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TBT: Words are Life

Cleaning our home office has yielded the discovery of many treasures, such as this poem. I had long forgotten its existence, but when I found it, I remembered the point when I came to the epiphany that in neglecting my writing, I had neglected a part of who I am. It’s not always easy to find time to write, and the world around me often leaves me unable to sneak in even a few sentences, but I need it as often as I can. I need words.

Words…

wrought with anger,

dripping with tears,

pure intensity.

 

The salvage of me.

And who am I?

Don’t you see?

 

I am Frankenstein’s creation…

dead pieces melded together.

Now bring me to life!

 

A perversion of self,

no longer who I used to be.

Now bring me to life!

 

Can I again use words

to find my inner self?

Can words bring me back to life?

 

My soul has no voice.

My heart bereft of inspiration.

I need the words…life.

 

Terri L. Harper

Copyright 2005

words poem

I’m a Writer, Not a Conversationalist

Confession: I am an introvert, as I imagine the majority of writers must be. This makes the tasks of self-promoting, public speaking, and the ever-dreaded networking nearly insurmountable for me. While an extrovert views a room full of strangers as a room full of potential friends, I use the spy skills I’ve acquired from watching Alias and all the Jason Bourne movies to scope out all the escape routes. Alas, I am not as agile and quick to escape as Sydney and Jason; thus, I usually find myself stuck in awkward small-talk. I despise small-talk. It’s so…small… and insignificant. I only want to exchange verbal words that have meaning. And don’t get me started on having to talk about myself to strangers.

All of this is to express to my readers the fear and anxiety I felt going into the huge book signing and author event I was part of on Saturday. There were around fifty authors and random people coming into the Veterans Memorial Library in St. Cloud, Florida that day. I felt like part of an assembly line, or worse, part of a speed-dating event. Authors were lined up at tables with our books, business cards, and shining smiles on display. Potential readers journeyed from table to table, judging our books by their covers, occasionally asking us questions about ourselves and our books. Whenever I had the chance to talk, I felt like I was vomiting incoherent strings of words.

Yet, I felt a value in all of the torture.  It was a chance to be seen, to tell about Drew, my dear protagonist/me, and to see what other authors do. We all had a chance to learn from each other, spanning across the genres. Yes, this was a valuable experience, even if it made me feel as out of place as an adult at a Justin Bieber concert.

I also just gained access to my interview from the event. 

TBT: Random Poetry Bits

I have notebooks and folders scattered and tucked into dark places throughout my house, and most of the time, I forget they exist. I’ve been on a cleaning and organizing binge as of late, and I have found odd, mysterious little treasures. Many writers save everything we’ve ever written, not so much because we really like most of it, but because we figure there’s a chance some of it will strike inspiration into us later.

I don’t know how inspiring these little bits of poems actually are, and I have no recollection of actually writing them, though it is undeniable that this handwriting belongs to me. Perhaps there never was an occasion for the words, but rather an idea for characters in a story I locked in the back of my mind. I don’t even have any clues to when I may have written them. Anyway, here they are, just for fun.

Sweet and serene,

I found an old photo of you and me.

Nobody knew back then

How close we were to

stumbling

off 

the 

edge.

…and…

The silent waif of yearning

hungers for a gentle word,

a soft caress of love,

to help stop the mourning.

Memoirs Christmas Excerpt- All I Want for Christmas

This week, I have posted three Christmastime excerpts from my second book, Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: Fresh-meat Year. I am skipping an important Christmas chapter, so if you want to read it, follow the link above to my books on Amazon. In the meantime, enjoy this, the last chapter about Christmas in Drew’s freshman life experience.

All I Want for Christmas

Without Angela, and being snowed in, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were quiet and fairly uneventful, which I was totally ok with. I spent most of Christmas Eve holed up in my room, alternating between reading and writing.  My mom and I made some cookies together and then it was time to open presents.  Yeah, we did the early present thing and got stockings in the morning.  I suppose this contributed to my not believing in Santa as a young child.

