What are You Reading?

What are You Reading?.

Solutions for the Over Stimulated Muse

Solutions for the Over Stimulated Muse

 

            I read because  I write, and I write because I read. I could spend 24 hours a day 7 days a week at the local library and never suffer a moment of boredom. As a matter of fact, I walk into the library almost daily and my inner muse still jumps in the air, kicking her heels together like Dorothy in the “Wizard of Oz.” Truth be told, she knows if I am not fascinated and motivated by the ideas of others, She Will Die.

            The problem is that although I am an avid reader, I frequently start more books than I finish. It’s not that the books don’t hold my interest because usually these are detail oriented, good books. The dilemma occurs because my mind never rests. It’s constantly conjuring up the next “big idea.” Therefore, I feel compelled to learn all I can prior to leaving this life.

            I don’t want the pangs of the what if’s and the had I of known’s  looming in the air long after I’m gone. I don’t want the unanswered questions in the next life to be caused by a lack of preparation from this life. Consequently, the urgency to find “some of the answers” is constant. Equivalent to that of a child that keeps going afraid of napping because of the innate fear of “missing something.” Therefore every book on the shelf in the library is a resource and looks like one I should read. That’s the one that possesses the knowledge I’m lacking. Never mind the fact that I have 29 other books stacked neatly in a pile waiting to be read. I need to prioritize. I need quick solutions. Otherwise, I will suffer the loss of having an abundance of well intended projects floathing around in my head, accomplishing nothing. Success is never gained by well intentions.       

            Desperation has prompted me to stay focused and to find some solutions. Here are some ideas I have come up with so that not every book in the library is screaming, “pick me”, causing my success rate to be mandated by well intentions.  One is I joined two book clubs. Not because I do everything in excess but because both of the clubs serve different purposes. In the first group I joined we read more urban fiction. Not only does this club dicatate the books I read, it gives me a deadline for reading the books so I am more apt to read it’s entirety.  During the monthly meetings I listen to and share ideas with other members. The second book club is a group of conservative, retired teachers. They choose books they feel have strong literary value. I read the same book so that I am exposed to a variety of genres. Because of work, I am unable to attend the meeting but  I read the same books and finish the book prior to their monthly meeting. Again, this allows me to read a book from cover to cover. Outside of the two books I read monthly I have decided to read two other books so that I am reading a book a week. I will write weekly reviews on every book. I will post these reviews on my blog. The book reviews allow me to read, to write and to network with other authors.  I will continue to monitor my progress while I hope that these solutions tame and focus my over stimulated muse.

THE MORE KIDS HE HAD THE MORE WE SUFFERED

Some people have called me a witch. If I were a witch I would wave my magic wand and turn injustice into justice. As I’m writing this I’m liberating myself from the pain. I am releasing the toxins into the air that if allowed to manifest would cause hatred and resentment. I am allowing my God to fight my battles and I am confident and assured that he will….

Indiana Prosecutor’s Office Child Support Division is a joke. Over the course of twenty years I have seen money disappear. On one occassion a check for 2500 vanished into thin air. Neither myself nor my son saw a dime of this money. When I tried to locate the money the red tape was so thick I could cut it with a knife. Only later did I see on the news that some trusted employee was stealing money. Although credited to my account the money was never returned. So, I guess the prosecutor believed that it was my responsibility to pay for the thieves working in his office.

Believe it or not this was not the worse of the injustices. The worse were all of the times we became homeless because of my inability to pay all of the bills. (Tell me Mr. Prosecutor how Do you compensate my son for this? Which worksheet should you use to calculate back support?) I had two degrees a BS and a BA and only one child  but I couldn’t survive. (Surely it must have been my mismanagement of money.  The icing on the cake was the more kids my son’s father had the worse our life got. He was now responsible for five kids but he was driving the nicer car with the nicer home. I couldn’t make it. I couldn’t get any help outside of foodstamps because after all it must have been my fault with my one child and my bitter attitude that I couldn’t make it. One of the mother’s of my sons sibilings had been on ADC and because she had the state took the tax refund check which had been promised to my son for back support. That check was promised to my son four years before that child was ever born. The system was tragically failing my son. LOL and this mother resents me. Really?

I did not stop fighting for my son. Although I was loosing energy. The more I fought the harder our lives became. The attorney who was defending my son’s paternal family found a $41 dollar check that I had bounced 20 years earlier while in college and had me arrested. I wasn’t a criminal I was sick and had forgotten about the check. Lucky for me the judge dismissed the twenty year old case but now it shows on my record as having been charged. So now the information has been plastered all over the Internet.

