Tag Archives: life

The Darkness Paved my Road

What a wild ride this summer has been. Turns out a little love triangle was actually a love octagon … fitting given the octagon is a battle arena. My son asked how I was doing, and I casually responded, “It’s not all bad. I mean, the gray skies have changed to silver, so there’s some glimmer and shine to the dull.”

All-in-all, I won’t be held down. But, my feet are in this running motion now. Every few years I get the itch to hit foot to ground and see how far I can get. That feeling has been coming in waves so high I may drown. Lately these memes keep popping up around me; these opportunities consistently present themselves, and for one who believes in divine signs, I gotta listen to the world around me.

The world will not change; only I can change my world. So i’m doing it. Taking the plunge and running away to a fresh new start. New city. New home. New life. New love. The evil, the darkness, the madness, the psychotics will all be left behind to figure themselves out and wallow in the shallow misery they created for themselves; one they will never escape unless they never look in a mirror again. One day I’ll look back at that one picture I saved, and only because my daughter was so darn cute in it, and I’ll know that five years of my life was a lie. What a wild ride. A ride that drove me to a peaceful plot of land overlooking vast mountains and a tiny sleepy city below. Maybe, just maybe, the psychotic darkness paved the road for my happily ever after.

Maybe, I have a best seller.

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“What You Do For a Living” Living?

Among my many titles are: mother, nurse, It Works! distributor, chauffeur, grammar Nazi, water pitcher refiller, travel liason, pillow, ATM machine, grocer, and keeper of the electricity (AKA: light Nazi). And those are only the top listed ones. As such, when I meet someone new and they ask what I do for a living I’ve always answered, “I’m a registered nurse.” But a few days ago, in a Tums overdose, someone online asked what I did for a living, and my calcium carbonated mind decided to analyze the question?

I carry many roles, yes, but what do I do for a living? was the question. I decided to look it up and here is what I got.

liv·ing

  [liv-ing]  
noun
11. the act or condition of a person or thing that lives
12. the means of maintaining life; livelihood
13. a particular manner, state, or status of life

The one that really stood out was under noun #12. The means of maintaining life. So I thusly looked up life. There are innumerable entries for that one (25 under noun).  The one that stood out was bibliography.
So to rephrase the question; what do you do for a living, I give you this question: What is your means of maintaining your bibliography?

I write!

Live_To_Write_by_BakingSkoda
Ummm . . . and think too much sometimes.
Tania L Ramos, RN and Author Maintaining her Bibliogrpahy
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Epic Ode to Pinkie Toe

~My ode to the pinkie toe~
pinkie toeLittle piggie pinkie toe
wee wee wee
Why run all the way home

Stubbed and wounded
Nail with a noose
Hanging–hanging

Pain and curse words
She bangs she bangs
against the bed rail

wee wee wee
Water stinging
Don’t you cry little piggie toe

Then the stupid shampoo bottle falls on your injured toe as if it didn’t have an ENTIRE shower floor to fall on. NO! just smack dab on the teeny tiny little baby toe that has been brutally assaulted over the past 24 hours by that flippant little thing we call fate! Why does fate have to pick on the smallest toe? Because fate is a big fat bully…ugh. Wee wee wee, this is what it sounds like when pinkie toe cries

Maybe pinkie toe should have went to market with big toe!

Tania L Ramos RN, Author Who Knows why Little Toe Ran All The Way Home
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Hello Goodbye

Life is exhausting! It is downright, sometimes, just painstaking to climb out of bed in the morning. The earlier I try to get to sleep, the worse it seems to get.  I’m an episode of Scooby Doo where he is trying to run forward but is remaining in place.  That’s me; stand still motion in a forward motion world.

So several things have come to fruition and not all of them positives.  In fact, when I initially thought of writing this bit on Monday about giving bad news, I was handed some bad news.  Word hit me that a good friend of mine took his own life Sunday afternoon while his wife and kids were at market.  This is a very young man and amazing poet.  In hindsight, his poetry sometimes left stepping stones into the torment he felt, but he masked it in pretty words.  Sometimes blue simply means blue, and sometimes it really is a metaphor.  Friends and family–and myself–wish we would have read between the lines.  What if? I get tired of that question, it is the one that haunts the longest and burns the deepest, always leaving a crater in my soul.

What was my original blog supposed to encompass on Monday? Two things: bad reviews and self defeat.  I’ll start with the first.  Unfortunately, not all books we read for my website WritingApocalypse.com are top quality, and so we must write letters of rejection. Boy, do we hate that.  Seriously, it tears at our gut, especially when people tell us this book will be life changing or is going to be the best we have ever seen. And it isn’t. How do you tell someone that without feeling some sense of sorrow. I hate getting bad reviews, but hate giving them more. It’s part of the job we tell ourselves.  It’s part of writing.  “Why can’t all books be good,” one reader stated.  What is the answer to that?  We wish they were.  So comes the point where have to write a tactful letter and say goodbye to a book that will not make the website.

