Wednesday, December 7, 2016

It’s About That Time…Again.

October 06, 2016  /  Amy Boukair

In a few precious weeks, the writer’s biggest dream/nightmare will be upon us – NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month). The goal of which is to write a complete novel within the confines of the month of November. You can even attempt to finish a Work In Progress if you have one already going.
I have unsuccessfully attempted this feat with several of my novels – Ghosting, Indigo, and Shade. Ghosting is still stalled and sitting on the back burner, Indigo is finished and out in the world, but Shade has been scratching at the back of my mind for months now. I can tell a burst of the story is about to come out, but with NaNoWriMo, there’s an inherent pressure to push yourself to meet the insane timeline. Some people thrive on that initiative, but I often struggle with it.
I’ve always been a moody writer, not able to put a word to paper unless I was intensely inclined or inspired. This would typically put me in the category of hobbyist, and not a true writer, but I’m determined to break out of that box. Another novel under my belt would catapult me (in my mind) into the fully fledged upper echelon of real writers.
I know I want to get a sequel to Indigo out. I have a ton of ideas for that series rattling around my head. And even Shade has a long series possibility.
It will be done eventually. Of that I’m sure.
Can I at least finish Shade?
And will it be done by the end of November?
Stay tuned…

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

Show Me

October 04, 2016 / Amy Boukair

Don’t tell me how much money you make; show me how you value the people in your life.

I’m not interested in the books you’ve read, show me what you’ve learned in your time here on earth.

I’m not concerned with discussing your politics; show me your concern for the welfare of all mankind – friend or stranger.

I don’t care what music you listen to; show me what moves your soul; what sparks your passion.

Don’t preach about your religion; show me your compassion, patience, and kindness in any given difficult circumstance.

Don’t brag about your accomplishments; show me how you’ve changed not even THE world, but A world – even if in a very small way.

I don’t care if you can’t dance or sing, run a business, build a bridge, or climb a mountain; show me all of your vulnerabilities, your weaknesses, your faults.

All of what makes you, you. All of what makes us human.

I’m listening.

I’m watching.

Show me.

Stupid Heart

September 25, 2016  /  Amy Boukair
saving myself
is hard.
doing what’s truly best for me
is near impossible
the heart wants what the heart wants
but the heart is weak
the heart has hope
the heart believes what it wants to believe despite the obvious facts
the heart is stupid
chain it up and throw away the key
stupid heart

I'm Good...

September 08, 2016  /  Amy Boukair

I’m good.
I’m really good.
For real.
And it’s nice.
For a change.
Times recently were when things weren't so good.
Things were black.
Blacker than black.
Darker than dark.
A deep hole with no bottom.
I could picture myself falling through that abyss.
That was beyond scary. 
But, no longer.
Chemistry is at work.
Balance has been achieved.
I know my limits now.
I know my threshold of bullshit too.
I now know the border of me and the unacceptable.
I now know what I deserve.
And it's definitely better than I've had.
Better than one that only wants the sanity; can't handle the crazy.
Realize that I'm both and all. At the same time.
I don't depend on anyone else so step off. Step back.
It's up to me.
It always has been; always will be.
Grab on for the ride if you want.
Or I'll leave you behind.
I'm off.
I'm out. 
I'm on my way up.
I'm good.
Things are really good.
And it's nice.
For a change.
For a while.
For a long while.
For the rest of my life.
Things will be good.
I know it.

Elude The Raven

August 07, 2016  /  Amy Boukair
she often glimpsed the shadowy feathers behind her
in the corner of her eye.
just barely out of sight,
but always there.
in the back of her mind.
unscrupulous. cunning. patient.
a flutter here or there.
an occasional peck or scratch.
rarely fatal.
but only rarely.
never revealing his true power.
his power to compel her weakened spirit,
to deceive her credulous mind;
to make waste to existing wounds of her heart,
scavenging what few slivers remained.
the raven didn’t recognize she was a phoenix:
continually charred,
but repeatedly restored.
never unphased, but more vigilant.
not undamaged, but fortified.
her own brittle feathers a little more flame resistant.
whatever was necessary to survive.
to wake up just one more day.
to see the light of one more sun.
to take in the wind of one more breath.
only to be burned one more time.

A Poem For Tonight

October 04, 2015  /  Amy Boukair

Miles stretch.
Mind flurries.
Relentless uncertainties.
Thousands of insecurities.
Sentinel engaged again.

Hopes stockpiled for a rare sunny day.
Wishes Deferred.
Wait and see.
Wait and see.

If you don’t expect anything
You Won’t Be Disappointed.

It’s no way to live.

Fortitude tested.
Compassion maxed.
Trying to bend without breaking
and shattering into a million agonizing shards.
Leaves are starting to plunge to the earth.
The world around me is fading.
It’s the natural progression of things.
It’s the way of everything.


I Remember

September 11, 2015  /  Amy Boukair
I remember the long and frantic evacuation of Terminal Tower and most other buildings in downtown Cleveland into a crowded and chaotic Public Square. Lots of questions were asked, but no answers were readily available. Little did we know then that just miles above us, the passengers of Flight 93 were revolting against their highjackers and making a brave stand against terrorists on a plane headed to the nation’s capital.
I remember forcing my co-workers to let me drive them to their homes and cars as I didn’t want them on public transportation since we didn’t know exactly what was happening. I still have the ticket stub from the parking garage that day that I never had to pay. It was the easiest I have ever left the downtown area; people yielding, allowing others ahead, waiting patiently for pedestrians to get to their own destinations and escape pods. I remember the fear of hearing powerful jet engines near the airport that we knew were no ordinary passenger planes, and wondering if we too, were under attack.
I remember desperately trying to reach my family via cell phone, and mercifully getting through to tell them I loved them amid the pandemonium and apparent doom.
I remember a lot of shock, fear, and crying.
I remember gas stations jacking up their prices in the uncertainty of events. Trying to find a newspaper the next day was near impossible. The rush on grocery stores forced some to close due to the onslaught of people and demand.
The thing I remember most is the change in the landscape of America that lasted a short time afterward. There was a camaraderie among Americans; a unifying of the country that I don’t think has ever happened before or since. A solidarity of intent and purpose to not be trodden upon by outsiders. We stood as One Nation for the only time I’ve seen in my lifetime. We not only comforted each other in our time of need, but we also supported each other in our effort to get through it. That feeling and time was fleeting but important for us as a country to pull through as strongly as we did.
I would later meet, work with, and become friends with someone who was in the World Trade Center on that horrible day. We basically shut down our office one afternoon to hear her story. She described the terrible events she personally experienced with courage and generally dry eyes, most likely out of necessity and our benefit than anything else. She answered our tentative probing questions with grace and poise; never flinching at our interrogation. Even as she spoke, I couldn’t imagine living the horror that she went through. To this day, she has my utmost respect for carrying on and embracing life as she has since then. I’m honored to call her a friend.

Every year on this date I reflect on the events of 9/11 and how it affected not only me but everyone in America.

On this day of reflection, I hug my son a little tighter. I’m a little more polite to strangers though I should be polite all the time. I’m a little more stoic; a little more introspective; a little more thoughtful.

Many days have passed since with their own burdens and pains, but I will always remember 9/11.

I will never forget.