In the Line of Duty

CONTENT WARNING: This piece of writing contains strong language. For mature readers only.

— photo credits:

“There isn’t much left to say between us.

The Keatons, that’s us.
Suburban home, two cars, one mailbox, no children, and one hell of  a mortgage.
My husband mows the lawn on every Saturday.
I tend to the rose bushes.

After being married for nine years, we barely acknowledge each other anymore.
We go through our routines, and hide beneath the perfectly safe shroud of long-term habit.
We function together – but keep apart.

Our weekly exchange of bodily fluids has long since turned methodical; he knows how to push my buttons, and vice versa.
Mediocre, at best.
I come.
He comes.
The ‘Duty-Fuck’… because, hey, we’re supposed to do it, right?

Afterwards, we watch TV.
He snores.
I do, too, sometimes.

There isn’t much left to say between us.

In the mornings, we sip coffee and read the paper. Sports section for him, Home & Culture for me.
In the evenings, we give ourselves over to mind-numbingly stupid TV shows. He hates them as much as I do, but they help to drown out the cacophony.

There isn’t much left to say between us.

I once said, “I do.”
I meant it with all my heart.

My heart must have abandoned me… somewhere, along the way.
Somewhere, between rose bushes and morning coffee.”

Written for Picture it & Write over at ErmiliaBlog. Grab a pen and join the fun!

Dear Monday,

Why do you assume your arrival fills us with joy?

News Flash for you: most of the time, you stink.
I’d much rather be in the company of your siblings Saturday and Sunday – perhaps you could talk to them and adopt some of their character traits?
Would be much appreciated.

Please be gentle when we meet this time around. Don’t be selfish.

The One Who Doesn’t Want To Get Up Early

The Revelation of Disappointment

“I am disappointed in you.”

Who hasn’t heard or said this phrase countless times throughout the years?
A sentence meant to express disapproval and, to a degree, sadness, while looking at the actions (or lack thereof) of another.

It’s been a busy couple of days for me, but interesting nonetheless. Certain encounters kicked my thought process into gear – and I am thankful for that.

A couple of days ago, I witnessed a conversation between two friends, strangers to me. One stated how ‘disappointed’ she was of the other’s actions. As a reaction, the other looked down in shame, no words offered in return.
This got me thinking.

What does disappointment really mean?

appoint [əˈpɔɪnt]

1.(also intr) to assign officially, as for a position, responsibility, etc.
2. to establish by agreement or decree; fix
3. to prescribe or ordain
4. (Law) Property law to nominate (a person), under a power granted in a deed or will, to take an interest in property
5. to equip with necessary or usual features

Once we encounter a person, we push them into a certain category in our minds. First impressions matter, although categories can be switched the more we get to know the person. We rubber-stamp former strangers with our impressions.
To some people, we get attached. We start to care, while others fade into the background of our catalogue. We grow fond of them, maybe even start to love them.

Now let’s say Sassy Sandy (whom we care about) does something totally unexpected and – to our limited views – wrong. We cannot understand the cause of this action, for we expected Sassy Sandy to behave differently.
We end up feeling disappointed and let down.
Sometimes, we express our disappointment – and, if the person the disappointment was aimed at cares for us as well, we rob them of their energy.

When it comes to others, we are always led by our emotions – and sometimes our minds seem to be on a very short leash. It is almost impossible to be objective when it comes to human behavior – after all, humans are not objects.

To be disappointed really means we replace our current view of the person with another. We catch a glimpse of their character through their actions we weren’t aware of – and it is up to us to weigh the new options this reveals.
We simply replace one truth (the truth we chose to believe) with another (the truth that was unexpectedly revealed to us). This means we get to know the person even better; we get to see another character trait.
We might not like what we see, but this truth we just found is only one more puzzle piece added to the great picture of that person’s personality.

Should we really combine the revelation of truth with negative feelings?
I will keep this in mind the next time disappointment sneaks up on me.

a new dawn

she woke with the taste of blood and bile in her mouth, the crescent moon standing silent watch on the far side of the stained window.
she had survived her eclipse – her taste buds proved that much.

running shaking fingers over her damp face, she sat up, slowly. the stench of vomit and cold cigarette smoke filled the air, making her gag yet again.

resurrected, only to stare at a world of shit.

she could hear him snoring to her left.
the sound made her convulse, made the faint taste of blood flare up, sharp and demanding. her tongue snaked out of her mouth, carefully exploring the cut in her lower lip.

he had done it again.

he had promised, eyes pleading.
it had lasted a day.

slowly, she stood, careful not to make any noise. the hard, wooden floor felt cool beneath her bare feet.
silently, she gathered her clothes, her shoes, her bag… her life – still in pieces.

and to the watcher’s soft, comforting light, she closed the door behind her; bare feet leading the way to newfound opportunities.

