointments. It's a good thing that I started looking for information on what's currently happening and going to happen to my body because baby boy is currently breech. It's early enough in the third trimester that I might be able to help him turn into the vertex position by doing some specific stretches and exercises.

If you don't know what a baby being in a 'breech' position is, it's when their head is at the top of your uterus and their butt is over the cervix. For delivery, you want baby's head down and butt up so that you're able to push baby out during contractions. If the baby doesn't move into the vertex position by a certain point in your last few weeks, doctors will usually have you scheduled for a cesarean. (If you're reading this and you're baby is breech, don't panic! Ask your doctor what you can do to help give baby room move into the vertex position.)

Overall, I'm still way behind the eight ball when it comes to preparations for baby. It's completely my fault for allowing the fear of losing another pregnancy rule me over the past several months, and now I'm paying for it trying to scramble and prepare myself last minute. Though the nursery is coming along well, and we have a lot of things baby might need, I have no idea what I'm doing as a pregnant woman getting closer and closer to her due date. Don't be me and procrastinate, prepare yourself early for what is to come! That way, when the time arrives, you can relax and reel confident that you know what you're doing, and everything will work out just fine.

Follow Your Instincts

Every so often, I tend to go on these binges of loving/hating certain areas of my life. The areas I love get all the attention, and the ones I don't love as much get pushed by the wayside. Maybe it's a global phenomenon, or maybe it's just me. Either way, figuring out how to manage the effort and time put into life's events is difficult. Especially for me.
Lately, I've been trying to prepare my future son's nursery (yes, it's a BOY!). This is something that not only am I looking forward to finishing more than anything I've started in my life, but I also never want to set foot in that room. Why? Because there are boxes, unopened toys, clothes piles, diapers, wipes, and so many other things you need to have for a baby that it's overwhelming. So my thought is out of sight, out of mind. Sound logic, right?
Wrong.
Now, I'm only a week away from my third and final trimester. That means this little nugget is going to be here before I know it, and I can't even keep my house clean on a daily basis, let alone organize and build an entirely new room for an entirely new human. It's a daunting task for anyone.
There are other areas of my life where I wish I would have spent more time enjoying the moments than choosing to cling to a toilet bowl (though I rarely had the actual choice not to). If only I could go back in time and read more parenting books, pregnancy blogs, learn about all the different classes you can take while pregnant, but instead I was afraid. Yes, afraid. Terrified is a better word. I was afraid because I didn't want to be prepared for no reason. I was afraid because I had gotten my hopes up once before, and everything just ended in the matter of eight words: "I'm sorry, but I can't find the heartbeat." Now, there IS a heartbeat; one that's been beating for the past 27 weeks. He is here to stay, and I have no idea what to do.
It just so happens that my husband is no better at this than I am, preparation for baby that is. We both have only recently started trying to get the nursery together, and honestly our efforts are in vain. It's barely even started. As excited as he is to be having a son, he hasn't quite grasped the fact that he's having a SON. The responsibility of another person's life is in his hands, is in my hands. We could royally screw this up.
But through the terror, there's something inside of me that's started to emerge. Something stronger than I've ever been, something I've never had before. A mother's instincts. People everywhere give you advice on everything when you're pregnant, even people who have never been pregnant feel the need to put in their two cents. Though they feel their intentions are noble and that their suggestions will be your saving grace, follow your instincts. Honestly, I've had a lot of unsolicited advice from people over the past seven months, and the only advice I've actually put into practice is this: ___________ .
Nothing.
Pregnancy is different for every single woman. Do what your instincts tell you. (See, even I'm guilty of a little unsolicited advice.) If something someone has told you in the past just so happens to be what your instincts are telling you, then cool. If not, just do whatever is best for you. Be forewarned, there are going to be moments when you want nothing more than to just throw in the towel when it comes to listening to other people telling you what to do, but stand strong. Eventually, you'll be able to tune it out.
This blog originally started as a way for me to be super negative about life because I had a miscarriage. It turned into something else, and I'm not entirely sure what that 'else' is. Don't think this is turning into a full blown mommy blog where I start doing monthly freezer meal recipes. (I'm not bashing those blogs or moms, but that just isn't me.) Having it all together is something that I've yet to do in my brief time here on Earth, and I don't think that I'm going to have it together anytime soon. So if you're like me, then stick around because this ride is about to get wild. A newborn baby, a dog who's still classified as a puppy, only having been married a year, and living a thousand miles away from family is going to make things pretty hectic. But hey, it wouldn't be life if it wasn't chaos!
Thank you all for your patience with my erratic/nonexistent posts, and thank you even more for taking the time out of your hectic lives to read what I have to say. If anyone has anything they would like to add or say, feel free to do so down in the comments. You can also tell me about some of your pregnancy advice war stories if you have them. ;)

Live long and prosper.

