A Poem

Middle of the night crisis: Check

Discovering their was a poem bursting through the chaos: Check

Blogging it for the world: In Progress (:P)

ARMY WIFE

I don’t dream about him.
Or the day that he’ll come home.
Or the way he wrapped his arms around me
When I was feeling weak.
Or the way he sighed so heavily
before he kissed my cheek.

My protection from my own despair
Has left not one memory
Of what it was to hold his hand
Or joke and laugh with glee.

I don’t remember what I said to him
The night he left my life.
I just remember the pain I felt
It cut through me like a knife.

I hid it well for days and weeks
Until care package day.
When over customs forms I cried
There was so much to say.

I love him dearly
Oh so dearly
He’ll never know the pain.
Or the thousand tears that fall each day
like slow and steady rain.

One day he will be by my side
The way it’s meant to be.
But for how long he gets to stay
Only time can see.

The Army has my soldier
But I still hold his heart.
His duty comes before our vows
Of til death do us part.

The time has come to dream again
The worst part of my day.
Cold, lonely and worrisome too
The bed too big to stay.

The time to sleep is coming.
I wake with every fear.
The knock at the door,
The never ending tear.

So rest my head
So full of dread
And cry my silent tears

For my ranks are known out far and wide
Through every step and every stride
This is the way we live our life
This is to be an Army Wife.

©Rainshadow Noba, January 8, 2013

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Happy Birthday to Me (you? Mommy?)

When you plan your own birthday “party” and the only people in attendance are you, your two kids, your best friend and her infant son, singing “Happy Birthday” gets a bit dodgy in the middle. I have to admit, the whole thing made me laugh, and for that I was grateful. I really needed to laugh on my birthday of all days. Being near Christmas, my birthday has rarely been the best thing I do all year. Having my husband half a world away makes the whole month of December that much more lonely.

I admit, I did not handle December very well. But 2012 is behind us and 2013 is three days in the making. I have been 28 for a whole four days, and I’ve taken that time to write a list. A bucket list of sorts, but these are all the things I want to do in the next year. Twenty-nine things to do before I turn twenty-nine next December. But first, some birthday cake:

" “The angels have the phonebox”. That's my favorite. I've got that on a t-shirt. " -'Blink', Doctor Who, Episode 3.10

” “The angels have the phone box”. That’s my favorite. I’ve got that on a t-shirt. ” -‘Blink’, Doctor Who, Episode 3.10

Now to my list. Some of these will be silly, some of them very serious. Some will be well within my comfort zone (hence the time constraints placed on some of them), and some are so far beyond anything I’ve ever done that I’m pretty sure they wont get done until after my husband returns from Afghanistan this summer. Wow, this summer… He sounds so close and yet, he’s still so far away.

Yes, the list, sorry about that.

29 Things to do Before 29

1. Complete a book of Sudoku Puzzles in the month of February, cover to cover in order, no cheating.

2. Get shot with a paintball gun. Of course, this means I have to go paint-balling with my husband, but what better way to bond after a deployment then to fire balls of paint at each other, right?

3. Go zip-lining. This one requires me to overcome my severe aversion to heights and falling.

4. Climb a rock wall. No doubt this is a precursor to #3.

5. Read 29 books. This averages 2.5-3 books a month. I got this one.

6. Kiss my husband on the lips.

7. Do Zumba three times a week for at 3 consecutive months. I got the game disk for Xbox Kinect from the husband for my birthday, I will use it to tone the rest of the baby pudge let over from giving birth to children weighing the same as the standard bag of sugar.

8. Finish my first novel: in March and April.

9. Complete my figure drawing sketchbook.

10. Have portraits taken of myself (whether I post them here or just write about the experience I’m not sure yet). This one is an exercise in learning to appreciate my own beauty.

11. Wear three pieces of refashioned clothing in the month of June. (I should have plenty of options by then.)

12. Take one photo of myself everyday for a month (can’t be February, it’s too short)

13. Get another tattoo (I already know what and wear, just need to get on with it)

14. Complete my blog series: 30 Days with Autism that I started in 2010.

15. Blog every Friday  Thursday about something I am grateful for that has occurred in the past week. Let’s keep the gratitude fresh.

16. Write one short story a month, no minimum word count.

17. Pay off my truck.

18. Craft 31 piece of jewelry in the month of August.

19. Give up Soda (once I finish what’s left from my birthday party.)

20. Give up my hair for Lent. Headscarves all day, every day from Feb 13- March 30.

21. Learn to play guitar. Hubby plays guitar… Another one of those re-bonding activities… Maybe while I’m recovering from being shot with a paintball gun?