And what of self-defeat? I’ve hit the topic a time or two, as it seems to really be creeping around the soul a bit more lately.  I love to write.  I love to write. I love to write.  At the same time, I love having free time to work in my yard, to workout, to hike, to walk, to sit and talk without remorse that I should be editing or writing, to enjoy reading a book for pleasure, and to enjoy my family. There is a story in my head, but it is difficult as I have no real map into this one, just bursts of colors like fireworks and hope that people will care to see the show.  Couple that with the fact that it will inhibit how I can distribute the book, and I’m doing a total face-palm. Should I take a hiatus from writing to catch up on life? Or is writing my life? Between a full-time job, part-time job, kids, health, home and writing, something has to give. I’m at a crossroads, as I do not want to say goodbye to any of them, but only one is truly able to be put off.

Monday was a day of mourning on so many levels.  I must say goodbye to a dear friend and with that I have no choice.  The team must turn down a book for inclusion on the website, and that is just a fact of life . . . they aren’t all winners.  Finally, do I also say hello to a goodbye of my own? I’ll sleep on it . . . perhaps jot down a chapter and see how easily it flows.  Until then, I say goodbye to “How to Save a Life,” which is finally finished and still in the working title stages.  At some time, I will find the time to finish editing.  Sometime . . .

I hope you found your sunset Matt. RIP

I hope you found your sunset Matt. RIP

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tania L Ramos, Author Hating Goodbyes

It’s All On Me

traipsing the verge of life
climbing darkened peaks
looking over jagged graves
realizing it’s all on me

forging denser plains
pushing into hidden trees
conquering what was lost
realizing it’s all on me

mountain peak

 

 

 

 

sinking from perfect places
finding peace in need
shouting from highest mountains
realizing it’s all on me

straining at shattered echoes
touching rougher seas
drowning in these shimmering ghosts
realizing it’s all on me

Tania L Ramos, Poetry Inspired by “Be Still” and character Dr. Jack Silver

Who is Dr. Jack Silver? he’s not a poet.  He’s a man, a father, was a husband, and now he’s dying.  Do you believe in the afterlife? Jack Silver is unsure what to think, but what he finds is the most terrifying and beautiful redemption ever. What he faces, is himself. What he leaves behind, is another story all together.

BeStillNovel.com

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Some Aches Are Worth the Dream

Within a veil of sleep
Shunting off these years of skins
Reliving certain lives
Chasing what is unseen

Longing in this vein
Touching invisibility, diving still more
Throwing at ghosts
A whisper of bliss

Energy surges, blood warms
From absence there is strength
Taunting crude dreams
Moving to amber hues

Lifting a veil of loss
There is no solitude
In dark places, there I am
Never lost, some dreams ache

Some dreams ache
Some aches are worth the dream

It’s been a decade since I wrote poetry. This one slipped off my fingers and wrote itself. Maybe because I’ve been battling with my writing career. I don’t know, but it felt good to write it down.

Tania L Ramos, author in a poetic place

My Life As a Comedy: Mayhem

mayhemNot so much! Do you know the Mayhem guy from the Allstate commercials? Well he seems to have taken up residence around me, and a few friends have pointed it out.  Many have asked exactly why I am not sitting in a corner crying or banging my head against a wall, and I answer, “I don’t do crazy in public. Unless I’m holding a conversation with my characters, and that’s the exception.”

The past three years of my life have been filled with crazy, moronic, moral breaking things: divorce, child custody, troubled youth, watching our justice system epicly fail, rain coming from the ceiling of our 1st story bedroom in a two story house, a car accident, and now a burst pool pipe.

“Well hello Mayhem! Please be sure to pay first and last month’s rent. Oh, and can you please put the toilet seat down? There are women living in the house who don’t like their butt drowning in subfreezing toilet water.”

But do I cry about it? Do I raise my fist to the heavens and yell, “WHY? why? Why?” Nope!  I write about it.  While these stories rarely make it into novels, they do make it into journals or onto brown napkins from the hospital I work at. No,not a psychiatric hospital–though listening to the stories of those patients are sometimes inspiring and thought provoking–my true job lies in making sure people wake up from their surgery, and I’m thankful Mayhem is stopped at the door by security.

Where so many people have asked, why haven’t you just broken down? I answer, “Because it won’t stop the voices in my head.” I have more to deal with than late bills, the rising cost of electricity, and an increase in my car insurance because someone else had an accident; I have voices that talk all day and they don’t stop for my little crises.  They seem to really care less.

My outlet to life are my words.  Some write poetry, some draw, some garden, some drink.  I write.  I can escape by putting it down on paper, though I have chosen time and time again to never write it out as some Shakesperean tragedy, instead it is written in third person limited as a comedy.  Because when I look back at the dismal year of 2011, all I see is a black veil over my life … but I laugh at it because I am still here.

Mayhem may try to be my foe, but all he has done is given me reason to write.  My words for the day are: Don’t let life get in your way.  Get in life’s way and say, “nani nani nani boo boo.”

Tania L Ramos, Author

(you can follow Mayhem here: Facebook)

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