Have you ever imagined leaving your home? What is home? Is it a physical location? I always thought my home was in the Bay Area. Home is where we are born and raised, right?
It’s where I had my first kiss, in the driveway across the street from my house, behind our neighbor’s truck with a boy named Jesse. He had a bowl cut. It’s where I slammed pogs onto the concrete sidewalk while kids rode by on their BMX bikes hauling friends on their pegs. Home was mom and dad. Until it wasn’t. Home was the place I ran away from as a teenager, trying to discover who I was but only to find myself more lost than before. It was where I broke hearts and where I endured the most heartache. It’s where my family and I made ourselves, only to become the place where it all fell apart. Home was mom and dad, and then it wasn’t. Then it became just me. Just mom. Just dad. Home was where I started using. It’s where I battled me and only me over and over, and when I thought the battle was done… It’s where I was rushed to emergency. Twice. It’s where I had to save myself because no one else was going to do it for me. Home was where I met the person who would be my forever. It’s where I learned it’s not always all about me. It’s where I learned compassion and forgiveness. It’s where I learned to receive it back. Home was where my daughter was born. Home was where I began to think, where is home? In 2020, my family and I moved from the west coast to the east coast. We moved away from family and friends. We left to build a comfortable life for ourselves. We left “home” for a new home. I have come to realize that home resides deep within and I’m reminded by Ernest Hemingway, “You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another.” Home is where you cannot and will not escape yourself. It’s deep within and therefore can be anywhere and nowhere. It’s where we choose to love, to make peace. So the next time you miss home, look within yourself because you’ve been there all along. Thanks for tuning in dear reader, -Sterp
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Do you love 1970s and 80s horror cinema? Or maybe you enjoy soft porn horror films (yes, it’s totally a thing!) Hear me out for a minute, as a horror fanatic myself, I was shocked that I had never heard of the Final Guys YouTube channel, a podcast dedicated to all things horror (reviewing horror cinema, games, books, etc.) But here’s the thing, this isn’t just any podcast, these guys and gals are our fellow indie horror authors! Your amazing hosts are Hunter Shea, Jack Campisi, and Jason Brant with guests like Chad Lutzke, Laurel Hightower-Wells, and more! If you’re hearing the faint calling of crickets right now, do yourself a favor and go read some of these authors’ books. ASAP. Here’s the good news, Final Guys is LIVE on YT every Tuesday at 8pm ET. I’m going to do you a favor and highlight some of the best moments from last night’s Final Guys YT Live, which was my first, popping my cherry with horror soft porn (we’ll get to that in a bit.) Be prepared for drinking games, horror reviews, they got jokes, and amazing attendee chat! I’m going to break out of this paragraph format and dive into a list of highlights. Enjoy! Best Moments from The Innocents Review - Final Guys Horror Show #272 Watch on-demand here.
Check out all the movie posters below because you know we all judge a movie by its cover!
I slept well last night and I don’t know why. I trace back what my day looked like so I can replicate it again just to get some good sleep. The one thing that stood out was writing. I finally started writing again. I guess when I don’t write, memories and untrue narratives crowd my mind until there’s no more space in there. Then I can’t sleep. Knock knock. Who’s there? I don’t know, but get them out.
I started writing my third book yesterday, what I’m calling an autobiographical horror. I’d like to think of it as Stephen King meets Hunter S. Thompson with Sylvia Plath overtones, minus the latter two’s terrible demise. I slept well last night and I don’t know why but I hope it’s from writing. Painting helps me but not in the same way that writing does. There is no other way to expose thoughts, to slap them around a little and put them in their place. There’s no other way to remove cancerous memories and untrue narratives from your brain except to trap them onto paper for all to read. They almost lose enough of their power. I fell asleep with ease last night and at 5:30 this morning my eyes opened in a flash. I was wide awake with no questions asked so I got up and started my day with writing. Since I met the day with writing, I hope I sleep well tonight too. Until we meet again dear reader, Sterp I have secrets like each of you. But do you share your secrets?
I have been getting quite depressed lately. Yes, the “D” word, the one we are not supposed to talk about. The one that our world shuns even though many of our loved ones are lying in its puddle day after day. Not quite drowning, just lying there in angst. I wrote a short story today about it all and submitted it to a publication, probably only to get rejected but that’s another story for another day. This morning I sat out on my porch and read a book I got from the library, Secret Window: Essays and Fiction on the Craft of Writing by Stephen King. It’s inspiring to say the least. I want to go to his home in Maine and stare between the bars of his steel black fence. I want to haunt him the way his stories haunt me. Is that creepy? The really great news is I have been creating more than all the years added together. Whatever that means. I also received my first portrait commission ever. An achievement in the art world similar to getting an interview for a job. It makes me happy and that’s really all I could ask for. Let’s see, what else? I am writing again after burn out. I often feel burn out. I don’t know if it’s an artist thing, a creator thing, but I get into fits of creativity and it just pours out of him uncontrollably then it’s like I’ve been hit by a truck and I am laid out for days, sometimes weeks, and even months. It’s as if everything was sucked out of me and the only way to recharge is to sleep. I cycle. I write, paint, read, all obsessively until I break. I repair and continue. I do this all while working a day job, being a mom, a wife and trying to live healthily. Everyone and no one is doing the same thing. Or doing nothing. Sometimes I get headaches that last days. Sometimes I feel on top of the world. I want to keep these short for you, in the midst of your busy life. I need to go work on this commission piece. I will share progress photos along the way. Happy Sunday (to you and your Sunday secrets...) By the way, tell me one secret. -Sterp |
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