Just Sayin

A Poem.

2012-01-24T06:44:00.000-08:00

This piece is something I began back in the day, when I had a really bad habit of lying through my teeth about everything. I lied like I breathed.... it came more naturally than telling the truth. When I had moments of reflection, I would write self-pitying pieces that justified what I did. This particular piece was a moment in time of clarity. Here, it's expanded with adult language, a bigger picture, so to speak. I've never come up with an appropriate title for it, so if you have suggestions, feel free to share. If you read it, enjoy.

Trust is a thin china plate;

One must handle it carefully, so carefully, show the utmost concentration to every move…

Lest it be broken, invisible shards dancing dangerously along the ground.

Careful where you step, dearie.

Trust is getting the grade;

When it’s there, everything is perfect.

Yet you must strive…

Strive to hold onto it. Work harder than you did to earn it.

All it takes is a second of inattentiveness, and poof.

It’s gone.

Trust is the crest of a wave;

You’re riding high towards the sand

But you don’t see you can fall hard;

Down into the crushing black.

The rippling impact of the big picture.

Trust is a butterfly;

Delicate, beautiful, rare.

You try to capture it for its beauty, its purity…

Then work to hold onto it

Without ruining it.

Especially because it wants to fly away.

A lie is a stack of dominos;

Black and white sentinels of reality.

One wrong move and one teeters

Tumbling.

The whole stack comes crashing down.

A lie is like a tissue;

It’s used and used again.

It wears so thin…

You begin to see right through it.

A lie is the missing piece to the puzzle,

No matter how much work you put into it,

It’s the reason that nothing fits together quite right.

A lie is a festering sore;

It heals for a short time,

Longs to be healthy and whole once more.

Then, when least expected,

It breaks open once more.

Yet what is truth without lies?

The china wouldn’t be valuable

Without the risk of damage.

That perfect score wouldn’t be perfect

Without imperfection.

The crest would be another destination

Not worth a second glance.

There would be no sense of wholeness

Without pieces once missing.

One cannot exist

Unless the other is present, ever aware of

The choreographed dance

One takes around the other.

So is one dark

And one light?

Forever locked in a battle

That neither one has a true chance

Of being victorious?

Or are they both grays mingling, mixing, moving, amongst

The colors of life?

Hiking, Biking, Outdoor Fun

2012-01-24T04:26:00.000-08:00

My sister and I have been going hiking a lot these past few weeks. Both of us have a New Years resolution to be better about keeping up on our exercise, eating better, and hopefully losing some weight. What I forgot about good exercise is how tired it can make you by the end of the night, a definite plus. We've been seeing a lot of water, drinking even more than we see, keeping one another motivated to go (she got new shoes), etc.
When we aren't hiking, we run... well, okay. We run about half of our track, but when you consider we are getting started, I find that to be a huge plus. The track is one mile, and we do about 3 laps when we go, running half of that. I'm impressed, as should you be!
With school back in session and everything else that slowly seems to consume my life, I am trying to find ways to keep motivated to accomplish everything I want. What makes you motivated? What do you want to accomplish and how do you plan to do so? Keep posted for more pictures of us here and there.... and everywhere in between.

A Wedding Dedication

2012-01-17T00:37:00.000-08:00

A very good friend of mine, Vicki, got married back in October. Although I was not able to be there for her in person, as she got married in Connecticut, I was able to send with her brother my love and hopes for the best in their marriage. This was their major gift from me; a piece of writing that captured the fright and insecurities I think every bride must experience upon her wedding day. I have yet to experience these feelings myself, but perhaps, someday it's in the cards for me.

A Wedding Poem

Dedicated to Vicki and Steve Romsky, from Jeni M.

Her nerves never waver, she's helped with her dress

These moments, she savors, no worries or stress

A glance in the mirror, her beauty in place,

Her heart pounds to steer her, smile gracing her face.

The pearls are an antique, the gown fresh and new,

Mom’s earrings are borrowed, the satin heels, blue

The lace ‘round her flowers are from grandma’s train

Those long-lasting powers of happiness reign.

There’s last minute touch-ups, sacred words and advice,

But the moment she stands up, her feet turn to ice

Arm laced through her father’s, her balance unsure

After what seems like hours, she’s lead towards the door.

The crowd makes her knees shake, the atmosphere thin

Her heart’s like an earthquake, her stomach caves in

She desperately wants to be beautiful, new

Her confidence soaring, not thoughts laid askew.

But just then, she sees him, eyes shining with tears,

Her body stops shaking, he calms all her fears,

The woman enchants him, so poised, filled with grace,

She walks towards him slowly, soon taking her place

And there at the altar, they exchange their vows,

Although they’re both tearful, each is thankful and proud

The Mr. and Mrs. dance to their first song

He pulls her in close, whispering “Welcome Home”.

Decor Decor!!