Decades Apart from Posting

Hello world, once again.

The good news is I'm alive. The bad news is I haven't been posting in months and months. First, let me apologize for the leave of absence without notifying you all. There was much traveling, many a hospital visit, and enough vomit that there is now a record held by yours truly. If I were to start explaining away where I've been in detail, you would be reading for the next three weeks. Instead, I'm going to leave the interrogating up to you guys! Those of you who would like to know more about what's been going on, leave a comment and I will be more than happy to share my life's events with you!

Anyway, down to the meat of things. I'm still pregnant, and at this point, I've got everything pregnancy can throw at you. Ladies, if you are pregnant or are trying to conceive, let this be a warning. You'll be miserable and uncomfortable and everything will make you sad, angry, and you'll never eat your favorite foods ever again. I don't know who pulled the wool over the eyes of women and told them the lies that pregnancy is a joy. Being pregnant is awful.

Now, before you exit out and think I'm just another soon-to-be mother ranting about circumstances that I've brought on myself, let me tell you about what is a joy.

There is a very good chance that you're going to be too sick to function, and even going to the OB to see your baby is going to turn your stomach. But the second you see that little blip on the screen, those first heartbeats you hear from your baby... nothing in the world has ever looked or sounded better. Nothing. Then, another month is going to go by and you'll wonder how your little bean is doing in there. At your next appointment, you'll get to see the arms and legs. Baby will start to look human instead of alien, and that heartbeat is going to be pounding away. For me, hearing the heartbeat always makes me cry.

But that's not even the best part.

In the past few weeks, I've started to actually feel baby moving. The first time, I wasn't sure what just happened. Then, baby bean moved again!!! From that moment, I've been housing in my womb the world's next karate master. Music, movement, certain foods, and even napping can make baby start to wiggle. The bean I'm currently growing, they love music. I play a plethora of different instruments, and it makes bean want to dance! When my husband sings, baby gets even more active. I'm sure there are scientific reasons as to why that happens, but for now I like to think that baby is starting to recognize our voices.

Instead of making some big long post about my baby, I'm going to leave this as a drop off kind of post because I want to hear about what all of you have to say! Any experiences you've had, or are looking forward to having, please leave a comment below! You can also give me a piece of your mind for the inactivity, you can leave a comment with that too.

Until next time!

Amber

The Pregnancy Diaries: First Trimester Blues

Hello everyone! Sorry for being dead this past month, a ton has happened! I found out that I am pregnant, and things have been on the up and up since my anxiety post during the beginning of the month. We've put together out desk, bought/put together/filled our new dresser, and I've almost completely unpacked the whole house.

