I tell myself it’s stupid and I can’t help but feel it anyway. A small flame nearly snuffed by the cynicism of our modern world, flickering, but there all the same: hope. Hurt. Bitter-sweet goodbye. An ending. The year is over and I know nothing really changes with the rising of the sun tomorrow. But if something had to end, then surely something else must begin– and that is hopeful, isn’t it?

I feed my tiny flame. I tell myself, this is our chance. I tell myself, I can change. I tell myself, this time will be different. The flame roars to life, a veritable forest fire where only a spark stood before. The sun rises and echoes my flame in its brilliance. I am bursting at the seams. Last year is over. Last year is over! I get to leave it all behind. I get to leave behind all of the small parts of me I’d begun to hate: the bitter parts, the angry parts, the anguished parts. I get to rewrite. Looking back on last year, it felt like I’d accomplished nothing. My negative self-talk had me convinced that just because I felt bitter, my life was, indeed, meaningless. Then, I looked at the photos.

Oh my God. I did so much. I illustrated and published my mother's children’s book last year. I renovated my house. I renovated a school building. I adopted two gorgeous flemish giant rabbits. I taught my 5-year-old to read. I planted a garden. I baked cakes. I rode horses on the beach. I went on a vacation. I celebrated 10 years of marriage. I climbed mountains. I lived outrageously hard. I loved outrageously hard.

So, if last year wasn’t the sad waste I’d thought, what magnificent miracles might happen this year? This year I plan only one thing: to be me– to be completely, perfectly myself in all of my bizarre, hopeful, forgiving to a fault, glory.

This year I will become, because this year…

I am willing.

Looking at a list of those we lost in 2022, the one who stood out to me, undoubtedly due to my affinity for people and things southern, was The Killer. Jerry Lee was the very definition of what those not from the south dislike about us. He was loud, ugly, arrogant, and was primed at all times to fight with either fist, knife, or gun at the drop of a hat. Hell, Jerry Lee wasn’t even above dropping his own damned hat just to get the ball rolling. A young Jerry Lee Lewis earned the sobriquet “Killer” while still in grade school, when he tried to choke-out his teacher. There are too many fascinating stories of his antics to tell here. Still though, he’d be there at church the next Sunday morning like any good boy, praying for forgiveness. After all, he and his cousin Jimmy did dream of being preachers some day.

Jerry Lee’s rock and roll career was derailed when he married his thirteen year old cousin. He was twenty-two. But honestly, if it wasn’t that it would have been something else. And yes, while marrying a thirteen year old cousin sounds atrocious even to me (he who would dare to defend The Killer), interfamilial love was not unusual in the south at the time. Family bibles are littered with such things, and if you are from the south (or most anywhere else for that matter), you probably have some sullied genes in your own damned pool, so don’t walk around with your nose too high.

The cousin part is not so much for a southerner, and is easily gotten past. If you think someone a dumbass just because they marry their cousin then remember that Albert Einstein did it, and Darwin, and Poe as well (another good southern lad scorned by the Yankee press). In fact, Poe‘s cousin was also thirteen when he married her, so there!

It is that thirteen year old part that gets us these days. In fact, girls marrying so young was not very common even back in older times except amongst the very poor, but marrying a girl off young did resolve many problems for those poorer families, especially if the young man was wealthy. Still, a twenty-two year old man marrying a 13 year old girl is impossible to defend. Jerry Lee and Myra should have waited and just lived together, the same as Elvis and Priscilla did, or even Jimmy Page and Lori Mattix later. (Those dern rock-a-rollers! Whatever do you do with them?)

But no matter what you think of the man, he was a talent! Nobody, but nobody could play like Jerry Lee, then or now. Sam Phillips, a man who saw his fair share of talented people, called Lewis the “best musician I ever saw.” John Lennon knelt and kissed Jerry Lee’s feet when he met him. At 20 years old The Killer could play literally any song you asked him to play, be it rock, blues, jazz, country, gospel… he knew them all, and could hear any recently written song besides, and immediately improve it.

I heard a man say the other day how difficult it is to strum or pick a guitar with one hand, finger the notes and chords with the other, and sing at the same time. It is why so often the more difficult parts of a song happen during the vocal break. That man was not wrong. But look yonder at Jerry Lee; hammering out chords with his left hand, a melody with his right, singing over-top, and doing it all with glorious, glorious style!

With all that said Jerry Lee will little be missed. He was mean, maybe even crazy, foolish, and brash. Jerry Lee lived his life searching for sense in a confusing world centered somewhere between heaven and hell. The Killer had to quit preaching when he was 19 years old because, “there was just too many pretty girls out there in the pews.”

