Blank Page

Sometimes life looks like this:




An empty page never frightens me.

I rather crave it. Always have. And I’m not just talking, as a writer, about a blank piece of paper.


Do you ever start to tell someone something and then realize you’re not sure you want to be that vulnerable? Maybe you don’t want them to know that about you.

But then, at the same time, something inside you is daring you to spill it anyway.

Like the little devil on one shoulder and the angel on the other.


“No, don’t tell. And get a mint.”

“Yes, tell! It’s worth, like, twenty donuts if you do!”


What kind of devil trades in donuts? And says, ‘like’.

Don’t judge me; I haven’t slept in a month.

My point.

Do you ever wonder if you’re easily readable or transparent at certain times?

Ok, that wasn’t my point. I don’t remember my point.


My point is, what does it bring to mind, that blank page and what I began to say?

I wrote a blog post but then deleted 9/10ths of it. Can you guess what I was about to talk about? Or pretend it’s a writing prompt and tell me the strangest story possible surrounding it. Humor me…

No… Really… *HUMOR ME*


Filed under Personal/Opinion

I. Don’t. Know. (In other Words – I Have No Freaking Clue but I’m Trying to Find One)

So…. This is me writing a blog post.

Not really.

This is me staring out into space, clicking on new song after song to the point that I’m so desensitized by the sound of new music that I’m not even sure how to figure out if I like a song or not.

This is me holding two different writing books, one of them open with the cover facing me, because I’ve felt inspired to read them. But I can’t quite seem to grasp much.

This is me watching re-runs of NCIS and wondering what I’m going to cook for dinner for the crazy masses. Because the Great Food Person is stuck on *blank*.

This is me looking at bookmarked quotes, and again, feeling desensitized to the point of wondering if I even like that quote. Does it have that spark? Or am I just losing touch?

This is me doing, I don’t know what.

I haven’t written in over six months. I’m finding it’s a good thing. I’m starting to see, in this non writing excursion of the brain, that it truly, really, desperately is a part of me. I’ve just lost how to take what’s inside me and to put it onto paper. I’ve lost touch with how to breathe life into the stories in my mind. Instead, I basically take a cut and dry plot of what I’m supposed to write and rigidly stick to it. I’ve figured that part out. Now the part I gotta jump on? The figuring out how to write like Daphne Shadows part.

I’ve lost touch all right.

With me.

What’s that quote? You are a soul and you have a body. I’ll have to look that up so I can give credit. And quote it correctly.


I’d say it’s been one of those days, but that’s all I’ve got to say lately, it seems.

“Been one of those days.”

What does that even mean, really?

That I’m lost inside somewhere, waving a white flag, hiding behind a rock, and wondering when the blood will stop pouring?

Maybe that’s not it.

Maybe I’m wondering when the blood will start pouring.

Or dripping.

Or damn, just start bleeding at all.

Don’t they say you have to lose yourself, get totally, fabulously and hilariously lost before you can find yourself?


Well then.

I’m ready.

Let’s go!






Whoever “they” are, they forgot to tell me about the ‘meantime’ in their little spiel of knowing everything about everyone, ever.

I don’t think they leave out the things we REALLY NEED TO KNOW on purpose… okay, yeah, I think they leave it out on purpose, just to torture us.

I feel like my days are a consistent, ‘still clueless, working on it, learning, figuring it out, but not entirely sure what I’m doing or when I’ll ever be healthy, but I’m functioning and life is getting better’.

That’s good, right?


It’s better than what was.

But what do you do when you’re throwing all the garbage out, day by day, as you find the things you’re thinking, the rules you’re living by are just that, garbage… what do you do when you’re just left only one honest thing: I don’t know.

It’s a sort of blankness.

An honesty which is asking a question, but knows it’s still too vulnerable to ask it of anyone.

And why ask someone on the outside?

Don’t I know me?

Not really.

I don’t really know myself at all.

I’m in here somewhere, I’m certain of that. The tricky part is the finding of myself, one sliver at a time. It takes time. Ugh. It takes so much freaking time.

Who put a time limit on it?

I did.

I put pressure, rules, ideals, beliefs that do nothing but hurt me.

Who cares where I got them. I’m using them on myself. That’s all that matters anymore.

