Posted in activism, bigotry, community, crowdfunding, empath life, faith, life, peace, poetry, politics, sexuality, storage, writing

8/14: Tears

Words fly.
Flames threaten from
One side of the barricade.
The other keeping the flames of
At bay.
God sheds a tear
Still so much hate
Messengers of peace
Ignored or
Killed, even.
No one is
Superior or Inferior.
But not treated
As equals.
Another tear shed.
The rain is proof of that.


Posted in artsy stuff, creativity, crowdfunding, life, storage, writing

8/12: Why I Write (and #crowdfunding)

(yes, still needing help with storage. Time is running out here. Any help is appreciated.)

I enjoy many types of creative endeavors, but the one I always come back to is writing. Whether it’s fiction or poetry, I dig in and enjoy every word.

So, the deadline for our Alzheimer’s charity anthology, The Longest Night Watch, is looming on Tuesday. I, of course, have totally spaced out and forgotten about it until now. Well, yesterday. Early this morning, a scene came to mind and some tidbits of what the story might entail tagged along behind it. Once we had the yard sale set up, I brought my computer out and worked on it while also chatting with potential customers.

In writing fiction, I’m what we call in NaNoWriMo a “Pantser.” I come up with an initial idea and gradually the characters take over and WHEEEE!!!! I’m just trying to keep up with them as they tell their story. With short pieces, they have to take over a lot faster. In my novellas, it’s more like about 15-20 pages in.

Bradbury, King, and many others also tend to write like this (or in the case of those who are gone, they did write like this). I’m not alone in using this method.

** On a side note, I also got to read a review of our first volume where the person broke down her review with comments on each story. She loved mine as it was a reminder of why we’re doing this labor of love. None of us make any money off of it. All proceeds go to Alzheimer’s research. This is our third year. We started it after Terry Pratchett died.

So one of the reasons I love to write is how I let my characters take over the story. I’m just along for the ride. Sometimes, like today, the ride switches and goes down an alternate track… one I didn’t expect. I’m not done with the story. I enjoy the journey they take me on. I breathe a little life into them and then they lead me on what can be a wild ride.

At the end of the yard sale today, I wrapped up, brought my computer inside and went back out to help clean up. When I closed the laptop, I realized I had stopped at a turning point. Where I thought the story would go… well, it isn’t going there. The MC, an elderly woman, is hinting that she may not be all that is believed she is. A twist. A different track. I don’t know how long this will be. I do know I want to go back and add some filler around the dialogue. I tend to write dialogue and forget the exposition… the descriptions. I’ll finish the dialogue tonight and then go back tomorrow and fill things in.

I love telling stories. Simple as that. I love where my characters take me. I love minimalism… giving readers just enough and then letting them use their imaginations to fill in the blanks. I create miniature worlds for readers to explore.

This is why I write.


Posted in creativity, Personal, poetry, writing

7/23: dissecting my poetry

This will be quick as I’m fighting a migraine and am using mobile. 

Much of my poetry is train-of-thought. I rarely edit it at all. I also should know better than to title it before finishing it. Last night’s poem is one of those. I didn’t expect the “character” of Regret to take it over. 

The rare times I edit my poems is when I read it out loud and I stumble over the phrasing or a word. But I tend to let my poetry be a raw glimpse into… well, whatever my mind wants to reveal. 

I sometimes read them to my therapist. She’s fascinated by them. I know they can open up discussions. I find they help me find things within myself that I normally wouldn’t notice or bother with… 


Posted in creativity, depression, peace, poetry, politics, writing

6/10: The Prize

The envelope torn.
The card blank.
No winner.
No loser.
No one left
To claim a prize
No one bothered
To save.

The circle continues.
No one
The prize.
Chemical hate.
No one gets the prize.

The envelope burns.
The card long turned
To ash.
No losers left
To be the
Runner up.
Skies changed.
No going back.

APA 2017

Posted in creativity, paranormal, poetry, writing

5/22: The Room

My eyes cannot
Adjust to the
The room is
Like those who
Put me in
I felt them despite the
No empathy.
No warmth.
I have felt my way
Around the perimeter.
I know not
Where the door is.
It cannot be felt.
They think
Can be
Not all of
My kind
Are social creatures.
This was their mistake.
I am
With the darkness
That surrounds me.
Let them try.
They will not win.


Posted in anxiety, artsy stuff, creativity, empath life, faith, life, patreon, Personal, poetry, storage, writing

5/21: quick “note”

You guys (and gals) never cease to amaze/amuse and befuddle me. My earlier post was really nothing spectacular… just more of a “hey, I am still alive here” post… and yet 11 likes on it… this one won’t be much better.

Pretty sure I’ve rambled about this before, but tonight’s poem made me think of this. A lot of my poetry is train of thought. I rarely edit them. Most of the time, I hand write them. Those may get a word change or two when getting typed up, but still, nothing radical. My poems also fall into a “freestyle” form. And they tend to be either observational (the one from earlier this past week about being at the station and watching people is that type) or internal and sometimes extremely personal. I don’t write those to get attention or anything… they’re random stream-of-consciousness pieces. Nothing grandiose.