2011-09-20T08:03:00.000-07:00

My mom is finally purchasing her own home after waiting 8 years, getting a divorce, losing a business and having to struggle for every step she has taken. As absolutely thrilled as I am for her, I think my favorite part of the whole thing is I get to decorate her home for Halloween. I enjoy it far more than I do decorating for Christmas. Spooky little details, frightening the kiddies into earning their candy, is far more enjoyable to me than reindeer throw-up and plastic Santas grinning eerily from the front lawn.

I almost always have a theme when I do my decorating, so I need to come up with a good one for her home this year. I've done "A Night at the Opera", a fortune teller's booth at my apartment, and a witch's apothecary last year. I have a pretty gruesome head that hangs upside down, jars and bottles, light up bones, a setup for a graveyard, purple strings of lights, eyeballs that glow... anyone have any ideas? I will be posting pictures (of course) afterwards, and I'm always open to suggestions. I want it to be incredible, since it's her first year living there.

Speaking of Halloween, what should I be this year? Hmmm....

I'm Fallin.... for Fall

2011-09-06T01:49:00.000-07:00

I know, I know, cheesy, right? I have my moments. My favorite time of year is finally here!! Oh, pumpkin spice latte, how I have missed you. Well, almost, at least. The season will actually start on what would have been my parent's 30th wedding anniversary, September 26th. Kind of sad, but it has a happy twist to it this year, it being the first day of fall and all. I wish I lived somewhere with seasons, but alas, Arizona doesn't have very many trees that change color. Someday, someday. The nice thing is, even here, the weather changes, the air smells different, the whole world seems to open up, present itself in a completely different, darker, spookier light. Oh, did I mention Halloween is my favorite holiday? It is. Scaring kiddies is my specialty, something I want to pass down to my children someday. Sadistic? A little.

October seems to always be a time of change for me. I really REALLY hate change, and no matter how many small or large ones come my way, nothing has made me accept it with grace. I still throw tantrums, just inwardly now instead of being drama like I could be. As change is forever constant, I will be a tantrum-thrower until I am long in my grave. My grandkids are going to love me. I can already hear it, haha.

For those of you reading, what is your favorite holiday? What makes it special in your eyes?

Insomnia Ensues.

2011-08-18T04:59:00.000-07:00

So, here it is, almost 5 in the morning and I can't sleep again. I didn't have any caffeine after about 10, cleaned the house, worked on some writing. Yet, I can't sleep. Some days, I feel just like my dermis-lacking friend in the picture. Mmmm, brains...

I have run on the idea that my insomnia stems from stress, but I don't have a ton of that right now either. I guess some days, I am not really meant to sleep a whole lot. I have a lot of thoughts running through my head; where I am, where I am going in the future. I am really looking forward to the summer winding down and fall weather setting in. It's always a great time of year. Halloween isn't far around the corner, and I have plenty of plans to keep me occupied. School starts in a week, and I am excited for that as well. Not nervous, just excited.

I was going through my old saved files from Word tonight, and I ran across a letter written to a very good friend of mine... well, good friend once upon a time. We had a lot in common, everything from our stand on the paranormal, family, life, love. We are both writers, and although his stems from another of his hobbies, he creates incredible flash fiction, poetry and long, languorous stories when the mood strikes. He used to keep a blog, but he no longer does so. I haven't talked to him in almost two years, as our friendship kind of... well, basically crashed and burned. I'm missing our late night conversations tonight, the way he used to make me constantly be on my toes just to keep up with what was going on. I guess that's also got me thinking, mostly about lost connections.

Brain going 90 miles an hour...mmmm brains.....

Anyone else up this late, and if so, what keeps you awake?

Country Fever

2011-08-16T20:08:00.000-07:00

I'm having a nostalgic day today. As I was going through my music collection, I felt myself more and more drawn to my country albums... the good stuff. George Strait, Garth Brooks, Brooks & Dunn, Josh Turner, Johnny Cash, the Sons of the Pioneers... It's been years since I've dedicated a playlist to purely country, and I found myself doing just that.

Anyone that knows me knows that I grew up out on a five acre ranch with my family. We bred horses, dabbled in rodeo, held ropings. My sister and I used to barrel race for fun. My mom was a master at green breaking young horses, English riding and Dressage. There wasn't much we did that wasn't somehow centered around the animals that we had, and I grew up in a saddle. Living in the city now is... disconcerting in a lot of ways. Even ten years later, being so close to people with no land is strange, claustrophobic to me. You can't see the stars in town, especially not like you could when we were growing up and we had a light curfew due to the observatory on the mountain. You could get swallowed by the sky back then.

Far more important, I have specific songs that still bring tears to my eyes. My Poppi (my grandpa on my mom's side) and I didn't ever really have much in common, and I was loud, obnoxious and rambunctious growing up, like most kids. My sister was his best buddy. The only thing we really had in common was music, more specifically, one particular song by Alan Jackson. I didn't realize I had it downloaded into my computer, and I actually started to cry. What a sap, huh?

Moral of the Story: Never forget your roots. Don't ever throw away a pair of cowboy boots. Eventually, you'll need them again.