Born from Negativity

How do we expect to feel good, if we moan and bitch all day?
How do we expect to feel light as air, if we carry the Weight of the World on our shoulders?

Positive things don’t happen just because we want them to, because we feel like we ‘deserve’ them – we have to invest  to make them happen.
We have to believe.

Not everything we see or go through on this planet inspires us, makes us dance with joy. The News are filled to bursting with daily horrors, inviting us to burden our minds and lose faith.
The question is: Will we give in and surrender to the sadness; stop fighting and struggling, and just give up? Bow our heads and tell ourselves that everything will always be shitty?
Or will we muster up enough courage to keep looking for sunnier days?

I choose to believe in hope.
I choose to believe in change.
If I believe, I still have a chance to see beauty heading my way.
I refuse to drown in negativity – because nothing good can (and will) be born from its treacherous womb.

Why We Write… The Revolution of the Written Word

“A word is not the same with one writer as with another.  One tears it from his guts.
The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.”
~Charles Peguy

Why do we write?
This question has been on my mind ever since I picked up the virtual pen and started blogging.

Do we write to express the turmoil inside of us?
Is it because we want to be famous, to be known for creating something the world won’t forget?
Do we want to share our experiences and thus help others, who experience the same, to be more informed and prepared?
Is it to prove to ourselves (and to others), that we can construct something, a piece of art people will admire?
Do we write because it’s therapeutic?
Do we write to inspire?

For me, it’s probably a bit of everything – and I am sure we all fit into these categories… more or less.

letter writing skillsI started writing because I felt the urgent need to organize my thoughts, to sort through the chaos in my head and make it palpable – one outburst at a time. It felt so good to have found a way to express myself – and it still does.

Sometimes the spoken word fails.
We can’t say what we think in public, because it might be inappropriate, hurtful or otherwise improper. We can’t say what we think because it just hurts too much to hear it spoken out loud. We can’t say what we think because we fear that others might judge us – unjustly.

This is where the written words comes in.
When we write, there are no boundaries.

I have always been drawn to Poetry – and that’s exactly where I started. I admired poets for expressing themselves and their art through this ‘reduced’ form of writing, was fascinated how raw emotion and deep thought could be compressed in such a way and yet be so utterly powerful – and, to my surprise, I found that writing poetry worked for me as well. Slowly, I began to see that I, too, had a voice… and that it was worth hearing.

After writing a couple of poems and publishing them on WordPress, I discovered that people actually liked what I had to say. This led me from writing for purely therapeutic reasons to experimenting. I branched out, joined a Poetry Prompt Site, started writing in form – just to see what I could do.

I read.
Read… and wrote some more.

For a while, I was content with writing and reading poetry, but soon I got curious to find out what else was in me – what else I hadn’t uncovered. I started writing stories and essays, fictive and non-fictive pieces… and to this day, I am still developing, eager to conquer new frontiers.

ideaIt is truly astounding how people can spur you on… inspire you, encourage you to broaden your horizon; to step out of your safe hiding place – just by sharing their work. You see something… a word, a sentence, a paragraph – and an idea gets born. It takes hold of you, captures your every thought, until there is nothing left but to write it down; to see how it develops on paper.
You breathe life into sterile thoughts and let them unfold, disentangle.
You let them take over… and the process in itself is beautiful.

We live in a world full of restrictions and rules.
Freedom of Speech is still a delicate subject depending on where you give voice to your opinion – it shouldn’t be, but it still is.
I encourage you to enter a world free of bonds, where your imagination has no limits.
I encourage you to get to know yourself, and see what you can do.
Write – and maybe you’ll be lucky enough to ignite a spark in others.

I write because it helps me sort myself out.
I write because I love to see what I can do, what I can accomplish.
I write because I want to inspire others the same way I was inspired.
I write because I can get to know my own voice.

How about you?

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Dear Tweezers,

I am curious to find out why you always feel like disappearing when I need you the most.
I’ve been running around my apartment searching for you for quite a while now – but you seem to have learned to conjure up a magic veil, for I can’t find you anywhere. I am sure if I was real quiet, I could hear you giggling.
So, instead of continuing to wreck my apartment and visiting dark places I have probably never been before, I decided to write you this letter – maybe appealing to your humanity, or better, “metal-ity” will do the trick.
Please, do me the favor and turn up soon. I am sure you won’t like sharing a home with someone who looks like this:


(No, your disappearance won’t trigger a gender transformation, but you get the idea.)
I will be doing the dishes, eagerly awaiting your response.

The Cavewoman To Be

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