I sometimes read them to my therapist, who loves them as both a written art form but as being therapeutic. They can trigger an intense conversation in session. Tonight’s poem, which will post at 11pm PST, is an internal reflection piece… it’s kind of an internal conversation… take from it what you will. I’ve noticed a lot of people pay attention to the poetry posts. So, as long as you read them and like them, I’ll keep writing them. The monthly Patreon poem will be a longer, likely more traditional, work. These are just short little ones.

Well, half an hour before it posts… enjoy.

And thank you for bearing with me with my frantic situation over storage… and ensuing “crash and burn” this weekend. It takes a lot out of me.


Posted in anxiety, chronic pain, creativity, life, Personal, poetry, writing

5/21: been quiet…

I know that after all that flurry of posts and such and now I’m quiet. The reasons I can think of: 

  • Dealing with a brutal headache and TMJ pain.
  • Burnout (crash and burn) from the anxiety of coming that close to losing everything. 

So, I’m laying low. There’s a part of me that wants to go out and do ALL THE THINGS!! but my knee and back (along with the headache and all) are telling me “nope, rest for now” so, that’s what I’m doing. Decompressing from the stress.

I have some writing to do… doing the Writer’s Games again. I like how they push me out of my normal writing comfort zone. 

I may get a poem up tonight. We shall see. 


Posted in anxiety, cats, community, creativity, crowdfunding, depression, homeless, life, patreon, Personal, storage, urgent, writing

5/12: Aiming for Optimism (#crowdfunding)

Aiming for a little optimism here..


Damn, I missed. Never been good at archery.

It isn’t easy to be optimistic when you’re technically homeless and still (frustratingly) jobless and you’re trying desperately to round up funds to save all your stuff in storage from auction in less than a week.

Anyone who ever wonders what keeps me sane in all of this mess of my life didn’t see or hear Portia this morning. Something got her ALL wound up and she was on the window ledge on theĀ other side of the [non-working] hot tub that’s in this room. At one point, she lost her balance and landed on the solid hot tub cover. *thud* then running around on the cover. I’ve sworn in the past that when she ran around the apartment, she sounded like a herd of buffalo on the run. The bounding around on the hot tub cover beat that. I was in giggle fits the whole time I’m listening to this. She gives me moments of silliness or utter affection, usually when I need it the most. It’s very therapeutic.

But the concern for my belongings in storage is still there. The concern for getting my life back on track. The two best places are over in the sidebar (on mobile, scroll to the end of this post and you should see them): PayPal and YouCaring. When you look at the YouCaring, you’ll see nearly $700 on there. Most of that is LONG gone. I need to get to roughly 1500-1600 on there to pull it from auction. If I can at least SHOW I’ll have it the day before, they’ll pull it. WePay takes a couple of days to do the transfer.

So, I ask for people to share this… or the YouCaring campaign. Any of it. There’s an 8×20 storage unit with the vast majority of my life belongings in it. My father’s “coffin” flag for being a WWII Vet. My photography. A bit of my father’s photography. My sheet music. My mother’s beat up 100+ year old copy of Handel’s Messiah. My costumes, some of which I designed. My furniture. My clothes. So much stuffed in there. Memories. Collections of silly things I can’t replace. Most of it doesn’t have great value except to me.

These are the things I need to save. Things I need help to save.

In other news, I have revamped my Patreon… maybe a little more friendly and tempting for those interested.

Thank you from Amanda & Portia

Posted in activism, community, creativity, empath life, faith, history, life, Personal, writing

3/11: Anger and Society

Today, on my ride home from my interview, there was a guy on one of the trains who was angry. The MAX around here can be rather interesting. Just between those two trains, I came across people already drinking alcohol (public intoxication gets you in the drunk tank here), tourists, and a lot of in between. This guy, though. He stood out. He was on the same platform as I was and sat down across from me, but facing the rest of the train (I was facing the windows). Even before he got on, while still on the platform, his walk, his stance, his face, everything was pure anger.

At what, I don’t know. At one point, he balled up one hand and punched his other palm… then after someone else got on at the other end of the train car, he got up looking like he was gonna go after this other guy, but my guess is that he realized it wasn’t the person he thought it was, so he sat back down.

Why so much anger? I don’t have the answer to that. I can’t read minds. I’m only an Empath. And his emotions were palpable.

It got me thinking about my own anger about things in my life and society. Sure there are people I dislike, maybe even hate, but to hold so much anger that your body changes to show it in every move, every glance, even standing still. Or sitting. I don’t hate that strongly. I may shout at the world in anger over societal issues or something really fucking stupid that someone public said that’s disrespectful of history and people (Spicer, I’m looking at your sorry ass).

I swear a lot. I vent my frustrations in therapy and online. But I try to also look at all of it as something to learn from. Every day, we wake up with the chance to learn from what we experience. Not everyone sees that chance. But this is why I blog. I am a writer. I love using the written word to help me understand why things happen. Writing is my art form. Sometimes I’m messy at it, but that’s what editing is for (the blog is mostly stream-of-consciousness, though).

I try to not walk around angry. Every so often, it happens. We all have those days (don’t deny it, you know you do). But the lesson comes in how we deal with that anger. I write. Others draw or paint. Others are more violent. I wish they weren’t. I think society could get a lot more done without so much hate and anger and violence.

But that’s just my opinion.