A Punishment Fit for a......

2011-08-15T09:53:00.000-07:00

If you don't watch this series, I don't know what's wrong with you. George RR Martin has been writing this book series for years, The Songs of Ice and Fire, and although it is difficult to read at first, for it is a style I have never come across, and have yet to see again, I was thoroughly satisfied with the story, raw and beautiful as it is, filled with hope, heartbreak, deceit, many things ugly, and little beauty.

When HBO decided they were going to make a television series out of it, I was all at once disappointed, thrilled, hopeful and fearful that they would ruin a genuinely unique story in a world where there is little originality left. The show turned out to be better than I could have dared hope, raw and unrelentingly cruel as the books. I am in love with this series, even though there is a great deal of it that is difficult to watch.

There is a scene in which a young and mouthy dethroned prince is making demands that he shouldn't be making of a man that is far more powerful than he is. Alas, because he is still a boy in so many ways, he doesn't realize it until it is too late. It makes me wonder about society today. If punishments were more severe for rash, foolish, and dangerous actions, would people in general make better choices? There are countries around the world where it is still okay to cut off the hand of a thief. I think America would do well to take a page from the global book of punishment.

Bicyclists, Rejoice!

2011-08-15T08:29:00.000-07:00

Tucson just implemented the first of what's hopefully many Bike Boulevards, located on 4th Avenue, North of Speedway. Being an advocate of cycling to school myself, I can't express how excited I am that they finally decided to finish this project. I mostly travel down another street designed for bicyclists and runners, Mountain Avenue, but it will be nice to have another route to use if I wish to do so.

Seeing that Tucson is finally getting on the wagon of healthier lifestyles, things that are popular in Europe where foot and bike travel are far more popular than vehicle commuting, it got me thinking about how people here don't really use the resources that we are given to help us live better. Tucson is mostly centered around two very different groups of people; college students attending the University of Arizona, the ones who are most likely to use anything that promotes physical activity. The other is retirees, and they're more likely to use golf carts to get around than their own two feet. With the great opportunities to hike, cycle, swim, golf, and the million other outdoors activities we have available, you think that we would have a much more fit community here. Alas, most would still rather go to a fast food joint than cook or find something healthy. On that note... salad anyone?

Friendly Fire

2011-08-12T15:35:00.000-07:00

I've been after my sister for ages and ages to enter the mildly entertaining and highly useful art of online journaling, also known to all us geeks as blogging, and I'm proud to say that I've finally succeeded. She has a lot of interesting insights into life, all things glamorous and creative, and I am looking forward to watching her figure out all the cool benefits you can have from writing it out for others to experience.

The other major plus for me is that she will make me keep up on my own, a friendly adult competition that will not come to an end. At least, I hope it lasts years and years. Also, I won't lose by her getting tired of my antics and locking me outside!

My sister, Michelle, is a creative type, much like myself. She's a hair stylist, a wife, a sister, a daughter. She's grace under pressure, an icon I have striven to live up to my entire life. Even now, she's an enigma and an open book to me. She has kept our family strong; a matriarch when nobody else would step up to the plate. (In our family, our joke is she's the matriarch and I'm the glue... wait, maybe that's only funny to me...) I'm looking forward to her journey almost as much as I enjoy the idea of the commonality I will now have with her, even if we do it for different reasons. If you want to get to know her, you can find her neo-cowgirl blog at Don't Fence Me In. I'm sure you'll find her as entertaining as I do.

Summer Lovin'

2011-07-07T08:16:00.000-07:00

I love this time of year. As much as I love the fall, summer always comes in a close second, mostly because of the summer rain, and this used to be the time of year for traveling for my family. More and more, I miss that.

I've been thinking a lot about life lately, the paths we take, the ones we decide against. I wonder where my life would be if I decided on a different intersection. I'm not unhappy by any means, but it is an interesting thing to contemplate. How different things might be if you decided on one thing or another. The road not traveled, I suppose. I have much enjoyed the roads I have chosen, even if the lessons I've learned have been harsh ones.

My dad purchased property up on the North side of town, against the mountains. I am very happy for Cathy and him, I just hope that someday, he finds happiness as well. It makes me sad that he can't settle down. It has to be infuriating for the people he has in his life on a regular basis. I'm used to it, because he's always been that way. My mom is able to purchase a home, which is very exciting news, indeed. I'm hoping that she finds a place in which she can be happy. I'm tired of her not being content as well. We don't always get everything we want, but should learn to be happy having the things we need. My parents have taught me lessons they didn't even mean to. Haha

I will be moving again soon, as well. Another semester of school is about to start. I can't wait to be finished. Just keep marching forward, enjoying the ride, and things will continue to get better and better.

The Moving Monster

2010-09-27T05:06:00.000-07:00

Good morning, everyone. Today is officially my first day of moving. Again. I am currently sitting on my 14th move, and being a person who doesn't particularly enjoy changes in life, I must be honest in saying I don't know how I have survived the previous 13. The good? In almost every single other aspect, I am one happy camper. The frustrating? I'm not just working on my own move.