I’m not good with messy when it comes to my knowing, my ability to be a perfectionist in all that I do and all that I show the world. But that’s just so damn fake. And I am so very tired of fake.

Messy is how it is. It’s all I’ve got. And I keep fighting tooth and nail to be more, to be better, to be prefect.

I’m finally realizing that I can’t do that.

Can’t be that.

No one can.

I think I have this picture in my head of how this world is but it’s utterly and madly incorrect. Laughably so. So naïve. Or ignorant. I’m not sure which. Maybe both.

I guess…

What do I want out of life?

I guess until I can answer that question, nothing will make much sense.

There are so many questions I’ve never asked myself. So many questions I don’t even know. It’s always been, ‘What does life want out of me?’

My advice? Don’t ask yourself that. It’ll screw you up in both the heart and the head.

Maybe, what do I feel? Or better, what makes me feel? No, that’s not the right wording. … Jeeze there’s a lot of these: …. What are those things called?





What causes me to feel something authentic?

There. That’s the question.

What causes me to feel?

Bloody hell – what do I feel? When do I feel?

Good questions.

My fingers are freezing. My hands are freezing. Maybe I am feeling a little cold. It’s strange to be a stranger inside your own skin. I think that’s a song or something. Whatever. Its true.

Do you ever think we’ve over used and cheapened things to the point that what is cliché shouldn’t be? It merits being real but we’ve killed it. Buried it. Laugh at it. I think the only thing that’s real that isn’t cliché at this point is love. And even that has spins and takes that are cliché now.

Anyway. I don’t know what’s going on in my head. Everything inside my chest is confused, conflicted. All the wires are crossed. What’s supposed to be beautiful is sticky with blood that hasn’t dried yet. Lines are being drawn inside me, and they’re not where I thought they’d be. Maybe they are. Maybe I knew this was coming. Perhaps that’s why I pretended not to see.

Does that mean the pain of denial is simpler, easier, than the pain of learning to live?

I don’t want it anymore.

My heart pounds and I’m so unsure, uncertain. But its better this way. It’s right.

So what if I make a fool of myself. At least I’ll feel something along the way.


By the way, here’s that quote: “You don’t have a soul, Doctor. You are a soul. You have a body, temporarily.” It’s by Walter M. Miller Jr. and is often mistakenly said to have been said by C. S. Lewis.


This photo is from like two years ago, but I find its totally relevant.

Daphne Shadows. This photo is from two years ago, but I find its totally relevant.


Filed under Personal/Opinion

Halloween (and lost weight)

By the way, this was me on Halloween night. I was wearing glow in the dark skeletal shorts underneath, only I didn’t realize they were glow in the dark until I put them on that night. I was worried I’d be walking down the street and my butt would start glowing. Thank the Halloween stalker demons that it didn’t.

(Yes, this is me bragging that I lost all that stupid weight. Don’t fall over, have heart failure, or drop your gremlin dentures. I’m allowed to brag now and again. And yes, I’m standing in front of my own front door like a totally dorky chick. Cuz I’m totally dorky.)


Daphne Shadows Halloween 2015

Daphne Shadows Halloween 2015


What did you guys do for Halloween?

Because chocolate.

Anything Halloween-like that you want to share with me?

Any ghost stories you particularly like? Anything creepy?

What did you guys dress up as? (if you dressed up) Any adorable munchkins or fuzzy munchkins dress up this year?


ALSO – people please remember that Thanksgiving comes before Christmas. Have some gratitude before you stomp people to death looking for presents.

Oh – and who else thinks “The Nightmare Before Christmas” is both a Halloween and a Christmas movie???

Any plans for Thanksgiving?


Wow, that was a lot of really random questions.

Anyone have any really random (but related) answers?


Filed under Personal/Opinion

Halloween (Samhain) Music Challenge

If you want more info on Samhain (pronounced “sow-in”) I wrote a post on it last year that’s more explanatory, here.

This post, however, is more on the subject of Halloween music.


Do you have a Halloween playlist? I wanted to start one this year but I got started WAY too late on anything Halloween. I didn’t even feel the Halloween spirit until this week. How messed up is that? Defective right here.

So anywho, I found some Halloween music and bookmarked it. Because guess who forgot their youtube password? Yeah, this sanity challenged individual.

