short stories Archives - Page 2 of 5

My Speech Journey (Journey To Me)

by tiffanyJourney To Me, Real Life November 28, 2017March 8, 2021No Comments

I will be blunt because there is no real way of talking about my speech journey without doing so. I have a speech impediment, where d’s and t’s don’t always come out right or at all. This is especially true when d’s and t’s are in the middle of a word and I haven’t said that word a lot or at all.

Growing up I hated that it was called an impediment. It wasn’t because of any negative experience I’ve had with having a speech impediment. I hated it because I blurred the syllables together. I couldn’t say what I had well.

After years of speech therapy, theater, and practice, friends and most people have said they don’t notice it. It can now be hidden and I can speak to be understood now.

Still, I can hear it. I may not consciously be aware of it with every word I say, but I know it is still there in the shadows. It especially yells at me when I listen to a recording or when I’m speaking through a microphone.

I repeat the words my friends tell me, “It’s just how I sound. It’s just how I talk.” I remind myself it makes me unique and those who matter don’t fault me for it.

How I get over it.

For a time I cringed my way through editing videos of where I am speaking, whether it was monologues, tips, or improv videos. I forced myself to get comfortable with my voice. It did help me become more comfortable with my voice and accept it.

Eventually the videos slowed to a stop. The improved self-esteem for my speech was only a bi-product and my goals that were the real focus of the videos were not in the foreground of my motivation.

I gave little thought to my voice or speech for a while. It was not interfering with my life and it didn’t seem like an issue. I could listen to my voice without cringing now and everyone could understand me. Part of my thought that the impediment was behind me. It was something I had not have. It felt as though the struggle with my impediment was over or a tiny pebble in the shadows of a far corner of my mind.

The funny thing with the mind is if you shine a light on a pebble it can grow. Even the slightest connection to it can create a boulder under the right circumstances. The pebble becomes a hurdle, which opens wounds that should have been healed.

I’m now facing my issues again.

Partly from stress and partly because a light was shined on my speech, I now had to face my speech impediment again. Even though the focus on my speech had nothing to do with the impediment, I saw my insecurities surrounding it.

I now have to figure out why the pain of not speaking exactly like everyone else still remains and threatens to come out at the slightest reference. Why does anything negative relating to speech or talking bring me to tears?

On the surface, it appears that the reasons are easily seen. I want to be viewed as smart, but I must first sound intelligent. If I’m fumbling over words, stuttering, and finding replacements that I can say my IQ appears to drop.

I do not want what I view as my weakness and flaw hold me back. When it does I feel all the times its held me back. I am reminded of going to speech classes, being taken out of regular classes to go to a special speech therapy class, and feeling the label of “different” on me when it was not my choice.

Labels and the Past

Even now when I gladly wear “unique” and “different” as a proud badge, being different in speech hurts. It transports me back to being a child who did not ask for the label or want it.

I always felt loved and do not remember anyone teasing me about my impediment. They would tease me and bully me for other reasons, but never for how I spoke.

I do not want to blame my short coming or not getting things in life on my speech impediment. Hardly anyone notices now and if they do they say it doesn’t change their view of me. However, when it’s noticed it changes my view of myself. I’m reminded of the shy little girl. I find my shell again and must fight the urge to get back in it. I do fight though and write instead of crawling into my safe shell.

When the time is right I will explore why my speech impediment still hurts so badly when it is in the light. It is part of me and should not hurt me, yet it still does.

For now I will again work on tongue twisters and vocal exercises to overcome my flaws. I will become comfortable with my voice once again. I will remind myself that I’m my own success person. I’m strong and I am loved.

The relationship with my speech is a journey that I may stumble along, but I’m at least making progress and discovering more sides of who I am.

Want More?

I have more stories that shows how I became who I am. They are in the Journey to Me series. I also have stories specifically about God and of course I wrote a book about my views and experiences with Love called To Love.

Left On The Bus (Journey To Me)

by tiffanyJourney To Me, Real Life, short stories November 7, 2017March 8, 2021No Comments

On this journey, I must look at where I’ve been and the stories that shaped my life. I believe it is important to look in the rearview mirror every so often to see the path you are on a little clearer. The first story I’m reflecting on while on this journey of self-discovery happened when I was a child. It was when I was left on a school bus.

When I was 5 I would ride the bus to kindergarten. One day the bus driver dropped all the kids off at school but did not check the seats. She left the school and parked the bus in her normal bus parking lot, but was in a rush. She had to take her grandson to the doctors or meet him at the hospital. Again she did not check the seats on the bus.

I stress this point, because little 5 year old me was asleep in one of the seats. At that time I could sleep anywhere and apparently through anything.