For the next nine months, I'm going to track my progress and personal experience during pregnancy. At only 5 weeks, a lot can happen before I'm out of the woods. Those of you who are unaware, I've already had one miscarriage; last December. That doesn't mean I can't have a healthy pregnancy and carry baby to term. It also means that every ache and pain and anything I could possibly feel makes me afraid that I'm having a miscarriage.
With morning sickness, mood swings, food aversions and cravings, and extreme fatigue, I've got all the tell tale signs that there's a bun in the oven. Yesterday morning (Sunday), the one thing no pregnant woman wants to see reared its ugly head; blood. Freaking out, I called my husband to the bathroom and told him I think I'm having a miscarriage. Again. But the level-headed man that he is, he talked me off the ledge and got me to call the 24 hour RN to get some medical advice as to what to do. She said it could just be implantation spotting. Implantation spotting is when the fertilized egg attaches to the lining of the uterus, rupturing some blood vessels and causing light bleeding. It usually occurs 6-12 days after conception, and typically lasts 1-2 days.
My mind slowly easing off the derailed miscarriage train, I thought it's probably only implantation bleeding. After all, I had some spotting during my last pregnancy, long before my body terminated the pregnancy, and was completely fine. This time, which is even lighter than last time and more accurately within the time line of when implantation spotting occurs, I should be less anxious. Yet here I am, freaking out via blog post, watching The Office, eating homemade lemon cupcakes. Why? Because I'm still technically pregnant and that's what pregnant women do.
The good news is that last night, I got super nauseous and ended up losing some noodles that I ate for dinner. I know, how is that good news? Morning sickness means your body is still producing those raging pregnancy hormones that baby needs to grow. Not every woman will have morning sickness during pregnancy, though many will. I am one of the ones that has experienced it.
I've also had my fair share of mood swings, which are like PMS times eight thousand. A plastic bag blowing in the wind could set me over the edge into tears. My husband filling up the water pitcher's filter before pouring me a glass could be the end of life as we know it. It's hard, but it's also good that I'm having these mood swings because those hormones are still raging, and baby is still growing.
This post is meant to reassure myself that I can carry this baby to term, and that even if I don't, I WILL carry a baby to term. I don't know if there are any other expecting mothers out there that are going through something similar to what I am. If you're like me, leave a comment below and we can help build each other up in support. It's important to have a group of people, in person or virtually, that are on your team and what to see you be your best self.
Through my past miscarriage, I learned that even people in your family circle can be pretty cruel and insensitive. You don't have to have negative people in your life, and it's up to you to stand up fr yourself. Positive thinking, however small, can help you grow. At the same time, negative thinking can deter you from reaching your full potential. I don't have answers as to how to deal with bad moments in your life.
Being pregnant, no matter what your age is, is both wonderful and terrifying. Especially in the first trimester. You don't know whether or not your going to be in the delivery room in nine months. You don't know if you should be over the moon and tell everyone from Obama to One Direction. The unknown variables are constantly piling up for me, and with anxiety, the weight is starting to implode. This time is different. And it's hard not to compare this pregnancy with my last one. Very hard. But this time IS different. I'm different. My husband is different. Copper is different. Our circumstances are different. Everything is different. Through faith, I came back to the light after being in such a dark place over Christmas and the New Year. Unlike last time. I'm relying on faith to get me through everything now, not just some things. 
I hope you guys enjoy the new saga of posts that will be uploaded throughout this pregnancy, however long that may be. I'm confident that whatever the outcome, I'll be better than I am today. Leave comments with your thoughts/experience. I love hearing from you guys.

Live long and prosper.

Anxiety; Is It Real?

In my life, I've met many a person expressing their frustration with anxiety. Sometimes, it feels like everyone seems to "have it." But there is a difference between normal anxiousness, like before a test, and stressing yourself out to the point of sickness, hives, or even panic attacks. Through my years of personal experience, I've come to find out that nine times out of ten, the people who actually have anxiety don't talk about it. I am one of those people. (Though I suppose once this post goes up, I'll no longer be one of those people.)
As a child, my parents often told me to straighten up, behave, and stop being overly dramatic. Most of the time, it happened in crowds, at parties, out to dinner, before school, and anywhere that basically yanked me away from my safety bubble. At the time, I kicked myself over and over again for feeling the way I did. Looking back on it, I wish I could tell my younger self that it was going to be okay, and it wasn't my fault. It's hard for me to pinpoint exactly when my panic attacks started, mostly because I wasn't aware that's what they were.
I don't know how to go about writing this post, whether I should talk about any specific instances where I panicked, or not. It's hard thinking about those moments, even the ones when I was much younger, because it brings back all those anxious feelings.
A better way for me to talk about anxiety would be to talk about some of my triggers, and what I try to do to try and calm down.