Here’s what I found:


Monster Mash by Bobby Pickett

The Purple People Eater by Sheb Wooley

Witch Doctor by David Seville

Little Red Riding Hood by Sam the Sham & The Pharaohs

Superstition by Stevie Wonder

The Mommy’s Bracelet by Lee Ross

I Put a Spell On You by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Little Demon by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

At the House of Frankenstein by Big Bee Kornegay

Gorey Demise by Creature Feature

Bela Lugosi’s Dead by Chvrches




Samhain/ Halloween Random Facts:


October 30th the end

October 31st the inbetween, time stands still

November 1st the beginning


Death is literally in the air as nature dies, as the cold is coming.


Look at your life: What do you need to let die? What do you need/want to breathe new life into? What do you need/want to begin? What do you need to let go of?

We can’t force our new knowledge, experience, habits, beliefs, etc. onto our old selves and ways of doing things without negative repercussions.

Death of something is necessary for positive change or a renewal.

Come to terms with your past in order to move on.


Samhain is a time to look at the darker side of things, things most people shy away from, things most people don’t want to think about.


Okay… SO YOU’VE BEEN CHALLENGED… by me… answer me this: do you have a Halloween playlist or some Halloween favorites??? Throw me some Halloween music peoples.

I hope you crazies enjoyed Halloween!!! :)


Filed under Personal/Opinion

One of Those Moods

Life is a lot more complicated than I thought.

There’s no growing into perfection…

I believed in something that’s not.


Inside your chest and in your head.

This is the challenge of life.

In the boney parts, the veins, the thoughts that want to be fed.


The continuous struggle, ebb, and flow.

These are the parts that teach you.

How you find out, how you learn to know.


I lived by these rules, I’ve waited by these lies.

They’ve grown me no wings.

They’ve bound me down in ties.


Do you ever feel confused inside your own head?

Not “confused” as in, end up in a Criminal Minds episode, but “confused” as in scattered. Lost inside your own dizzying thoughts, impressions, emotions. Swarming until the consistent static of movement but no specific direction, focus, drives you to… I don’t know what.

Maybe it’s not your head that’s confused then. Perhaps it’s your heart.

Funny how I keep typing in “you”, “your”.



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Filed under Lyrical Writings

Honestly, I have Nothing to Offer, Except…

HONESTLY, I wouldn’t wash my hair if I didn’t have to. It’s so annoying, hair gets all over, I have to wait eight millennia’s  for it to dry, and brush it out at just the right time or it sheds  more hair all over and drives me insane. But, if I don’t wash it I begin to look like I could squeegee my hair out and oil your truck… so I figure it’d be a good idea to wash it. Plus, I look less naked-mole-rat and more human when it’s clean. But Jeeze! I’d love it if hair just stayed clean.


I absolutely love waking up sore from a good work out. Absolutely love it. So then, of course you see me walking around all weird-like, stretching limbs out in odd places, stretching my back, arching my back, leaning forward, stretching my legs out to the side…. Randomly. Because it feels good.

Because that doesn’t totally look strange.


“Forgiveness doesn’t make the other person right, it just makes me free.” Anonymous


So, would someone like to give me the recipe for this?

So, would someone like to give me the recipe for this?


I love going to therapy! That probably makes me sound like more of a crazy person than I am, but it’s so true. If I could joyfully yell it from a hilltop, head thrown back, arms stretched skyward, I would. Except, then people would probably wonder if maybe I shouldn’t have left therapy, and I don’t want people thinking I’m a different kind of crazy than I am.

But yeah. I love therapy. I don’t want to stab people as often. ;)


Humans are so impressionable. No wonder it’s so easy for the monsters to win us over, to get us, to sneak up and slip into our skin or rip it open.

But humans are the monsters.

Exactly. There’s one in all of us. And we let it take over without much of a fight, now don’t we?


HONESTLY, the truth of the matter is really quite funny.

It’s the reality so many don’t want to accept. Don’t want to see. We They don’t want it to be real as they cling to their chains and shriek out the pain, woe is me, where is the answer? as they hug the cold metal harder.

There are no rules.

Where does this puritanical urge come from to believe I must be miserable, suffering, in pain – or I must be doing something wrong? If I’m not in agony, I’m not a good person, I’m not fighting the good fight. If I don’t burn with the angst of never-to-triumph fire, I must not be trying.