Atta boy. Who would have thought your crazy, old ass would outlive them all?

In other words, Jerry Lee Lewis was your typical backwood southern boy. I hope The Killer finds some peace in death. He sure never found any in life, and if he had he might well have pulled out a pistol and popped off a shot at it.

In which I romanticize something that never really worked in the first place // when I am mourning the loss of having a second half

I drove my gf at the time back from the homecoming football game. We had a talk about my fears (as usual) but then the light was golden and she was singing and her hair was so, so orange, and I thought “there can’t be anything as beautiful as that.”

I’m reflecting back on the year, and it makes me so melancholy, because there was a time where I looked in the mirror and realized I had everything I ever wanted. It was my ex's birthday and I was washing my hands in her bathroom. I looked beautiful. She and her friends were waiting for me in the other room. Her friends adored me, and I adored them, and I couldn't comprehend the idea of having a group of people so thrilled to see me. But more than that, I had a tentative but happy relationship with a girl I liked since the moment we met. It was all I ever wanted.

I’m reflecting back on the year, and it makes me so melancholy, because there was a time where I looked in the mirror and realized I hated myself. I sobbed my eyes out and wished I could unzip my skin. My ex and I had kissed for the first time -- and it was disgusting. I was too old to be reacting like this, but too young for prior experience. It was squishy and wrong and she tasted bad, but I was supposed to like it. Everybody liked it. As we head into the New Year, I dream about college; I dream about living in the mountains and getting away from it all. Will there be someone to understand me? Will there be someone to cherish me, and walk oh-so-slowly alongside me?

I think there’s something beautiful in the suffering. I think there’s something beautiful — if not a little dramatic — about letting yourself get rained on. It’s the same thing as getting wrinkles around your eyes and mouth; we sob, and our ribs grow stronger, and the stretch marks and creases say “I lived.”

My ex, now, is more of a symbolic lost cause. She is just another crushed hope that I have tried to mold into confetti. I worry that my mind will stay stuck on her forever. But today, I woke up to the fog outside my window, covering my neighborhood like a veil. And once again, I thought, "there can't be anything as beautiful as that."

Last year I made a list of goals and recently reflected on how I did (that reflection is available here: https://theprose.com/post/560739/looking-back-on-my-2022-goals). I did grow last year, but I didn't accomplish as much as I had initially hoped for. I spent a good chunk of last year in a combined state of exhaustion and survival mode, and I am looking to push past that and progress more on the things I am seeking to accomplish in this new year. For 2023, here is what I want to focus on:

- Continue my forever goal of being a better husband, father, teacher, actor, writer, and any/all other roles I take on now and in the future.

- Spend more time with God, and grow in my spiritual rhythms. I want to work on another forever goal of being better at praying, and also focus on other ways to connect with God that I learned about through the Grow Journey that I took last year through Crossroads Anywhere. Last year I finished reading through The Old Testament, which took me roughly three years to do. I have begun the process of reading through The New Testament, which I hope to complete by the end of this year.

- Get into better writing rhythms. Setting goals during NaNoWriMo this past November was helpful, and I want to commit to advancing at least two of my work in progress stories throughout this year ("The Ultimate Hero Network? A Short Story Collection" - https://theprose.com/book/3184/the-ultimate-hero-network-a-short-story-collection & "New Adventurers: Enter The Pirate & Crew!" - https://theprose.com/book/3137/new-adventurers-enter-the-pirate-crew). I also want to write at least 1-2 Bible Journals each week, complete gratitude journals each week, get involved in writing collaborations, and potentially get published for the first time through a children's book I am working on with my friend. I also want to practice recording audio versions of my work in an effort to work towards my goal of becoming a voice actor.

- Last year I read 567 books. I do have to admit that the majority of these were children's books that I read to my students. This year I want to get into a good reading rhythm and end the year with another hefty total of books read, but I am going to try and have more books that aren't written for 5 year olds in the 2023 count :-)

- Last year I wanted to finish some more video games, including Persona 5 Royal. This did not happen, but I am going to try again this year. Some great stories can be found in video games, and I am going to seek out more stories to enjoy this year, including those told in the video game medium.

- Just like last year, I fully intend to grow, improve, learn, and level up once again. Happy New Year everyone - I wish you all a wonderful year ahead!

We're starting again.

The New Year is fresh.

Mistakes to be made,

lessons to be learned,

character to build.

