Tag Archives: Life

Note to Self (230) Les Miserables

. Note to Self, Writing . , , , ,

Oh boy, I haven’t cried watching a movie in so long. This was truly the most amazing piece of art I’ve seen in quite a long time. I grew up reading and studying the work of Victor Hugo – truly the most amazing author who will remain at the top of my list forever – and I forged my writing according to his style. To me, he is the master and I’m only the apprentice. The words of love, dedication, passion, raw life painted under his brush with so much finess and detail, resonate strong within me.

There’s nothing more I’d love to convey in my own art. So much to learn, so much to admire, I’m in awe. Watching the movie brought me back to the time of my youth, when I was only speaking and writing in French. The country where I was born has now become a distant memory, tainted with awful politics and a lot of other stuff that pisses me off beyond belief. But when I think of my childhood, and history lessons, how people fought and died for freedom, I feel joy. Nothing can be taken for granted. The way my country of origin has turned into cannot replace the proud I built reading the work of brilliant authors and poets who made this country the gem it truly is. Under the dirt, the hate, the lost values and wasted time, my country is beautiful.

I learned to love again through my love of words. I hope from the bottom of my heart the work of Victor Hugo will never be forgotten, because it’s pure heaven.

Thank you for this gift.

 

Note to Self (222) Wake Up!

. Note to Self . , , , , ,

Enough with complacency. Enough taking everything for granted. Just like my books, I’m a WIP and must improve every day of the week. There’s no time to waste. I’ve learned my lesson the hard way. Doesn’t mean I can’t make mistakes anymore. No one’s perfect. I have to keep at it. Relentlessly, but also smoothly. Forcing things upon myself is like forcing a cat on your lap who doesn’t want to be petted. Everything comes with patience. Discipline. Self-control. Restraint of tongue. Observe and apply. Try again if you fail the first time. Life’s a game, however you want to play is your decision to make. God has a plan, but you got the freedom to walk away. Pray and listen if you want to know what’s in the stars for you.

A few months ago, I painted the world black. No hope. No love. Just this dreading loneliness that ate every part of my sanity. What do I know about my future now that I didn’t know then? Not much, except I’m alive. Healthy. Sane. Every day when I open my eyes, I welcome life. I say thank you for my day when I go to sleep. Nothing looks the same to me. I still worry too much, always scared I’m going to do something wrong and lose everything at stake. But the game is on. I can’t stop playing except once I’m dead. What hand will I play next? Full house? Double pair? Do I pass? I spent too much time in the dark. Being scared doesn’t achieve anything. There’s a purpose for me out there.

My sanity is my gift. Even when sometimes I think it’s a curse. One minute at a time, that’s all it takes to stay on track.

Wake up and enjoy the present moment because you’ll never get to enjoy it again.

Carpe diem.

Note to Self (215) Gratitude

. Note to Self . , , ,

Today I’m grateful to be sane. To be healthy. To have a roof over my head. A cute kitty cat. Food. A job. God. Friends. My poodle. A purpose.

Every second I’m awake, I appreciate even the dullest things. It’s part of the journey. A snowflake landing on the tip of my nose, a phonecall, a text message, a puppy on the street. When someone smiles at me or says hello. When someone says thank you.

I can’t throw a pity party for myself because there’s no reason to. The pity went out the door. What remains is peacefulness. Even through the anger. Even through the storm.

Today, I’m grateful to be alive.

Note to Self (208) Terrible Tuesdays

. Note to Self, Writing . , , , ,

It has come to this. A weird rainy afternoon, with my purple rainboots, walking across puddles, not even protecting myself with an umbrella. But why do I need an umbrella if the hood of my coat is big enough to shield me from the rain? I guess if I had an umbrella, I could poke a few eyes out on my way. Small joys really.

The city has awoken. Tourists swarm around the billboards of Times Square and I dodge them like I’d dodge flying balls, it almost has become a skill not to run into people while texting on my cellphone. Can I add that to my resume? I’m very good at it. My word against everyone else’s.

Being great at texting while walking doesn’t seem too hard to achieve with 100% success rate though. Look at the guy behind the window at Starbucks who’s preparing coffee. I’m pretty sure if we had a texting while walking contest he’d beat me.

