inspiration – Page 3 – salisbury.fake

April 25, 2021May 1, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Uncategorized

Top Ten Albums That Made Me Who I Am

Click-bait title aside, this week I feel like talking about something a bit different. I love music at the same level I love reading, and while I don’t have the time (and you probably don’t have the desire) to go into every single song or piece that’s influenced me, I’m going to give a small rundown of some of the music that’s made a difference in my life. These are in no particular order, and a link to the full album will be given at the end of the post if I can find a playlist on YouTube.

CD Covers | CD Releases | Music Albums | Album Covers: Breaking Benjamin - Phobia Album

Phobia by Breaking Benjamin

This album was my main writing music back when I was first working on Fulcrum and for a while the song “Breath” was one of the main character’s theme, but that’s since changed to “King Rat” by Modest Mouse. One of the big reasons I love this album is how each song can be applied to some memory I have of a feeling during some of the harder parts of my life. My favorite song is a tie between “Had Enough,” “Dance with the Devil,” and “Unknown Soldier.”

This Time Around (Hanson album) - Wikipedia

This Time Around by Hanson

Of course, whenever I say I’m a fan of Hanson, everyone always goes, “ohhh, the Mmmbop boys!” And yes, them, but the rest of their music is ridiculously fantastic. They’ve never once broken up or taken a hiatus. They make music constantly and have one of the biggest fan bases ever. I’ve been to a few of their concerts and each were some good times. They know how to play to the crowd, and they are talented musicians as well as singers. I have Zac Hanson’s autograph on my wall, and it’s one of my prized possessions. I love this album because while Middle of Nowhere showcased their lyrical talent (shut up, listen to them and tell me those are solid lyrics), This Time Around is where they really start to get into the harmonies that don’t sound sort of tinny. They are all incredible singers, with Taylor and Zac usually taking the lead vocals. Zac’s my favorite. (Side note, there’s a video of me at a concert where Zac took his hair down and you can hear me in the background going, “oh my god, Zac took his hair down. Zac took his hair down!” I was not a teenager…)

Hail to the Thief by Radiohead

I don’t remember how long ago it was I first heard Radiohead, but this album was the beginning of my “I’ll binge an album for several days” obsession with music. It’s my favorite of the albums, and it has some really smooth sounds on it. When I get into music, I tend to listen to the sound first and then the lyrics, which is a big factor for one of the later collections on this list. I found myself drawn to the weird sound Radiohead produced. Thom Yorke has a distinctive voice, and their songs all tend to have a “well that’s different” quality to them. None of that is a bad thing to me. My favorite songs are “Sail to the Moon,” “There, There,” and “A Wolf at the Door.”

Radiohead is the first band I really listened to when I wanted to branch out of my standard, more conservative stuff. I say that, and the next album is definitely not conservative, but here it is.

Meteora by Linkin Park

I always feel cheap and cheesy when I get emotional over a celebrity’s passing, but with Chester, it was really hard. This album got me through some of my roughest times. I felt like someone understood what I was going through (and I know that sounds like all the angst ridden teenager stuff it is). When you’re in the thick of it, hearing someone say out loud in words you never could what your head is like 24/7 is pretty powerful. I feel like people shit on Linkin Park for the way their sound changed, but as someone who’s been a fan since their first album, personally I loved hearing their growth. Each album was something new, which is a rarity I feel these days because most of the music sounds the same. I know I sound like an old fuddy duddy, but there’s a reason why I have no idea who most of the major artists of the 2010s are. When I hear songs like “Breaking the Habit,” or “From the Inside,” or “Nobody’s Listening,” I get that feeling of safety I had when I listened to the album on my Walkman on the bus ride home, full volume so people knew I was that mysterious girl who had intense feelings (I’ve always been self aware, don’t worry). And then “Session” is just fantastic in its sound production.

Elbow - Leaders Of The Free World - Amazon.com Music

Leaders of the Free World by Elbow

If you want to talk about hearing the sound and then feeling the lyrics later, this album 100% is that for me. All of the songs on this sound so good, and then you listen to the lyrics and suddenly you’re transported to feelings you weren’t sure you knew how to feel. I first heard of Elbow after coming across a playlist by an author (I won’t mention names, but if you were ever a teenage girl who thought you needed love from a sparkly vampire, you know where I’m coming from and we can all move on), and I decided the whole album sounded fairly decent. I listened to it for years before I paid attention to what they were singing, and while that may sound ridiculous, I still can’t hear the right words to Gwen Stefani’s “Hollaback Girl” (Few times I’ve been around that track so it’s after school to have a midnight snack). So yes, the lyrics are spectacular. My favorites are “Forget Myself,” “Everthere,” and “Great Expectations.”