When I woke

I snapped to consciousness in an empty bus parked in an unfamiliar location. I still remember the location. It was a packed dirt parking lot filled with buses somewhat close to the town’s blue water tower. It was almost a sky blue and looked like a mechanical ellipsoid.

After leaving the bus I made it to the road. I did not know where to go. I was only 5 and did not know where I was.

The only thing that I could do was sit on the curb and cry. I’m not sure how long after my tears started that a lady, in what I remember as, a brown boxy sedan pulled up. I only remember that she did and offered me a ride to the police station.

At first I did not want to go with this stranger, but she seemed nice and there were car seats in the back of her car. To 5 year old me that meant she was a mom and safe.

She did bring me to the police station.

I cannot tell you what questions were asked once I was there. I’m not sure many people could understand me well, since I had a speech impediment. That did not inhibit them in finding where I belonged.

Soon I was asked if I wanted to ride in the sergeant’s car or a cruiser. After they explained the difference I picked one. I cannot remember which one I actually picked. I didn’t really care. My only goal was to be somewhere familiar.

The police officer brought back to school where I believe my mom picked me up.

From that day on I have been a lighter sleeper, especially while in a moving vehicle.

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Dreams and Goals (Journey To Me)

by tiffanyJourney To Me, Life, Real Life October 17, 2017March 8, 2021No Comments

My dreams and goals seem crazy to me at times. They are so grand and lofty. They almost seem impossible. Yet, every time I attempt to downsize my dreams it does not work. Even if I am able to shrink them for a time, they will grow.

I want to say my dreams grow like weeds, but they are much more beautiful than your common weed. They are more like wild flowers, growing wherever and however they like, but doing so rather beautifully.

They are currently blossoming with the goal of supporting myself as an author and artist, who can then work on acting again. I want to be known for these three things. I can see myself achieving this and I am working towards these goals, that is why I call it a goal and not a dream. Dreams are just goals without a plan. I believe Dave Ramsey said something along those lines and I believe it is true.

My current dream includes marrying a musically talent actor, having 2 kids with him, and building a life with him. In my dream, I’m producing t.v. shows and acting in movies. Also, I want to be able to live off of 10% of my income and give the rest to God’s work and charities. I have no actual plans or steps in achieving any of these dreams. Perhaps one day when I am supporting myself as an author, artist, and actress, I will then be able to plan for my dreams.

I do want to mention that I don’t just want a lot of money, but I want to be able to make a big difference in the lives of others in a notable, positive way.

Where I am sitting right now these dreams and goals are large and scary, but they are mine. I am happy with always reaching for more, even though it is frustrating or a real struggle sometimes. I think I’ll stop trying to downsize my dreams, instead I’ll upgrade my work habits.

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My Path (Journey To Me)

by tiffanyJourney To Me, Life, Real Life September 12, 2017June 24, 2020No Comments

Sometimes I feel like I should have already started a more creative life. I want to be further along in my creative career. This makes me feel like my life is passing me by. I forget to look at all the great stories I now have to pull from. I ignore the fact that each year, month, week, and day have shaped me into the unique artist that I am.

It frustrates me to see where I want to go and not be there. It is also frustrating not having a clear path laid out before me. If feels like I’m in Californian traffic during rush hour and I’m not even sure if my gps/ plan is actually correct. Perhaps there is a better path for me, or at least better steps that I can be taking.

If you want to be a doctor there is a clear plan. You go to college, then med school. Then I believe there is an internship or residence. After that you are a full on doctor. You apply to jobs, go on interviews and get a job.

If you want to be a lawyer, you go to law school, take the bar exam, and apply to jobs. Then you are a lawyer.

Being a professional artist is a bit different. You can go to school, but you don’t have to. Some people apply to jobs or get freelance jobs, but other do not go that route. Some will work on finding commission jobs, others will not take commissions.

You basically do what fits you and your art the best, but it takes time to figure that out. Of course, more and more I believe a lot of life is just like that. You need to figure out what works best for you and your life.

Sometimes it’s learning from others that will help you down your path in life. Other times it’s trial and error.

I think as long as you are moving towards your life goals, no matter how slow or sloppily, you are still going down your path and that is a good thing. This is one thing I need to remind myself when I think I’m going to slow or not seeing enough progress.

Want More?

If you would like to read more about my Journey To Me there is a full series on the topic. I also have more portfolio writing available too. If you want to get to know me better you can do so on Instagram , Twitter, or Facebook.