On December 31st, 2022. I finished my rough draft manuscript at around 10:00 am. It was twenty six chapters long and about two thousand to three thousand words per chapter, an estimate of 78,000 words. This is officially the first time I've completed a rough draft all the way through (but I did get close for my very first novel). The work I completed took almost a year of writing and is what I consider my second novel.

Despite all these confusing numbers, the point shouldn't be lost that I created a product I'm satisfied with (until the second draft) in a painstaking amount of time. These long hours of work shouldn't be ignored. My last attempt to write a novel was a Nanowrimo November. It was both a success and a failure, a success in that I completed the challenge, a failure in that the work was rushed and delayed me writing an ending I wanted to complete on more organic terms. As that rough draft is, I still don't have an ending and don't see it proper to write until I've made significant improvements to the world and characterization.

The biggest problem I've had to overcome in writing is the big burning question; when to do what. It's still an issue I struggle with today despite having a better grasp on possible solutions to it compared to the past. Every large project I've done so far requires lots or research and worldbuilding, two things I haven't done enough of for both of my projects. The biggest challenge I've faced isn't even writing the story, but rather finding reliable information about the topics I'm writing about. A lot of the subject matter I'm exploring is so niche that finding proper resources seems almost impossible most of the time. Thankfully, I'm making more progress than years past and should be making more progress in this area in 2023.

The ultimate truth I've discovered about writing is one that doesn't surprise me. Just write. It's simple. Even with my limitations, I'm enjoying the direction both of my stories have taken. It's fun to make eons of notes and plot maps, but the best action to take is write them out. The story will go in its organic direction and will not follow original plans to a tee. It is best to go with the flow to make an organic story and not shoehorn in anything for the convenience of fulfilling a checklist. This message was brought home to me when writing my second novel. The entire book is surrealist which means it relies on symbolism and subtext to tell a story, that story being often up to interpretation. Creating a bizarre scene and trying to see how everything fits thematically is a challenging but fun task. While I'm not one to give advice, I'd recommend any aspiring writer to work on a surrealist story to take their skills to the next level. When comparing both projects, my second novel made my first novel seem much easier to manage.

Where all of this takes me is just another step into another unknown. There's a lot I've yet to do and learn. When looking at my material from two years ago, I can't imagine how I thought it was good. I'm sure I'll get the same reaction two more years from this current one. I've been writing for over two years now, but in the year of 2022 something changed. That thing was getting into an intense flow of creativity. Like a large rock at the edge of a hill, it took some hard pushing to get it rolling on its own, but when it did the results were nothing short of surprising. I was able to complete every chapter of my project and even had time to write several short pieces on the side. It's crazy to see what can be accomplished when one has a genuine desire to write. It doesn't come along all the time, but when it does I see it as sign that the idea I'd shelved deserves to be written.

I'm letting go of uneeded grudges. The grudges that fall to no use over time. And I'm bringing a higher self love for myself. Growing to my fullest self. I'm gradutaing this year so the stress of picking the right future road is high. Every year I get a new inutition vibe and it feels like I have the answer inside I just have to go look for it. Something that I learned today is jewish folklore of Adam's first wife Lilith. And how she was made the same way adam was but Adam thought he was better than her. Lilith just wanted equality between them. I feel like she'd be a great feminist icon just with that itself. She didn't take a man bullshit and I respect that.

The wooden place piercing in a

lugubrious Venus without heat after the need for people afar in Sodden Daydream bang hateful snaps against an open compartment bed is left hung open at a rubber and wisteria dead bleak and dense.

The low basin is a good sign for the public image today flows oblique, obliterated conjecture landscapedesign and then within peripheral distance they create yardstick rubble for you to run away, when and where to their awareness no one could theorize because the newcomer is not a big deal until others rise.

someone's crying

something broke

sentimental pieces

have lost their shine

now that they

are shattered

someone's masking

their fragile sadness

with anger.

someone's spilling

their drink across

an unsuspecting lap

and that of course

is kindling

to the flame

someone's yelling

my god how could you be so stupid

but still

someone's smiling

for the obligatory photograph

at midnight

and sipping

celebratory champagne

even though it

burns all the way down.

someone's hoping

that this'll be their year.

push away from who they used to be,

launched into a new reality,

and dear god

please don't ruin

yet another

holiday.

someone's swallowing

their panic,

keeping up a facade,

even when

no one's looking.

someone's feeling

alone

even in a crowded house.

wishing they could learn

how to exist.

someone's writing

frantically

in order to tune out

the ball dropping

in tandem

with yelling.

someone's dying

and their new year's resolution

is simply

to survive

because every day

is a victory,

even if they get

nothing else done,

they will live

because they have to.