Hahn, Hilary - Bach Partitas And Sonata - Amazon.com Music

Hilary Hahn Plays Bach by… Hilary Hahn

The amount of times I’ve listened to this album in particular is immeasurable. I am not a fan of Bach normally, but the way Ms. Hahn infuses emotion into her playing turns this otherwise dull (to me!) composer into someone worth listening to. I met her once, and cried in front of her because I can’t deal with social situations with goddesses, but she signed my copy of her CD and it’s now something I listen to most Saturdays when I need to feel at peace. I don’t have a favorite from this album because the whole thing is such a wonderful experience.

Ofnir by Heilung

Talk about out of left field, huh? This is a recent listen for me. The album itself has been around since 2015, but I didn’t hear it until earlier this year while I was stuck on Fulcrum. This is 100% a favorite because of the sounds. Heilung is described as “sounds from the northern European Iron Age and Viking period.” (from their bandcamp page) I don’t remember what song I heard first, but I ended up buying this and their other album Futha the next paycheck I got. Since then, I’ve listened to them both on repeat nonstop for most of my work days and it’s been motivating as well as centering. Such an odd feeling that chants and guttural droning can get me grounded. But I fully recommend them if you’d like something new.

These Four Walls (We Were Promised Jetpacks album) - Wikipedia

These Four Walls by We Were Promised Jetpacks

Another one chosen for sound first, lyrics later, this band is raucous but stupidly pleasant. They have a lot of repetitious lines and that normally gets annoying to me, but they make it work. I don’t remember where I first heard them, but it was probably on a Pandora radio station back in the day. I have most of their discography, and they keep producing seriously good music. Their name is also one of the best band names out there. I’d say more, but really it deserves a listen. My favorite songs are “Conductor,” “Quiet Little Voices,” and “An Almighty Thud.” Go listen. You might like it.

Noah Gundersen

This is the part of the post where we dive into categories because I can’t just give one album. Starting this off is Noah Gundersen. I’d say I’m in love with him, but I’m not really. I just appreciate his work and his sound is what my head feels like most days. I love what he creates. I’ve been listening to him since some of his earlier albums like Ledges and Family, but he has a whole wealth of fantastic music to listen to. His very early work is more of a folk/indie sound, and his later sound is heavier with more drum and electric sounds. The evolution of his style has been delightful to witness. He works very hard to promote local music and he’s very much a socially conscious artist, part of why I appreciate what he does. He is humble, and he is so appreciative of his fans. I went to a concert of his for the first time a few years ago and it was on the same emotional level as the day my niece was born. I am still speechless to this day about it and it was in 2019. He hugged me after I gushed about how much I loved his work and also babbled about the book I was reading (because I am incapable of being normal), and then during the concert I forgot how to breathe a few times because he is just incredible. Some of my favorite songs of his are “The Sound,” “Little Cup,” “The Ocean,” “The Difference,” “Time Moves Quickly,” “The First Defeat,” and the last one I’ll give for now is “Oh, Death.”

And this brings us to the final category: Classical. This is already a super long post so I’ll try to keep this part short, but bear with me. I grew up getting the best of both music worlds because my dad was more into the rock ‘n roll and my mom was more classically inclined. I got stuff like the Beatles, the Who, Fleetwood Mac, Steely Dan, all the classic rock from my dad. And from my mom I got Chopin, Tchaikovsky, Debussy, and so on. I wasn’t too big on the earlier eras, like baroque, but once the Romantic composers kicked in, well. There is something indescribable about the way it feels to hear swells of an orchestra during an emotional moment in a piece. Cello solos where you feel like you’re being swept into a river of sound, violin piercing the parts of you that don’t want to remember things, but now you must. It’s enough to make me feel ridiculous, clearly. My first love is the piano, and one of my goals this year is to be better about practicing. It’s hard to focus, but habits can change. So for this category, I’m leaving a YouTube playlist of my favorites. Notable mentions: Elgar’s Nimrod variation, Liszt’s Un Sospiro, and La Campanella, Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring (Movements 1-3 in particular, also the Nutcracker by Tchaikovsky but that’s not on the playlist), Debussy’s Clair de Lune (absolutely a classic), and a few others.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for spending this time with me today. I hope you’ve been able to relax and that maybe you’ve found some new music to listen to. Below are YouTube links to the albums above, and a playlist of my favorite classical pieces (links open in a new tab). Until next time, friends!

April 18, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Sunshine and Reminiscing

lemon poppy seed pancakes because spring and sunshine and lemons!

You know what’s really wild to me? Ten years ago, I never would have been able to understand my life as it is now. I graduated college (in December, but still). I also hit the lowest point I’d ever been in my life ten years ago, and events unfolded that will impact me forever.

I don’t really have much to say today other than it’s been almost a year since I signed my mortgage papers and I have no idea how to tell you how blown my mind is by that. Moral of the story, I guess, don’t give up on yourself when times are really rough. It’ll come together someday. It might take ten years. It might take twenty or more. But you owe it to yourself to find out.

Until next time, friends: you are everything you need for your own happiness.