To elaborate, my mom and grandma (anyone that knows me well enough, you know I don't call her grandma, she'd murder me) have had a rough situation for the past few years, and that seems to finally be coming to an end. The hard part is it happened to fall EXACTLY when I am moving again. It never fails... when it rains, it rains house keys and stupid boxes. The wonderful part of the situation is I'm an absolute pro at moving now. It makes it easy because nobody else even has to think. They just do what I ask and all goes well. I haven't had to kick anyone too hard yet. The other excellent benefit is my sister and her husband are amazing when it comes to hauling big furniture and they never complain about being of help. Its been really nice having a little extra time with my sister, as I never really get to spend much time with her.

So, as tired as I am going to be over the next few months, fall cleaning is my favorite thing to do, so I am actually killing two birds with one stone. I am sure I can find a ton of crap I really don't need anymore and can finally find a reason to trash. I'll add pics next time I make a post. I get to paint the new place. That's my other bit of excitement. On that note... back to packing.

Its That Time Again

2010-09-19T19:33:00.000-07:00

What's your favorite holiday? Anyone who knows anything about me knows mine is Halloween. I love all things scary, whether it be movies, ghosts and ghoulies, tricks and treats. From the factually terrifying to the fictional jumps, I am in love with it all.

Back in the day when my parents were dating, they set up a fake guillotine in the front yard of my grandparent's house and made kids reach through the hole where a person's head would go in order to get their candy. My dad, being the sadistic and humorous jerk he could be, would drop the blade. It was stopped by a block of wood, but I hope the candy was worth the tears they most surely wrought from all the terrifying kiddies in the neighborhood.

Every year, no matter where I am, I decorate for Halloween. I always choose a theme, and it always comes out amazingly, even if its on a tiny apartment porch like last year. I have yet to decide the theme of this year's spookiest holiday, but I am open to suggestions. I start the planning and decorations on the first of October, and pictures are surely to follow what should be another memorable Halloween.

I would keep a regular lookout for posts this time of year, because it always inspires me to write.

Here Come the Pigs.

2010-06-17T07:32:00.000-07:00

Before I begin this post, I want to say that most of the time, I have the utmost respect for police officers. I am not a fan of anyone who lives up to his or her stereotype. With that being said....

About a month ago, I got pulled over for my driver's side headlight being out. Two female cops in the same car came over to talk to me, one shined her light in my back seat the whole time. I asked her if she wanted to search it, she wouldn't find anything. She stopped after that. I got an actual ticket for the light, even though I was pleasant. I couldn't believe it. The light got fixed the very next day, and I promptly forgot about the ticket. I was supposed to find a cop, get it signed, and send it into the courts. I didn't do any of that, because I honestly got busy and stressed out with other life things. Result: Suspended License.

Fast forward to last night. I got pulled over because I was paying attention to my cell (which just dropped a call) and not the road, and I swerved in my lane. I got pulled over. Not a huge deal, because I had no clue my license was suspended. The cop takes my info, goes back to his car. Comes back all condescending and asks me to get out of the car. Did I mention it's after midnight? Well, it's about 12:40 at this point. He's trying a sobriety test on me with a pen. I am exhausted and can't focus well, plus I have a partially paralyzed pupil and he accuses me of being on drugs. And I'm STILL nice to him. He writes up the ticket, takes my key and tells me to call someone. I call Jason at this point.

After they come to take my car, he explains the ticket to me. He has NO clue where the place they impounded my car is, no idea what I'm supposed to do. He is reading my instructions off the damned ticket. He asks me if I understand, then tells me good luck with my car, gets in his vehicle, and leaves. That's right, ladies and gentlemen. A cop left me standing on the side of the road at almost one o'clock in the morning by myself, probably hoping to avoid a confrontation with my ride, because he's all of 5'5" tall. I couldn't believe it. Jason was only ten or fifteen minutes away, yet I had to spend that standing by my stuff, alone. What if something had happened?

To serve and protect my ASS.

A Little Old, A Little New

2010-06-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

Anyone a fan of Tony Bennett? If you're not, you should be. My sister and I went to see him in concert last night at Ava Amphitheater. Although I really enjoyed the concert, the most interesting part for me was Mr. Bennett's anecdotes from his career. He has met, seen, heard and played with many a talented folk, and it was like listening to your grandparents regale their finest memories, but on a much grander scale. Think Frank Sinatra and Charlie Chaplin grand. It was fabulous.

It's been wonderful finding things my sister and I have in common, but for different reasons. Her love of old music definitely brought us both to one of the most memorable concerts I have yet to see. Thanks again, sis. If you get a chance, take my advice and don't miss seeing him. It's worth every penny.

My Bucket List

2010-06-03T15:37:00.000-07:00

I've never given any real serious thought to the things I want to do before I die. I know there are several things I would love to see and do, like visiting the pyramids, the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, someone recently told me I have to go to the Museum of Natural History in London (the American version, I am told, doesn't hold a candle, although it's on the list as well). I've decided to keep a running tally of the things I have to do before I die.

