Category: Ramblings of a Chaotic Mind

Bullying, My Two Cents


In the wake of yet another teen suicide in my community as a result of bullying, I need to vent. Mean people suck. Simply put. I just don’t get it and I know I never will. This coming from someone who was not one of the cool kids, nor was I one of those kids that can say I looooved high school and would jump at the chance to relive it. Hell no.  I loved my teachers and excelled, graduating with honors. While I got along with everyone I never quite fit in with any particular group either. As a result I kept to myself. Solitude, music and books were my best friends in those awkward raging hormonal years. Perhaps that’s why I was one of the lucky ones. I stayed in the shadows. But I saw. Even some twenty-three years ago, bullying was happening. Nothing compared to the scale that it is today though. Nowhere near.

It completely and utterly saddens me to hear when  a fourteen year old girl takes her life because some popular boy doesn’t like her and a group of girls, the bitches we can be especially in packs, relentlessly making her life hell. And this girl, she kept it balled up inside her, like most kids that age do. And I get it. I so get it. You’re humiliated enough amongst your peers why bring it home where you have some sense of control. Schools these days are like fucking battle grounds. Education takes a back seat to behavior. But, but, it’s up to us parents to be involved with our children. That is the key people.

I’ve often bumped heads with my children’s pediatrician when it came to signs of illnesses over the years. Why? Because I know my children more than anyone. Every parent does. Well, a participating parent. We know their every day behaviors. We know when they are sick. When they are lying. When they are hiding something. When they are withdrawn. And we can’t ignore it. No matter how awkward it may be. We simply can’t. It sucked major ass that I had to talk to my daughter about sex in the fourth grade because of things she heard in school. But I did it. And she walked away still believing in Santa Claus and the tooth fairy and knowing what “jerking off” was. Yah me.  It totally wasn’t the way I’d visualized that conversation to go and totally not at such a young age. But I did it, while silently cringing.

But that’s what we do. That’s what we are supposed to do. We are supposed to be their protectors. The ones they can trust with anything. And when they get to that age where they get all hormonal and crazy, where mine is these days, it’s up to us to reel their asses back in, ride the storm, and pray for the best. But that takes an effort. And effort takes diligence, not to mention patience and understanding.

We owe it to our children people. God knows parenting didn’t come with an instructional manual, I know. I tell my fourteen year old all the time, we’re in this together kid. This is your first time being a teenager and my first time raising one.

Bullying is a sad reality effecting our kids all over the world. It knows no boundaries nor color. And it thrives on people keeping silent about it. Talk to your kids. You know yours better than anyone else.





you gave me the key
to finding your every destructive ability

the waves i found upon that dark path
like a crashing flood of your own blood bath

with courage and my love for you
I pushed through it, knowing I needed to

for without embracing that history
your  actions would have remained a mystery

but when i let myself go there
I found my own darkness and despair

so I turned to you my friend, seeking the same end

how empty and betrayed I feel when you say
I can’t help you, find your own way

Infected-a short


In the silence its breeding ground she knew. How it twisted it’s coils about her. A ticking time bomb she was. The pounding of the clock as the seconds passed. Each one resounding her torture. Just a few more moments and it would be over. Quieting the demons, eyes dead ahead, head high, determined not to succumb to its weighing strength. Voices about but in muffled bursts of excitement. For her attention, her concentration only on him.

She knew when he was coming. She could smell the remnants of the soap he likely scrubbed himself down with repeatedly from fear. And the fear, he wreaked of it. But it was different. Almost intoxicating to her. Not vile like the others. Not hatred or desire to destroy, but simply intoxicating. Her veins, they floated in a way, in his direction. The pain diminishing ever so slightly but it was enough for her to notice that first time he appeared. And it was for that reason his presence captivated her each and every time he came.

As he got closer the tapping of fingers along metal off in the distance grated in her head. Squinting her eyes, shifting her head back and forth in an uncontrollable rage, she heard his footsteps falter. Sucking in a breath, tasting the stale air, she closed her eyes and counted to now what took ten seconds before she could tranquilize the noise from her mind. Each day seemed to take longer but she avoided thinking of it.