I’m sure I received some great presents, like sweaters, perfume, and maybe a music box, but much like the desire of Ralphie to get a Red Ryder BB Gun, I longed for a keyboard.  Adrienne and I were going to form a band, and though I planned to be lead vocals, I wanted a talent to back it up, even if keyboards were losing their luster in the early ‘90s.  I had dabbled a bit, and badly, with an old acoustic guitar, but we had given it away when we moved, and I had been teaching myself to play the family’s organ.

No box existed beneath our tree that looked quite big enough, but the last box was the right shape and big enough if the keyboard was smallish.  My parents handed the neatly wrapped box to me with Cheshire grins.  By the feel, there was no way this was a keyboard, but I was optimistic it would somehow work out anyway.  Maybe I just wasn’t a good judge of boxes.  I peeled back the paper to reveal a longer, more slender, naked cardboard box.  I needed a sharp object to cut through the mailing tape my mom had used to secure it shut, so my dad handed me a key.  Inside the box was a literal wooden board, wrapped in tissue paper, and adorned with pencil traced keys, much like the one my father had handed to me to open the box. The word “KEYBOARD” had even been neatly scrawled along the top, centered and everything.  I’d been had.  “Very funny!” I whined.  “Just take my dreams and smash them, why don’t you? Hmmpphhh!”

They laughed, and my mom snuck over to a hidden corner of our large basement living room and pulled out a much larger box.  “Maybe this will make up for it,” she said, offering this new gift, which obviously was a keyboard.  I hugged both of my parents tightly and tested out all the settings and voices on my new treasure.  There were 100 effects in all and it was glorious. I got my Red Ryder BB Gun.

On Christmas morning I found candy, toiletries, and more Christmas socks in my stocking.  We spent a good portion of the day watching some holiday classics, which even my mom was able to join in on since she only had to cook a small Christmas dinner for three.

We each spoke with Angela on the phone.  She missed us and cried a little again, but Ryan had bought her some expensive perfume, so that helped, though his parents had bought her a cookbook, something she did not take kindly to.

That evening, Belle called to wish me a Merry Christmas.  We couldn’t talk long, but it was good to hear each others’ voices.  Our conversation was cut a little shorter than planned when Milton started barking and running in circles by the front door.  Somebody was trying to open the door.  “Dag nabbit!” came a muffled voice from the outside.  My dad cautiously opened the door to reveal the Phillips’ grandma, the one whose sweaters matched her dog’s. She wore an expression of bewilderment.  “But…you’re not Phillip.”

“No.  Can I help you?”

“Oh, dear.  I can’t find my house.”  I didn’t know if either of my parents had ever seen this woman before, so I didn’t think they knew where to direct her, and I stepped in.

“Uh, actually, you live down the road there,” I said, indicating the Phillips’ home down the hill, all lit up, with a Christmas tree in every visible window, and one on the roof for good measure.

“Are you sure?  It’s kinda tacky.”

I suppressed my laughter as best as I could.  “Yes, ma’am.  I’ve seen you with the family before.”

“Oh, my.  It’s a bit slippery out here.  I don’t suppose one of you could help me and Lester out?  I don’t want another hip replacement.” I assumed Lester was the name of her dog.

“Sure.  I’ll walk you home,” I found myself saying before I knew what I was doing.  “That’s ok, right?” I asked Mom and Dad as I laced up my snow boots.

“Sure Drew, but you be careful too,” my mom replied.

As we took the short hike down the hill I learned that Lester’s owner’s name was Wilma, “like from the Flintstones,” and she had moved in with the Phillips a few months after they moved in.  She didn’t like her son or grandson, but her daughter-in-law was nice.  When we arrived at the brightly lit front door, I rang the doorbell because it was locked.

Junior answered.  He just stared at us for a bit, long enough for me to catch a glimpse of several Christmas trees, which smelled awesome, but having so many was still weird, like a forest in their house.  “Looks like Grandma didn’t get run over by a reindeer after all!” he shouted over his shoulder towards what I assumed was their dining room area.  Filipia came running, but an indifferent middle-aged man, Mr. Phillips, just glowered from a distance.