Jeni's Bucket List

Visit Egypt (obsession since I was old enough to know what a mummy was, thank you Reading Rainbow)
Open my own tea shop/ Bookstore
Museum of Fine Arts in Boston
The Giant's Causeway in Ireland
Vatican City
Own a copy of Dean Koontz's book The Book of Counted Sorrows, one of the most rare works of modern fiction available today.
Museum of Natural History in London, England
Visit Pearl Harbor and The USS Arizona
Learn how to rebind old books, restoration from beginning to finish
Visit Delos in Greece

This is just what I can think of off the top of my head. I'm sure I'll be crossing things off, as well as adding many more.

I Are Internets Guru

2010-05-28T05:27:00.000-07:00

Jason is getting closer and closer to the grand opening of their new business. I'm really excited for him. Sometimes, though, I have this unnerving feeling that agreeing to designing their website, I bit off far more than I can chew. Pessimistic? Possibly. I'm never very confident in my own abilities.

On the suggestion of my best friend and computer guru (I swear he speaks their language... all of them) I am using Drupal, and it has saved my life. Dreamweaver is amazing, but this program makes integrating everything I could possibly want to do so much easier. They will have a website, an online store (eventually), forums and a blog. RSS feed so I can keep the environmentalists happy, community calendar, scheduling available online. I'm linking them to Twitter and FaceBook so they can keep a free advertising stream going.

Ready for the question of the day? Is is bad of me to feel that compensation should be part of maintaining their website, once we get going? I'll be doing all of the pictures for their online store, all the visual material (although Cuong's brother Vu did a beautiful job designing their logo), keeping them connected to the internet. Jason making money doing this isn't good enough for me. This has been a lot of research, frustration, high fives and victory dances for me, and seeing as they are just getting started, I figured I would bring it after doing it for about six months. I think I should bring it up to Jason as soon as possible though. Any thoughts?

2010-05-26T07:02:00.000-07:00

Boredom makes girls do the oddest things. No sleep, boredom in the darkest hours of the night, that time right before the sun rises, makes girls do even stranger things. Okay, I did this tag yesterday, but that's not the point, I swear. I wish I could just get some sleep. I have a thing for owls lately. Is that a sign for a need of wisdom beyond things I am willing to open up to? It wouldn't be the first time, although it may be the first time my psyche would be ready and willing to admit it. I don't know. I just know I've started to collect owls. Like my friend here on my tag. Isn't he just precious? Watch out, he will peck out your eyes.

I feel the need to be creative today. I want to go see Bodies today. Hopefully, I can convince someone to go with me. I don't know, it might make me crazy to know that they're real, human bodies today, considering how much sleep I have had. Should make for an interesting story later. Fiction, facts, legends, myths, news. Eventually they are all the same thing. After a year or more, who can really discern truth from fiction, even if they were present? Exactly.

Perhaps the bodies will move in my mind. I need to go out and take some new pictures. Sometimes, I wish I was normal like everyone else seems to be. Sleep, have sweet dreams in the arms of someone I love. Such a distant dream, one that eludes me like smoke in a desperate grip. I'm so tired.

Someone explain to me that I'm not crazy. Crazy? I was crazy once. I give myself this hour to close my eyes. Someone wake me up.

Ashes to Ashes

2010-05-25T05:47:00.000-07:00

The wind is blowing again. Its picked up in the last couple of hours, stirring the smoldering remains around me; the place that's haunted me since I was a child still holds a feeling of sadness, despair, curses. This place is damned.

I kneel in the westernmost corner of the land, not far from where a row of houses would have stood. My mind can still see that construction of this place; the visions will be burned into my mind for all time. Moldering ruins, little more than huts with thatched roofs, grasses swaying gently in the wind, fearful of another onslaught of poor weather, tired soldiers in an a battle with no chance of victory. The ground now burns, fills with sickly gray ashes, thick yellow smoke, haze. The houses will no longer need to worry about the torrents of the monsoons in the summer; right now they would even welcome the dampening cold. I shy away from the parts that still burn and plunge my hands into the heavy, black earth. Searching, ever searching. I know what I want is here.

The sun has long since fallen below the horizon. I'm exhausted, weary to the bone. Some time ago, I began to cry, wail at the ridges that surround me, enclose me here. Long hours of searching, hands blackened with soot and earth, fingernails cracked and bloody, lack of food and water threaten to overcome me. The only reason to come to such a place, the absolute necessity to stay until well after the sky has blackened has eluded me. The stars don't even shine here; even the sky is cursed. Just as I am to give it up as a loss and leave before even the embers burn away, my hands claw the remainder of the earth from my treasure. Gingerly, reverently, I remove it from the hiding cache that has kept it safe all these decades. At last. Insanity overtakes me then. Sweet relief.

Hours later.

