Thoughtful Randomness.

Sometimes I’ll just be sitting around, doing nothing in particular, and an idea will randomly pop into my head. A thought. Or, more specifically, a sentence.

Sometimes it even happens when I’m running around, out and about, active and able.

As painful as writing can get, my mind never ceases to surprise me. Half this stuff I didn’t even know I believed. Hopefully, I’ll be able to create stories around these random thoughts.

These are just a few of the more recent ones:

-“There are two things America loves. Their wars and their sports. And all they do is fight in sports and play with war.”

-“One of the worst things to happen to the human race is the idea of government.”

-“Beware of people with a lot of friends. It takes a special kind of narcissism to split yourself apart so much, just for the sake of others.”

-“Do not trust those who live without fear. They care not for consequence.”

-“Why do we always become addicted to that which ultimately destroys us?”

Beautiful Truth.

“Everyone says love hurts, but that is not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing someone hurts. Envy hurts. Everyone gets these confused with love, but in reality love is the only thing in this world that covers up all pain and makes someone feel wonderful again. Love is the only thing in this world that does not hurt.” -Mesa Selimovic

Picture This.

When I write, the smorgasbord of emotions I usually go through ranges from feelings of peace to feeling like I’m being forced to hold my breath. I guess it just depends.

One thing I do love when writing is when I get the chance to describe a character physically. Trying to paint a picture for a reader that not only stimulates their eyes but also their minds, their hearts.

The following is a recent description of a female vampire in yet another novel I haven’t written yet:

“The veins in her long slender neck pulsed as she sang. She was practically bald but for the coarse black-haired buzzcut. Her skin was brown, darker than milk chocolate. A brown that whispered of Africa, yet he could still see the freckles littering her tiny nose and high cheekbones. A brown that, on anyone else, might have been the result of being left baking too long in the Sun, but he knew that it could not be true. Though her eyes held the beauty and privelege of someone who still gets to see the Sun rise and set every day, he knew it was not so.”


I love Dystopia novels.

Something about seeing individuals try to live their lives and survive in a world so unlike ours is really interesting and entertaining.

I’ve had an idea for a Dystopia novel for some time now, though I haven’t been able to write it. But of course, as you all well know, I usually write random lines/excerpts for potential stories that don’t even exist yet. The following is one of those very excerpts:

-“He had met Hope a long time ago, before all this mess, when they were in high school and the world was still in one piece. He remembered that day when she walked into chemistry the start of sophmore year, all bones and pale smoothness. The indifference of fate had made them lab partners, but he soon found himself, at times against his will, hell-bent on becoming more. He was enthralled by the straightness and blackness of her hair, and even when she explained that nearly all the members of the Korean side of her family had the same exact hair, he wouldn’t have it. No, hair like that was reserved solely for Hope. After many an immature game of cat-and-mouse, they finally pulled the trigger on each other once they graduated.

On feverish nights alone, intertwined, she would always ask if the lamp bothered his sleep. “No,” he would reply, smirking at her irrational fear. “Its perfect.” He’d turn and bury his face in the darkness of her hair, where no light could penetrate.

Then, on the eve of his 19th birthday, signs of the plague began to surface, and Hope’s parents decided to move away from the big city. They fought and rebelled as best as their love fueled them, but the stubborness of parenthood and one little impending, world-ending catastrophe was too much. In the end, fear had ultimately forced her to side with her parents.

“Raphael, you should tell your mom, it will be better in the country.”

“The country? Babe, the news is blowing this out of proportion. After 9/11, everything gets blown out of proportion.”

“With good reason! We can’t sit here in Manhattan waiting for whatever is coming to arrive! You saw that lady on the news, in the hospital!”

“Hope, Israel has some money saved up from the shop. We can move in with him, you don’t have to leave-”

“Israel? Raph, please, even you know that’s a bad idea. Your brother is not stable. I can’t believe you’d ask me to do that, to just leave my parents like that when things are so crazy. I can’t do that!” She was crying, though he hadn’t shouted at her or deliberately fought with her. His own ignorance of what was to come fueled his argument.

“Not even for me? After all we been through, you’d just up and leave at the first sign of trouble? We’re better together, we can handle anything! You’re old enough to do what you want, your parents will understand eventually, and mine don’t even care. You…Hope…you wouldn’t just leave me, would you?”

Raph lost her after just one year of having her. Like running water through his hands, he lost her.”

Change of Plans.

I’m a planner.

I love to plan.

When I set a goal for myself, creating a guideline to reach that goal is half the fun.

But there is nothing more depressing, more deflating, more debilitating than when plans fall apart.

All that time, all that thinking, all that investing gone to waste when plans go awry.

Or does it?

I recently started a new job after spending the latter half of 2013 and the entire 2014 as a freelance writer. This current job, honestly, is nowhere near what I want to do. No writing involved here.

You see, my plans were simple.

1) Work on strengthening and perfecting my craft through college (check).

2) Get Published before graduating. (check).

3) Graduate with honors and accomplishments. (check).

4) Get published again. (check).

5) Get a fulltime-job/Internship in the field. ( )

See that last one? Never happened. The only thing worse than plans falling apart is when they almost reach their climax before exploding in your face.

Instead, I am now in a job strictly for the financial stability.

And you know what?

I love it.

I love this job. Sure, its not what I imagined myself doing 2 years after graduating, nor do I see myself creating a career out of it, but I am gaining more than I ever imagined.

Somehow, this job that has nothing to do with my craft is teaching me something new every day. I am meeting and networking with people every day. These last three weeks have been more fruitful (in every sense of the word) than 1.5 years of freelancing ever was. And that’s saying something.

As far as detours go, I must say, I don’t mind this at all.


You know how when you are so against something, you say “oh I’m never going to do that” or “im never going there”, etc etc.

But when you think about it, doesn’t that disrespect human nature at its very essence?

We are the only creatures on Earth that can make logical, reasonable choices, and because of that, the proverbial possibilities are pretty much endless! So how can we save “never”, when the chance of it not, well, being “never”, are limitless?

The following is a quote from a YA novel I’m writing (I’m sure you can guess who one of the speakers in the dialogue is) exploring what I think about the idea of “never”:

-“Don’t shut me out so completely, Michael. I was an Archangel once. You have the Essence of a specific Archangel, but we are all of us intertwined, one way or another. You might even have a little of me inside you, right now,” he said, resting his chin on his palm, smiling at me like a lover.

-“I’ll never be like you.”

-“Never? Really? I hate that word, ‘never’. It implies an exclusive, clairvoyant knowledge of things unknown. Do you know for certain what will happen to you tomorrow? What decisions you will have yo make ten years from now? Can you predict the future, Michael? No, as far as I am aware, your abilities haven’t reached such levels. My father, not the ‘Great Creator’, not the ‘Architect’, no my father, gave the human race the capacity to understand chance. To be willing to give their all for one fleeting moment, one last hope. Even you, who is not human but led to believe you are, you can recognize this. How can you say never when there is always a chance? I came to Be in a realm full of ‘nevers’. ‘Never do this’, ‘Never go there’, ‘Never say that.’ You say you’ll never now…but you just might.”


It is the Year of Positivity!

Happy New Year to all my readers and writers!

Yes, I am proclaiming 2015 as the Year of Positivity.

I spent the majority of 2014 depressed, angry, stuck in ennui. No progress, no direction, nothing.

2015, though, will be different.

Why? Because I will MAKE it so.

I will challenge how powerful human will can really be.

The Year of Positivity, folks. Get with it.