“This story was quite the ride it was raw and full of emotions, doubts, mistrusts, fame, love and it was like following a train wreck as it goes down the track.” Reader Review

what a ride….TheVastLandscape_Ebook

4 stars Amazon

“This story was quite the ride it was raw and full of emotions, doubts, mistrusts, fame, love and it was like following a train wreck as it goes down the track. Harrison the female lead character, in this story refers to herself in the 3rd person throughout the book, which I do not see often. I would say it is not the type of story I read often but it was engaging and kept me wanting to see what happened, as her life and priorities changed. The author has a great writing style, which is straight forward and honest. I see there is a sequel to this story.” Amazon Review

Grow Your Garden a love of self

FullSizeRenderLoving yourself takes time.

I didn’t know not exactly, not until this moment.

I never believed brushing aside the possibility of happy.

Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow I’ll embrace the quirks and eccentrities.

Tomorrow.

Funny time wasted. Not funny.

This end of April Sunday close to May, I stand at the fault line.

Middle-aged.

The compost pile is toppling from all the shit dumped over the years.

I don’t know about you, maybe you were born over-confident.

A chest puffer.

Never had to overthink it, actually liked spending time in your own company.

Didn’t fret about how you looked in a full length mirror, crap you never even owned one.

Happy, no worries. Happy, never mind the worries. Happy, because it feels better.

And maybe you weren’t born with a twelve pack but a Buddha belly and when you laughed it was honest from the gut, and your smile was fuchsia electric.

I’ve known people like that, really I have.

Infuriating sorta.

Well one that I can think of.

I wonder if Angelina Jolie is a brooder like me?

Angelina was the first perfect human that came to mind.

Let’s see, Buddha belly person is happy for realz, never asking, wanting or needing much of anything.

Seriously, just the jubilee of living and giving are enough.

I can’t speak for Angie but I wonder if she wears Crocs, doesn’t bother to shower or sits in the grass simply because she likes the way it feels against her unshaven, hairy-for-days legs.

Grounding.

I wonder.

I do.

I can’t help but wonder, curiosity careens through the wrinkles I now possess,

and the dirt under my fingernails from digging the earth.

I like how my back aches, moss green hands throb and sweat trickles down my neck.

I like that Jeff Buckley is blasting haunting, melodic melodies directly into my brain.

I like that this moment I am absolutely present just him and me, in fifty degrees that is neither scorching nor too cold uncomfortable but smack dab in the middle.

I like to use clichés, that make me happy no matter how incorrect or passe.

I like the physical task of creating something, something real.

Something beautiful.

That is the closest I’ve come to happy.

To loving myself.

Today.

On this end of April Sunday close to May, I stand at the fault line.

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Grow your garden.

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“The potential for great stories is happening all around you.” Jacqueline Cioffa – Author Interview

Untitled

Author Interview with Jacqueline Cioffa, author of “The Vast Landscape” and “Georgia Pine”

PRETTY-HOT.COM excerpt

“Do you have any unusual writing habits?I ‘write’ best when I’m doing something other than writing, walking the dog, swimming, listening to music, digging in the dirt. I’ll hear a word, hint of an idea or get inspired by something visual. I store the thoughts in a holding pattern in my mind. Sometimes it stays there for weeks growing and omitting until the character or idea becomes a full concept. Then, I type fast. Odd, but works for me.”

TheVastLandscape_EbookGeorgia Pine

“The potential for great stories is happening all around you.” Jacqueline Cioffa

THE VAST LANDSCAPE http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00H3P51LS

GEORGIA PINE http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00T270L88

@makeupmodelciti

#DepressionAwarenessWeek

nailed it.

E. Mitchel Brown

Wait it out. Thing’ll get better.

You’re not really alone. It just feels that way.

You have to put yourself out there.

Man up.

Try harder.

You’re thinking too hard.

You’re thinking too much.

You’re not thinking straight.

Wait till you’re older, then you’ll see.

You’re too young to feel this way.

You’re too old to be like this.

Go online. Everyone’s online.

Go talk to someone then.

Maybe you should go see a doctor.

Maybe you should see a psychiatrist.

Lonely how?

It’s normal to feel that way. Things’ll get better.