History that is forgotten repeats itself. This place is filled with a history, dark, deadly, sweet and bitter. I cannot let them forget what they have done, what they caused. The reason the town was deserted, why it burns. I cannot allow them to let the sparks of the events of so long ago dwindle to a pinprick in their psyche or the results will be far worse than the death of an already dead community.

Wiping the earth from my prize, I cradle it to my chest and stand, legs stiff and aching from the long hours of work, for the removal of the bounty that I now guard is simply the last of it. This place needed to be purged, I was the only one who saw the truth of it. I walk into the now towards the starless skies, mind drifting to the complications ahead of me. What if they find my own dark past waiting for them when they sift through the ashes? After all, this place makes you mad.

The New Tattoo

2010-05-24T16:44:00.000-07:00

My new tattoo has finally been decided. I have to talk to Jason's brother about how to execute it, but its going to look phenomenal when it is completed. Starry nights, anyone? If any of you have seen my tattoo on my shoulder, its going to be incorporated with that one. I'm really excited.

2010-05-24T02:21:00.000-07:00

Saturday nights, a pair of eyes make me believe that dreams do come true after all,
My heart beats faster, his words are a mystery, all is changed, if only I'd asked his name...

I have a tinge of writer's block, so I'm rambling off lyrics off the top of my head. I don't know where my muse went the past few weeks... seems to be taking a sabbatical. Life comes and goes in circles as such, I suppose. Since writer's block has overtaken me, I have turned back to painting, which makes me happy. I have to have some form of creative outlet or I will go insane.

The same person that wrote those lyrics inspired a series of poems long ago. Posted is the first:

The Battle of the Heart and Mind: Part 1

October morning, sunlight filtered, subtle warning
You've made me lose my head
Wrapped up against the cold inside, I close my eyes to the morning light,
And let my imagination drift, and take me back to last night instead...

Starry skies and frigid breezes, autumn nights are worth your kisses,
Your soft touch burns fire and ice
My fingertips are trembling with the memory of your skin
My lips tingle with anticipation, race to meld to yours again

My body recalls the heat of yours, sitting there upon the shores,
Watching the waves crash in
You held me close, breath on my face, Oh god, please take me to this place
Your legs press lightly against mine, your hands and mine gently entwine

Head is racing, heart is melting, I'm falling, spiraling down
I should have seen this coming, should have listened to the warning
How do I stop this heat, this want, the power of this yearning
When my head is crying "Run Away!" but my heart... my heart's screaming your name.

The battle has begun.

I should really redo the other two sections of this poem. I liked the way this first section came out, but the rest was not as good. If only my writer's block would go away. I can't wait for fall. The crisp smell of falling leaves in my favorite places to visit, carving pumpkins and ghost stories to frighten the faint of heart around a fire to scare the real demons away is just what I need.

Maybe I just need to go camping.

Oh, Insomnia. How I Love Thee.

2010-05-18T05:49:00.000-07:00

I love life. Seriously. Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. I really do like life and all, but insomnia sucks. I swear to God, my brain doesn't know when to shut off. Between worrying about work, Jason's new business venture, school and all the hundreds of thousands of things in between, I don't know how to stop the constant tirade of thoughts that are stirring themselves up inside my mind. It might be that I just need another outlet to relieve my stress. Underwater basket weaving perhaps? Hell, I don't know anymore.

Ahhh, the Craze of a New Author.

2010-04-27T02:52:00.000-07:00

So, anyone who knows even a smidgen about me knows that I have a very hard time finding new authors, as I devour books at a ever-growing, unbelievably rapid pace. I just read The Talisman for the first time, although I've owned the book for years. I am not a huge fan of Peter Straub, as I find his stories far too disjointed and confusing to keep up with. I've read about four of his novels, and have only found one that I liked.

Wandering the local Barnes and Noble, I come across Joe Hill, who has written a novel that I have often carried around the book store, but have not picked up. Its always looked extremely intriguing, especially to anyone with a love of the macabre, but I would always put it back in favor of an author I knew, if didn't love, per se. I decided to go with my instincts and pick it up, deciding that if I was out the $8 it would cost me, minus my B&N perks, I would know that yet another writer had failed in his craft, therefore giving me someone else to skirt.
Sitting down that evening, about to embark on unfamiliar territory, I was both excited and surprised when three paragraphs and a sip of tea in, I was completely hooked. It has been a long time, probably since the days of discovering Laurell K, Hamilton, a much less refined version of Anne Rice. I read the entire book in a couple of hours, and it was well worth every penny and hour spent. The story was riveting, unique, with a new twist on the cliche matters of family, infatuation and death. Anyone who enjoys a good story with a little bit of intrigue and a touch of paranormal would love this novel. I've been recommending Hill as a new favorite author. Three books in, and I can't wait for some fresh meat.

Yeah, I Hate People.

2010-03-29T13:53:00.000-07:00

FaceBook is usually my best tool for keeping in contact with my friends and family. Sometimes, the things they choose to post are really freakin depressing.

