The Marsh Marsh Chronicals

                                                                The Route                                                   By: Marsha K. Rodriguez          She was the smallest girl in school. The world seemed to tower over her. She buried her face in the comfort of a book. She pretended she was the protagonist: tall, strong and brave.       She didn't make friends. She didn't make enemies. Only those who sneered at her. Preying upon her insecurities as if she were a bag awaiting the impact of a punch.     She could relate to no one. Their words too bland; their actions too automatic. She neither envied nor pitied them.     She lived in the smallest town. Words of others traveled quickly along the wind to hungry ears and repeating lips.       She possessed an automated existence. An existence that road along the rails to the same destination as all the others.      She could not allow herself to follow the others; to live only for the moment of death. She had to find

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, Or to take arms against a sea of troubles....   Since apparently, to quote a certain asshole professor, "I'm no writer"  It leaves me no choice but to quote the long dead Shakespeare.   And oh, boy...what slings and arrows I suffer to no end.   It is one talented individual that is able to insult nearly everything that  encompasses a person's soul within one to two sentences.   I probably should have gotten out my notepad and scribbled out  some notes so that I may build a shrine and shelf to set them on  and lay down my offerings to the God, Profess-holio!   Should it not be enough that I got every question right and wrote  accurate information? Nope. Apparently, during a test I must be the embodiment of  Shakespeare, Milton and Emerson...   Hmm...anyone else notice here how all those guys are MALE??? I cannot imagine how I work so hard and yet always f

Well, here's an update: Things are going okay. They are by no means as good as they were a few weeks ago before a man we shall call "asshole" screwed up our lives, but they are okay. At least for now. We've had some additional setbacks which I won't go into. These have made things a bit more stressful, but we're still working together to maintain our sanity. I've been struggling a lot with my Spanish class. I can't seem to get a good handle on it. I took my first test, which stressed me out beyond belief, but fortunately I came out of it with an A. So, as it stands now I'm not failing. I'm fortunate that Eric is able to help me most of the time, but it is increasingly difficult to manage the time around his show. The show is all we have now, so its needs must come first. I slept for the first time in a week last night. I got a good 4 hours uninterrupted which is a lot better than the 2 hours of tossing and turning, waking up trying to tra

Some might think this is peculiar. But, I find myself constantly writing things. Well, at least in my head. It's very rare that I take the time to log into blogger and actually type something I wrote mentally but, this time I do feel the need to do so. The night after learning something that hurt my family, I wrote this as I laid in bed tormented by stress, anger and uncertainty. As I type this now you might be asking yourself, "Do you feel this way as you type it out?" Yes, I do. I may feel a little less anger but with every day that passes, the stress and uncertainty increases. A Girl, A Box and A Crayon  By: Marsha K. Rodriguez        There was a day about 17 years ago that stays engraved in my memory. I'll never forget it. The death of a person very near and dear to me. It was also the day my childhood died.      I still had many toys and dolls but on that day, I got rid of them. I threw out all my kid stuff that day. Nearly everything...except one thin

I'm probably am going to regret this post. As a matter of fact, I'm sure I already do...but...FUCK IT. Excuse me for being there for you. Excuse me for putting all my real thoughts aside to let you vent for months and months. Excuse me for reaching out. While you never pick up the phone in turn. Excuse me for trying to be the kind of friend I would want. Excuse me for not being ecstatic while you ruined the day leading up to my wedding to go on and on about how great your guy is and how you are going to marry him. Never mind my wedding was 11 years in the making and I wanted everyone to celebrate and focus on me. Okay, maybe that was selfish, but fuck...it was my bachelorette party....and my wedding. The one time in a woman's life that the focus SHOULD be on her. I just ignored it while everyone else asked if it bothered me because it sure as hell bothered them. I told them you are my best friend and if you are happy, then I am happy. Although this is true. I

As of late, I am faced with the dilemma of having a worse time remembering things. Whether they be important or not, the fact remains...it's paralyzing. There was a point in my life I could recall pages and pages of dialogue without a second thought. Dates, places, battles, and even some Amendments to the Constitution. (Lets face it: I have no life) And now I'm lucky to remember a word or what the heck I was doing...or that I have food in the oven... I don't know if it is the stress at work or the stress of returning to school in the Fall, but something is amiss.  I've been in denial for a few months, but truthfully, I know...my memory is getting worse.  What plagues me is that, while I may possess many great things in my life, I cannot be definied as wealthy. With the exception of memories. These are the things I always held onto with such pride. I once believed that those memories are the one thing that can't be taken from us, but alas, I now feel differen

Nope, I don't even like buffalo wings...but the title is catchy. I don't have long to write as I must be up early to go to another day of dreaded work. A day of dumb people who shouldn't be allowed to be within 50 feet of electronics, let alone allowed to use them. I don't even know what to say, but I do know I have a lot on my mind. I want so many things. Things for myself and for others. I want to take the advice of my family & friends and go out on this venture into the unknown, but at the same time I am so scared of failure that it gives me panic attacks just thinking about it. All signs throughout my life have pointed me in the direction of creativity and entertaining.Most specifically...writing. However, every time another sign is thrown at me, I have a tendency to talk myself out of it, calling it another coincidence. "Well, Marsha...there are people out there way more talented than you. You would be just wasting your time." I don't

Inspiration cannot be taken, for it can only be given. She has been blessed with such inspiration tonight. There are so many friends that have stayed by her, yet she only sees loneliness. But, now she sees what must be done. A lifetime of heartache and struggle has led her to this place. But just as a gun is more powerful after receiving a bullet, so is the mind once it’s filled with ammunition.   Now is the time. Here is the opportunity to spill the experiences out onto the floor. Not with violence…but with words.