So what else am I good at?

I need to draw attention to these words, make people aware of my raw talent, show them stuff they haven’t seen before. Maybe I should reinvent the wheel, or repackage it, however you want to look at it. Not easy to be an artist out there. The funny and the lame stand together on opposite sides of the sidewalk. They see each other every day, mimic each other, hate each other. One is successful, and the other isn’t. What makes them so great and so awful? The talent is there, and then lots of work is added to the pile of inspirational ideas – a million of them end up in the garbage too.

I give myself a few seconds every day to be genius. It doesn’t come easy. And my genius remains unnoticed half the time. That’s okay. As long as I keep going at it, I’ll be good at it. Or I’ll just be good. Thanks for the tip Lil Wayne.

Another skill I have to develop is how to refrain myself from lashing out at people – mainly because they block the entrance to the subway or the grocery store – and usually any spot that couldn’t be more inconvenient. Do they have an app I can use to tell people to eff off without them getting mad at me? Maybe something with ultrasound that instantly triggers the muscles in their legs. That kind of technology would be nice.

Instead, I have to learn patience. And cut down the sarcasm so I don’t sound like a frustrated bitch. Um. I really like my sarcasm though. This girl at the corner looks so pretty today, especially because her headband matches her rainboots. I see she put a lot of effort into this. And then this bum comes begging for change again. Sorry. I’m broke today. Had to pay way too many bills yesterday.

Another dawn, another day. Maybe a little UFO will fall from the sky and pick me up on the way, take me somewhere happy and warm. Bond fire, good jokes, lots of oatmeal raisin cookies and doggies to play fetch with. That sounds like an awesome time to me. I don’t need to pack much. I’m ready for boarding now.

I promise to be nice. At least I promise to try to be nice. Can’t be too demanding. I’m only at the beginning. Is someone breaking a hole with a stapler on the other side of the wall? Where’s my privacy guys?

Just be good. The rest shall come later.

Note to Self (197) 8 Ball

. Note to Self . , , , ,

eightballLooks easy to do right? You shake the ball and wait for the answer every time you’re unsure about doing something. I admit my life would be much easier that way. No pondering for days, no headache, no heartache, no depression, no therapy. Life isn’t so cruel, I would think, and my worries would become a mere waste of my precious time.

Yet, we all know there’s no magic eight ball to help us answer the questions we are afraid to ask the most. God isn’t there to tell us what to do. He simply guides us toward the light, and leaves us with the burden to decide whether we want to get blinded by it or not. No future avatar of myself is talking to me and giving me advice either for that matter. There’s nothing but the deafening silence, and the inner voice inside my head driving me insane.

That’s why I used to drink. To escape. To apply a bandage over my thoughts and give myself some room to breathe. Did drinking take me anywhere? Nope. Did it help? Absolutely not. I’ve been foolish for too long. I must stay sober for a while, until I get my act together. The introspection has started, and it is painful. I always thought the characters from my stories weren’t really the voice of my subconscious. They were. They always are. Screaming at me, showing me the blinding truth, and I chose to ignore it.

My magic eight ball belongs to an unattainable dream. The one of a life I long to reach, away from the memories that polluted my current existence for too long. Lots of work to do. Many questions to ask. And I can shake the eight ball as much as I can, in the end, it’s up to me to make the right decision while never knowing if I really followed the good path, or if I made a horrible mistake once again.

Note to Self (195) Back to Black

. Note to Self . , , , , , ,

So I admit, I lost it yesterday. I have these moments where all I want is to die. I just can’t take the pressure anymore. I feel like a failure, a real piece of shit. Then I start writing on this blog and texting close friends and everyone keeps telling me to cut the crap. Yeah. I know. I’m focusing on the negative. Too much shit really. All the fucked up memories come back to life and haunt me. I can’t think of the past. I’m not fucked up. Just a fragile porcelain doll who sometimes needs a break. Getting a break usually means not sleeping and crying all night long, but hey, we all need outlets, right?

