Christina DeFeo
Bio
A mom looking to express and lose herself in some imagination.
Facebook: @TinaChrisTheBookkeeper
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Stories (47/0)
Picture Perfidy
Nerves are bundles of fibers that send impulses of sensation to the brain or spinal cord and in turn they send sensation responses to muscles and organs. Nerves are uncontrollable, even though some may argue they are, and you may very well be able to hide your nerve response, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there. I have been boxing for eight years, with a record of 50-8-2, and before every single one of those fights I was nervous as all hell. I felt tingling sensations in my fingertips, toes, and head that made me fidgety; a boxer’s jump before a fight isn’t to warm up, it’s to pump your adrenaline and rid yourself of any nerves. That’s what I was doing when there was a knock on my dressing room door.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Fiction
The Farmhouse Web
This was my last summer coming to the family farmhouse, not only because I would be going away to college this fall, but also because the family dynamic has changed. The family first changed about seven years ago when my grandfather died. I was ten when he passed and I could still feel his stern energy when I think of him. A room full of kids ranging in ages from two to ten went silent when he walked in; we were on our best behavior in his presence. He spent his days mostly in the barn tending to the chicken, cattle, and goats. We saw him for breakfast, dinner, and when needed for fixing, both the house and us children. He was a hard worker who lived by routine. As he got older, he held onto his sternness, but became less mobile as the summers passed. He spent his days more in front of the TV than working in the barn and his discipline went from hands on to nagging from the recliner. The summer I turned nine, he was no longer at the farmhouse. I heard he was in a place where he was well taken care of. Then the summer I turned 10 was his funeral. I did not attend any service or see his body, but there was a gathering at the farmhouse in celebration of his life.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Fiction
Only Time Will Tell
“WHERE IS THE LOCKET?!” I faintly hear this question being screamed at me as I become conscious again. Where am I? Last thing I remember was scavenging for food with my sister Zena. Oh, I hope she is ok. Suddenly, a splash of ice cold water hits my face.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Futurism
Unwritten
It happened 25 years ago and I still can’t believe they picked my poem to be read in front of the whole school. I would read it as the opening act for our Spring Concert. The Spring Concert was big at our school and many students practiced their various talents for a chance to perform. I went to Catholic School so the school went from Kindergarten to Eighth grade and all were eligible to sign up. Talents ranged from singing, dancing, monologues, magicians and many more. The opening act was always chosen by the school administration and this year they picked my poem, a poem about a monster that lived under my bed. I was in the fourth grade so this was a big thing for me. They had even suggested a small visual dramatization as I read my poem, maybe a bed with a monster under it while I sat on top, a fun introduction to the Spring Concert they said. I was nervous, but I was not going to say no. After all, they chose me so I was going through with it and that’s exactly what I did. I expected to become popular and all the students praise me on how well I did, but that didn’t happen. From then on I did notice an increase in encouragement from my teachers when it came to my writing. At that age, I did not understand what exactly I was doing that they liked, but all my writing assignments from then on were extra neat and well executed. I began to look differently at my writing since that Spring Concert day, was I really that good?
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Humans
Still Putting The Pieces Together
We're fighting again. I hate to argue. I rather stay silent and let the other person rant rather than engage in squabble. If I feel passionate enough about the subject I will participate, but I am so focused on making this collage that I am hardly listening to any of his points. Something about the dog? My silence can be intimidating as the other person has no clue my thoughts and my body language becomes silent too. I want to roll my eyes, but I don't. Leave me be to finish this please, I keep thinking. I'm also thinking why am I bothering to even make this. I'm moving out soon, he just doesn't know it yet. I can't take all this bickering all the time. And the dogs? I love animals, but to have dogs without a yard is difficult to maintain especially when you have a full time job. I'm not ready for children and I do not want to care for dogs, he wants both. I'll just readjust some of these pics and cut him out. This collage will be my first independent piece towards starting over.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Humans
Somewhere Over the Rainbow
March 31, 2021 I am at my last ultrasound appointment for Unborn 4. My due date is tomorrow, April 1, and what a funny date to have. I always felt like a joke was being played on me having that due date, like I was on an episode of Punk'd for 10 months waiting for a crew to pop out an say "Joke's on you, baby is not yours, thank you for your time." But that never happened. I just have this doctor in front of me saying there is a chance I can be induced tomorrow when I follow up with my OB/GYN. They always worried my baby was "too small" with measured weight just over 6 pounds, and I always rebutted with 8 pound babies were "too big", so they want the baby out. Well we agree on something because so do I. I waddled out the office with one thing on my mind. I am going into labor tonight.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Families
Great Women Raise Great Women Who Raise Great Women
I am 14 years old and my mother walks into my room after coming home from work. As soon I see the door whip open I instantly recall all the chores she asked me to do before she got home and check them off in my head that they are done; my room is clean, homework done, bathroom clean, no dishes in the sink, meat is out the freezer and I am reading a book. She should be very happy when she sees me. But she doesn't look happy...she looks like she is about to chew me up and spit me out alive and tell me to do everything all over again. Dang, what did I forget?
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Families
1 Year Anniversary
March 18, 2020 I have been yearning for some quiet time; time to be able to rummage through my thoughts and find some that make sense. There is too much noise around me, too many demands, too much of the same as always. Nothing else has stopped and nothing else has changed, except me. The physical is obvious and the mental/emotional is attempting to stay hidden so I am perceived as strong. Perception is everything. Strangely and unexpectedly, I feel stronger. I feel more powerful. My energy is surging, providing me a type of drive that I've never felt before while erratically fueling my mind. Very difficult to manage a single thought, even more to elaborate on it without distraction. Focus is hard. I thought I wasn't angry, but there are times when I lash out angrily and feel guilt immediately after. I do not want my children to suffer...
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Humans
Phoenix Rising
The reaction from people when I say, “Oh, I’m a Scorpio” varies from a step back to “I know that means you’re a freak” and the occasional “A lot of Scorpios are serial killers”. Yes, the majority of serial killers statistically are Scorpios, but it’s our passionate ethics that drive us to the most extreme. We are often misunderstood in the most complex form of the definition. There is a key piece of information that most people are not aware of about Scorpios, and is one of the main reasons for our misconceptions. There are three stages to the Scorpio: The Scorpion, The Eagle, and The Phoenix. Some Scorpios can evolve into all three, be stuck on one level and never evolve, or achieve only two stages. Scorpios can intertwine all stages, or once evolved into the next stage completely phase out the one before. We are all uniquely intense, passionate, mysterious, and freaky. One Scorpio may possess similar traits to another, but the way we utilize them all differ.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Futurism
Angelica Gains Her Wings
When you finally learn how to read and write, the feeling is exhilarating…no matter the age. There are people who are able to become successful while being illiterate. Those same people may finally learn at the ages of 50, 25, 37, or even 68, or never at all. But this account is not about them. It is about a little girl Angelica, who at the age of 7, gained confidence in her literacy skills. Her mom recommended becoming a pen pal to practice and strengthen her skills. She further suggested the nursing home Angelica’s grandmother used to live in. She had passed no less than a year ago and Angelica never got the opportunity to be her grandmother’s pen pal the way her mom had been with her grandmother. So the suggestion was welcomed with open writing fingers.
By Christina DeFeo3 years ago in Families