1. Crowds.
• This is the number on trigger I have. Any type of crowd, even if it's people I know, set me over the edge. It makes me feel like everyone is watching me, and then I worry about what it is they could thinking about me. It feels like the masses of people are closing in around me, and I'm going to be consumed. Then the panic really sets in. If I can get myself away from the situation, whatever it is that entails, I can usually avoid a full on panic attack. But more often than not, I'm unable to get away. In those cases, I feel utterly embarrassed, mortified, and I never want to go out in public again.Everything seems to be closing in all around me, and when I'm stuck facing the situation, I fail every time.
2. Touch.
• It sounds like such a weird thing to be triggered by, but touch is another big one for me. I'm okay shaking hands when meeting someone, hugging close family or friends, and snuggling the crap out of Copper (my puppy). What I'm not okay with are those awkward moments in crowds, where you and a person going to opposite way play chicken, and one of you needs to move out of the way before a collision. I try to be that person who moves. Although in large crowds, and with already being really anxious, it's hard to constantly swerve around people. There are times when people ram into me, shove me out of the way, or even yell at me for not moving to make a path for them. 
3. Stress.
• I understand that everyone experiences stress in their life. But for someone with anxiety, normal stress can turn into me feeling like I'm dying very quickly. I watched a YouTube video by Zoella a while ago, and I thought her illustration of anxiety was spot on. It made me feel like someone finally understood. She said that a person who has anxiety is like a car whose alarm goes off when the wind blows, and people without anxiety are the cars around it that need their windows smashed before their alarms go off. Basically, little things can and do push me to the point of panic. I just recently filed my taxes, and sitting in a private cubicle with the woman doing our taxes and my husband, it took everything in my power not to have a breakdown. It took somewhere between 45 minutes to an hour before we were done, and it wasn't bad at all. For some reason, sitting there made me feel so anxious I almost lost it.
4. Attention.
• When I say attention, I mean when I get thrust into being the center of it. Every time it happens, I feel so unprepared for it. Believe it or not, my husband has done this to me many a time, and it kills me. He doesn't do it intentionally, but it's easy for him to forget about my anxiety because I'm generally bubbly, happy-go-lucky, and eager to be nice to everyone. So naturally, he assumes I want to be the center of attention. But it's quite the contrary. When I am thrust into the limelight, my hands and underarms immediately get sweaty. My heart starts to beat really fast, and I regret whatever it is that I'm wearing because it's stifling hot. It's easier for me to calm down from this than it is for the others, mainly because I can pass the attention on to someone else. Or leave. 

My anxiety has gotten the best of me time and time again. I've allowed it to dictate a lot of the things I do, and sometimes I miss out on opportunities because of it. If you have anxiety, just know you're not alone. There are people out there dealing with what you're dealing with. You're not a freak. It's easy to feel like you are when your anxiety doesn't match the normal anxiousness someone has about an upcoming math test.
For me, some of the best ways I combat my anxiety are: removing myself from the situation, having quiet, taking a nap, reading a book, and writing. These might not be what help you calm down, but give some of them a try. Especially removing yourself from the situation that's making you feel so anxious. I never thought that it could help me feel better, but it does. It's harder for me to calm down when I'm having a panic attack, but getting somewhere quiet and alone usually helps them not last as long. I try to tell myself that it's only temporary, and I'm not actually dying. It'll be over soon, and then I can move on.
Though I haven't touched on it much, I also suffer from chronic hives. I've been on every allergy and anti-inflammatory drug in the book. Steroids included. But none of that helped the hives. Imagine feeling the worst sunburn of your life, taking a scalding hot shower, then have fire ants biting you and that's what it feels like sometimes. One doctor even told me that my body thinks it's allergic to my own skin, so my immune system was attacking me and causing the hives. Unfortunately, none of the medications he prescribed did anything. My husband thinks it could have to do with my anxiety, and not being able to calm myself down in those moments of distress. After recording when I get the hives, keeping food journals, and noticing a correlation between the anxiety and hives, I'm starting to see that there has got to be the problem.
Even though my body panics at the slightest levels of stress, and my body attacks itself, the reason it's doing these things is to try and protect me. It's hard to look at it that way, especially when I'm in the middle of almost dying. But after having the miscarriage last Christmas, my panic attacks last a lot longer than they used to. Some even have what I call aftershocks, and I have multiple attacks throughout the day. On any given day, they can happen. Hives and panic attacks alike.
What I've been learning is that it isn't my fault. Anxiety is never your fault. It's okay to not feel okay, but it isn't okay to blame yourself for it. Panic attacks are never your fault. Don't let anyone try to belittle you, force you to do things you're not comfortable with, or tell you that you can just flip a switch and change. Everything takes time. I'm almost 22 years old, and I'm just now starting to cope with having anxiety. Never put a time limit on yourself of when you're supposed to feel better, or be "normal." That's going to make things ten thousand times harder for you. Focus on the present, and do what you can do without pushing yourself to that breaking point. And if you do start to go down that path, that's okay. You're learning how to cope with anxiety. Like Thomas Edison said when he invented the light bulb, "I have not failed. I've just found 10,000 ways that won't work."
It's easy to let anxiety rule your life; I've let it rule mine for a long, long time. What isn't easy is working hard trying to find ways to help you combat those feelings. Don't be upset with yourself if it doesn't happen right away. You're giving it your best effort. Start with walking to door, then open it. Walk through the door to the driveway, then to the mailbox. Before you know it, you'll be walking/running/driving/flying all over the place. All because you wanted to get better.
There are still going to be some things that are very difficult for you to do. Focusing on those things will take away from the achievements you make every day in reaching the goal you've set for yourself. Revel in those moments of conquer, and let it be a reminder for you to keep moving forward.
This blog post makes me feel like I've rambled on for three weeks straight, and I don't want to go on for too much longer. If any of you struggle with anxiety, please try some of the things mentioned that help me. Missing out on opportunities in life is no way to live. You can do anything you want to do, even if you have anxiety. It just takes a little tie for people like us to figure out what it IS we want to do, and then put it into action. I'd like to open up the comment section as a hub for anyone seeking advice, help, support, or just needs to talk with someone dealing with similar ailments. Feel free to comment down below if you, or someone you know, has anxiety. There might be ways that calm you down I haven't mentioned, and you can leave those options down below too.
Thank you to everyone who reads my posts, it's very reassuring that all of you are interested in what I have to say. This topic hits home for me, and I'd like to start shedding more and more light on it because I think a lot of you can benefit from this.
Remember, you are never alone. No matter what you think, it will always get better.
Live long and prosper.