She opened her eyes to find him peering upon her with hesitation his face revealed. And as she forced herself to sit still his gaze changed, softening into a courteous smile. He was the only one really that was nice to her in this cesspool and for that small fact, she was thankful. He began his walk again towards her and she fought back the need to reach out to him. Such an odd sense of reaction she thought.

He reached for the chair next to her bed, the metal scraping against the floor, again filling her with rage but with him near, somehow she gained the power to push it away. She noticed then for the first time that he had a book in his hands and upon sitting down, the sound of the spine cracking as he opened it left her teetering, gritting her teeth. But she focused on his actions. This was new. He’d never done this before. Or at least, not that she could remember. Some days seemed to fade into the next and her mind, it played tricks on her.

He sat in silence which baffled her yet continued to captivate her. And then without notice he stood and almost whispered, “I’ll be back tomorrow my love,” placing the book in her hands and then was gone. As she sat in silence, she peered down at the book, its pages full of images of a girl, a beautiful girl.







These early morning thoughts before coffee. I never know where my mind is going to take me. This morning with the television on in the background I hear a documentary about wolves. And like often times, something so simple can trigger something so groundbreaking.

When I was a teen I can recall it began. My fascination with wolves. I could not soak in enough of these misunderstood beasts and even took to collecting figurines to adorn my bedroom with. Yes, amongst those Teen Beat posters strewn across my walls of omg he’s so hot boys, was my quickly growing obsession with wild animals. Oh yeah my friends totally got that…not…My first true sense of refusing to conform. I just didn’t realize it.  It wasn’t intentional.  But truly is it ever? Are we just not being true to ourselves?  I guess at the time I didn’t really go full circle with why I was so attracted to them but now as an adult, looking back, I get it. At least *chuckling* I think I do. Sometimes I’m even too weird for my own self.

These magnificent creatures as I said living among the wild have always been misunderstood. Free spirited, untamed and undoubtedly impossible to be tamed. Because the world did not understand them, their anything but consistent behaviors, they were deemed dangerous. Make shift fences built to keep them away for fear of killing livestock. Laws created to ensure the decline in their reproduction. Overall humanity feared them and still do. Natural born killers they say.

Really? Wait for it…

Ignoranace is not bliss. It is archaic. It is irresponsible. It is living in a box, afraid to except diversion. Afraid of the unknown. Because you don’t understand it, it must be bad. People suck.

Me, my writing and overall my personality…I relate very much to the wolf. I’m a textbook introvert. Big shocker I know.  I have a hard time conforming  to a certain style. I find myself all over the map when it comes to things I’m interested in. My music, art, reading, the way I dress, my writing. Pretty much everything. I am in essence a hybrid I suppose.

And with that feeling comes a sense of not really belonging in one place. I have struggled with this my entire life.  I find myself at times now trying to fit in. Trying to conform. Trying to be “normal”. Over obsessing with what people think. All the while, inside, the wolf cries.

I have so many different aspects of me that I keep hidden. Simply put, from fear of being misunderstood. That is why I write. That is where my poetry is born. That is where the shit show of characters in my head comes to life. And none of them or my words have a filter. I cuss. I’m obsessed with sentence fragments and these puppies right here … are my bff’s. Straight up I’m different and for the most part I’m cool with that.

A lot of us introverts I’m sure relate to the wolf. I’m certain I’m not alone. Out there in the shadows you are lurking. Just shoveling along. Doing your thing, not giving a fuck or doing your thing wishing you understood why you are the way you are. It’s a roller coaster for me sometimes. Some days I beat myself up for being this way- Not literally, truly I’m a wimp. I can play some mad soccer though-Then sometimes I relish in my diversion and thank my lucky stars I’m not living in a box, staring at the world with rose colored glasses.

I guess the moral to my morning rant is don’t be afraid to howl. Do your thing. Don’t lose sense of yourself. Don’t let anyone convince you to be otherwise. We are all different, yet bleed the same. And on a side note but albeit very important one, if you so desire, check out the wolf. In some places it’s threat of extinction is quite real. We can’t let these beautiful creatures die can we?

Thanks for reading.