March 21, 2021 Salisbury.Fake book review, Life

Let’s Talk About Books

I was the kid who didn’t get TV taken away when I was in trouble, I got my books taken away. I still found ways to read even when I was not supposed to. Telling me I couldn’t go outside wasn’t a problem for me, because I preferred escaping through the world of books. We didn’t live close enough for me to walk to my friends’ houses, so that wasn’t an issue for me either. My parents would have to find more creative ways to punish me for disobedience.

Books have always been my vice. When I lived with my mom for a bit and had my books in storage for over a year, the first thing I grabbed when I moved into my place was my crates of books. I add more and more to my “to read” shelves faster than I’m actually reading. Home is not home without my books.

But today we’re going to do a bit of a discussion about how brains work.

When I’m at the height of a depressive episode, I tend to shut down the parts of my brain that activate on creative stimulus. Easy distraction is how I live my life in those times, and so I watch a lot of Netflix, or I spend hours on YouTube trying to find ways to give my brain an easy way out from thinking so much about the stuff that makes my chest hurt.

The thing about that though is it becomes a habit. I struggle to focus on reading now because I got so in the habit of switching on easy media to keep my brain from spiraling. This isn’t to say I don’t read anymore, because I do, but it’s nowhere near the “read the entire Harry Potter series in five days over Spring Break” level I used to be.

I also have a full time job, and I have a home to own, so there are added responsibilities to my life I didn’t have when I could be so carefree with my time. I miss those days, though, when I could spend entire days reading a series and finishing two books in a day. I’ve considered devoting weekends to that, but then the adult part of my brain reminds me I have dishes to wash and laundry to get done. This reasoning also feels like an excuse sometimes, especially when I don’t get either the dishes or laundry done.

So, today’s post is more of a gentle reminder that it’s okay to let yourself get lost in a book every now and then. It’s okay to find your way back to the part of you that misses that feeling, whether it’s about books or some other hobby you could lose yourself to. I think breaking out of bad habits is excruciating because as we know change is something most people dig their toes into the sand over. For me, my goal is two books a month until I get my mojo back.

Small steps forward seem insignificant until you realize you’ve gone three miles.

March 13, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Life, writing

How I Write – Workspace

At a desk, the kitchen table, sprawled on the couch, propped up in bed, the dashboard in my car on a lunch break, under a tree at the park, in full view of people so they can see me writing: I’ve done it all. I’m sure you can tell from the title that this post today is all about my creative workspace. I have a couple, and they’re all in the same room, so let me talk to you about them.

When I was house hunting last year, one of the requirements was 3 bedrooms. Not because I have a family or plan to have one, but I wanted a guest room, and an office. Most of my life I’ve never had the space to feel free to make a metaphorical (or literal) “creative” mess. I’ve either confined myself to my bedroom to write, had my desk available, but it functioned as a holder of other things and less like what a desk should be, or I’ve had to use the kitchen table. This isn’t a problem because it’s a lovely thing to have a kitchen table you then have to clear away so you can use it for food. But I still wanted more.

So, when my realtor showed me this house, the master bedroom fit my visions of the perfect space. When I moved in, my sister helped me paint the back wall “Delft pottery” blue, and I’ve been putting up all the things that inspire my creativity. A signed poster from my favorite singer/songwriter, Zac Hanson’s scribble on a piece of notebook paper I had in my bag, Dried flower, my sister’s artwork, a photo of my niece’s foot she took herself, a map of Middle Earth from a very dear friend, and more yet to come. (I’d post a photo of this wall, but I also have photos of my friends and family and I don’t want to expose them to the internet outside of Facebook).

I fully believe in having a dedicated space to be productive. Whether it’s writing or other creative projects, I think it’s important to have a place your brain automatically knows “it’s time to work.” I’ve got two spaces for working, both in the same room, so when I come in here, my mind switches to productive mode. Whether I’m sitting at the art space or at my desk for writing, I am able to focus on the project I want to get done. Today it happens to be a blog post and afterward, I’ll be working on typing up the stuff I’ve written recently (that process is another discussion).

Of course, creativity isn’t limited just to the things I can put on paper. It’s also about growing my mind through reading and visuals. Which brings me to the wall opposite my desk, the one behind me right now. I have my small library set up, and I got an accent chair to curl up in and read.

The last place I have in my office that I was going to try and post a photo of (but WordPress is having a moment, so I won’t this time) is my photo “studio.” It’s really just a half-closet with a card table and some fabric backdrops that I pin to a bulletin board. I mostly use sunlight for now, but one day I’ll have actual lighting for those times I don’t wake up at the sparrow fart of dawn for a good photo.

