Love in Time

Hey Everyone!!!

I’m in the process of writing a short-story.  I have two versions…One with a happy ending and one with a sad ending.


THIS POST IS THE SAD ENDING…..You’ve been forewarned.

Love in Time

By DJ Mandel©

Written 9/2/14

Love can be quite messy.  I know for a fact that it’s irrational, yet it is the one emotion that even scientists can’t figure out.  Love is hope and eternal.  Love is nurturing and caring.  Love is also a troublemaker.

I had a lot of misconceptions about love at a very young age.  I blame the Hollywood writers who have written every single corny, sappy love story on how love is supposed to be.  Soaps are a total let down.  They teach you how to fall in love many times, and how to be damsels in distress.

But that’s not life.  Right.  Tell that to my eighteen year old self.  All I wanted was total freedom out from under my parents’ roof.  I totally got blindsided, but there were some upsides to falling in lust.

I say, “Lust,” because there is a fine line between love and lust.  You have to know the difference.  I did not know that when I met my son’s father just a few days shy of my eighteenth birthday.

To tell the truth, I didn’t know what to make of this man.  I did think that because he was a good eight years older than me, he would have stability.  Boy was I wrong.  I felt like I was in one of those comedy shows where they do specific skits on certain people.  I only wished it was a comedy.

His name was Don, and like I had said, the only good thing he gave me was my son Connor.  Don turned out to be one of those dead-beat dads.  He was never around.  He was always promiscuous, and to top it off, we were living with my parents.

Yes, I never got out from under my parents’ roof like I had planned.

Since those days, Don and I had broken up, and I was left to take care of Connor on my own.  Being a mother to Connor was not an easy thing.

Connor was always sick.  He would get infections and HRS would come and assume I was abusing my child.  They thought that I was on drugs because I didn’t sleep much, and they also discriminated against me because I was a young mother.  It never stopped me from taking care of my son, and it never stopped me from moving on with my life.

Just because I was a mom, it didn’t mean I was old or dead unlike what Don had thought of me.  Or despite what any man thought of me.

Some men had a problem with the fact that I had a small child, and others would promise me the world.  They were all lies, of course.  I never understood what I had done wrong.  Then one day, all of that changed.

I was at work, talking to a co-worker about my issues with men, and she pointed out to me that I was not setting my expectations high enough.  The person that I am, I never turn down a life lesson from someone.  What she stated was true.

I went out and got a book on the opposite sex and why they do what they do.  It actually helped.  From then on, I had set my expectations high enough.

One night, I was supposed to have gone out with some friends.  I had my babysitting arrangements all set up, but then none of my friends could make it.  My mom had convinced me to go out anyway.  I felt rather weird going to a bar all by myself, but I knew the owners, and it was only karaoke night.

I had agreed and went out.  When getting there, I had ordered a beer.  I was already twenty-two years old, and I used to drink going out.  In any case, the night turned in my favor for several reasons.

For one thing, I didn’t have to pay for my beer.  Apparently there were quite a few people buying me beer.  I had six bottles total, and I think I drank only two.  I am only five-feet, two inches tall, and a little person like me can get buzzed fast.  For another reason, I had just met the love of my life.

I didn’t notice him at first until he bought me a beer.  I don’t know how it was I hadn’t noticed him.  He had been in that bar for months.  He sang and I had never noticed him until that night.  I looked down at the table because I didn’t want to make it obvious.  Then the strangest thing happened.

He was walking over to my table.  Actually he more like hopped over to my table.  He had taken one shoe off.  I had no idea why he had one shoe off, but it gave me a giggle.

He said, “Are you going to sing?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I smiled.

“Oh, you should though.  I’ve heard you before.  You sound great.”


“Aiden,” The karaoke guy announces on the microphone.  “Come on up.”

“I’ve got to go,” he said.  “I hope you do sing.”

And as he sang, I fell in love.  I didn’t want to make it seem obvious that I was in love with him, and so I left.  I did go back the following night in hopes he might be there.

Sure enough he was, and we exchanged numbers.  The rest is history.  Well, that’s what I thought. 

I thought I would have a happily ever after with Aiden, but things started turning for the worst ten years later.

I thought we would have gotten married and have more children, but children were the furthest from Aiden’s mind.  My son had no siblings.  He had no healthy competition, which led me to believe that was why he had troubles in school.  But like many of my dreams, I let that go.

I gave up the idea of having more kids when I turned thirty-five.  Aiden got sick.  He had diabetes and high blood pressure, not to mention kidney failure.  I became his caretaker, and put away all of those silly dreams.

I never finished school beyond an associate’s degree, and I probably never will.  I have student loans I have to pay for.

I thought I could become a famous writer, but that requires time and effort, which are two things that I lack for the time being.

I would love to tell you that I left Aiden a long time ago while he was healthy, met a great man that wanted kids, and we rode off into the sunset.  Unfortunately, not everyone can get that happy ending they’ve always longed for.

I’ve lived my life in a fantasy world for far too long.  I don’t even know how to get to reality.  And why would I want to live in reality?  It’s proven to be a very sad disappointment.

There is no happy ending for me, and I’m sorry if I made you think there was.  But sometimes, real stories need to be told.


4/20/11: Nat’l Smoke Out Day!!!

