"Finding Me"...A Poem

Just a little something I did a while back...Thought I'd share it. Enjoy =)


"I walk alone along the beach,
Questions burning on my mind...
What may my maker choose to teach,
What answers may I find...?


Along the sand I travel,
My destination not here...
I allow my mind to marvel,
And find myself at a peer...


I find myself,
At the end of my journey...
I find myself,
And my heart screams for mercy...


Along again inside myself,
I search my mind and soul...
I keep my heart upon a shelf,
Never to use in full...


Inside the world my mind created,
A world without pain nor caring...
I find a piece of heart abated,
Cold and unflinching a perfect pairing...


But feelings of old always last,
A curse that always follows me...
To find the true me before my past,
A task unwillingly forced to be...


I turn my back to all things near,
And search again to find me...
Inside myself I know it's there,
Just wait and let it find me...


After all that done you can't deny me,
I've found who I am...
I know where I am now so let me be,
I know who I am, I found me."


Blog ya later,
Miss Eccentric

I'm Okay...

I've been wanting to do this blog for quite some time now, but for some reason I haven't...Now I know I am brave enough, strong enough, and I'm just gonna come out and say it. Everything I have written here in the past that has to do with “my parents” and any mention of my so-called “father” was a lie. That man is no more my father than I am a flying pigmy. My mother was never in love with him, and he was never a father to my brother nor I...Not by blood, and not in our hearts. But I had to keep an act up, for my mom's sake and for the sake of the household...Now I will no longer keep this act going. I am who I am, and I will never lie about my life again. Which brings me to something more that I wanted to say...Let me elaborate.

The thing about life that many do not realize until it is too late, is that all too often, we are handed a pile that most others wouldn't be able to handle. Only you can handle what you are handed --if you are lucky-- and even then some have a harder time than others with just that...Trying to handle your own life.Trying to handle what pile you were given...

I, like many before me, was handed quite a lot for someone my age. I grew up in a household where my “father” abused my mother mentally, physically, financially, and in many other ways...He abused my brother. He abused even myself. I grew up in a house where I was afraid for my mother, afraid for myself...And afraid to tell anyone else about what went on behind closed doors. Afraid to even tell my own mom half of what happened behind her back...I am no longer afraid.

Fear...That is a whole other subject. Fear can manifest itself in so many different ways. Fear, to me, is like an old scar: It can either be something you look back on from time to time, remembering what has happened to you but knowing that you are past that, knowing that those wounds have healed over through the years...Or they can be a constant reminder of what you feel every day. For me, they are both, in a way...Although more the latter than the former.

About one year ago now, my life, thanks to my courageous mother, changed forever. She finally had the full strength of the Goddess I know she is at heart, and she used that to get rid of that abusive “man” once and for all. We erased him from our house, our lives, and we try every day to erase him from our memories...But in the process, those scars that healed over through years of denial opened once again, and it has taken more to close the wounds this time than the before. I kept things from my mom to protect her, and at the age of nineteen I finally told her everything. I used her strength from leaving him as my own strength, and I confessed more to her than I had to anyone. It was a large, painful, gnarly scar that I had opened once more, but I knew this time the wound could heal over nicer than before.

I have said this before, and I will say it again...2011 was our year. It was the year of freedom for my mom, brother, and myself.

In 2011, my mom freed herself from the tyranny of her previous “marriage”. She put her foot down and made him leave her home whether he liked it or not. And it finally worked. She was reunited with the love of her life, a man she had fallen for back when she was still in high school...Sadly, the timing was not right back then and their lives had gone in different directions before they even had a chance to try being together. But now she is not only happily in love with her man, but she has bought a house with him in a new County, she has lost all the weight she had put on in sheer depression living with her ex, she has become happy, healthy, and more radiant than I have ever seen her in my lifetime...She now shares a young son with her love, and my brother and I have finally found a man in our lives who is, although not by blood, more of a father than we've ever known. My brother has a steady job. I am employed myself and –due to this job not giving me the hours I need-- I am even looking for a second job.