22. Stop biting my nails (again). To be successful, I have to have real nail growth on a continuous basis during the 12 weeks leading up to and including my next birthday.

23. Lay under the stars with my husband (possible sleep on the back deck, that counts as camping, right?)

24. Blog a video of myself reading a children’s book like I do to my kids.

25. Fire a gun. Another one of those “Let’s celebrate your homecoming” activities.

26. Buy “embarrassing” lingerie and actually wear it. Wear it again in front of the husband. (There will be no pictures on the wearing, there may be pictures of the buying. FYI, almost all lingerie is embarrassing, we really only wear it because we think our husbands will like it.)

27. Take my husband to an archery range. He has yet to see me in my element. Archery was the only sport I was good at in middle school and after the gun range, and a paintball course, archery is a nice change of pace.

28. Fully potty train my son, no more diapers. We are slowly venturing into the world of pooping in the potty. This will save me $60 a month once we get this down.

29. Solve a Rubik’s Cube. (This may take a while)

So there you have it. my list of 29 things. These are all realistic and completely doable. That’s why I chose them. I wanted a list that I could actually finish and say “I did that”. So, I’m a few days behind on some of these already, but I will be updating this list with other blog posts as I complete each number. My goal is to have the list completed by December 30, 2013.

Untitled: A melancholy short story (and just in time for Christmas)

Suffice it to say, I was not going to get out of Christmas without a major issue or two. That said, parts of this story are true, parts of it are lies, and parts of it are just my way of silencing the wicked little woman who lives behind my ear without actually acting on the things that she tells me. Though she does speak the truth, or at least, the perceived truth, most of the time.

This short story is my way of dealing with Christmas. If you don’t like it, I really don’t care. I’m having an apathetic kind of day.

Untitled:

Closing the computer, she looked around the room.

Disconnected.

This was the way that she felt, so she would bring this into reality. “Reality was tangible,” she thought as she logged off her social networking page and signed off of her Skype account. Wishing she were brave enough to turn off her phone, she lowered the volume to silent, instead. With her only connection to the world outside her front door muted, her world inside the house now mimicked the disconnected feelings that tormented her. The only sound was coming from a child’s toy being quietly played with in the corner of the room.

The fact that her thoughts were irrational made no difference to her. She had been abandoned. She’d been left along for far too long for him to be coming back. A single hot tear rolled down her cheek following the salty trails left behind by the tears she’d cried before. It was true that he had left her attention for that of another woman. It was work he’d told her. Logically, rationally, she knew it to be true. He would never purposely betray her in such a way. The problem was, at times such as these, when the loneliness paved way for emptiness which in turn transformed her heart into an inescapable hollow hole, on days such as today, logical and rational had no place.

As the hollowness in her chest grew more heavy with each beat of her heart, her mind wandered to long forgotten hurts, and to pains she had fought hard to bury. “He’s having an affair,” states one voice flatly, emotionless, as if making a statement of fact. “That is not true and you know it,” says a much more childlike voice, so full of optimism and hope. “He loves you. He just forgot.” “Again,” replies the flat voice in turn. Back and forth these two voices bicker. For hours, passing arguments between them as if playing a fame of tug-o-war. Caught in the middle, between logical reason and fearing inducing doubt, her pain builds.

It is all too easy to believe the lie. Often times, the lie contains just enough truth to bring doubt. Doubt, when added to past pain and hurt,  to fear. Fear makes everything true. You fear the bumps in the night, so there must be a boogeyman. She doesn’t want to believe the irrational pain could be true. Fear and doubt cloud her judgement. She knows these things to be true:

1)His female coworker had been away from some length of time.
2)There was business to be dealt with. There was always business to be done.
3)He had left her alone to discuss things with this coworker, another woman.

Hours later, her hopes of having a good day had long since passed as visions of an affair played in her head. Knowing his love for her, knowing his job would be lost didn’t stop the illogical visions from dancing just behind her eyes. As the day progressed, the pain, the emptiness and the hollow ache grew. Suddenly, it wasn’t only an irrational fear of betrayal that blazed through her mind. The emotional pain became too much, as it often did. Her brain desperate for a logical cause of this chemical release began to ache for a rational explanation. Visions of metal, sharp and gleaming under bright lights, began to flicker through her head.