I contemplated dying last night. I really did. Ending it all with a bottle of pills. Not waking up the next day. Seeing no point in anything I do. Giving up. Exiting like a coward. I’m still here. Breathing. My cats would miss me too much if I died now. Lol Trying to cheer myself up. I can’t be selfish. Too many people depend on me, and love me. I sometimes forget them because the omnipresent darkness swallows me whole. I feel like a clown who has to put up an act to make people laugh, but inside, I’m crying. I’m sad.

I just want so much. I’m hungry for more. I want to succeed. I want to be free from the day job, and the routine, and the pain. Will I ever be free from the pain though? Without it, I can’t write. These words will really save me.

My heart aches, but I’ll be okay. Another dawn, another day. Black is very trendy anyway so I’m fashionable in my own misery.

My subconscious should slap me for saying stuff like that.

Note to Self (192) Goodbye 2012 – Hello 2013!

. Note to Self . , , , , ,

BeFunky_Grunge_1

I’m sitting at my computer, typing relentlessly, drinking white wine to fuel my creative side. What have I accomplished this year? What have I destroyed? What I have rebuilt? I got divorced – officially. I lost a best friend – who wasn’t such a good friend after all. I made new friends, found a wonderful soul to spend my thirtieth birthday with, and then I got myself a car. A really nice, fast, sexy car. I dedicated more time to my publisher Curiosity Quills. I found a new love for children – thank you Krystal Wade and Lisa Gus for making me fall in love with your offspring. I became a Washington Nationals fan. I tried to move out of NYC, but NYC dragged me back with her claws, told me she loved me and wanted to give me a second chance. So I stayed. I wrote and published my first real author work – Death by Chocolate. I improved my writing by a million light years. I became a better person. I got tattooed up to seventy percent. I made a lifelong friend of my tattoo artist and was adopted by the tattoo community. I got Lazik surgery. Goodbye nerdy glasses! I shared a lot of love with my cats. I didn’t manage to patch things up with my brother who’s dying of cancer (hopefully he won’t die, but life is so unpredictable…) I made a few enemies. My ex-husband hates my guts. I miss having someone at home. I feel lonely – a lot. I keep writing and working so I can forget about the past and focus on the future. I try not to drink as much anymore. I try not to do as many drugs either. I had a crush on my coworker who’s eight years younger than me. Thank god the crush is gone. A former best friend called me batshit insane so I told her to fuck off. I lost weight. I started the Insanity training. I died my hair. My ambition has increased so much, I will tear this world to shreds with my passion. Nothing’s impossible. The sky’s the limit. If you want something really bad, you can have it.

Let me tell you a little story about a girl I know. She visited NYC for the first time when she was seventeen years old. Average English, no idea what to do with herself, barely graduated high school. Years went by, and the dream to live in NYC stayed. The English improved, and she met the love of her life. Well the one she thought would last for life. She left her home country in 2006. Settled in NYC in 2007. Became an attorney in 2008. Married the same year. Suffered a lot, really thought she would lose it, but after enough perseverance, she made it through. Left her home, was homeless for one month, broke, could only work so much in order to find a way out of this mess. She made it. Found an apartment. Got her permanent job where she currently works. Obtained her green card. Things didn’t get easier for her after that. The divorce proceedings started. A battle that ended nowhere. She decided to stop the proceedings and sign a settlement agreement to claim back her freedom. Lost herself a bit (lot) in alcohol, binge sex with stupid worthless guys and drugs. Never stopped writing. These words saved her. She let out all her pain by getting tattooed. Wrote some more. Proved she was strong enough to withstand anything. She fought hard, keeps fighting to this day, and is the most beautiful person I have ever met. I’m proud to look at her in the mirror every day. She’s my inspiration. She never gives up. She gives me hope. She gives me love. This is the girl who when she was little dreamed of writing and conquering the world by storm. This is the girl who sang at the top of her lungs every time she was alone, the girl who imagined a life full of bliss. The artist who never dies. The melancholic soul that eats her alive, and yet, keeps her going. She loved, she hated, she did things she wasn’t supposed to do, but in the end, she is a winner.

This my pledge for 2013. More love. More passion. More writing. I open myself for the world to see all the pain I carry inside, because it is who I truly am.

Be good to each other. Life’s too short.

God bless.