I never imaginedd so many problems would emerge from my wanting to take care of my son. Because I challenged the judge in the divorce court, the sick attorney and the prosecutors office I was now labeled. In addition to being homeless I couldn’t pay my attorney so now he has a personal vendetta. I am now a defiant who deserved to be ostercized. I could say more but because it’s so draining I won’t.

Today, I received a letter from the prosecutor stating my son is of age and is now emancipated. My son doesn’t have a job and will be starting school in the spring. I still cry because of all of the missed years that I worked two jobs and still could not make it. My son suffered. When I had my son I was married and we could afford him. I wasn’t like the other mothers who brought more than one

child  into the world knowing they did not have the resources to sufficiently provide. I wanted more children but I never had them because I couldn’t afford them. I would have never been that selfish to take from one child and give to another one. I wrote this not only to explain why it’s showing up that I have a criminal record but also to release my enemies to God. I forgive you for all that you have done and may God bless you as he sees fit.

 

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IN THE GRAND SCHEME OF THINGS.

In the grand scheme of things faith has caused me to realize that there has to be something greater out there. What I have come to discover is that for every whine that my son utters, for every innocent child who dies and for every single parent household there has to be a power greater who calls the shots. There has to be something that understands the baby’s cries of a crack addicted mother. Something that keeps the child alive although he hasn’t eaten in three days because his mother is busy chasing her next high. There has to be something that safely allows the 7 year old to cross the street to steal dinner for his younger siblings because his mother has sold her food stamps to the dope man for a shot of heroine. There has to be something that allows the single father to continue raising his teenage daughter to the best of his ability although he has given up on pulling her mother from the dope man’s house where she continues to sell her mind, body and soul to the dope man for her next fix. There has to be something better that reaches into the mind of the teenage dancer that allows her to grow up to live a semi productive normal life.After tripping on acid for so many times wondering if this is the actual tripp that will take you into the zone that you know only the mighty hand of God can pull you out of. There has to be something that only taints your mind instead of demolishing your life. When thinking back you realize that by all rites you should have been dead. There has to be something that tells you when you have sunken to playing handball against the sidewalk that you can still rise above your obstacles. The has to be something that tells the recovering alcoholic or addict who wakes up with night sweats, sweating one minute and freezing the next that this too shall pass. Just hold on for one more day without a drink, or a pill, a shot or a hit. Then has to be something that when a single mother is lying on the kitchen floor with a needle in her arm, a bottle in her mouth and a hit of acid on her tongue and she’s cursing something to take her away from this miserable life. And, the only temporary relief that she has is when her three year old child comes to the floor. He asks his mother for something to eat. She has to temporarily dry her tears, stand on her feet and fix her son breakfast, lunch or dinner. Upon hearing the child’s voice she realizes that although life has beat the hell out of her she has to stand and pretend as if she were the mother that her son deserves. She loves her drugs and only later, in a moment of clarity does she realize that it was only temporary guilt that allowed her to stand on her feet, and to walk though the empty beer cans making her way to the kitchen sink to find a pan to fix her son something to eat. Later in life she wonders where did that wave of emotion come from that allowed her to feel the guilt after so many years of feeling only numbness? Then she comes to her senses and realizes only in the grand scheme of things is there something better out there. That something must be the loving hand of a powerful, awesome and forgiving God….. Only in the grand scheme of the things can one truly understand the love that God has for all of his wavering children.  Only in the grand scheme of things does one realize the true purpose of life is to form a personal relationship with a God to call your own.

A Temporary Life

Full of fear

Protected by the armour of God

A direct connect, no more intercession

Frozen from complacency

Anxiety tramples elevation

Hell is a high price to pay for fearful disobedience.

Press Release

For Immediate Release

Tralisa McNeal

Writerwithacause@yahoo.com

What happens when a preacher’s life is shattered by the rape of his wife but his love for her is stronger than the drugs and deceptions she uses as coping mechanisms?

Tralisa McNeal answers these questions in her novel Love Me Sane. (356 pp.. $17)

https://www.createspace.com/3732266  a story of love and redemption.

Mary Campagna the author of Send a White Rose states that this is not a book for the fainted heart.

Love Me Sane gives a first hand account of issues such as: abuse, addiction, infidelity, love, marriage, miscarriage, and redemption.  The experiences as well as the clear voice of the protagonist will certainly draw the reader into the world of the victim.

Ms. McNeal states “I started writing the story and Stacey Jones finished it.”

Tralisa McNeal is currently pursuing writing as a career. She has both a BS Degree in Education and a BA Degree in Communication from Indiana University.