Last Featured Author Post for March

Golden Greed

By: Clarisse Cockrill

    I remember when my grandfather would tell me time and time again that there will be a moment in our lives when we come across a precious treasure that we would feel the need to have and possess, and we would refuse to lose, even if our lives would end in the process. It could be a person, a pet, or a random inanimate object; but this treasure would be the rock that would keep us firmly tied down to the ground of reality.

    My grandfather already possessed his “rock”, his precious treasure. It was a compass - a dusty, dirty, dull, old compass that never worked. It only pointed north - always north. Yet, while I always looked at his compass as just a broken object, he considered it the most amazing thing in the whole entire world. My grandfather was completely attached to this old, rusty compass; always wearing it around his neck, taking it wherever he went. He would wear it to the market, to the capital, when he went out to salvage for certain resources he needed for his secret projects that he worked on in the basement. That compass would never part from my grandfather, because it was something important to him.

    However, time never allows things to stay as they are forever. At some point, things must part - relationships must end. And time decided to remove my grandfather from my life, and evidently leave me with his rusty old compass that always pointed north. I don’t remember how my grandfather died, all I know is that it happened overnight, when I was sleeping. I was only seven years old.

After my grandfather passed away, I was taken in by the neighboring family who lived in the building across from us. My grandfather and their grandfather seemed to know each other from the past, and has always stayed as good friends; so it was only natural that they would take me in as their own. And I was only a child then, with no one else who I could consider family. People said I was an orphan, but I really hate that word - I prefer being called a lone wolf. Why? Because they are always alone.

I lived with them for a few years, trying to live with the fact that my beloved grandfather was dead and resume a normal life. The only living reminder I had left was his precious treasure, the compass. Looking at this rusty piece of metal, it made me wonder - would I ever find a treasure as precious as he did, which he left behind for me to own and keep the wounds in my heart painfully open? No matter how many times I told myself that my grandfather’s compass was now my treasure, I knew it was a lie - I was telling myself a lie. It wasn’t mine to possess. It was my grandfather’s. I should have left it with him, but I couldn’t give it up. It reminded me too much of grandfather.

By the time I was ten, I created a habit of wandering the streets of the marketplace aimlessly, looking at all of the stalls at the items the vendors presented, yet never buying anything. I didn’t want anything that they had, nothing interested me. The items didn’t affect me like my grandfather’s compass did. So why would I need anything else? That’s what I always believed, and what I lived by.

Then one day, when I was taking my daily visit to the marketplace and visiting the many stalls and vendors that I have known for three years, I noticed that there was one new stall that I didn’t recognize, way in the back of the marketplace. The back was where all the new vendors set up their shops, where hardly anyone visits. I like to visit them however, because I like to visit all of the shops and look at what they have, though I know I won’t buy anything they have. But, this vendor was different. As I viewed the items he was trying to sell, I noticed why he was different. He didn’t sell fabrics. He didn’t sell jewels. He didn’t sell fruits, eggs, or fish. The only thing he was selling was books.

I didn’t know why I was so interested in his stall, there was no purpose for books now - well, at least for people who lived in my district of the city. We all were poor peasants, who couldn’t read. Of course, the skill of being able to read held no real importance to us. There was no way we would be able to survive the harsh environment and our style of livelihood by reading. We had to be able to know how to survive - not read. Books to us were just another thing to use to feed the fires at night. But, I still was curious in the merchandise. I didn’t know why, nor did I wish to understand - I just was.