My friend Grant works at TMC as well as volunteers for an animal shelter (yeah, he's the cuddly type, trust me). He saw a dog fly out of the back of someone's truck today. The dog broke its leg, probably some ribs too. I bet the people in the vehicle didn't even stop. God I hate when people think that it's okay to treat an animal like that. If you wouldn't put an infant back there, don't even THINK about putting a dog or any other animal that can't defend itself or right itself if the truck lurches. Is it me, or is this really not common sense for people? I swear, sometimes, I weep for humanity.

We Need a Priest!

2010-02-24T22:46:00.000-08:00

I introduced Jason to the fine art of horror movies that aren't slasher films tonight by watching a movie he owned but had never actually viewed: Exorcist: The Beginning. He's not a huge fan of horror films, but he dutifully sat through the whole thing, not even shielding his eyes at the gross parts (I became most fascinated with patterns in the carpet during some of the gorier parts). It always brings to mind an interesting question to me. Does possession really exist?
In every corner of the world since history of man, there has been tales of human beings being taken over by things that were not human. They speak in different languages, exhibit strange behavior that should not be possible, contortions, scratching away surfaces of flesh and feeling nothing, progressive rotting of teeth and flesh, pain and horror no person should ever have to endure. Can it be explained away by things we know of now, such as mental deterioration, hallucinations due to toxins being introduced into the body, other health issues? Can one's beliefs alter treatment of such diseases if that is what they are?
It's a topic I want to explore further, so I will be adding to my ramblings when I don't feel like working on my writing. Hopefully, I will be able to find some sort of satisfactory answer.

Stained Glass: Part I

2010-02-23T22:30:00.000-08:00

Stained Glass: Part I

The room seems to swim in crimson. I'm not talking your average red here. Think along the lines of blood, brightly glistening, newly hit with oxygen to give it that morbid cherry hue, and you've got the color I am internally trying to name. It's not an appetizing choice of decor for any place of business, let alone a restaurant of stature such as the place my companions and I are currently seated. The place seems to walk a peculiar line of morose and extravagant, in some ways balancing, in others twisting one direction or the other to the extreme. The booth itself is comfortable, luxuriant even. The leather of the seats plays part in the carnival hues of the place, as it is made from vermilion-tinted leather. It has the oddest of textures to it, as if new and broken in at the same time. We could have been the first and the hundred thousandth guests to have been seated at this table. I have never gotten a feeling of life from a piece of furniture, but I have a tinge of unease sitting there, an icy finger up my spine, feeling the seat would swallow me whole if I so much as blink. I cannot feel it or see it, but the leather seems to breathe. Our table itself provides no grain of comfort in its mixture of likeness and contrast. Made from a huge, thick oval of mahogany, the wood looks like the leather in the sense that it seems brand new and decades in age, the fragile heartbeat of a child first born and the sigh of the ancients long since dust. The natural warm hues are brought out by the fiery glow of the seats causing the beauty to be tainted, blood stained. I feel myself shying away from so much as resting my arms on the wood, instincts I didn't even know I had screaming to me that something is distinctly wrong, that I am in some mortal peril. I try to calm myself, taking in the rest of our immediate surroundings. Resting in the center of the table is a large cylinder of frosted glass, housing a single fat candle. The glass is tinted white, and being so it stands out in shocking relief to the rest of the decor. This glistening sentential makes the numerous shades of red dance about the table, across the skin we currently are seated on (for I cannot think of the leather as something long dead, but something very much alive and alien in its hunger), and swim in incandescent dreams across the faces of my kin. The two seem to fence, dark shadows against the failing light of the statuary soldier, and a wild thought forms in my head. In a place such as this, which is to claim a victory, darkness or light? Wanting, needing a momentary distraction and the reminder of the human element we all crave at times of fear, I glance around the rest of the building. There are several booths along the outside perimeters, all identical to the one in which we are resting our bones. There is a sense of movement, conversation, humanity, but there is no direct sound to indicate that this hunch is on the mark. The voices that float to us seem fabricated, a shadow of people, a state of the art imitation, built with centuries of practice and completely undetectable, save the warning the brain tries valiantly to give the subconscious. Danger ahead, proceed with caution. It would be unwise to let on that you are in on the scam. The booths are designed like the spokes of a wheel, and at the center looms a giant pillar of richly carved wood, the claret hue giving away its origin. Shadows and light dance across its surface, revealing and concealing carvings too indistinct to make out. I have a feeling that if I were to approach the squatting cylinder, reach out and touch the surface, let my fingers roam across the carvings, I would not like what I found. Faces seem to loom in macabre masks, blending into bodies unrecognizable, changing again into a hunting scene where humans are the prey and all manner of nightmares are the hunters, each scene flitting across the polished surface so quickly that I am not sure if I am seeing anything at all. The warning bells continue to toll.

To be continued tomorrow evening when I am more awake than I am now. This story is dedicated to my mom for giving me the idea, and Jason for being my muse. Thank you to you both for giving me new material.