In 2011, I accomplished more than I ever thought possible of myself...I published two novels online myself, and have been writing a third in my spare time. I have grown in so many ways...I have even found a love so strong that I find myself forgetting the things of my past at times...Although, as I've said, those insistent scars will never go away, and they keep reminding me of what has hurt us all. But I'm working on it. And for the first time in my life, I have found someone who I actually feel safe around...It's no secret that I have trust issues. For the longest time it was only my mom to whom I trusted. But when I am in the arms of my love, I feel warm, and safe, like no nightmare from my past can reach me. It's amazingly comforting to have that...And I have shared things that only my mom knows, and you know what? It's okay. Because I love him, and he loves me, and I know he will always be there to protect me...And since I told him some of my darkest secrets, I have felt a healing begin deep inside, and I know those gnarly wounds are becoming scars once more, only this time, they will be small, almost invisible to the naked eye...And I'm okay now. I'm okay with what I was handed in life...Because I now know that 2012 will be full of new memories, great ones that will drown out the old ones...And it's all thanks to my gorgeous mom, for making the choice to free herself, and the rest of us from that nightmare. And although our beautiful Nana is no longer with us physically, at least she got to see us freed. She got to see us all happy, finally. She even got to meet my love...And I couldn't have asked for a greater outcome in the year 2011. And I look forward to 2012, and many more years of happiness after that...Because it's okay to enjoy life, and to work for what we want. It's okay to be happy.

And I'm okay. Better than okay, actually...I'm happy.

-Alexandra Marie Shaw

...or as you know me better, 

Miss Eccentric

I've been inked!

Alright, so I know it's a bit redundant to blog two days in a row, but hey...It's not my fault awesome things keep happening to me...For this awesome thing, I must tell you two other things first.
One: I might have mentioned this in the past here on this blog, but too bad. I'm going to tell you again. When I was little, I had to have my immunization shots three times. The first time was the normal shots that every youngster gets. The second time was because my Mum's idiot mother had my records and didn't tell us, and my doctor made me get them again because I wasn't on record. The third time was because my idiot doctor lost the records, and again, I endured yet another butt-load of shots just to prove that I had them. This is the reason that I absolutely hate needles. I literally could not move my arms after the third round, and I was in cheer at the time, so that totally sucked. So let me reiterate: I HATE NEEDLES.

Now to the "other thing" number Two: My 2010 New Year's Resolution was to finish my novel. As of December that same year, I did just that. This year, 2011, my New Year's Resolution was to get published. I have also accomplished that (at the bottom of this post I'll put a plug in for ya, Captain). I have a wonderful friend on Facebook who is helping publish me on Amazon, he even got the art department to do a cover for my novel now. This is simply awesome. Another stipulation to my New Year's Resolution, was that if I happened to get published, I was to get a tattoo.

Now we're getting somewhere, eh?

I've been wanting a tattoo for a while. I wanted a single feather, on my left arm, to symbolize my novel. My novel is one of the most important things to me besides my loved ones, and the feather is a way to imprint that on my body forever, so I would never forget, not even for a second. Last night I conquered my fear of needles, I checked another thing off my Bucket-List, and I did it. I got the tattoo I wanted, and I could not be happier about it. It's bloody brilliant. I took a picture of it this morning, so everyone could see how great it looked, so check it out!

It's positioned on my left arm, just as I had wanted, right below the crook of my elbow. If you want to see more, check out my Facebook Profile.

Alright, so I know there are some controversies concerning tattoos. Some people think that marking your body permanently like that is stupid, that some day you will not feel the same way you did about it when you first got it, and then you would regret it. I don't believe that. I believe that when you care about something so much so that you do want that permanently marked on your body, you will never forget that, and it will always be with you. Upon hearing of my tattoo, a wise friend of mine (holla at the Captain!) said to, "remember that what's inside is really important, too...not just the outside". I completely agree. Who you are is not what you look like. However, I had to add to that, to show that what I did to the outside of my body was for the inside as well. So I replied, "of course! But the outside is a reflection of the inside, like in the case of the tattoo, it was an outward projection of what I was feeling on the inside..." And I completely believe that as well. When someone feels a certain emotion so strongly that they have to project it outwardly so that they --and everyone else-- can see it, that is a strong force indeed. And I have now vowed to live my life to the fullest. I'm gonna ride roller-coasters (may take some warming up to, but it will happen!). I'm gonna sport my ink. I'm gonna say what I want, do what I want, and live for today and tomorrow (very wise words from the Sandman...Hey, Apple!). Life is too short, people! Have fun with it! You know, that three-letter word that starts with F? 'Cause you know what, I'm not dead yet. So why start acting like it?

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.

The Captain's Plug:
You will find the publishing company who helped me at Nightfire Publishing. I won't use the Captain's name here, because I don't want a bunch of people to bug him, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind y'all checking out his site. The people there at Nightfire are simply awesome, so if you need help with your publishing needs, please pay them a visit.