Sometimes when I think about the life I have now, I wonder if I deserve it, and I think the answer I’d get is a resounding yes from the people who matter to me, and while I appreciate their support and love, one day it’d be nice to believe that for myself. Allowing myself to feel proud of the house I’ve been turning into a home, my home, that’s not narcissism no matter how much my brain tries to tell me it is. It’s important to have places that make you feel like a person, like a worthwhile person. Surrounding yourself with what helps you feel creative, productive, peaceful, that’s important.

I’ve finished my coffee, and I’ve eaten my toast. I’m going to get to work on the day’s projects. Until next time, friends.

March 7, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

Sunday Morning Chat

I had goals this week of starting another series of posts discussing literary theory, but it’s too early in the day to go full brain on myself. Then I thought I’d do a post about Henry, someone near and dear to my heart, but the post I outlined ended up feeling too personal to put on here (listen, I know I wrote about my biggest fear, but Henry is a different level of personal). So, now I’m eating my breakfast of cold banana pancakes (I don’t have a toaster or a microwave and I’m not feelin’ the need to wash too many dishes today) and enjoying the sunshine coming through my office window.

It’s cold as balls in my house this morning, and the cold pancakes aren’t helping me, but I’m at peace today. I go back to the office tomorrow for work, and while I’m not looking forward to the health hazard, I’m looking forward to seeing the people I’ve missed. We’re already getting emails of “the new normal” and the phrase is exhausting in the sense I don’t want to face yet another new normal. Life is full enough of them. But that’s pessimistic, so I’ll steer myself back to the positive thoughts of seeing some of my favorite people.

I’m looking forward to springtime. The weather app says it’s supposed to be in the 60s this week, and I’m ready to ride with my window down. Feel the bypass wind in my hair as I drive too fast because I forgot I’m at the office now and left my house late. I’m looking forward to starting a garden this spring, and getting my backyard set up for friend times in the summer. I’m going to get my firepit settled, and I’m going to build a second patio (sort of) reusing some stones from the yard. It’s going to be a good season for me and hopefully for you.

I’m going to walk more with one of my best friends after work in the outlet mall parking lot. I’m going to keep eating better and keep losing weight (I’ve lost twenty pounds since I gave up Taco Bell back in December). I’m going to maintain as positive a vibe as I can because the world is full of people having tragedy after tragedy and if I can be a bit of brightness for someone, I’d love to do that.

If you are struggling to feel something other than useless, I want to remind you that you are quite useful, in fact. You have a wealth of knowledge, and you have a lot to offer the world, and plot twist: it has a lot to offer you. It might seem bleak, but the sun’s coming up earlier now, which means you have plenty of time to work for yourself. Hang in there, if it’s getting a bit tough. The good times are coming. I believe it. If you are feeling less than lovely to yourself, that’s okay. Sometimes the clouds get in the way, but the sun is always waiting for you on the other side.

And on that note, I’m going to make some tea and get to work on some writing before I have lunch with my mom. Until next time, friends, remember: you are and always will be enough.

February 28, 2021 Salisbury.Fake writing

How I Write — Worldbuilding Journal

As I was deciding the topic for this week’s blog post, I realized I haven’t really shared much about what I’m working on in my own writing life. I’m not overly secretive about it, but I do tend to shy away from sharing because I struggle with showing people “unfinished” work. There is truth to the saying, “it’s never going to be truly finished,” but I take that a little too seriously sometimes. Here’s a very brief summary of the main plotline of my series, as well as a small peek into how I keep it all organized.

I’ve mentioned maybe once or twice that I’m working on a trilogy. It’s lumped under the main title of The Maker Series, with really pretentious titles for each book. The first book, Fulcrum, is the introduction to the story. We meet most of the main cast, leaving a few surprises for the second book. We meet the main character, Brangienne Frankovitch. She goes by Frankie. I get a lot of grossed out looks when I say her name, but I chose it a long time ago, and calling her something else would be a lie. She’s from a small made up town in Kentucky, and she’s revealed to be the chosen one. Yes, it’s a cliche story, but she’s not a teenager! She’s actually 25 years old, working a really chill job as a grocer’s assistant (she stocks, she runs the registers, she unloads deliveries, she’s everything except a manager). She lives with her best friend, Sam Wiseman, in a house she purchased two years out of high school after choosing not to go to college. Sam is a returned veteran of the armed forces (or so he says), and when they run into each other at the store while he’s buying food, he tells her he doesn’t have much going for him. She invites him to come live with her.

It turns out, Sam is not Wiseman, but Bayn, and he is a soldier, but not for the world Frankie knows. He’s from a place called Amaranth, and he’s a member of a private security firm sent to be her protector. Protect her from what, I hear no one ask? The Moarteans. See, when the world began, time had already been happening for a while. We were more of an experiment devised by those who created time. The Thrice Unbound created the First Four, who in turn had Milton Fogg and Tobias (no last name, he’s got the Beyonce vibe going on). Through some shenanigans, the two boys cause an all out war between themselves, and in order to settle things down, the Thrice Unbound allow them to each create a world. The one Milton Fogg creates is our world, our time as we know it. The one Tobias creates is called Telaroth (renamed Lazarus after some stuff goes down there). Tobias devises a way to rewrite the DNA of all his male citizens to turn them into sort of super soldiers (called? Moarteans). He’s doing this because he wants to destroy Milton. In the course of things and a lot of bad stuff happening in Telaroth, later Lazarus, it becomes apparent that his way of life is actually decreasing his chances of survival, and thus: Lazarus is born.

