I am an artist at heart, from music, to painting, to furniture building. And as of recently, writing. I am currently working on my second novel. I live in farm country of Central New York with my husband and two of my children.
The First Time I Blew Up a Poacher's Boat
I suppose to tell my story, I should give you some background information on me. I grew up in Florida on the gulf coast. The town we lived in was a fishing town. Life was far from the resorts and beaches across the state. I fished in my daddy's boat for many seasons growing up. Until Hurricane Katrina hit. Fishing was never the same after that, and fishermen had to go twice as far to catch half as much. The matter was only worsened by the BP oils spill just a few years later. I decided I wanted to do something about it. I wanted to understand how marine life is affected by the fishing industry, by natural disasters, so I decided to become a marine biologist. My dad has long since retired and sold the boat. He and my mom live a quiet life now, still on the water. And he is still buddies with all the guys down on the docks. Now and then, I go with him down to watch them unload the catch of the day, and I can see his eyes beam, wishing that was still him. What I saw that day would only be the start of some of the most horrific, inhumane poaching practices I would come to see.
It's 3 am. It's 3 a.m. and my head is noisy inside, like all the playlists on my Spotify playing at the same time. Everyone else is soundly sleeping.
The bright morning sun lit up the new snow as if it was illuminated deep within each snowflake, all combining their light. The sky was clear and brilliant in blue. The air stings my face, but at the same time, fills my lungs with crisp, pure air, settling into the deepest part of my core. I look to the top of the hills on each side of me, feeling protected and safe within the valley's confines. The gleaming snow seems to light the woods that surround me from within. As I make my way up the snow-covered path, the blue sky breaks above. The bare, dark tree limbs seem to come together against the topaz blue sky, and the stained glass cathedral before me opens up. The snow crunches underneath my feet as I walk deeper into the hidden inner sanctum that seems to call for me. The air still stings my face, but as I walk into a clearing, I pass through a warm, bright spot that makes me look up and acknowledge the sun, appreciating it for the warmth and light it brings.
Instructions Upon My Death
My Trusted Friend- If you are reading this letter, then I assume you got the brown paper package. It contains information and proof that needs to be in the public's hands, not the government's. They would suppress it. To understand the instructions at the end, you have to understand the beginning. I never wanted any of what happened. Our lives were very ordinary. We were a husband and wife with four children, living on our farm. We had a good life, and I loved my life. Until the green lights started.
Friends and family love me from afar. Being close to me is messy, and people don't like messy. I get the check-in messages or phone calls. "Hey sweetie, how're things? Okay, gotta run. Love to you and Mark, talk to you later." And then silence for weeks.
Living Through Bipolar Disorder
***Disclaimer: This article, in no way, should be taken as medical advice. This is just MY experience with bipolar disorder. Persons with this diagnosis must remain in treatment and remain on the medication regimen that their doctors prescribe. Always consult your practitioner.***
The Front Steps
The darkness of nighttime settled in, and the heat of the day is faded. It's warm, but there is a cool breeze. The leaves in the trees rustle above us. Not much noise- crickets, the donkey on the farm, and the goats in the pen. No words are spoken, but there are thoughts. I put my joint to my lips and draw. He takes a drag from his cigar at the same time. The number of stars in the sky seems to increase each time I look up. The fireflies flash and float about. This time in the quiet, sitting on the front steps, words are spoken.
The Temple of the Autumn Night
The brilliance of a sunny autumn day, with the leaves blazing the colors of fire, has faded into night. The excitement and commotion of the day are long gone; now, there is only stillness.