It seems there are always changes.
The sun and the moon are forever moving, and changing the days and nights.
The wind, it changes.
The clouds, they change with every change of the wind.
The water, forever changing, which forever changes the earth.
Our souls, forever changing direction, forever changing shape, forever changing
the souls in which they share the changes.
But change makes a soul strong.
Just as a flower whose position you change to chase the sun.
Change creates wisdom.
Wisdom creates strength.
Change creates new opportunities.
New opportunities give you a chance for positive change.
Change is forever surrounding us and forever moving us.
We should not fear change, for it is senseless to fear the inevitable
and to cower from something that could carry with it new hope.
Janine Anne Rose
Welcome to the original Purple Leaves Blog, which I created and basically set aside to collect dust. I was awaiting my website to create a more indepth blog, and wanted to have everything all in one place. But as I sat here thinking, waiting, and squirming with too much to say and no one to say it to, it got thinking that two blogs are better than none. So, to all of you daring souls, welcome to the world of my multi-dimensional (sounds so much nicer than psycotic) words and thoughts.
Purple Leaves
Monday, April 18, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
About~Purple Leaves
I invite you to ride along on this raw yet poetic and metaphorically written journey of life, love, pain, and redemption.
Samantha "Sammy" Picarra is a fifteen year old girl who lives in a quiet New England suburb of Boston, Massachusettes. Aside from her youthful insecutities and teenage angst, she lives a sheltered and overprotected life, until an unexpected turn leads her down a far different road. After a whirlwind of eye-opening reality, burying her woes in drugs, alcohol, and finding love in all the wrong places, she finds herself facing the most life-changing decisions.
This page-turning, epic drama of finding ones' self, will stir your thoughts and capture your heart, leaving you with tears of laughter, sadness, and bittersweet happiness.
Samantha "Sammy" Picarra is a fifteen year old girl who lives in a quiet New England suburb of Boston, Massachusettes. Aside from her youthful insecutities and teenage angst, she lives a sheltered and overprotected life, until an unexpected turn leads her down a far different road. After a whirlwind of eye-opening reality, burying her woes in drugs, alcohol, and finding love in all the wrong places, she finds herself facing the most life-changing decisions.
This page-turning, epic drama of finding ones' self, will stir your thoughts and capture your heart, leaving you with tears of laughter, sadness, and bittersweet happiness.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
My Therapist
So, after another unsettled night's sleep, dread was consuming me, as I knew I was off to see my new therapist today. Writing was always my therapy, and never felt the need to drown another person's ear with my incessant rambling. Okay, I have issues. But then again, who doesn't. What would a true writer be without a shitload of baggage that we carry around in our subconcience day after day? There would be no turmoil. No mountainous ups and downs though life to draw from. What if she fixed me? If there was even a small chance of that.
I put make-up on, and made sure I did my hair, so to be sure that I didn't look like a true fuck up. Heart racing, I made it through the car ride without a full-blown panic attack. Then, there was the clostraphobic elevator ride all the way up to the fourth floor. My hand reaches for the handle and I check myself in. Shit, there are way too many people in the waiting room. It's going to be a long wait.
I listened to everybody's life stories as I waited and I waited. I shouldn't be here, I kept thinking to myself. My laptop works just fine. Again, I don't need a therapist. I should be home writing. I should be nestled in my favorite little spot, where I unload my soul into peice of machinery, my fingers leading the way to manical freedom.
Then, I here my name being called. It echoes back inside my head. Shit, here we go, I think to myself with that re-occuring dread. The room smells nice, and the lights are set to a medative low. Well, she knows how to work it, I think to myself with a relaxing sense of hope. A hope that her approach is as subtle and non-threatening as the room. She smiles. It was surprisingly gentle and warm. She speaks. It was kind and unobtrusive. We talk. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. We finish. Fear equals the amount calmness that fills me. What if she fixes me. I smiled. There's no chance in hell, I thought to myself.
I put make-up on, and made sure I did my hair, so to be sure that I didn't look like a true fuck up. Heart racing, I made it through the car ride without a full-blown panic attack. Then, there was the clostraphobic elevator ride all the way up to the fourth floor. My hand reaches for the handle and I check myself in. Shit, there are way too many people in the waiting room. It's going to be a long wait.
I listened to everybody's life stories as I waited and I waited. I shouldn't be here, I kept thinking to myself. My laptop works just fine. Again, I don't need a therapist. I should be home writing. I should be nestled in my favorite little spot, where I unload my soul into peice of machinery, my fingers leading the way to manical freedom.
Then, I here my name being called. It echoes back inside my head. Shit, here we go, I think to myself with that re-occuring dread. The room smells nice, and the lights are set to a medative low. Well, she knows how to work it, I think to myself with a relaxing sense of hope. A hope that her approach is as subtle and non-threatening as the room. She smiles. It was surprisingly gentle and warm. She speaks. It was kind and unobtrusive. We talk. It wasn't nearly as bad as I thought. We finish. Fear equals the amount calmness that fills me. What if she fixes me. I smiled. There's no chance in hell, I thought to myself.
How to Purchase a Copy
You can find a link to my publishing company http://www.authorhouse.com/ (well, there it is, but it's much more fun if you follow the directions that follow) on my Official fan page PURPLE LEAVES a fictional novel on facebook. But there are many other options if you would like to purchase a copy, which of course I know you are all dying to see what's inside this page-turning drama of finding ones' self and much, much more.
Use your favorite search engine and do a search for Janine Anne Rose. As of this moment, to run a search on Purple Leaves, you will find yourself with an array of places that you may find some pretty and colorful flowers and plants. This will be fixed as soon as finances render it possible.
Use your favorite search engine and do a search for Janine Anne Rose. As of this moment, to run a search on Purple Leaves, you will find yourself with an array of places that you may find some pretty and colorful flowers and plants. This will be fixed as soon as finances render it possible.
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