Frankie learns all of this, and is then taught how to fight (because it’s one of those stories, you know? She has to learn to fight). She loses family. She loses friends. She loses parts of herself, literally, because the Makers (the people of Amaranth) also have a way to change DNA. Never one to be emotional, Frankie has intense feelings rear up in a way she’s not had to deal with before, and with that comes anger, defeat, and hopelessness. The friendships she does make along the way keep her grounded, but she will, of course, never be the grocery girl from Lowell ever again.

The second book is called The Keeper of Time and in it Frankie learns the truth about all things, about how she’s been bamboozled. She’s been coerced into a fight that shouldn’t even be happening, but here she is. She goes on a sort of spirit quest to find herself (and a character vital to the end game–it’s a road trip book, I know, cliche, but hey! quests are important to life. Whether it’s to the gas station for drinks with your best friend at 2:30 in the morning, or to find a broken priestess wandering the metaphorical desert, a journey is a journey is a journey). She also finds herself in the hands of someone she wasn’t prepared to see ever again, someone she thought was a distant memory (not a romance, lawls). By the end of the second book, with further trauma to add to what happened in the first, Frankie returns to Amaranth to find it in an uproar. A militia has been formed and people are ready to storm the castle gates, in a manner of speaking. Frankie can’t convince anyone of the reality of the situation, so she escapes into Lazarus.

Which brings us nicely to the third and final book, Lazarus Rising. I’m aware of the biblical implications here, but the larger metaphor is the only association to the Bible story of Lazarus. I don’t want to go into too much summary here because I want to hold this one as close to my heart as I can. It’s the end of the ride. The last bus stop. The culmination of nearing decades of work. Frankie faces incredible challenges, often left with more questions and more bruises both physical and mental. But she is resilient. She prevails in the face of her torture. For a time. Maybe. Am I being mysterious enough?

The world of the Maker series is a complex one because technically there are three separate places: Fulcrum (our world), Amaranth (also known as The World Between Worlds), and the “alternate reality” of Lazarus (formerly known as Telaroth). The easiest way to keep track of all my thoughts on this came about in the form of a journal. I’ve been compiling notes on characters, settings, and all kinds of other things, and eventually the language of the Moarteans will be housed in the journal (yes, I’m going the extra Tolkien mile by creating a language). A snippet or two of the journal is included in this post, but it is by no means complete. So far, I’ve gotten spreads done for all the characters (from all books), and now I’m working on getting the settings down.

Setting is more than a place, which is obvious, but bear with me. When I started working on the pages for Lazarus, it struck me I’d never committed anything to paper about who the Moarteans are. I’ve done rough notes for previous drafts, but the race was never really part of the story except for a few instances. This became an issue fairly quickly because the third book takes place almost entirely in Lazarus. I’ve never gone into who these people are, and now I’m planning an entire book with them? Part of why I began the worldbuilding journal was so I could have a designated place of reference. I know there are apps and programs that help writers sort things into their proper places, but I’m a far more visual person, so I needed to feel the place as I wrote it down. I needed to be the ball so to speak.

By giving myself the opportunity to physically create the Moarteans (on paper, anyway), I’ve allowed myself to fully immerse in the world I’m hoping readers will enjoy. This is not by any means the way I’d recommend people work out their worldbuilding. What I’ve chosen to do suits how my brain functions. I think I mainly wanted to showcase, finally, what I’ve been spending so much of my free time on the last little while. It’s a handy reference tool. It will house everything there is to know about my books in one place. As I’m getting ready to end this blog post, I’m already planning on spending some more time working on my journal tonight.

Find what makes you soar and fly, my friends.

February 13, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Life, Uncategorized

Be Not Insignificant

I don’t know how to begin this. I did have an opening that was pretty funny and clever, but honestly, I don’t feel like being funny right now. I feel like being real. Something that is lacking in today’s world a lot. With all the pressure to be on trend, be good at TikTok or whatever social media is poppin’ at the moment, and be more than what we are, I would like to be who I am and say I don’t know how to say what I want to. So, I’m going to type and see if something good comes of it.

For a while I was avoiding the Netflix show Bridgerton, because while I do find myself enjoying those types of period dramas, it looked like it was too bubblegum for me. Too pastel. I base my standard of enjoyment on the 2005 Pride and Prejudice with Kiera Knightley, if that tells you anything about me. I judged myself hardcore for watching all of the first season in a night (I had insomnia, might as well, right?). But then I watched it again because I was captivated by Rege-Jean Page’s performance as the Duke of Hastings. Not because he’s visually stunning (well, yes, that) but because his acting was remarkable. The way he conveyed subtlety is something I don’t think can ever be taught in an acting class, and each time it took my breath away. I truly believed he loved Daphne.