“Oh, Wilma, I was so worried about you,” she said as she gently took the old lady’s hand.  “Thank you so much for returning her to us,” Filipia directed toward me.

“Yes, thank you, Deary,” Wilma said as she reached into her pocket and pulled out a quarter.  “Here you go and Merry Christmas,” she said, placing the coin into my hand.

“Oh, well thank you, and Merry Christmas to you all,” I said as I reversed directions and walked as quickly as I could back to my own, normal home, twenty-five whole cents richer.

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

 

 

All Oppression Shall Cease

TBT: The original post is from two years ago, and I updated the video I chose to use. Please enjoy my favorite Christmas song.

caverns of my mind's avatarcaverns of my mind

One of my favorite parts of Christmas is the music.  I’ve been singing as many Christmas songs as I could learn since I was first able to sing, as far as I can remember anyway (between singing Christmas songs and songs from Annie loudly, for all to hear when I was a child, it’s hard to understand why I’m terrified to sing in front of people now).  Though I do actually enjoy many of the more secular songs, like “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer,” the dearest to me have always been the more traditional songs- the songs about the true origin and meaning of the holiday.  When I was younger, my favorite was always “Silent Night.”  It’s slow, reverent, and beautiful.  However, somehow I had missed for years the most beautiful of all Christmas songs.

Then in the early ’90s, while watching Home Alone, I heard…

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Memoirs Christmas Excerpt- Wonderland

Here’s another little sampling of Drew’s life at Christmastime from her awkward freshman year. If you enjoy this, check out the link here.

I couldn't stop laughing. Drew could have had this poster.

I couldn’t stop laughing. Drew could have had this poster.

Another Trip to Wonderland

During the week of school right before a big holiday break little happens educationally, except tests.  Teachers figure kids will forget everything over the break, so they pack in the tests while it’s all still jammed in their flighty teenage brains.  Or they have parties.  The last few days before Christmas break were a confusing mix of both.  The worst thing was crashing from a party in one class when there was a test looming in the next, such as I did in pre-algebra.  It must have shown on my face because Chip even offered to share his test answers with me, but I knew I would have a better score even if I just made something up about a, or b, or x, or whatever stupid letter I was supposed to find a number for.

Chip was still hobbling around, but it didn’t stop him from giving me a bear hug as we parted ways that day.  “I’ll see ya nixt year, little buddy, cuz we’ll be havin’ New Years and all.  Git it?”

“Oh, Chip, you are clever.  Have a good and safe break,” I said as we parted ways.  Apparently, we had become quite good friends since he broke it off with me, or whatever it was. Chip even gave me a Christmas card with Rudolph’s head mounted over a fireplace. Classy. But at least he wasn’t flirting with me anymore.

Chorus put me back into party mode, but then again, that was usually all we did.  Of course, we had done some Christmas songs and caroled around one of the elementary schools earlier in the week.  Mona and Violet had made dozens of cookies and put them into little goodie bags to give out to everyone in class.  I overheard Mona laughing to Violet and Julia, something about plumping up all the other girls so they’d be fat in comparison.  I should have known there was a sneaky evil agenda behind the cookies.  The three of them made a pact against all holiday temptations.  If they wanted to sweeten up their celery sticks, they were allowed a small dab of peanut butter only. Interestingly enough, I felt no guilt over my plans to eat all the sweets I could acquire.

When class ended, I bid goodbye to Anne, whom I was fairly certain I would see over the break at some point, and Ally, whom I probably would not see.  Her parents were planning to send her away to a boarding school because her grades were so bad, and because, according to Ally, her stepmom was evil. We hugged and exchanged Christmas cards, in which we had each included our addresses, hers being at the new school. “Bathroom breaks from photography just won’t be the same without you.”

“I know.  Take care of yourself, and make sure you kiss Dustin today.  Seriously, he needs something to think about over the break…you.”

“Yeah, sure thing,” I lied with a smile as we parted.