Driven by sheer curiosity, I was searching through the stacks of books set around the stall. I picked each book up, open it and flipped through the pages, placed it back down it a different pile, and then picked up another, repeating the process. The merchant selling the books, an elderly man, looked at me with an amused expression. He didn’t say anything to me at all; he didn’t try to sweet talk me into buying books or anything like that. He just watched me while he sat in his chair set up behind the stall, smoking a pipe. It was out of the norm for me, which made me feel very uncomfortable.

I watched the old man out of the corner of my eye while I continued to look through the books, discovering with surprise how each book that I held in my hands were different. They all were unique in a way; some had different kinds of covers - some were bound in leather, and some were flimsy that would bend every which way. And some were extremely hard, so solid that I could knock on the cover and it would sound like I was knocking on a door. Then I noticed the colors of the books were different, as well as in size. Some were large, others were extremely small, and some were just really thick in pages - which also made the books extremely heavy.

Each book was different in so many ways, it astounded me. I never looked at something that held so little importance with such amazement. Books are a strange thing, I thought, holding this one old book in my hands. Its cover was damaged in so many ways, showing years of wear and tear. The book was wrapped in old leather, and I could tell how old it was by the texture and appearance of the leather. The leather’s original dark color was faded, and the texture was soft to the touch. It ever showed slight tears and punctures, which suggested that the book went through so much more damage than a book shouldn’t really go through. The book must have traveled all over the world, to have such weathered features.

“Miss, it seems you really like that one book,” the old man commented out of the blue, making me almost drop the book. He hasn’t spoken a word. Yet, as I looked towards the elderly man who was now standing next to me and looking at me with an even more amused expression, his smile hidden behind his long gray mustache, I was shocked into silence. I could only gape at him with my mouth hanging open, like a deer in the torchlight. He only smiled even more, his eyes crinkling at the sides, which suggested to me that he smiled a lot in his past.

“Hoho, you are quite amusing, miss,” the old man said once more, breaking the silence with his cheery laugh, and also breaking me out of my own surprise. My expression changed to a serious indifference.

“And why do you say that, sir.”

“The book.”

“What?” He was really starting to creep me out, this old man. He just continued to smile at me - and it was freaking me out. He was being too friendly and different from the other merchants who only wanted to try and sell things to you. I took a small step away from the old man.

It seemed like he could tell I had my guard up and was being cautious of the old man, because the crinkles around his eyes softened, meaning he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Without saying a word, he pointed with his right hand towards the book that I was holding tightly in my own two hands, which also suddenly reminded me that I was holding the book. Surprised, I quickly put the book down - more or less dropping it as if I was suddenly burned by it. My face was really hot.

The old man chuckled, his eyes crinkling once more in a way that showed he was smiling at me again. I felt so embarrassed, and I felt like he was making fun of me. I was starting to feel a bit angry at this old man, who was smiling at me with such a bemused expression on his face. Why was he laughing at me? Is it so strange that a poor person like me, who couldn’t read, be interested in a dingy old book like the one I previously held in my hands? How irritating, this old man.

With a huff and a glare towards the old man, I turned and left the stand; leaving the old man still smiling at me as he watched me leave. I didn’t turn around to see if the old man was still watching me, I just kept on walking away. I just walked, looking at the many other stands in the marketplace, trying to not think of the old man or the old leather bound book. But they both tugged at the edges of my mind, and soon the book and the creepy old man was all I could think about.

All day and all night, they were all I could think about. The strange old man, the strange book stand in the shadows of the marketplace, and the strange leather bound book that I unconsciously held tightly in my hands.

The next day, after thinking about nothing except the book all of last night, I found myself returning to the bookstand in the back of marketplace. I wanted to see if the stand was still there, and I wanted to see the book again. It was a strange feeling that had possessed me, this feeling of wanting something. The book was all I could think about, and I knew I wanted it.

As soon as I approached the stand, I immediately looked for the old man - but he wasn’t around. Confused, I looked around the stand for the old man, but he was nowhere to be found. Why was the old man not attending to his book stand? It was irresponsible of a merchant to leave his stand unattended, someone could steal everything he had and there was nothing he could do about it, because he wasn’t around to prevent it. I was concerned for the old man, but I didn’t think too much of it. I was more interested in the old book.

Quickly, I went to searching for it among the books, digging through the many stacks and examining each one, searching and searching until I found it, hidden in the very back. As I reached for the book and once more held it in my hands, I felt the need to open the binding of the book and view the pages between the covers. Slowly, I unwrapped the leather from the book and turning back one of the covers, revealing the pages hidden beneath. What I discovered stunned me into silence.