Things’ll get better.

Things’ll get better.

Things will change.

How are you?

What are you?

Who are you?

Change your job.

Find a hobby.

Find a friend.

Spark a conversation.

Start a dialogue.

Write to a friend.

Write to yourself.

Have you read these books?

Have you read this writer?

Do you understand  your loneliness?

Friend people.

Poke…

View original post 50 more words

CRAZY, Now Get Out of my Head

Unknown-1

No matter how many times this morning I repeated I am in fact NOT full of hate, bitter, ugly, paralyzed with fear or consumed by the crazy, I could not reason my way out. I’m a rapid cycler, I’ve been hypo-manic for weeks and yes headed towards the inevitable come down, the hideous depression and the dark. Black nothingness is something I understand, the concept I accept and am accustomed to. It’s always there, lurking, stalking, circling a part of my DNA. No, I cannot wish it away or yank it out like an abcessed, putrid smelling decayed tooth. The crash and burn snatches the pretty pieces of me, my self-worth, joy, hope, strength, wonder. Yes, I’m constantly skipping ahead to the future, not in a happy-go-lucky way but trying to map the least destructive, less painful route. I don’t even understand what’s happening to me, which thoughts to trust or block so how could you?

My worst fear, the one that buries me like a sinkhole is that I end up alone with my crazy. On the streets or even worse, like my father who had no idea who I was in the end. His crazy consumed him over an agonizing amount of days and years. It is slowly and excruciatingly doing the same to me. Silently, while I am screaming inside. I realize I am not going to win this war, I understand that. So why bother writing books no one will read? Painting rooms in a house I will surely have to leave. Why bother? When everything and everyone I love will die and be taken away. Why bother when I will be left insane, why the fuck should I care? About anything. God doesn’t. I’m not sure how much pain one body can endure, I’ve had more than one soul can carry. Today, I do feel sorry. I am allowed. But wallowing is dangerous, heartbroken tears make my eyes puffy, my heart heavy and the guilt of hurting those I love too heavy to bare.

I didn’t start the day with bad intentions. Most days I pretend happy, hoping it will rub off. For you and for me. For my benefit that I am indeed strong enough to cope with this bullshit brain that never stops the whirring, annoying chatter. If I do end up in the streets, so be it. I’d best plan now, pick a pretty, warm corner where the sun shines with a soothing view. The bastard disease has not yet ripped away my imagination. No, not yet that’s all mine.

My BFF talked me off the ledge, the pity party granted until noon and that’s all. The number of hours wasted, screamed, cried and hurled accusations at my mother is more shame than I care to remember. I insisted to my friend (when my head controls the dialogue I CANNOT think, to say I become irrational is being charitable) that I was ‘happy’ once, a ‘free-spirit’ which she quickly shot down. “Who is this person you’re talking about, that wasn’t you.”

I’ve been pretending so long since before I can remember, I don’t even know me. The lines dangerously crossed in my mind.

I’m not going to write books, do anything anymore. Why the fuck should I?

I quit. Why fight when there’s no winning? I can’t battle an invisible disease. Well, you have two choices and one is true midnight black nothingness. The other, keep breathing.

Do not feel sorry for me. Do not dare feel sorry for me. I do not want, need or ask for your pity. I’m sharing this because these words, my most hurtful truths, this unbearable pain, the incomprehensible fear someone else out there in a parallel world might be feeling them too.

Don’t judge my crazy or put a label on it for your comfort.

I did not ask for this mind, it’s what I got.

Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ll feel better. I probably won’t given the logic and the statistics, but tomorrow will come with or without me.

Fear has never been a friend of mine. Fuck it. Onward.

CRAZY, NOW GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

I am writing.

truth always wins.

GEORGIA PINE

Unknown

Mystery, romance, and more are queued up for you in today’s selection of free and bargain Kindle books!

Mystery, romance, and more are queued up for you in today’s selection of free and bargain Kindle books!”11150917_637496279720690_3467322969038255719_n

“ Keep your heart open, it’s life’s one, true compass.” ‎THE VAST LANDSCAPE‬ Poignant Romance Series ‪#‎mustread‬ ‪#‎raw‬ ‪#‎soulstirring‬

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