Adrienne met me in the hallway before photography.  “We need to miss the bus today.  My mom already said she could pick us up at Dustin’s at five.”

“Uh, ok, but we don’t even know if we can go to Dustin’s.”

“Yes, we do.  We talked earlier when I caught him staring at Alyssa in the hallway.  You need to make an impression on him before the break.”

“Weird.”

“What?” Adrienne asked.

“You’ve never met Ally, right?  But she pretty much said the same thing.”

“She’s obviously very smart.”

Dustin approached with a smile.  “Hey.  So you ladies are coming over to hang and play some Nintendo today?”

“Sure.  You really know how to kick off a holiday break,” I teased.

“I know.  But I might also have some mistletoe around if you get bored,” he replied with a smirk as he passed us and walked into the classroom for another holiday class party.

When the bell of freedom rang, Dustin said he had one thing to take care of before we left and that he’d meet us at the corner down from the school.  Dustin had a real eye for photography and he had made some great prints earlier that week.  One was of Alyssa.  I had seen him pull it out of an envelope for a few seconds earlier, when he thought nobody was looking, and he wrote her name on the front of the envelope.  As Adrienne and I walked down the hill, I found Dustin in the crowd, slipping the envelope into Alyssa’s book bag right as she boarded her bus.

A small, thin woman in red was heading out the front door of Dustin’s house when we arrived.  I could see him tense up as we all approached each other.  “Dustin, Sweetie, I’m off to run a few errands and then to my work Christmas party, after I pick up your father.”

“It’s not an open bar is it?”

“Dustin, now is not the time,” she said, almost under her breath. “Who are your friends?” she said more loudly and cheerfully as she smiled at Adrienne and me.

“Adrienne and Drew,” Dustin replied as he gestured towards each of us.

“It’s very nice to meet you girls,” she said as she limply shook each of our hands. “Don’t mind the mess.  I haven’t had much time for tidying up lately.”  She reached up a hand and touched Dustin’s cheek.  “Be good.”

“Yeah, you too, Mom.”  We watched her climb into a large old blue station wagon, start the sputtering engine and drive away.

“She seems nice,” Adrienne offered as we entered the house.

“Yeah, but she’s not the problem.”

In the corner of the living room was a sad looking Christmas tree.  It wasn’t one of those charming Charlie Brown trees or anything either.  This had been a nice tree, but a large chunk had been chopped off one side of the tree, ornaments scattered on the floor beneath, where not a single present sat.  I tried to act like I hadn’t seen it, but Dustin caught me looking.  “My father used part of the tree for kindling to start a fire last night.  We had kindling wood, but it was out back, and the ax was closer.  I hid the ax this morning.  Good thing he wasn’t drunk.”

“So your dad is a drunken douchebag?  My dad sucks too.  Drew’s just about the only person I know with two good parents,” Adrienne said.  It was true too.  I tried not to take it for granted and sometimes I even felt guilty because most of my friends had weird parental situations of some sort.

We managed to escape the world where parents mattered while attempting to rescue Princess Toadstool, later known as Princess Peach, in Dustin’s attic bedroom.  Guns N’ Roses blared from the stereo.  We stopped between levels as “Don’t Cry” came on.  “I love this song.  I know it’s a released song and everyone knows it and all, but it’s still one of my favorites on this album,” Dustin admitted, and we listened without speaking, all the way until Axl Rose held out the final note, his voice wavering up and down, and then we resumed the game until Adrienne’s mom showed up.

As Dustin walked us toward the door, he caught me gently by the hand, letting Adrienne walk out ahead.  “I couldn’t find the mistletoe, and I couldn’t afford to get you a gift, so I hope this is ok,” he said as he leaned in and gave me a quick, soft kiss on my lips. His hand let mine go, he smiled, his beautiful dark left eye showing more of the green flecks than usual, and wished me a Merry Christmas.  I turned and walked into the wall.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas,” I said as I corrected my position and practically ran out the door.  How clumsy!