The Curse of the Ghostrider

Okay, so anyone who knows me knows that I am like, the biggest chicken when it comes to heights. Therefore, it goes to show that I would also be terrified of roller-coasters. When going to Knott's Berry Farm the biggest thing I'll go on is the Jaguar, and that thing is like, the most tame ride there. Except for the stuff in the kiddie-area, of course. You see, this fear all started when I was about eight years old, and my family talked me into going on the Ghostrider, the big, rickety, wooden dinosaur that those stupid theme-park people have dubbed an "amusement ride". In my family's defense, they had ridden it before and had said that it wasn't that bad. And in a normal circumstance, I believe them to be right. It certainly isn't the worst ride there, and there are a lot of younger children that love the ride. I was not one of them.
We must have waited in line for an hour, I swear. It was a hot Summer afternoon. We got up to the cars finally, and we had decided that I was just barely tall enough to ride. My Mum and I slipped into the car together, because riding with my mom was the most logical decision in order to make me feel more comfortable. Next we had to put our seat-belts on. Now, one thing you must know about Ghostrider seat-belts, is that there is one regular belt for each person, like in a motor vehicle, and then there's a bar that locks down on your lap. One more thing you must know about the Ghostrider seat-belts, is that when I was eight-years-old, that was not the case. When I was eight, there was one single belt restraint that went over both passenger's laps, and it didn't really tighten up that much. So as my Mum and I sat and tried to tighten it enough for me so that it actually touched me, we started to doubt our decision to get on that damn ride. We both knew I wasn't secure, and my Mum, being the responsible, loving parent she is actually tried to inform the Knott's idiots of this restraint error. Unfortunately for her, they did not pay heed to the panicking mother. Instead, they started the ride, and there was nothing more she could do about it. The first hill you climb is the biggest. As you can imagine, the tiny little eight-year-old with no restraints on was not a big fan of that first big drop, and surely I was not a fan of the following drops, twists and turns. I had to sit in the fetal position, holding on to the belt and any bar I could get ahold of. My Mum also had to help by holding her arm around me, as the force of the ride was too much for a wimpy eight-year-old to completely handle by herself. By the time it was over, my Mum's arm was bruised and numb, and I was scarred for life.
Fast-forward eleven years, to a nineteen-year-old me, who is still terrified of roller-coasters, especially that particular one. I nearly died on it as a child, so there is no judging me on this standpoint. When you have a near-death experience on a roller-coaster, then you may tell me whether or not you might have a complex about it. Until then, back off. So there.
Anyway, went off subject a little there...Okay, so there I was, eleven years later, and I had finally worked up the courage to say, "okay, let's go" when my Mum suggests we ride the Ghostrider. I had made up my mind, and there was no changing it. It was just yesterday, in fact, on a Thursday, which surprisingly was a really good day to go, because there was virtually no line. We just walked up to the cars, waited for it to empty out, and got in. As I've said already, the restraints are considerably better than eleven years ago. So Mum and I sat, put our separate belts on tightly, and locked our --also separate-- bars over our laps. It seemed secure, so we were both feeling pretty confident. The ride started, we made it to the first big drop, and then we started climbing. The ride click, click, clicked loudly, but then suddenly, clunk, squeeaak! We stopped in the middle of our climb to the drop. My first thoughts: "Oh my God, I am cursed!"
And I just so happened to say this aloud. The people behind us cussed and said something along the lines of, "I don't want to ride this now". The people in front of us turned around and exclaimed, "oh, so this is your fault?!?" Mum and I explained how I nearly fell to my death when I was eight. They completely blamed me for this second freak accident, because as I had so wisely exclaimed, I was cursed. This was it. It was time for the Ghostrider to exact its revenge on me for surviving the first time. And this time, it was out for blood...
But then, as if a miracle had been sent by God, the ride started, and soon we were plunging down that first big drop. I screamed and closed my eyes. But for some reason, after that, I started laughing and yelling hysterically, as if I had lost too much oxygen and gone completely mad. My Mum tried asking me if I was having fun mid-ride, but all I could do was laugh and shake my head, saying "this is crap, I don't like this...!"
By the end of the ride, I was dizzy from my lack of oxygen, and I was shaking with adrenaline. As we walked off the ride and down the exit lane, I said to my Mum, "that was friggin' crazy. Wanna go again?"

Blog ya later, Miss Eccentric.