Who Should I Call?

2009-06-16T14:18:00.000-07:00

The family dog, Loki, has been acting strangely lately. He's barking at things that aren't there, looking at a certain spot in the dining room, seemingly following orders from some unseen force, only to get up, growl, back away, then bolt out of the room. There are times during the day that he won't enter the space at all. There are other times when he will bark at the living room wall, whine, then run away. I don't know what his deal is.
I figured I would put a digital recorder in the living room tonight, and see if there are any strange sounds there when we aren't awake. Maybe he really is seeing something. I will keep you updated.

Ghosts, Ghosts Everywhere

2009-06-15T23:31:00.000-07:00

I don't know what made me think of it, but I went to see the movie The Haunting in Connecticut a few weeks ago. There was a poem that was in the movie that is an old children's rhyme. It sounded frightening in the movie, because they only used part of it. The whole poem is actually quite funny, though. The part that they used in the movie is this:

One fine day in the middle of the night,
Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other
A deaf policeman heard the noise
And came and killed those two dead boys.

Sounds rather sinister, right? I came home and, because I am nosy and like to know the origin of things I see or hear, I looked up the children's rhyme. I laughed my ass off when I read it. It goes along these lines:

One fine day, in the middle of the night
Two dead boys got up to fight
Back to back, they faced each other
Drew their swords and shot each other

One was blind, and the other couldn't see
So they chose a dummy for a referee
A bind man went so see fair play
A dumb man went to shout "Hooray!"

A paralyzed donkey passing by
Kicked the blind man in the eye
Knocked him through a nine inch wall
Into a dry ditch and drowned them all

A deaf policeman heard the noise
And came to arrest those two dead boys
And if you don't believe this story's true,
Ask the blind man, he saw it too!

I think what I like about the original poem is the way its so cleverly designed... it makes no sense. I am always amazed at how horror writers and film makers can find something relatively ordinary, like this poem, and make it scary enough to suit their needs. The use of it in the film worked very well in the story. If you haven't had a chance to see it, I would recommend it to anyone who enjoys a good jump film. The bonus? It's supposedly based off a true story. Judge it for yourself, but regardless, it makes a great film. I enjoyed the hell out of it.

AA Ain't for Sissies: Redux

2009-06-13T19:10:00.000-07:00

So, this was a post I originally did on the old blog, so I am transferring it.

Do you ever wonder what drives people to pick up their bad habits? Some people are constantly nervous and need a downer to help them get through the day, so they smoke. Some need to blow off steam, and they drink. Some pick up hobbies, some gamble, some end up in worse things, like drugs or abusive relationships. I call these things habits based solely on the fact that no matter what kind of damage the habit causes, these people tend to go right back to doing it when things have calmed down.
Case in Point: My coworker and sometimes friend, Elena.
Elena is sweet, bright, and the life of our business. When she is on, she is very good. When she is off, however, her life takes another turn. She is an excessive drinker, party animal, and has been caught in various bad situations, including, but not limited to, waking up next to men she doesn't even know, sleeping with men she would have never taken a glance at otherwise, getting a brand at a local seedy bar, The Meet Rack, so she could get the 50 cents off of her drinks for life, and even waking up, sans shoes and underwear, covered in mosquitoes on her ex boyfriend's lawn. You would think that something that bad, not knowing how she got there, or where she lost the various items she was no longer wearing, would have scared the living shit out of her. Nope. The following two weeks or so lead to better behavior. It was straight downhill from there.
As a Psych major, I have tried to come up with reasons for Elena's erratic behavior. I have met her family, and although her mother seems to be trying to act younger than her years, her family is very close, and open. This could be outward appearances; I make no claims to being an expert on her interactions with her family by any means. From the outsider's point of view, though, these things should have been dealt with already. They haven't been, and they are getting worse.
Elena called me at work yesterday, because she wanted to take today off. A friend of hers (the girl that had consequently left her by herself after the branding at Meet Rack) had been murdered. I informed her first, that I was sorry to hear that something like that had occurred, and secondly that her day was filling up fast, and it might be better if she came into work to get her mind off of what had happened. The next thing I said wasn't meant to come out vocally, but it didn't occur to me not to say it until it was too late.
"You're going to be next if you don't slow down and start being careful."
I know everyone was thinking it, but nobody has actually put it into such blunt terms to her before. I know my timing was poor; her friend had just passed away, and I was being sort of cruel. I really didn't mean to say it out loud. I know she's going to be angry with me when I see her. However... if I made her think about her choices, if I held up that mirror in front of her and she's actually taking a look at the direction her life is going... if the thought even crosses her mind for a second that maybe I did it because I care about her, then I will have regretted nothing. I don't want to attend her funeral, and maybe now, she will keep that in mind.

I Moved...

2009-06-13T19:09:00.000-07:00

So, I moved my blog, because I wanted it under my usual email address so I don't have to switch back and forth when I am in the middle of something. Maybe now, I will actually start using my blog again. Hurray for usefulness!