Dangerous Mind

There’s something raging deep inside
Secrets desperate not to hide
They claw their way up through the dark
Finger knives through frightened heart.

They scream and yell
They bite and spit;
They threaten to
Come out with it.

Their hateful eyes
Peirce through my skin
My soft heart
Has been lost within.

I want to give
I want to fight
But I’m too scared
To do what’s right.

So in my mind
The secret’s stay.
They will get out
Some regret filled day.

Trifextra: Blaze of Glory

This weekend’s Trifextra is community-judged.

  • For the 12 hours following the close of the challenge, voting will be enabled on links.
  • Come back to this post to vote.
  • Voting is open to everyone.
  • Encourage your friends to vote for you, if you wish, but please don’t tell them to vote on a number.  The numbering of the posts changes regularly, as authors have the ability to delete their own links at any time.
  • Due to the limitations (our opinion) of our linking service, you are unable to vote on a post from the same device from which it was submitted.  You will have to find another way to vote for yourself, and we hope you do.
  • This week, in an attempt to break the massive ties that we have seen in the past, we are allowing you to vote on your top three favorite posts.
  • Yes, you really only have 12 hours to vote.  We’ll send out reminders on Twitter and Facebook.
For your prompt this week, we are giving you the first 33 words of a story. You need to complete it with 33 of your own words.

“There’s nothing cute about it,” he said. The register of his voice indicated decision more so than discussion.
She disagreed heartily and privately, staring past his head and out the window behind him.

She couldn’t look at him without laughing. She had known she would be fired soon anyway; might as well go out in a blaze of glory. Behind her the room erupted in laughter.


Here is a little confession…I don’t listen to much music. I used to. I’m not sure exactly what happened, except I had kids which make life noisy enough. I also stopped driving, which was where I had listened to the radio the most often.

Anyway, there are a lot of my good blogger friends who reference songs quite frequently. El Guapo does it every day, and JoeHoover has a cover version contest thing. Hotspur and Lizzie put music videos up sometimes, and today Brian Westbye was talking about it. Anyway, maybe you all are trying to tell me something. Maybe if I play music, the kids will be quieter, or at least it will be easier to tune the screaming out.

So, in honor of all my music loving friends, I am going to try it for a while…just having music playing around the house, and see if the volume of my children is any different. Here is a video of a song I like that I stumbled across when looking at Joe’s cover contest:

Words, words, words…and a million dollars?

I have a friend who recently did something pretty cool with one of his posts. He already gave the answer away in the comments, but it is still worth seeing, so go to the following link if you haven’t yet, and try to guess what is special about his poem…before you read all the comments and figure it out. http://edwardhotspur.wordpress.com/2012/03/21/this-ghostly-pastime-called-memory/. If you guess it right without cheating, I think he is offering a reward of a million dollars. I could be wrong about the reward though…

Freshly Pressed Thoughts

A good friend and I were recently talking (in written form) and the subject of Freshly Pressed came up. We had slightly different view points on the phenomenon. Since it was a pretty good discussion point, I figured I’d just put my opinion out there, and see what you think:

I’ve never actually been, so I can’t say for sure, but FP seems like…hmm, ok, it’s like you are a great artist, and you have some regular fans of your work, but then one day you paint something beautiful and the owner of an art gallery happens to be walking by the dumpster you threw the rough draft into.

He sees it and suddenly you are famous. People from all over the world are telling you how much they love your work. At first it is exciting, then you get a little tired of saying thank you a million times.

You start to get annoyed that all these people love something that you had just tossed out there. Your best work is the stuff inside that only a few people really care about. Soon the hype dies down, and people stop coming to see you so much, but your real friends, and maybe a few of the new ones who recognized greatness are still around. It isn’t until you die that everyone loves you again, but that is okay, because you would rather be loved for yourself, and your hidden masterpieces, than adored for a piece of trash.

For clarification: I don’t think that FP posts are trash. Most of the ones I’ve read have been good. I just doubt that those are their authors favorite posts.


I just got this notice that said “Congratulations on your 1,337th like on Hobbling Around. Your current tally is 1,489 likes.”

Just have a few questions: Who are they, and why are they following me? And why not just wait another 11 likes to congratulate me at 1,500?

They say: Trifecta

I don’t usually enter  Trifecta twice, but maybe I am a little depressed. Maybe I have something else to say. Maybe I am actually kidnapped and my captor is forcing me to write this. Regardless:

They say

They say to look before you leap.

They say jump in with both your feet.

They say it’s better not to know.

They say true love will only grow.

They try to tell me not to care.

They say it’s best to “not go there.”

They push, they prod

“Just say no”, “smile and nod.”

But what do they do, when love is a choice?

When true feelings never have a voice?

If your heart cries out, at dawn’s first light

There’s no such thing as a “clean” fight.

Blog funeral/kidnapping/torture plan

Some of you may have noticed that I have a particular talent for the art of overanalysis. I don’t mean to brag…but I am really, really good at it.

You know how there are some bloggers who blog every day? For the most part that is me. Sometimes I even put 2 or 3 posts a day out. I am either awesome or annoying, and I’m okay with that. The problem is that in the blog world we can’t actually know what is going on in the real life of some of our friends. I have had 2 of my great blogger friends who have been involved in potentially serious car accidents. This concerns me. Not only the fact that they almost got killed, both of them are women drivers, so we all know how crazy they can be; but also the fact that I wouldn’t have known it if they did hurt themselves.

So, here is the plan. As a courtesy to everyone here, I am laying out the rules for dying/other horrible stuff that affects in some way people who you don’t know in real life.

For me these rules are as follows:

  1. If I don’t blog or comment on someone else’s blog for two weeks…assume I am dead. At that point, just leave some beautiful messages about how wonderful I was and all that stuff in the comments on one of my posts here.
  2. If I don’t blog for two weeks, and you assume I am dead, but I have actually been kidnapped and am being held in the mountains somewhere in a dog cage with no electronic access, but then I escape and make it to a computer and read all the wonderful things that you said because you thought I was dead…that is okay. Really, it would be better to hear how someone feels about you before you’re dead anyway.
  3. If I disappear from the blog world only to turn up a week later, but when I am back, I have tons of spelling and other grammatical errors, and when you ask where I was, I say I don’t remember…I probably got hit by a car or something and have amnesia. It is also possible that my arms got chopped off somehow and I am tying with my nose.
  4. When you get weird thoughts that something is wrong with me, but I am still kind of blogging like normal…trust your gut. We are all writers here, so just let your imagination go crazy, and then be pleasantly surprised when I return to normal.
  5. If I start slipping little “help” messages into my posts, I am probably being tortured by someone, who still lets me blog. I don’t know what you should do about that. It would probably not be worth it to track me down and call the police and all that stuff. By the time you are done with that, I won’t have any skin left, so I wouldn’t want to live anyway. Just return to plan #1.

That is all the scenarios I can think of now, but you might want to lay out your death plan on your blogs too. It really will help overanalyzers like me not to worry about you.