No one is holding a gun to my head, telling me I must suffer.

No one is threatening to burn my family alive and rip my heart out while I scream and thrash in some Mayan ritual.

So why the bloody hell do I feel the need to suffer?

Life isn’t fair because everyone plays by ‘life isn’t fair’ rules.

Human choice is an underappreciated privilege.


I looooooove chocolate. Does anyone else put chocolate in the fridge or freezer before eating it? That doesn’t count for things like oreos or hohos though.

Also… I no longer like cake. And who doesn’t like cake? Well, my papa doesn’t, but he likes pie and ice cream, so it all evens out. Anyway, I don’t like cake anymore, not of any kind. Really freaking weird.


I am finally understanding that no one is perfect. No one has it all under control or is at the point where they’re like people in story books, fairytales, or movies: 100% sure of themselves and handling challenges perfectly.

No one.

No one is, by my definition, someone I agree with and want to emulate 100% of the time.

Everyone makes mistakes.

It never occurred to me. Some people, I’ve been believing, are people they’re not.

For some ridiculous reason I thought they never royally messed up or lost their cool, handled things poorly or made mistakes. I thought they were agreeable all the time and never said or did (or even thought) anything I consider judgmental or careless.

I mean, I knew they had challenges and trials – every human being does.

But I honestly thought they never made the “I screwed up” kind of mistakes.

It’s finally sinking in that everyone one of us does this. We’re all totally human and struggling to do our best (well, those of us who are trying). We’re all messing up and trying to get back up and do better.

It’s helped me see more people as beautiful and good. They’re trying. But they’re human, just like me, messing up and learning. No one has got this thing called ‘life’, down.

No one.


Since I was a child, I’ve been fascinated with rocks, crystals, gemstones. When I was a kid, I had a huge tub I kept under my bed filled with rocks I found. I couldn’t even lift it towards the end there, it was so heavy. I don’t know what ever happened to all those rocks.



I love geodes. Yet, I have none. The horror.



“Writers are desperate people and when they stop being desperate they stop being writers.”  – Charles Bukowski


“We cannot all succeed when half of us are held back.” Malala Yousafzai

HONESTLY, I am tired of this. I do not care that you are black and I am white. I do not care that you are male and I am female. I do not care that you are Mexican, Guatemalan, Puerto Rican, Japanese, Chinese, Persian, Apache, Russian, British… and I am white. I do not care that you are twenty-nine, seventy-eight, ninety-three, twelve… and I am in my early twenties. I do not care if you have less or more money than me. I do not care if you have red hair, dyed hair, or fake hair.

I do not care.

I do not care.

I do not care.

We are all human. I believe all human lives matter.

I am sincerely tired of hearing that only one kind of life matters.

I believe we should all be fighting for each other, fighting for humane treatment of human beings, regardless of color or gender.

We are all human.


Let’s just get this straight. When I refer to ‘monsters’, I’m talking about one of two kinds of monsters.

One, bad people.

Two, creatures from stories and movies and myths which are dangerous and I absolutely love.


“I have nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” Jack Kerouac


Filed under Personal/Opinion

If Only


It’s beautiful how the truth can be, isn’t it.

Pretty ugly too.

I think it’s the duality, the beauty it creates.

Depending on the paintbrush.

Depending on the canvas.

On the ‘why’.


Even as the tear drops drip,

And lips pout red,

Something grows inside,

As truth is fed.


It’s really quite simple.

But that doesn’t make it easy.

It’s really not that hard…

Once you’ve learned how to see.


I’m actually quite balanced, in reality.

It’s only once I hide the darker sides of me.

Space constricts, the soul burns.

And it turns out, it must hurt before it learns.


The rest takes over.

It amplifies don’t you see.

It stretches, laughs into the void.

As it rises, grows overtop all of me.


But the truth can’t hate it.

Not even as I drown.

Truth can only be.

Truth can only burn.


The darkness is salvageable even as is hides.

A shadow can’t survive, can’t breathe.

Not without the light in the dark.

And so I’m lost.

Swimming in absolutes and falsities.


If only I’d learn to listen.

If only I’d gather myself whole.


I’m not completely barren,

I’m not left to rot.


But the truth can’t speak.

It can only burn.


If only, if only

If only, I’d learn.


by Daphne Shadows




Filed under Lyrical Writings