I did not have the same childhood Simon did, but I do know the weight of pressure, and the weight of personal promises. I won’t go into it too far because I don’t want to spoil anything, but there’s a scene that kind of stuck me right in the middle of my biggest insecurity. I didn’t even know it existed until I saw it so plainly on his face. After a confusing moment with Daphne where she says some pretty intense and rather hurtful things, Simon reaches out to her and says:

“You said I was enough!”

The desperation and pleading in his face, the absolute betrayal of what he thought was love was like a lightning bolt from my head to my toes. I wanted to throw up when I realized. I actually had a small breakdown because it hit me so hard, and I was so embarrassed that it was such a “bubblegum” show that caused me to have this incredibly powerful realization about myself.

I’ve always said my biggest fear is losing my family. And it’s still pretty high up there on the list, along with snakes and spiders, but in terms of metaphysical fear, I am afraid of not being good enough at love to keep it if I have it. When I have feelings for someone, and I mean real feelings with intent (not my ridiculous attraction to Henry Cavill), I tend to become obsessive about it. I throw myself into being the best me I can be and watch the other person to make sure I’m doing what they like and I either tone it down or raise the level depending. It’s not the same as changing myself, because I’m still me, just reducing or elevating the qualities the person of my affection seems to approve of, or disapprove. I never realized it was a fear of losing them.

But there seems to be a bit in all of us, a bit that hides behind the curtains of jokes and trending videos. The part we reach for when we’re drunk with self-pity–for good reason because here we are on a Saturday night talking to the internet. Life is so full, and yet so empty all the same.

I don’t define myself by a relationship. But should the day come, I want to be exactly what someone needs. As Simon puts it, “From the mornings you ease, to the evenings you quiet, to the dreams you inhabit, my thoughts of you never end.” I’m not interested in being someone’s everything, which might seem like a contradiction to what I’ve said above, but hear me out. I’ve been very good at being alone for a very long time, and I’d need time to be away, but I want to be home for someone. I want to be the smile that catches someone off guard. The reason for inappropriate laughter. The distraction in a work meeting because of an intense conversation the night before about something in a book we’ve both read.

I can be the most compassionate, the brightest, creative, kind, generous, whatever positive label you want to put on me, but if I do not feel it in my bones, I will never agree that I am worth it. I never want to see doubt in another person’s face, a person I’ve trusted to love me. I think that would shatter me. It’s a lot to take in, and this has been very personal. Some might wonder why I’m being so open and personal on the internet where everything is forever, but it’s because feeling like this is not new. And it is not limited to me. We should be able to talk about our deepest insecurities and not feel judged for them.

So, where does that leave us for today? I don’t know. I don’t know why I chose the title of this piece to be what it is, but the phrase stuck with me, so I’m keeping it. I guess my final thought would be don’t get so caught up in thinking you’re the worst when really you could be the best to someone. Hiding behind our self-doubt and loathing only sharpens that knife of self-betrayal, and one day will leave us bitter and empty. The emptiness I feel now is nothing to the emptiness I know exists within bitterness, and I do my best to stay above that.

This isn’t a happy blog post, and I won’t apologize for it. If you do have someone you love, I wish you joy and contentment in your love. I wish for you to soar with each other and be the brightness the other needs in the weird, wild world we have these days.

Keep smiling. Keep loving. You are, as always, enough.

Until next time, friends.

January 18, 2021January 18, 2021 Salisbury.Fake Life

What It Means To Be Human

I have moved to break the betrayal of my own silences and to speak from the burnings of my own heart
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

As a citizen of the US, I’ve usually had today off, the day honoring the life and message of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. When I was a kid, it usually just meant I had an extra day on weekends to play outside in the snow. As a college student, a day off from classes to do more classwork, and as an adult, depending on the job, an extra day to the weekend. The significance of the day was always at the back of my mind, but it was never at the forefront.

I wasn’t sure if I was going to post about this topic, the topic of humanity and being decent in terms of racial issues, but that came from an apathy I’ve had most of my life. What can I do as a single white person in a mostly red state where microaggressions of racism happen daily and I’ve sometimes inadvertently participated in? Last year, in some of the strongest moments of the Black Lives Matter movement, I sat back and let everyone else speak. I fully believe in the movement, and I fully believe in the anger of black people tired of being treated the way they do. It is a righteous fury, and I am here to support and lift in any way I can. I don’t have much to offer, but I do have my voice.