Gold. Golden pages. Pages that shimmered and shined in the sunlight, with a smooth and silky softness to them that made it hard to believe that the pages were still paper. Slowly, I turned the pages, revealing elegant penmanship that covered each and every page from top to bottom. It was beautiful.

At that moment, something in me clicked. Holding this book in my hands, I could feel something that I haven’t felt in years - something that I haven’t felt since my grandfather was alive. Looking at this book, with it’s beautiful golden pages and elegant handwriting, I could feel tears welling up in my eyes, blurring my vision. I quickly wiped them away, but they continued to come. I couldn’t stop, and soon I was crying like a sad little child, sobbing and hiccuping over something so silly. I hugged the book tightly to my chest, and as if taken over by some other worldly existence, I ran away from the book stand.

I ran as fast as I could, holding the book tightly to my chest and not letting it go, until I reached home. With the book still held tightly, I locked myself into my room and hid from the world. I had already realized what I had done, that I had stolen something that I shouldn’t have, and I didn’t wish to be found - for I knew that if I was, they would take the book away from me. My precious, precious book.

At that moment in my life, I have discovered the treasure that would evidently become a huge part of my life. The book, with its golden pages and leather binding, had changed ME. It caused me to be possessed by a sinful emotion of greed, and yet it had rescued me from the depths of loneliness that I was lost in due to my grandfather’s passing.

I have accepted my fate. I will go to hell for what I have done. Thievery is a crime that cannot be forgiven by the gods. But, I will do anything to protect my treasure, even sacrifice my life for it. I will do anything to keep my book safe.

My greed for the book is as golden as its pages.

Blog Inactivity This Month

Hello all!
This month has been SO BUSY for me with moving in to the new house, babysitting a four year old, joining a softball team, working out, gardening, putting together various pieces of furniture, and so many more adulting things. It's been hectic, but I'm happy to say that I will be back to posting fairly regularly again come April! There will be one last Featured Author post uploaded tomorrow with Clarisse Cockrill's work being published again. If you're interested, please let me know in the comments and email me a piece you'd like to see on the blog! (Remember, if you aren't chosen this month, that does not mean you're a bad writer.)
Thank you all for reading, commenting, and following the blog on social media. It means so much!

April is also going to bring some new topics of discussion that I'm both excited and nervous to talk about. I hope you guys enjoy what's being put together!

Live long and prosper.

About the Author: Clarisse Cockrill

Here is a short interview with Clarisse Cockrill, this month's Featured Author. If any of you are interested in knowing more about her, please leave a comment. She would be more than happy to answer your questions!

Q: What inspired you to start writing?
A: What inspired me to start writing was when I started diving into heavier reading. It was when I read my first romance novel, Forget-Me-Not, which was my mother's favorite. I wanted to read something a little more, well, adult. So I snuck the book away from the bookshelf and spent the entire day reading it in my room, because it was a very good book.  The romance novel that my mother loved so much was not just a classic, smutty romance novel. That was actually a small portion of it. The novel had extremely deep themes, complex characters, a thrilling story-line, and overall I could not put it down. That novel was what started my motivation to start writing my own stories.

Q: What was your inspiration for this piece?
A: I just recently joined a Dungeons & Dragons group, and I wanted to try and create my own campaign because it would be something fun to do. I was thinking of many ideas that could be used as quests later on, and so this piece sort of developed itself.

Q: Which writer(s) inspire you?
A:  Julia Quinn for romance novels, because she always seems to find some way to make you laugh till your sides hurt, Tolkien for his amazing imagination and the way he composed his own world for The Hobbit and the Lord of Rings Trilogy series.

Q: Where do you see your writing taking you?
A: I want to use my writing skills to be used to create amazing story-lines for video games in the future. For some games, the story is what keeps the gaming community interested. Later on I might create a novel series or two, when I actually complete one.

Q: What genre is your favorite to write in? What drew you to this genre?
A: Obviously fantasy! There is something about the fantasy genre that makes it so addicting to me. If you are able to, you can create your own world from scratch - which makes writing the story that much more challenging. That is what I find interesting about stories that dabble in the fantasy genre, though. It is completely unique.

Q: Is there anything you’re writing that is “in the works?”
A:  Definitely, and I collaborate on this story idea with a friend who helped create, plan, and edit the idea. However, I can't spoil anything.