I’m not sure if I will put this journal entry into a blog or not. I shall see how bad my behavior gets! LOL…I’m currently writing and listening to The Sickness album by Disturbed. Yes, I am pretty disturbed, but that’s another story ;).

So, in light of everything, I was thinking yet again of maybe turning in my short story writes under a pen name. I know I had gotten opinions before, but it’s not like I plan on being big on the writing scene as many are struggling writers. I was never in that category, but as I am getting older and I have no job, things are starting to look a little different on my behalf.

Don’t get me wrong, I have thought about this many times over the years. I’ve been working on a story now for a few years. They say two years max, but it’s been three years almost already. Well, one year went without writing the story because I fell into a deep depression. I really thought I wanted something to keep me feeling young, important, and like I mattered. The truth is, I have to stop hiding behind a security blanket as I call it.

So, in all technicality, I only worked a year and a half on this book. Well, I probably would have finished sooner by now if I had my own private room, with no interruptions. There would be nothing but either silence or some Beethoven playing in the background. Maybe some J.S. Bach…I like chamber classical, what can I say? LOL.

Sadly, I only have Saturdays alone to myself to be able to write. Casey is at my parents, and Andy is at work….He took a 3 week vacation break from work so the last three weeks, my ears were filled with loud TV and guests that were over visiting. Now I can crawl back into my hole on Saturdays! LOL.

I was reading a story in Readers Digest about a woman that had a creative writing class when she was 21, and nothing clicked in her head until she had to turn in the last paper. She mentions that her professor gave her a D, telling her it was a good story, but he wants to meet the real author of the paper. Then she went on to saying how this gave her hope and when the husband and children were sleeping, she’d get up at 4 AM and start writing.

That takes devotion, because borderline insomniac me doesn’t fall asleep until that time, and the only time I fall asleep sooner is when I’m all plugged up and need my good friend Benadryl. For me, I’m lucky if I could get up at 7:30 in the AM, and write without the bird squawking or the dog crying to go out. By 10, homeschooling starts and ends at 2 PM. Then he goes out and I’m alone for a bit, but my thoughts are scattered. It’s hard to think straight after all that. Then there’s the fact that I have homework to do. I have Algebra to contend with, and even though I got seven weeks down, it will still be another 3 weeks before I’m done with the class…..Yes, I’m rambling. I swear I’ll get to my point! LOL.

The point I was rambling on about is I will get there writing wise. I wasn’t 21 when I started writing, nor when I got the jist of how a wild imagination goes. I was born with a wild imagination. I used to make up stories all the time; granted I never wrote them down, but I never forgot them. I was 6 years old when I wrote my very first song. I knew back then I was a poet. I’m just a late bloomer, and now I really need to get my rump in gear! LOL…

Okay, sorry I made this rant long as I decide that I didn’t trash anyone in here so it’s clear for posting. I just try not to go over 500 words. Again, truly sorry…

So, here’s my question to you:

Are you happy with your current job status, or is it just a job for the money?




Written by ©Diana Jillian

Reoccurring things

Listening to music
To drown out anxiety

Wish I was susceptible to hypnosis

Then I couldn’t
Wish it into being
Nor would I worry about
Persistence resistance

I would forget
What I want

Yet when my eyes are closed
I see you again

The one I never met

Sometimes I want to
Out of curiosity

Then I think
You should be happy too

I cannot offer that
As it took me forever
To be accepted as is

I think when it’s over
It’s over

I’ve made up my mind

Resistance is up
Maybe persistence to forget

This one thing
It could happen

Maybe just this once

Your Wish Is My Command

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Hi Everyone!

Day 8 is here! Day 8 is here.  My day 8 has only just begun.  While 8 is not my lucky number, I had always assumed it was 7, but these days, I’m not so sure.  I’m starting to believe I may not have a lucky number after all.

When I got a new phone number last year, I thought to myself that now that I have a 7 in the number, my luck might start to change.  Slowly, I lost my friends; slowly, I lost my jobs…I’m talking all the jobs I once worked and had; slowly, my son’s academic future was turning into a failure; and then…Then all that stopped: No friends, no job, no academic challenges.

My son couldn’t keep his eyes open in class, resulting me into home schooling him.  My relationship with Andy almost didn’t exist because he couldn’t understand why I was doing such a thing.  It took me a while, but now he understands.  So the question stands:  Did I find my pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

A rainbow is simply a mirage after the rain, where the sun glistens on one body of rained water to another.  I guess if you believe enough, I’m sure you could find yourself in the fairy realm, meeting or capturing yourself a leprechaun.  Or you could take his SHILLELAGH, and with a tap of the stick, get your every desire.

But…Yes, there is a but….Who says that all that glitters is gold?  Sometimes we have what we are meant to have, and not anymore than that.  Do I believe we can manifest more?  Of course I do!  The mind is limitless…It’s all in what your mind feels you can handle.

I know for me; my house; my car; my family; my pets; couldn’t compare to all the gold in the world.  Yeah, it may sound a bit cliché, but IDK, I kinda like it this way or I would have taken a different path.  Wouldn’t I?


Whether you’re Irish or not, do you celebrate into what is now the American tradition of St. Patrick’s Day?

What is at the end of your rainbow?