What happens to the mind once it’s been damaged for a length of time? Is recovery possible? Is the person that was still there?


I think I’m damaged. I shutter when I hear “potential”. Oh sure, I had potential. Heard it all the time growing up. “She has so much potential, if only…”

My birthday is coming up soon. 40 is sneaking up quick. Since childhood I have wanted to be a writer. I dreamed up story after story. I lived to create. It was my favorite activity.


A young child doesn’t understand the depths of potential. I’m not entirely sure my teen daughter yet understands the depth of potential. It can mean everything or nothing. As a young child I was dragged to parent/teacher conferences year after year and listened to the teacher complain to my parents about my wasted potential. I didn’t understand what the teachers were talking about, yet I knew it wasn’t good. I hung my head with shame, sat trembling in the cold, hard wood chairs that plague all schools, and listened not to the words my teacher was speaking but to the tone in which she spoke. Disappointment. Frustration. Concern.

I don’t know who my teachers felt these things for when these things were expressed to my parents. Today, as a woman with five children of her own, I hope the teacher’s disappointment was meant for my parents and not me.

Who the teacher meant her disappointment for doesn’t matter. What mattered was what I felt in my heart and soul.

I was a failure. Potential in the tone that my teachers voiced must have meant I was no good. That’s what potential was. Potential was another word for “nothing.”

Yep. Damaged. It would take a novelette at least to replay all the events of childhood that explains the damage that was done to me at the hands of others. I don’t want to write that story. I lived it. No one else should have to live it, not even vicariously.

I need to be repaired. I think that I’ve done some repairing already. It’s not enough though. Not yet.

I hate potential.


Tuesday Prompt: Playing with words

Today seems to be a day of played on words for me.

I can’t remember all of the moments but one moment was a text from my husband. He said, “you wanna see a big c@!k?”

Naturally, I was curious and said sure. The following picture yes what I got:


A Big...

Hahaha. Yep, that’s a big one alright.

Then tonight I finished reading, to my three sons, the last two chapters of The Anybodies. One son commented about the author and whether or not the author was a woman or man.

I had realized I was calling the author a woman when in fact I didn’t know.

I explained and my son asked what the author’s name was, again.
N. E. Bode.

My nine year old son repeated the authors name, the book title then started laughing with glee. He instantly got it.

The almost eleven year old took a bit more explaining before he got it, but eventually he was groaning and laughing with us.

I my children! I love sharing stories with them.

Well it got me to thinking about playing with words. It could make a fun writing experience.

Our Prompt: Try to come up with a word to play with and have fun writing with it.

Hmm. Holy man? Brick of cheese? Hehe.

Sunday Prompt: Civilized?

One of the few things I remember from my 10th grade year history class was a movie we watched in class and the verbal report I had to write on my opinion regarding civilization as presented by the movie.

What movie? Ah umm *blush*. I was a horrible student. I barely paid attention to the class let alone the movie.

I remember something about a man trying to introduce Christianity to a (maybe) African tribe?

Anyway, I was listening to an old song that I haven’t heard in years. The name of the song is Mr. Wendal by Arrested Development.

There is a line in the song, “uncivilized we call him, but I just saw him eat off the food we waste.”

This line, for whatever reason, jogged my memory of the movie in class and the report that followed.

Civilized, are we? What is civilization? And like Arrested Development questions, “who are we to judge?”

Today’s prompt: Imagine a situation that could result in our sophisticated society suddenly being thrust into a de-civilization. (Based upon your own ideals.)

Now toss your character to the wolves and see how she/he survives/behaves/reacts.

Saturday Prompt: Romance

I personally feel that very few stories can claim they have zero room for a touch of romance. Horror stories come to mind… those have a legitimate claim. Anyway.

Romance, love, seeking to find that one person with whom you’ll always fit in with, it’s human nature.

Today’s prompt: There is murder in the news, everyone is whispering to one another. You know, small town gossip wildfire. The murderer is on the loose. Enter character A and E. Throw some romance at the chaos.