“One quick swipe,” the emotionless voice whispered in her ear. “One quick swipe and you would understand this pain. Transformed into a reality, a physical cause to be controlled.”

The little optimist, having long ago run out of new arguments to fend off the doubt, sat in silence. The one who was so innocent knew the truth in the words of her darker sister. The woman’s brain had always had trouble processing emotion. Like asking a computer to describe and experience ‘love’, the woman had a much better grasp on the physical realm. Reality could be controlled; it could be altered. Like the turning off of the phone and computer to better handle the feeling of ‘disconnect’, a small change in reality could make the feelings real.

The imaginary pain and perceived hurt could be made real. All the rest of the day, she was egged on by the wicked little voice. “You know you want to.” and “You’ll feel so much better if you do.” chorused through her head as she prepared a lonely dinner for herself and the children. She had barely spoken a word since that morning, when so suddenly, he had disappeared from her life. Her phone rang not once, her email sat empty, not a single text message arrived. The hollowness where her heart sat began to expand making her breath catch like heavy sobs though her eyes had run dry hours before.

She feared the things she thought. Both the imagined actions he took against her and the solitary way her mind sought to fix the problem. She feared he would hurt her; she feared she would hurt herself. After a long day, the house fell more silent. The children tucked into their beds snug and warm against the bitter cold of a winter’s night.

Quietly, she stepped onto the chilly tile of the bathroom floor. Mindful of the creaky door on the medicine cabinet, she pulled out her husbands used razor. Staring at her own reflection, she saw what he must see.

A young woman, aging before her time. Her blue eyes, though swollen from a long day of tears, were still hollow and sunken from many nights of little sleep. Her body, already slim, had grown to bare bones from the days of foodless stress. She sometimes thought herself beautiful, but those days were growing fewer and farther between.

She stood there. One arm held out in front of her, wrist bent outward over the vanity sink, she stood there, staring at herself. Holding the steel against her skin, she steadied her gaze, glaring at her own dead reflection and without any joy at all, declared,

“Merry Christmas”

©Rainshadow Noba, December 25, 2012

NaNoWriMo WINNER!

I did it, dear readers, I actually did it.

I wrote my novel of 50,041 words… Of course, that includes a dedication page and two epilogues (I couldn’t figure out how to end the story… So I wrote two).

I love it! My story is complete and final.

Thank you, dear readers, followers, and friends for all the support and encouragement you have given me over these past 30 (-ish) days. Without the encouragement of people I care about, I would not have made it as far as I did.

I’m gonna go eat junk food a decompress for a few days.

I need to get caught up on laundry and dishes, and I trip to the commissary wouldn’t hurt either 😛

The world of self-publishing is still a confusing place for me and I’m not sure I’ll ever release my story to the public, but yay that it is written.

Peace and Calm

I knew I was gonna crash soon. I’d been riding high a few too many days on little food and even less sleep… I can’t write. I can’t control my brain. I have one thing after another after another after another going through my head and none of it makes sense and all of it makes sense and I need to purge.

Why is it so hard to understand the world? This place isn’t AS friendly, it’s just not. One panic attack after another after another all day long.

Driving unfamiliar cars, unhelpful emails from the doctors, characters who wont cooperate, I over slept again this morning. I can’t do it. I have to do it. The NaNoWriMo store has been down for days but only on my computer. I can’t get the t-shirt ordered, the store wont load.

It’s too bright outside, but I have to keep the blinds open. Have to have to have to, I need the light. But it’s so bright. It’s cloudy and cold and damp and bright outside and it’s to much.

Everything is loud and so bright and just so … it’s too much. My clothes aren’t right and the couch isn’t right and the television isn’t right and the neighbors close their car doors too loudly and three blocks away someone is repairing a roof in the middle of what is quickly becoming winter but should still be autumn. Should still be autumn.

I don’t know how to fix it. the world is just wrong today.

ever have one of those days where you just want to blacken it right off the calendar. I think today is that day. I can honestly tell you all that in about ten minutes I wont know what I wrote in this post. my brain just keeps buzzing and it wont stop and it barely slows down. its a good thing i can type while staring at a spinning ceiling fan though i think that;s only making this overwhelming anxiety worse…

Today is not good. not good. tomorrow. tomorrow will be better. why are there only three working light bulbs on the ceiling fan? I should fix that. does the step ladder reach that high?

Maybe now that some of this is out I can get back to work on my novel. Maybe I can still finish on time.

Maybe.

Maybe I can still finish.

