Eccentric Tea Woman

So, there you are. You're sitting in front of your computer, ready to work on a new novel or short story, or poem. Or, you're standing in front of a blank canvas as you hold your brush, ready to paint a new painting. You're filled with inspiration and you're ready to expel it out to the universe. And then, you put down the brush, move away from the computer, and start scrolling through social media. You get caught up in the drama of the world and how people are getting angrier and angrier. You discover a new game app that you have to download and play until you get to Level 27. You spend an hour looking at a friend's profile and wonder why they wasted time making posts about so and so. On and on and on, until you look up and suddenly, five hours have passed. No words on the glaring screen. No strokes of colour on the canvas. But damn, you made it to Level 27! This is what I like to call Lost In The Weeds. It's that time when you're supposed to be productive ...

Blue skies above me. no clouds, too perfect to imagine. the Blue Painted carefully, the artist has done this before when there was a demand from those who were blind. beyond the Blue: questions for one to ask ever and ever, down, down, up never-ending but my questions of the Blue are heard by the artist, hidden. do not ask his name. reality, a thin sliver of Blue. Viridian Tea Company -  Strange and Unusual Tea Blends! Click HERE for the Etsy store link!

  To this day, the song "Longer" by Dan Fogelberg makes me want to cry. I remember how when I was younger, just hearing the first notes would start up the waterworks. I couldn't explain it to people; I just knew that that song made me cry. Other songs had that same effect on me and I wondered if there was something truly wrong with me. I also noticed how gory/horror films made me physically ill (I threw up once after watching The Exorcist) and lingered in my mind for days. I couldn't sleep for fear that SOMETHING was going to get me. I can spend hours viewing a piece of art, picturing the artist and their process. The scent of an almond croissant sends me over the moon and I find it hard to come down to earth. And don't get me started on my love of TEA. Whenever I couldn't let go of a thought that was from an ill source, I had many people tell me to "just get over it" and "you're being so sensitive". As much as I wanted to let go of th...

One drop of blood Is more than sufficient As a sacrifice among sinners And pagan saints. Purging all that is holy Gives up more room to defy the order And begin something new. Those that hold the ropes Claim they never wanted it to happen; Foolish mortals were never quiet. Inside of this In spite of this Denial of this, never that, Under frightful eyes With glass sharp tongues. Revenge is a cup of warm jasmine tea, sipped slowly, In case there was something missed. Forget all that has been learned And focus on what is here For there can never be another Time. Viridian Tea Company - Strange and Unusual Tea Blends! Click HERE for the Etsy store link!

(This story was previously published in Tales From a Goth Librarian II - out of print) When I first met Paula, I told her that she smelled like bergamot. Every time she moved her arms, every time her hair caught a light breeze, my senses would go into overdrive and all I could think of was a pot of Earl Grey tea. She said she smelled that way because she spent most of her childhood in her uncle’s teashop, wandering among the tall glass jars filled to the brim with exotic smells and delicacies from around the world. A pinch of oolong here, a dabble of British Breakfast there, some lavender thrown in for good measure, and voila! she would say, raising her hands over her head as if she was a magician. She lived for the scents that awakened the senses, for it was in those scents that brought us to a moment of undiluted happiness. One day I wanted to feel that same experience, so the two of us walked from my home to her uncle’s teashop, the small cerulean blue coloured store at the end of t...

  When I was younger, I was not given the option to fail. No grades below a B, no low ACT/SAT scores. I was supposed to be a perfect child who was brilliant and did everything she was told. Now that I'm much older, I am finally learning to embrace failure and that's a good thing. Back then, everything I did had to be perfect. Listen to your elders, I was told, and that way you won't make the mistakes we made in our lives. However, with that constant reminder being driven into me, there was also a part of me that wanted to find out WHY I was told not to do certain things. Looking back, I realize that I needed to find out the hard way. And so, I did. I failed many, many, many times, and it turned my anxiety into a force that wanted/needed to control everything. In that flawed way, I could pretend to be perfect to the world. What bullshit.  My current violin teacher is one of the forces who changed my life. My previous violin teachers were fantastic in their own way, yet I use...

  After crying, I decided to meditate so that I could finally listen to the silence. Eyes closed, mouth in need of moisture, I felt nothing, yet heard the house settling all around me.  Cracks, a sigh too deep to be anything else, and soon the heater came on providing me with that wonderful white noise. I am terrified of silence and what it represents. Noise has been my babysitter ever since I said yes to giving up my life. Perhaps we need more silence in our hate-filled world.  Maybe then we can finally speak our truths.  Viridian Tea Company - Strange and Unusual Tea Blends! Click HERE for the Etsy store link!