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

 

 

Memoirs Christmas Excerpt- Deck the Halls

I have decided to post a few Christmastime excerpts from my second book (Memoirs of an Ordinary Girl: Fresh-meat Year) this week. Please follow the title link  if you are interested in more.

My favorite Christmas movie...

My favorite Christmas movie…

Deck the Halls…and Everything Else Too

My favorite time of year had arrived and I was prepared.  Mom had a habit of getting tired of old home decorations from Christmas to Christmas and would decide to restock with a new theme every few years.  I was surprised so much of our old stuff had made the cut to travel when we moved, but she’d had a year off since we didn’t really have Christmas that year. However, she’d seen it all again last year and it was now time for a change.  I scavenged most of the stuff she set aside to donate or toss out and used it to decorate as much of my bedroom as possible.  Most of it no longer matched, but I didn’t care.  It was festive.  It was one of the only times of year when the creepy red carpet in my room actually wasn’t so creepy.

As I Scotch taped a string of colored lights around one of my bedroom windows, I could see the Phillips’ car driving down the cul-de-sac with an enormous tree strapped to the roof, which I thought was strange since I remembered seeing them bring a tree home sometime earlier in the week.  In a few minutes, while I was wrapping blue tinsel garland around the ends of my curtain rods, they left again, treeless.  Then, about an hour later, when I walked out to get the mail, they drove back home with another huge tree.

It was the Saturday a week and a half before Christmas.  Mom always wanted to wait as long as possible to get the tree so the needles didn’t all fall off too soon and we could leave it up through New Year’s, but we were pushing it this year.  I was afraid all the good trees would be gone, so I’d begged to go that day and it was time.  My mom knocked on my door.

“Come in,” I called.

“Ready?  Angela just got home from work and your dad says it’s now or never.”  She took a look around my room and shook her head.  I knew the haphazard array of colors was not quite to her liking, but it was my room, so she didn’t say much, just, “The red carpet seems appropriate now.”  There were a few ways I could take that.

We sifted through the selection at the make-shift tree lot for at least an hour before we found the right tree.  My mom had brought along a couple of her more heavy ornaments to really test out the tree’s branches, and she had re-measured the spot where we would place the tree so we knew how tall and wide we could go.  A man dressed as an elf prepared our tree for travel.

As my dad was paying for our tree, I spied the Phillips talking with another elf at the tree lot.  “Ok, so you will hold those three trees for us?  I can take the big one now, and I’ll be back for the rest tomorrow.”

“Yeah, sure.  Phillips, right?”

“Yes.”

“Writing it down now.  I’ll put reserved tickets on them for you.  You need help getting the other one loaded up now?”

I walked back to my family.  What the heck did the Phillips need so many trees for?  How many did they have and where were they putting them all?  So weird.  Then I noticed that the Christmas sweater and dog lady was with them.  Of course.  That made perfect sense.

Copyright 2014 All rights reserved

 


 

Keep Making Me Better

My husband and I have wanted to be missionaries or some sort of heroes in the battle against human trafficking. Wanting to stand in the gap for others makes us good people, right? I guess I was feeling like I was a pretty good person. I left my teaching job in order to begin reflection and finding our place in this (also because I felt God urging me to leave it since the job consumed me). I spent a year recovering from my career, writing, and wanting to get in touch with what God’s plan was for me. However, I found myself lacking in the spiritual revelation area.

Parenting in any form had never crossed my mind. That would get in the way of what we really felt we should be doing in helping others. We were so much the unparents that people joked about how unparent we were.

Then, through a series of events still unbelievable to me, we ended up agreeing to take in a four-year old girl, related to me. We knew it was the right thing and were beginning to see how God had made a way for us to be in place for this child when she needed us, but it was hard, and we were only beginning to see it, after all. At first, I felt like this might get in the way of us doing the big plan we knew God had for us. I also was selfish because I didn’t know how I was going to have time to be me anymore. This was a legit worry for a couple who never planned to have kids in over 14 years of marriage. And it was a legit shock to my world since I had just experienced a year of total freedom to do what I wanted, when I wanted. But, still, I was being selfish. I had to grow up and look beyond myself.