Who Am I? (Journey To Me)

by tiffanyJourney To Me, Life, Real Life September 5, 2017March 8, 2021No Comments

Welcome to a journey I am taking to answer the question “Who is Tiffany Joy?” I’ll show you who I am and how I became this person mostly through stories. This is a series of blog posts filled with self-reflection and stories of my past.

This journey started with me asking if the person I’ve become is someone I want to be. Can I be a better version of myself? If I can what would that look like? Also, can I be happy with who I am and still desire to be a better me, whatever I define ‘better’ as?

Before I can really think about becoming a better version of myself I first have to define where I am. How do I see myself. Just like getting directions on your gps for a vacation, I need to know where I am starting on this journey.

I am a 30 year old single female Chris follower, who is also a writer, painter, and aspiring actress.

I identify as an actress and theater person, even though I haven’t been on a stage for a long time or worked on a show in years. Still, I see myself as a theater person. There is a yearning to be noticed as an actress. My desire is to learn and embody a new character. I want to learn about myself through a fictional character, like seeing through a different pair of eyes.

It brings me happiness when someone refers to me as a writer, artist or creative person. I feel love when people notice me for these things. Being creative is a passion of mine and part of who I am. When you notice my creativity you are noticing me.

It is easy for me to think little of myself and my art, since I don’t make a living off of it yet. People could very easily say it is just a hobby. I also feel like I keep most of my art to myself. At the very least I don’t promote it as much as I should. It just goes on the internet and then it is forgotten. Some paintings just go on my wall where only I can see them.

Promoting and selling my artwork is one area I would like to improve on. I am taking steps for improving my online art life. Currently, I am posting more on my Instagram. Also, I am planning on setting up a society6 shop to sell prints of my paintings and even some digital pieces I’ve been working on. I have also been toying with the idea of selling the original paintings on eBay or Etsy, again. We shall see about that though. My main focus will be getting something on society6.

No matter what I will still create. I am an artist; that is who I am. That is where I will start this journey to understanding myself better.

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I Am A Soggy Bagel

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel September 30, 2015One Comment

Today I got dressed up. I felt like I needed to look good. I wanted to take extra time for myself, so in the morning I woke up early. I put on my new cream cheese spread and wore heels. I even did my make-up. I was looking amazing if I do say so myself.

I started my car and went to work. I was on the highway when it started to rain and then I got a flat tire. I pulled over to change the tire. As soon as my car was safely on the side of the highway the clouds fully opened up. Have you ever seen a bagel in high heels changing a tire when it was raining buckets? I am sure I was amusing the drivers with all four tires intact that drove by. I just know it was not fun changing that tire and I was almost instantly soggy. After a few nice people did stop to help I finally had my tire changed to the spare.

I stopped, soaking wet, at a tire store. They changed the spare out for a new regular tire and I was off to work, again. The only real different was that I was no longer fancy or looking amazing. I was simply a soggy bagel in heels.

I Am A Hurt Bagel

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel, my creative self, short stories September 22, 2015One Comment

The other day I woke up and my body was a bit stale. I thought nothing of it until later in the day. I started to workout with Baguette. I stretched and then ran. I was fine until we started to do the floor exercises. I should restate that. It was not until I tried to do the floor exercises that I started to feel real pain. I was falling ungracefully as Baguette showed me what to do. Yes, she did the floor exercises and I flopped around. I wound up getting unnaturally twisted up and my staleness turned into real pain. It was so bad that I could not fall asleep that night.

Thankfully us Bagels heal fast with a little wet heat. I was back to my non-exercising self within a day.

Black clad Assassin

by tiffanyshort stories, Stand Alone Short Stories September 10, 2015June 24, 2020One Comment

The perimeter of his little camp must have been weaker than he thought because he was awakened by the nose of a black horse with black eyes and black reigns. Everything about this horse was black including the rider who sat on the horse’s black saddle. The only thing that was not black was the whites of the rider’s eyes.

The rider stared at William, the now frightened man, as the black leather clad rider dismounted the black horse. William could see the crest of the deadly assassin clan pressed into the leather right where the heart should be. No one knew if this clan had hearts or if they were monsters sent to kill the poor mortals that got in their way. Not much was known about them. Only two things were known for sure, their crest had five stars and a bird, and a single assassin could kill entire villages.

Slowly the rider, who wore 2 swords, walked over to William. Only when the black clad rider was looming over William were words spoken. “Do you have food?” The words came from behind the black clothe mask, however they were surprisingly feminine. William could tell that the low register of the voice was forced and it was softer than he was expecting.

“You’re a lady.” A shocked William stated.

Before William could answer the question or even think another thought there was a dagger pressed against his throat. “I will slice your throat either way.”

William, a simple monk who was only out of the monastery due to a change in assignment was silent until the assassin asked the question again, “Do you have food or will I have to slit your throat?”

