Archive for the Creative Writings Category

If she has slept every day/night of her life, you would think she knows how to go to sleep. How to go to sleep. Shut the lights, lie down close your eyes, zonk out.

Zonking out sounds easy enough and this she does most of the time. But its the times thats zoning does not happen that causes her concern.

8 hours sleep not happening. Why? Well if she goes sleep after midnight and she needs to be on the road by 6:30 am, 7 at the latest…. there is no 8 hours duh. And why is does she watch Jay Leno with his very white hair? When did that happen….

The insomnia gurus say if you don’t feel sleepy that don’t go bed, do other things that will induce sleep. Oh ok, she goes on Facebook; like that helps.

Perhaps it is Facebook thats the culprit. Yes checking status, comment on friends wall, like unlike, share, playing games, way too many games. Enough all ready. The novelty is wearing off she thinks. Sort of like that Ebay phase. How long did that phase last? About 6 months maybe, give or take some.

Facebook scares her. She learns things she doesn’t want to. Things about people she didn’t need to know but now she knows now because she read it. Facebook scares her because it steals time away from reading, writing and sewing.

Discipline. She lacks discipline. Discipline would get her body to bed on time to get 8 hours of sleep. It would keep FB time limited. FB fkng btch? She’s a messed up undisciplined FB; crazed by a computer. Still she needs sleep… she thinks sex may be the cure…… *L*

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Writing as in penmenship.

I was reading a FedEx label that I wrote and my head went sideways…. HUH? OH thats an N – I N or N N WOT? LOL

So sad I swear. The computer did it ain’t it! Use da ‘putah to write too much da hand no can now, stay all hammajang. Wotsupwitdat.

Not dat my handwriting was all pretty nice in the first place, it was just way moe readable then it is now. You know what I mean.

My oldest sista does not do computer and she really does write letters. Finally I had the courtesy of writing back to her. Like hand written letta kine. wow Usually I write one letta on da computa – Dear Sistas – get three of’um so write once send tree(3) yeah.

So any way I literally wrote a letter to my sister and it felt good. Neva scratch out words cause make mistake, neva use white out….. I wrote a letter. Unreal.

I basically love writing letters. If you write me I write you right. In high school I use to correspond with my Leilehua Kunia gangees.

I use to write one letter using ALL the different color pens I could find. Each sentence (or word) would be in a different color. Then I would use a different color pen and scratch XXX or OOOs or somekinda design over each word. Just lightly, you can still see the word. It was a psychedelic thing. LOL

I use to feel – Ok be creative and I would write along the edge of the page and keep writing around the page in a rectangle untill it ends in da middle section. So you gotta read da letter by turning the paypa. Anden one time or a couple of times I got a compass, remember those things…must have been in math class hehehe, but I drew a big circle then smaller and smaller. So first you read the rectangle writing part then it moves into da circle and you gotta continue turning da paypa to read the parts in the circle,

Ok so imagine if you will ~ every sentence a different color. Each sentence scratched ova wit one different kala pen. AND you gotta turn da paypa as you read.

So I was told a certain Leilehua Mule got busted in class reading one of my psychedelic lettas. Da teacha asked for the letter. AND SAN said “hea you read’um I getting headache awreddy!” LOL

I going have to write one of those lettas to her again soon. She going get flashback fo’real. But I think I need fo’practice write betta too. Need practice penmenship.

Shoots do they even teach that now days. I rememba having to draw pages and pages of circles and up and down lines la dat. I need to just hand write, write so that I can read it. Thats messed up when I cannot read my own writing. Auwe.

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[This is a piece, of a book maybe? The ramblings have been floating around in my mind and needed to be dumped out (written) before I fahgettaboutit.*L*]

It blindsighted her. Being homeless. She was never homeless homeless. Just one with no home. Her own home, like countless others. She was never without shelter. She always had a roof over her head, she was never in the streets. If home is where your is; then she’s never been with out.

She was always well taken care of, with food on the table. So how dare she compare herself to the homeless homeless. She was just homeless.

She should of, could of, would of done a lot of things. Like she should of gotten a job but fear and apathy kept her home hidden in her own world. She should of gotten treatment but she said she didn’t have insurance because she didn’t have a job. She should of studied and made herself a better person. She could of gotten a job but she didn’t know where she would be living. She made excuses.

Homelessness gave her a lot to think about. Maybe that was her problem. She thought way too much and did way too little. Maybe if she did more she wouldn’t have time to dwell on things that did not need to dwelled on.


How did she get here? How did she get from things to nothing and from health to needing treatment? She can’t complain. There really isn’t anything to complain about. True, she could bitch and moan. But would be the point. Just a waste of energy. Energy that could be best used for survival.

What if? She always has a list of “what ifs” floating thru her mind. “What ifs” that never happen. But if they did, if they do she would be the first to say “I knew it.” Maybe she did and maybe she didn’t. Crap happens.