We are called to speak for the weak, for the voiceless, for the victims of our nation and for those it calls “enemy,” for no document from human hands can make these humans any less our brothers.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

I know that I’m using his quotes today in this post, and that a lot of white people will post his words today in a show of solidarity with his message and his legacy, but what are we doing after we post these quotes? You can use your words all you want, but if your actions don’t follow through with those words, they become less.

The words I’m posting come from his speech about the Vietnam War, a turbulent time for our country, one of the first times people exercised their right to free speech with such a ferocity against the government. He spoke with passion about how it was a contradiction that he was protesting for peace for his own movement when the entire country was at war, and how he had to somehow convince the people who followed his example not to use violence to spread the message. He had an enormous task on his shoulders. His words then are just as important now. Especially after last year’s growth in activism and the attack on the capitol earlier this month.

We are not at peace. We have not been at peace for a very long time. I believe it was exacerbated by the last four years of government in my country, but it didn’t start with the leaving presidency. It was there, waiting to be ignited. We cannot ignore the inciting and inflammatory words of someone who is elected to lead us because he had financial policies or other policies that may have worked. Policy is nothing without humanity behind it. The acts of people against their own capitol building because of a disapproval of the loss of a favored candidate feels childish. It feels immature and lacks the strength of a purpose. I could understand the protests last year. I could understand that because people were and are still dying because of their skin color. I can’t understand this.

I think of them, too, because it is clear to me that there will be no meaningful solution there until some attempt is made to know them and hear their broken cries.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Have we truly heard? Have we learned enough? Will there ever be a time when it is enough?

Here is the true meaning and value of compassion and nonviolence, when it helps us to see the enemy’s point of view, to hear his questions, to know his assessment of ourselves. For from his view we may indeed see the basic weaknesses of our own condition, and if we are mature, we may learn and grow and profit from the wisdom of the brothers who are called the opposition.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Those who perpetuated the events at the capitol, those who consistently promote messages of hate for whatever reason they do, it’s difficult not to call them enemies. I don’t know that they are enemies, or if they’re simply going along with whatever is trending in their area. The mob effect is pretty powerful, even if it’s a mob of stupidity. Sometimes especially then. I’m not saying their beliefs are stupid, by the way, but their methods of going about expressing their beliefs lacks a certain level of intelligence.

I don’t know what the answers are because I honestly don’t know enough. But that’s changing this year. This year, I will be more informed, and be more conscious of my own shortcomings in the knowledge of how others live. I will do what I can, and so must we all, because the only way we’ll ever make it out of any bad situation–whether it’s pandemic or otherwise–is by pulling together and seeing each other for the people we are. We must hear each other, actively hear each other.

It’ll be difficult. Tackling institutions of ways of life, going against “it’s how we’ve always done it,” is always going to feel impossible. But it is possible. It is probably going to take more time than we’d like to think it will, but it is possible to change. It is possible to regain what we’ve lost of our humanity, and I believe we will do so incandescently.

Now let us begin. Now let us rededicate ourselves to the long and bitter, but beautiful, struggle for a new world.
Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

December 19, 2020 Salisbury.Fake Life, Weekly Update

End-of-the-Year Party

Well, I guess this is going to be one of “those” blog posts. You know the ones. Where the writer waxes poetic about the year gone by, and talks about hopes for the next year. It is going to be one of those, yes, but I’ll try not to bog you down with a lot of “2020 was the worst” stuff. Because even though the pandemic is still ongoing (wear your damn masks and stay home unless you absolutely have to be out), and so many people have had tragedy after tragedy this year, I think this is one of the first years I’ve grown the most into the person I’d like to be.

I had a goal this year of finishing three books I’ve been writing for a little over ten years. I separated out the year into four-month quarters, allowing myself time to get done with each one and have it beta read while I worked on the next one. I didn’t accomplish that goal, but I don’t hate that I didn’t. The person I started out as at the beginning of this year is not who I am now. And that shows in the quality of my writing. I stopped using first person perspective, switched to mostly third limited, and the story just fell out of me.

As I consumed media, I paid attention to the stories being told. Most notably, I watched/listened to a playthrough of Death Stranding, a video game produced by Kojima. I was not prepared for how deeply that story would end up impacting me. But then I decided to look at what made the biggest impression on me, and it was the emotional growth the main character goes through by the time we get to the end. It twists and turns itself around its own story, told in memories mostly, told with tragedy and loss. But at the end, hope remains. I’ve made it sound so cliche, but the relief I felt at the end of the game was profound.

I want to tell a story like that. I want to infuse emotion into my writing so that by the time we reach the end of the story, the audience is relieved and filled with feelings they then get to internalize and see themselves through. I know that’s a lot to task myself with, but I feel fairly confident I can do it. Emotive writing is important, especially in this day and age where emotions are often suppressed for being too intense.