“I have food. I have bread.” A shaky voiced William answered. He stayed still until the dagger was lowered.

He went into his satchel and took out his 2 loaves of bread and offered them to the one clad in black. She took one ripped it in half and gave the other half back to William.

When William gave a confused look at the woman who was supposed to be a ruthless killed she answered the look by sitting down and stating, “I will not repay generosity with greed. You are not my target, so you will be safe.”

Neither one of them spoke as they ate the bread.

William simply sat cross-legged as he ate and watched the assassin. She had pulled her mask up to eat and William saw that her skin was only black because of the black grease makeup she wore where her mask did not cover. She was actually quite pale, especially compared to his heavily tanned skin. He also watched how she sat. The assassin sat with only one leg on the ground. The other was bent with the foot on the grounds as if she needed to be ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She also kept her dagger in one hand and the bread in the other.

They both sat and watched the other eat uncertain what would happen if either one of them spoke.

When the assassin was done with her bread, she stood and stated, “Tell no one of this meeting or you will become a target for my clan.”

She mounted her horse before William could confirm that he would not tell a soul. She did not need to wait for the confirmation though, she knew her clan’s reputation and knew he would heed her command.

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If you would like to read more stories of mine I do have a stand-alone short stories section and my writing portfolio. You can also watch readings of my writings on YouTube.

Guarding The Ladder.

by tiffanyMy Author's Portfolio, Real Life, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short Stories July 30, 2015May 5, 2020One Comment

Do not let the picture above fool you. Otis is not an ordinary cat. He is a fierce feline focused on protecting the one who feeds him. He is like a soldier and takes on this role every night. What is this hero of a cat protecting me from? Well, I am not sure, but it may be from falling off my bed, or it could be the window. Whatever the danger, he protects me from it every single night.

Let me explain how he protects me. His heroism entails walking the perimeter of my bed, making sure that the only exit from the loft bed is still the ladder. He then makes sure that I am safe by sniffing my face. Finally, he is ready to buckle down in his post. He stretches out as he lies down right at the opening for the ladder. With courage, he will stay at his post, keeping watch unless he falls asleep until my morning alarm goes off. Most days he will even stay pass the alarm going off and it will take me nearly throwing him down the ladder for him to move.

Now, since I am the one being protected, I cannot be the first one out of the bed. He cannot and will not simply move aside. This cat needs to clear the area, or at least the ladder. He makes his safety check by climbing down part way, stopping at the window for a moment, and going out the window onto the roof.

His reward for protecting me all night is his breakfast that I pour him, while I am still asleep.

At least, that is what I am telling myself. In all honesty, he most likely is just being a butt and blocking the ladder, because he knows it annoys me. I will keep trying to convince myself that he is protecting me because murdering a cat is frowned upon.

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If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube.

I am a Dancing Bagel

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel, my creative self July 23, 2015One Comment

I was convinced by Cupcake that I should try hanging out with other baked goods. It should be easy to find things in common, since we at least have some sort of the same make up. After I agreed, he introduced me to Croissant, Muffin, and Doughnut. Doughnut and I did bond right away, since we found we had similar interests. She just seemed sweeter and more energized than I was. I found that Muffin was also pretty sweet and had her own flavor for life. Croissant did not seem to mix well with us, but that was mostly because there was a bit of a language barrier.

It was Croissant’s idea that we go out dancing just the girls. I wasn’t sure about excluding Cupcake, but he wanted me to bond with the girls. That night the girls all went to the loud night club and immediately felt out-of-place. There was not a baked good in sight. Instead the club was filled with vegetables and meats. We decided that it was okay that we did not exactly fit in with the other people, we were still going to have a good time. We went to the bar and ordered our drinks.

A minute had not even passed before a thick steak bumped my arm which made me spill my drink all over myself. I was fine though and was able to still enjoy myself. I just was not able to enjoy that drink.

The night quickly went from bad to worst. The place was hot and humid which Doughnut did not like at all. It seemed none of the meat had any brains and kept trying to dance with Croissant who was not enjoying getting their sweat on her. She wasn’t even near the dance floor or dancing, but the meat kept coming over to her. Muffin tried her hardest to dance on the dance floor, but was getting agitated by the vegetables vibrating their bodies into her instead of actually dancing.

We finally called it a night after only an hour at the club. We walked out of the club a little sticky and very disgusted. None of us wanted to socialize any more after that, so we decided to all head our separate ways and meet up for a quiet lunch after a couple of days.

What I learned from that experience was that it is nice to hang out with other baked goods, but you should always do some research into the night club you are going to.