We were doing the best we knew how to raise a displaced little girl, but my inexperience had me wondering why God would have her with me, of all people. There had to be someone better equipped. People seemed to think my husband was made for the role, but all the jokes from the past of me being such an unparent were messing with my confidence and making me feel overwhelmed and sorry for her having been placed in my care. Surely God had made a mistake. Oops!

One day, I picked her up from school and had to take her for a school physical. Maybe she hadn’t slept well the night before, because she was moody…or maybe she was just picking up on my insecurity. She threw a fit I didn’t understand and I didn’t know what to do. When we arrived at our destination, I could no longer hold back my tears. I apologized to her for having to live with me because I wasn’t sure what I was doing and she deserved better than me. She looked at me with big, loving eyes and began to cry too. She hugged me so tightly. In that second, I realized this little girl had been traumatized by rejection, and I had to pull it together for her and give her the sense of security all children need, because she was acting up only because she was scared and living with hurt from the situation that had brought her to me in the first place. We couldn’t both be scared. I was the adult. I had to reassure her and be strong and loving. I let her know then that I was going to do my best to be better. It’s still not always easy, and many sacrifices have been made by my husband and I, but she has been every bit as much a blessing to us as I hope we have been for her. We’ve learned routine and shared in love and learning…and I feel God has been using her to help me grow up just as He is using us to be her protection and love. When you love someone, selfishness has a way of going away, and without resent. It has to, or someone will suffer. I refuse to see her suffer any more.

I never would have planned this for my life, but it wasn’t my plan. It was God’s. He has allowed us to be the security, love, and safety she was afraid she no longer had, and He has helped us to be more like Him, which is what the Bible tells us to do.

Are we there yet? Of course not. We are constantly learning, but this blessing wrapped in a child has truly opened our eyes. We’ll never be perfect, but we are constantly learning more about how to love like God loves and to put others before ourselves. He has equipped us in love, finances, and support from so many people around us. It’s a continual adventure, but we’ve learned to trust God in all of it.

When I heard the following song one day and truly listened to the words, I knew God was using it in that moment to speak to me. Maybe it can speak to someone else right now too.

 

TBT: The Ocean 9-18-97

I found some old scraps of writing and journal writing from my past as I sorted through a cluttered cabinet in the office desk the other day.

When I lived in Virginia Beach and attended Old Dominion University…

nature.desktopnexus.com

nature.desktopnexus.com

It would be hard not to fall in love with the ocean: the soft, salty air, the sound of the lapping waves, and the beauty.

I sit here, watching it in the dark. It gets closer with each wave, each inky, black wave. And the orange moon just shines down in one zig-zagging stripe that seems to leap off the edge of the horizon.

This is my dream…writing on the beach. I never thought it would happen so soon. It’s not quite how I expected it to be, but I’m loving it anyway.

If everything else in my life seems difficult now, at least I have this. The beach is my sanctuary. It doesn’t love or hate. The ocean just breathes. With each breath is takes, it heaves another wave…and each wave is perfect. I am lost in this wondrous creation’s ferociousness, yet awed by its sparkling charm.

 

TBT: My very first disclaimer

In hunting for something to post for Throw Back Thursday, since I’ve been a slacker again as of late, I found myself mostly amused by the page in my old writing binder I have ignored and flipped past time and again… my welcome page. Like a good deal of what I post for TBT, this was written when I was in high school, and it seems silly and cute now, though I’m sure that was not my initial intention.

Welcome!!! [yes, I overused my exclamation points]
You are about to step into the mind of Terree L. Klaes. Everything in the following pages was developed in my mind, and then typed out for your reading enjoyment. I hope that as you travel through my stories and poems, you are touched, shocked, and overwhelmed. I write for my own pleasure, but most of all, for others to enjoy. The mind is limitless, as is my writing, and I hope you find that I am skilled and talented. Thank you for your time; you will not be disappointed.
Yours Faithfully,
Terree L. Klaes