Tomorrow will be better. Much better.

NaNoWriMo 2012: Update 11.26

***ORIGINAL POST***

November 26, 2012, 0935 Central Time, USA

Well, folks, my mad dash finish is working. I am 11,079 words from 50,000 and I’m pushing hard to get this done. I spent part of Thanksgiving writing chapter outlines and it really seems to have helped me see where my focus should be headed and what I want to have happen in each chapter to maintain my word count goals. I am little more than a day behind PAR and it’s only ten in the morning. I have all day to write (and do dishes… those are starting to pile up). I’m excited. I CAN DO THIS!

Just look at all that green on that widget now! YEA BABY!

 

***UPDATE***

Can I update on an update? I’m not sure that I can, but I am certainly going to try.

As of November 26, 2012, 1402 Central Time, USA

I have 8,992 words left to finish… I’m halfway through a climatic battle to the death and I’m nearing the end of my story. I fear my word count may not reach 50,000 before my story is wrapped up. If that is the case, expect the unexpected and you will find a random chapter near the end of my novel involving a fire ball wielding blood elf in the middle of a crowded mall… Hilarity may or may not ensue.

 

There has been life, death, births, abortions, a feline mutilation. It has been wild and it’s not over yet!

 

I CAN DO THIS!

NaNo Treats for my Readers (MATURE)

I’ve been slacking off on my word count, dear readers. I’m making a mad dash to the finish in true procrastination fashion, but before I lace up my running shoes, I have a few things to share.

 

Before this NaNoWriMo adventure began, I asked for suggestions to help get me from one point to another. (Preparing for NaNoWriMo) I am pleased to announce that Andrea Kelly of The Hand-Written Life made it into Chapter 15, with her modern Snow White-ish style dress. My girl needed a party dress and with a little artistic license, I was able to turn the dress in Andrea’s closet into a fabulous maternity dress for my serial killer with a heart of gold. Andrea, this excerpt is for you:

“I showed Officer ‘Rick’ to Jasper’s room to change in privacy.  Officer Pereira went into the bathroom and I headed to my room to get changed.

Digging through all the maternity clothes I had accumulated over the course of the past few months, I found just the item I was looking for.  I had hit a great sale at a major department store, just after Halloween.  The knee length dress was white sateen, more cream colored than egg.  The short cap sleeves made it great for any season and the black vested bust made it casual and elegant at the same time.  I looked a bit like a pregnant, yet modern, version of Snow White.  I paired the dress with a pair of calf high black suede flat heeled boots.  Tossing my long black curls into an elegant but haphazard bun near the crown of my head, I applied a bright red lipstick for affect and the look was complete.

If it was not for the protruding belly under the dress, I would have been tearing up the place.  I looked hot!”

 

Now, the title says “readers” and I’ve only mentioned one. Well, last week, I was overly enthusiastic about my word counts and left it up to you, my readers, as to what type of excerpt you would like to read, sex or death. (Update:11/12/12)  I received several ‘likes’ on the post, but only one true comment. To be honest, I was a little disappointed in the lack of response, but I’m on a new day, and in the grand tradition of rewarding the only one who shows up to the contest with the grand prize trophy, Tocksin, my dear, this one is all yours:

“At this point, I could not tell where one orgasm ended and the next began as waves of pleasure came rushing over me.  Just when I thought I could not stand anymore, just when my body began to quiver with pleasure and I thought surely I was going to die in ecstasy, he thrust himself hard into my body.

The startled noise that came from my throat was pain and pleasure all at once.  Fast, furious even, he began forcing his body deeper and deeper into mine, as if he just could not get deep enough.  I tried to open my legs more, but he slammed them back against his sides, never missing a beat.  His pleasure built as he slammed his body into mine over and over again.  Noises of pleasure and pain sprang from both of us as our bodies locked into each other.  When he finally came, he collapsed onto my body, both of us covered in sweat and we just laid there.  We were soaked in each other’s sweat and fluids, and gasping for breath.

It took not more than a few minutes before he was sitting up.  Removing my panties from my knees, he flipped me over to lie on my stomach.  Leaning over me, he whispered “You think you are done?  Not even close.” ”

 

Thank you blogger friends, for supporting this endeavor. I am done procrastinating and have a word count to attack. Running shoes on, I will finish this marathon if my MC has to kill every character in the book.

 

***These words are mine, don’t steal, it’s not nice and I’ll have to pull a “Taylor Swift” and write your death in a future novel***