Q: How do you deal with Writer’s Block? Do you have any advice for the readers?
A: Oh god, the never-ending plague in the writer's world. I have no idea how to deal with my Writer's Block, usually I wait until I am 'creatively constipated' and put all of my creative energy into one or two projects. But sometimes, if I really want to get through it, I watch one of my favorite shows or read one of my favorite books to get a flow of inspiration again. I like to imagine that I am a major character in the plot-line, so my creative juices get flowing again and then I am back to working.

Q: Have you written anything with other author’s?
A:  Yes, I have a main collaborator who I prefer to role-play with and write stories with.

Q: What kinds of books do you like to read? What are some of your favorites?
A: Game of Thrones, The Hobbit, Forget-Me-Not, An Offer from a Gentlemen, A Stranger in a Strange Land, and MANY MANY MORE ( which also include manga and comics)

Q: How would you describe your own writing process? Do you have any weird habits when brainstorming a new idea?
A: How I brainstorm my idea is I first start drawing my character, and then listing everything I can imagine them being in a notebook. Then I start listening to some classical music and start imagining the story-line and how it would unfold. Then I would let the character shape the world as I start writing, what they would do and how would they react if a certain event happened. It is very similar to playing a game of Dungeons & Dragons.

Clarisse Cockrill, Featured Author of March

Here it is! What you all have been waiting for. The wonderfully talented Clarisse Cockrill's original work. Thank you all for you patience. Clarisse, thank you for your beautiful submission and congratulations on the win.

 

The Lady in Red

A Bardic Tale

By Clarisse Cockrill

“Come one, come all! I call upon your attention for only a moment. Listen to the wonderful tale I wish to tell,” a young bard announced out to the crowd of the tavern hall. He strummed at the strings on his lute, humming a jovial tune.

“It is a thrilling tale, full of thievery and charm, of deceit and romance. I speak of the tale of the Lady in Red!” the Bard sung as he danced across the stage, drawing the attention of the tavern’s crowd. The crowd oo’ed and ah’d with delight, clapping their hands together for the bard on the center stage. The Bard gave an appreciative bow towards the crowd, with a bit of glamorous flair as he smiled. Once the crowd’s applause stilled, the bard began to pluck at the strings of his lute. A soft melody that could only be related to a romantic tune.

“There once was a young lady of red, innocent and pure and loved by all. Within her heart, she carried a torch of smoldering red flames for a man, burning red with immense passion that is and can only be… love.

“The man was of considerable rank, his pockets full of a considerable amount of coin. The young lady of red, although dressed lavishly in what the man’s coin could buy, did not love him for the coin he possessed, but for his heart of gold. Although she had everything she could ever want, the lady in red had nothing to want other than his golden heart. And during their times spent together, when he would ask what she wanted and she would ask for his heart, he would reply with a smile, ‘of course, of course, my love, I give you my love, which is golden.’

“Then one night, when the red autumn moon rose high in the night sky, the young lady discreetly went to visit the man’s home. A night meant for love, was left to be discovered with tragedy,” the bard paused. Silence fell over the crowd, as they waited in anticipation. He leaned towards the crowd, his expression stern and his fingers plucking away at the strings as the song became ominous.

“The young lady, who once gave everything to the man she loved with all her heart, was befallen with heart-break as she discovered her lover in the arms of another. Oh, yes! For no man, no matter how virtuous and true, can resist the temptations of another woman.

“For there within the man’s bed, he lay! Wrapped in the loving arms of another woman, beautiful and trapped in the passions of love! Listen closely, especially all of the men here tonight, and listen well to this warning. For, a woman scorned is a dangerous thing for a man, especially one who once knew the passions that love provides. Once the young lady discovered her lover lying with another on that red autumn night, the fire in her heart, burning with love and devotion, died out. What burned in its place was a fiery red of hatred and vengeance.

“Under the red autumn moon, with a broken heart, the young lady of red unleashed her rage upon the man she once loved. In a flash of red rage, everything he once owned and used to lavish her with, all of his golden coins and possessions, she stole away. In its place, she left her ex-lover with a small gift.”

The bard whisked out a small piece of red paper, held between two fingers.

“A small red card, perfumed and marked with a lover’s kiss. And written in fine gold ink, was a message for the man. A phrase once whispered over and over again to the young lady in red, once laced with love, echoed on the card as a painful reminder,” the bard hummed softly, before the tune stopped. With a smile, the bard kissed the red piece of paper and gave the crowd a glamourous wink.

“My love for you is golden.”

The crowd in the tavern erupted with applause, as the bard began to strum his lute again and dance across the stage. Then, with a smile, the bard takes a bow.