So as one can tell I am not good at sticking to plans. I had planned to write about love and ending on writing about self-hatred and love for someone else. This was not my goal but it is were my mind is going. So for my week of poems I will be focused on writing my emotionally draining stuff but will try to pick back up with the original theme in the following weeks. Sorry that I suck so bad.
I am not a fan of writing cliches, acually, I am a huge fan but I am not always tolerant of them.
The basic bad boy who turns his life around thanks to naive little pretty girl who think she is ugly.
Of course they have the techy (or sassy) best friend who is constantly by their side.
They are cliches because they work. We see the princess ready to leave her dull and unappreciative world behind and we wiggle in our seats. We see the handsome warrior who could kill with a single touch bow down to a common women.
“Love is a fickle thing” , we sigh into our drink cups. Clutching our books closer to our face.
There is still a problem with them.
Cliches allow readers to a greater understanding of where the story might be going. Rarely do we get stories that pan out a different way. YAs usually end with the girl getting with the outcast. The only times she ends up with the guy who “socially acceptable” is when the other ends up being a villian or is a tool.
The young boy who is trying to avenge his family will manage to do so but it will always come at a cost. His mentor or a family member will die within the first few books, maybe even the first few chapters. He may end up with a love interest but rarely will they stay together.
So I always know what story I am getting when I start to read. I know how it will end even if I do not know all the details that will lead to that point.
As I said before, cliche are considered such because they are overused but because they also work. There are only so many ways a story can go and patterns are really hard to deviate from. Yet, many readers and publishing companies expect writers to always be original no matter what. If they are not then there is a good chance their book will not be accepted.
Should we celebrate that fact?
I do not think so.
I despise cliches but I also love them. I am comforted by the fact that I can see the ending a mile away. Because I live for the journey. I live for those moments where the author gives me something I was not expecting. Like a book in which the sick person truly does die at the end.
Or a story where the boy was not able to avenge his family.
A story where the couple breaks up at the end
Or maybe one where, dispite the odds stacked against them, the villian is the one who wins.
I love those moments of uncertainty and I love those moments of clarity.
I guess it is the weirdo in me.
I am struggling.
For reasons I can not control I find myself thinking of you.
And no matter how much I fight it I find that I do not have the ability to stop.
Who used to feed me tasteless lies upon a platter
Who used to bruise my body and scream “What’s the matter”???
As if my bleeding lips And busted up tongue
Could convey sweet words when I had none.
I should have seen it from the swastika on your chest.
Who hold yourself above the rest as if You
Are a God among men
But I am lacking in faith and reasons
Once I begin to feel again I begin
Who tore my dress because you said it was ugly
Who blamed me for every cigarette burn and broken knobs on doors
Who always swore it was my fault as you ripped my body apart.
You ripped my ravaged body apart…
And for reasons I can not control I find myself
Who on our wedding day who made my legs a pretty shade of purple and blue.
Who called my job and told them I lied about the money that went missing that one night
The fact that I was not even there
Do you care?
As I struggle to find air around listless tress
Doctors and officers telling me that all will be ok
But it isn’t
It never will
Because you broke me
And made me feel a love so twisted and vicious that I become so fucking addicted
God am I so addicted
But it doesn’t matter anymore
Because I am now crawling in the floor begging for someone
Knowing full well that it is you that I want
AND I FUCKING HATE IT!
I HATE me
But this lack of control gives me something to believe in
Because as I sit thinking of you
Who nearly succeded in making me your wonton whore
I scream a little
While wishing for more.
Soo this is a rough draft. I do not like it at all but I forgot today was C so yea. Will post it anyways.
As a child I read a lot of books that were probably really bad for me. Romance novels, mystery novels, novels where someone important died at end and I was to little to realize that crying over fictional characters would get me laughed at as I aged. I am totally over that though, no hard feelings towards people who made fun of my…well.. my feelings. I am going on a tangent here…
See, back in my day romance had a different flavor. I was to little to understand how authors battled each other for the spotlight. To me they wrote for the fun of it and weren’t oppressed by societies expectations. They did not feel the same pain us lowly untalented plebs went through. It was until I was older that I learned any differently but still I drowned myself in the worlds of others. Teaching myself to see through their eyes with a greater understanding then my peers. I wanted to witness love from places reality could not touch.
So is it any wonder that I feel in love with R.L Stine‘s Fear Street Series.
Yes, I know what you are thinking “R.L Stine isn’t a romance writer”. In this you would be correct but the thing is romance written for children and young adults do not look the same for romances for adults. We get things like Hunger Games, Twilight, Looking For Alaska, Remember me, and Green Angel. Books that may have some romantic elements but cover a wide range of other genres. These are our introductions into the world of romance. As adults we will get to read books that are actually centered about the idea of love but until then we are traumatized into thinking that the dude with the murder boner for innocent people is our fated mate.
So yea, I got my twisted ideas of romance on the lap of the dude who gave us Goosebumps.
Back in my day bad boys ruled the world. The badder the better. I feel in love with the maniac murderer because he was the only one to treat the protagonist with any sort of kindness. I mean sure, he shot some dude in the face but true love concurs all. OK yea, he was stalkish and creepy, but did you hear him describe the way she looked as he watched her while she was sleeping.
Stories of love are intimidating because they are a constant reminder of what I do not have, what I am afraid to strive for.
I absolutely do not want anything to do with love.
But what is love?
What drives some to want it and makes others despise it?
It is a weakness or a strength?
Honestly, there is no clear answer to these questions.
Love is subjective and prompted to change from one person to the next. There are times when it can give someone the power to overcome all adversary. Yet it also has the power to turns one insane.
Is it safe to assume that it is a neutral feeling considering all that it can do?
This I do not know.
But what I do know is that I do not want it. I do not want to risk my heart in the hands of someone else. I do not think I could handle if it went the way I always it to. While I know that love may surprise me I am just not sure. Maybe this makes me weak but at least I will be weak on my own terms.
This year I will try to move away from my comfort zone. I tend to talk about some really depressing stuff so this years theme is Love.
Yep, you heard right.
I am going to focus in love and all the gooy lovely dovey I will never have ness that comes with it. No more depressing Jessi (unless the story calls for it) I am a whole new person this month.
What this means is that I will be both reviewing books and writing poems dealing with this topic. Some of the romance books won’t be just pure romance (I need that meaty plot) but I try to make it so every book I read main focus is on romance with other stuff more background. So bring on those devine sweat producing, hand fanning, hallelujah singing romance novels. I got my tea, my blanket, and my unicorn plushy ( property-of-daughter–with-extreme-caution-from-momma)
*Cue confused screaming*
This years theme will definitely be a challenge for me since I want to try something new. Not sure what I will do to be honest, but I look forward to this challenge with you all