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The skies are gray. These eyes never dry. The scream surges up my throat. It takes too much to keep them at bay. Joy was lost somewhere between 27 and 35. My blood boils with anger. My fists clench. The skies are gray. I am blue. No Pollyanna words can assuage my feelings. I drift in a sea of faces. I don’t want to be in these places. Antisocial. It takes so much energy to be vocal. The gray skies remain. Am I insane? The gray skies wait outside my window. The anger grows. I want to punch faces. The rain falls from my eyes. I don’t want to be in this place.


Almost forget that April is poetry month. Well here’s something. It’s not great. Or good. More on the okay side.


She stood on the edge of the shore/unsure which way the tide rolls/dreams ebb away/far as ocean from sky/They seem to meet somewhere unseen/There she stood/ while ocean wave goodbye.



Her colors were muted. She wanted to be bright. To shine like the sun. She was dour, dressed in black. Gray was her brightest color. She wanted to see something more…to be. But her vision was blurry. It rain from windows. She didn’t know how to begin. The yellow brick road. The unbeaten path. She was blue girl with shades of gray dancing before her eyes.

She felt like a drop in the ocean. So small and insignificant. Everyday she was just going through the motions. Dreams in the rear-view mirror, closer than they appear. She felt like a failure, no matter how hard she tried. Nothing.  She was well into adult hood and she felt her only dream slipping through her fingers like water. She knows that everybody isn’t meant to be rich. And she wasn’t trying to gain the world’s acknowledgement. She just wanted a career in children’s literature. But every turn she was turned away. All her life she didn’t feel she was good at anything. She struggled through

She had this creative spark. But she could feel it dying everyday when she went to her retail job. She spent much of her twenties applying to corporate jobs, only to receive  a form letter explaining how someone else was more qualified. She really didn’t want to be stuffed in a cubicle. She wanted to make her living writing middle-grade fiction. She reads about all the book deals of other people (some much younger than she is). After reading about the success Amanda Hocking had with self-publishing, she decided to go that route.  But of course being a successful self-published author wasn’t in the cards. Selling 10 copies doesn’t get you noticed by agents and publishers.

She’s on the cusp of being 40 and she wonders if all her youth was spent chasing a dream that so many seek but few find.

It has been a long time since I was a teenaged individual but I remember those days more so than my years in the twenties. Although the twenties is when there were actual songs I could relate to (thankyou, Avril Lavigne and Michelle Branch). Of course like today there are films aimed at teens, it was the same for me in the late nineties. She’s All That, Ten Things I hate About You, Clueless, etc. But of course since Hollywood glosses most things over, none of those teen movies reflected my life. There was no cute, dimpled faced boy who would smile and hold the hand of a girl with glasses too big for her face, skin populated with pimples and more timid than a rabbit. As a matter fact I would have had to been made over with a full make-up kit, silken locks, short shirt and ditched the glasses (like in She’s All That). Then dimple boy and all boys would fall sneakers over head for me, according to Hollywood. Because you couldn’t be uniquely yourself and have people like you. I know foreign concept.

But I didn’t buy into what Hollywood was selling. I knew some boy wasn’t my knight in shining armor (I’m talking to you fairytale) when teenaged boys and girls are barely kids but not yet adults, so why should we put pressure on ourselves to be mating and dating by the time we’re sixteen. And then you’re made to feel some like some bizarre creature because you don’t do those things. I was the teenaged girl without the boyfriend. Heck that weren’t even my friend (boys). But I didn’t feel like my world was collapsing because my crushes chose other girls. In a Hollywood film I would have been. But I never was boy crazy. I went to the mall, I never got or gave my digits. I would hear about all the girls taking about the fine boys that talk to all night on the phone. Half of me cared and the other half didn’t.

By the time my senior year came around I still wasn’t one half of a boy/girl duo, but it didn’t bother me. I wrote poetry, love the French language, and had an after school job for two years. Prom came around, I didn’t scramble for a date or wanted to lose my virginity (a staple in Hollywood teen films).  I went to prom stag. I was decked out in gold satin (the only time I have ever worn heels). I’m a flat and tennis shoe girl. So my teen years were like anything you would see on film, maybe Freaks and Geeks was truer to my life than anything else. I was awkward (still am). A book worm (still am). Didn’t grow up too fast. (No fake ids to get into clubs). My world isn’t collapsing because a guy hasn’t chosen me. I am able to decipher reel life from real life. And Hollywood doesn’t come close. (Don’t get me started on the whole need a date for a wedding thing).

This is an into about me. “Who an I?” you ask. I’m spider….oh wait movie quote came into my head. I don’t even know if that from the movie. Anyways. My given name is Rosandra. I have an unspeakable nickname. I will not reveal it. I’m in my third decade of life. (more like the doldrums of watching drying paint). I am not nor have I’ve ever been the gregarious sort. I’m more of a loner. One-woman wolf pack.

I’m idiosyncratic and proud of it. A dreamer basking in her quietude. An aficionado of the written word. I find stupidity off-putting. I’m often underestimated but not deflated. I care, I’m filled with apathy, I smile, I scowl, I shed tears, I have fears. I need a rope to tug me out of my lackadaisical state.

I’m a story spinner, story teller, verse writer, I’m a bundle of creative energy. I am Rosandra.

Casting lines into rivers

I reeled my heart in a long time ago

Gazing at an esoteric moon

Thoughts tumble down the corridor

Maybe I think too much

And say too little

I would consult the tea leaves

But I threw them out

No cogs or gears

I wasn’t built for this

A sensitive soul

Tucked inside of a shell

No chasing trivial pursuits

The sun lost interest

The lines become taut with vicissitudes

The mask slips away

The stars watch

As I walk a straight line

In this crooked world

I dare to dream.




Let nothing hold you back from
exploring your wildest fantasies,
wishes, and aspirations.
Don’t be afraid to dream big
and to follow your dreams
wherever they may lead you.
Open your eyes to their beauty;
open your mind to their magic;
open your heart to their possibilities. 

Dare to dream.
Whether they are in color
or in black and white,
whether they are big or small,
easily attainable or almost impossible,
look to your dreams,
and make them become reality.
Wishes and hopes are nothing
until you take the first step
towards making them something! 

Dare to dream,
Because only by dreaming,
will you ever discover
who you are, what you want,
and what you can do.
Don’t be afraid to take risks,
to become involved,
to make commitment.
Do whatever it takes to make
your dreams come true.
Always believe in miracles 

and always believe in you! 

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curiosity list

Most surveys studying single people are about dating, sex, romantic love, and the desire to get married.

As Bella DePaulo says, “If we really do want to know about single life more broadly, what should we ask about (other than dating and dating and more dating)?”  She asked “others interested in singles research, or research on people who live alone, how they would answer that question”.  The following are their questions and hers.  I loved her article, ‘How to Talk to a Single Person: Life beyond dating‘ so much that I wanted to answer the questions myself:

Do you see yourself as a single person? Is it part of your identity?

Yes, being single is part of my identity.  However, it has taken me a long time to realize that it was an option.

How do you feel about being single?

I love being single!

How do you generally…

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don’t let your fire