Along with my writing growing, I feel like this year I’ve changed so much about my mindset about myself. I know I’ve talked about my mental health issues, and I will continue to do so because it is an ongoing, lifelong process. The small moments of joy, the reminders it’s okay to be here, the tethers we create to make sure we don’t leave behind what we will miss. Holding on with a white knuckle grip because there has to be something worth it at the end of this, I believe in it. I believe in it with a fierceness I’ve never believed with before.

The power behind that hope, the force of that desire to make it mean something, I wish I could give it to those who struggle. I still have my shitty days. I have them more than I talk about because that’s not what I want to focus on. They’re becoming less frequent, which is fantastic, but I want to hold on to the memory of them so I know how to fight them.

This year was hell for a lot of people. It was horrible and garbage and there’s no amount of gargling that will get the taste of it from the back of our throats, but you are still here. You are still here and you are incredible. You are stunning. I believe in you with the same fierceness I believe there will be good somewhere along the way, and we can pick it up to sling it on our backs to carry us through whatever the world tosses our way. Because we are strong enough to do so. We are capable of battling and making it through, even if that’s all we do is make it through.

I hope this year taught you more about yourself. I hope this year gave you the confidence to accept who you are, and if not, I hope it gave you the boost you needed to make the changes you’ve been wanting to make for yourself.

Next year, there will be book reviews, writing about writing, life talks, recipes. It’s going to be a better year because we will know how to approach it properly with cautious optimism. It’s not over yet, but it will be and we will march forward with a brightness of hope, a determination to conquer anything and everything.

Thank you for going on this ride with me. Thank you for your readership, and for you. I’ll see you next year.

Salisbury.Fake will be updated again after December 31st, 2020.

Happy holidays!.

All my love, Carla

December 4, 2020 Salisbury.Fake Life

You Don’t Have To Be Alone To Be Lonely

This one’s going to be a ramble, probably. I know, so surprising.

We’re going to talk about loneliness. Sort of. We’re going to talk about how it’s okay to take time to get to know ourselves and forget about being with other people because we deserve to like who we are.

I seriously hate how self-help-y that sounds. But hear me out. I spent the last two decades learning how to hate myself. Acted on it in various ways I won’t talk about in this post (I’ve discussed it before elsewhere), but it all boiled down to the thought that I’m just average/mediocre/run of the mill not worth anyone’s time. Kept me going for a long time. Or so I thought. What it really did was give me a chronic back ache because I hold my tension in my shoulders and my lower back. Makes aerobics fun.

But what’s the point of this? Let’s focus, Carla. I’ve seen some posts recently from some of my favorite content creators who talked about how they were using this quarantine time to get to know themselves a little better, and I suppose I have, too, and I need to tell you it is

u n c o m f y

Seeing how I’ve spoken to myself for the last half of my life really kind of broke my heart. Surprised me. Kind of like looking in the mirror and noticing you had peanut butter on your face all day. “I really let myself do that?”

But it hasn’t been peanut butter. It’s been self-dragging, self-loathing on a level that is kind of destructive, and just ignoring all the people telling me I’m not trash. “Thank you, but I am. It’s fine. I’ve always been this way.”

I haven’t.

We can try and pinpoint where it all started to go in a direction we didn’t think it should, but that is like trying to pick a watermelon seed out of a pile of watermelon seeds. I’d say a needle in a needlestack, but that’s not accurate enough. You can eventually find the needle you want if you search hard enough for the specific characteristics (size of the eye, length, sharp or not, blah blah blah), but watermelon seeds all look like watermelon seeds. They slip away every time you try to take one off the plate, and then you’re left with chasing it around.

The point of all of this rambling is it’s time we started being okay with being alone. I’m not talking about introverted alone, where one recharges after having social time with people. That’s a different kind of being alone. I’m talking about getting to know ourselves and seeing we’re not actually gum on the bottom of a shoe in summer. We are the kid who has the pool so all the parties are at our house. We have what everyone wants. We are admirable. We are strong, capable, and worthy of taking the time to learn how to believe that.

I say all of this knowing I’m going to ignore it like I always have, but the difference is I’ll know I’m ignoring it. Before, I would be all self-help-y and it would be for others. This one is for me. This time I know I’m ignoring good advice from myself, so it’s easier to hold myself accountable. And that is the key. Holding ourselves accountable for the goals we want to achieve and learning the difference between discouragement and destruction. Change is excruciating. It really is. I fucking hate change. I don’t really like swearing on these things, but this requires one. It’s that awful for me. So telling myself to stop calling myself garbage is like when your teacher tells the class, “no notes on this quiz, folks,” and turns around to do work on the computer so everyone uses notes anyway.

What a crock, huh? It feels like that, here at the bottom of this. But it isn’t a crock. It’s a truth I’ve been trying to learn, that I am worth my own time, and I want the people I care about to know it for themselves, too. I don’t know that many will read this, but I hope it helps someone. Maybe someone looking for a sign to start working on themselves.

Be safe as you can be in these weird, awful times. And remember: you are worth your own time. I promise.

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