Archive for ‘On the Author’

May 7, 2015

Note to Self:

You are a woman of might and grace
You are built of rock and pain, of heat and blood
You are both strength and weakness
Both malice and love
Both vanity and charity
You are vicious and merciless but also beautiful

Your power radiates outward
But your fear fills you
You are afraid
Afraid of failure, of loss
You fear love will abandon you
Or worse, that you will abandon love

And so you pull inward,
Keeping your heart so close that you might smother it
Because maybe that will feel better than letting it break
How tempting it is to give up, to let go
The path ahead of you is treacherous,
Sometimes more thorn than rose

But you, dear girl
Are not made of gold
You may be precious and dazzling
But you are not soft

You, dear girl
Are an uncut diamond

Hardened by the weight of the world
Burned and pressed and pushed
They tried to crush you but only made you stronger
You are not made to be pretty,
Though that did not keep you from being so;
You are made to be unbreakable

Note to self:
You are a diamond
You are a diamond
You are a diamond
You are a diamond
You are a diamond.

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August 25, 2011

A short bio.

Oddly enough, I was confronted by one of my tens of readers. He said:

Kris, I really think you should write something about yourself. You know, make it personal for the reader. A conversational piece, if you will.

After contemplating this for some time, I nodded to myself and decided to do it. However, this particular article took me several hours to conjure, simply because I am much more comfortable writing about imaginary people that I make as flawed or as perfect as I see fit. I can’t do that with myself. I am forever doomed to be an average girl, with average flaws and talents. Nothing too extraordinary (though some people think that my ability to turn absolutely any serious situation into one of humor is astounding), I’m just plain ol’ me. I hate that I can’t just make stuff up and have it become reality for the eyes of my audience, like in my stories. Well, reader who will – for legal reasons – remain anonymous: here are some average facts about myself.

To start off, my best friend is twelve years old. Now, before you scoff at me for being strange and seeking companionship beyond my age group, let me inform you that this twelve-year-old is my younger sister. We’re much closer than most people would believe. We fight like an old married couple, but at the end of the day, we still tuck each other into bed and say our goodnights. She’s the best friend anybody could possibly ask for, and I don’t know where I’d be without her. She is very mature when it comes to giving advice and listening. I vent my frustrations to her more than any of my other friends, and she is always willing to listen.

Another pretty average fact about me is that I have more family members than I have names for. Quite honestly, I’m pretty sure I can’t remember all of my relatives, and I am positive that I have not met all of them.  Now, I’m not talking about second and third cousins, once or twice removed. I’m talking about aunts and uncles and first cousins. You see, my dad grew up with six other siblings. I also learned (fairly recently) that he has ANOTHER brother in Puerto Rico. Naturally, his brothers and sisters had their own kids. My mother has a similar family history. She has five siblings (that I know of). From those family members, I have around twenty cousins. This is only an estimate, as I am not exactly sure how many kids each brother or sister has. I feel somewhat bad that I can’t remember facts such as this, but that guilt is overwhelmed by laughter. I chuckle at the fact that I know very little about my family. What little I do know is enough to keep us close.

Average fact #3: If you ask me to sing, I will. Most people are rather shy about singing for someone else, but I find sharing music to be one of the most intimate and friendly gestures one can make. I’ve been singing since I was old enough to speak, and I like music more than I like people. People consider me quite the social butterfly. But, if you sat me on a deserted island with nothing but a portable generator, a CD player, and a collection of the hair band era’s greatest hits, I wouldn’t need a Wilson volleyball. I’d be set. I can sit and listen to music for hours, singing all the while.

What’s the final fact? I am utterly and completely in love. The funny thing is that I don’t think he truly understands how much I care about him. I mean, I’m pretty sure he knows that I love him. But I’m really not sure that he fully comprehends just how much of my heart is with him. He’s family to me and I’d give up everything I owned if it meant he would be happy. Seeing him smile is always the best thing about my day. Leaving him at the end of the day is the hardest thing for me to do. We’re cut from the same cloth, even though we have so much we disagree on, so many differences. I could sit and talk to him for entire days and it still wouldn’t satisfy the craving I have for his friendship and love. If I could be with him all day, every day, I would be. I know that there are going to be bumps in the road and I know that sometimes there will be moments where one of us wants to give up. But, I also know that I am willing to do absolutely anything to be with him. But, should this end and should he find someone else, I think I would be okay. As long as he is happy, loved, and cared for, nothing else really matters. Though, I wouldn’t mind if he stuck around. He makes me happier than I’ve ever been, and I’d love to be this happy for the rest of my life.

Well, readers, there are your facts. Hope you feel that you know me a little better. If not, well then I suppose you should learn to read between the lines a little better.