Comfort

The warmth was encompassing. Comfort surrounded. Lazy muscles retired. The strain on the neck faded for the first time that day. Stress was fleeting. Comfort was such that one couldn’t even feel their body anymore. No pain, no pleasure, just being. Comfort was such that the brain didn’t want to think. The warmth eased thoughts away. Thinking was too much work.

One rarely feels these things. Lives are made up of one stressful event after another. It is how people measure time. Time is marked by years, sure. But one remembers things because so and so died that year. The car accident happened, so one remembers the graduation party that happened shortly after that, because their arm was in a cast. It may have been the year 1995, but the numbers themselves are meaningless. It is what happened during that year that makes it important.

One rarely hears another mark a passage of time because they were so relaxed, it was notable.

With age, this comfort thing becomes important. It makes itself known so infrequently. Muscles are sore and joints ache. The strength to rise easily left long ago. Even the mind causes discomfort. Trying to remember things long ago becomes taxing.

Even knowing this somewhere in the subconscious doesn’t change one’s behaviors. The work still needs to be done. That gadget still needs to be bought. Braces don’t pay for themselves. People work so hard to get one next thing.

In reality, they search for the long sought after comfort as well. It is just in another form. One seeks the comfort of living comfortably financially. Making ends meet is sure to relieve one’s mind. But where is comfort of one’s mind without the comfort of one’s body? Nowhere. Humanity pushes and pushes until one can’t push anymore.

Diligence. Persistence. Tenacity. All words that are looked upon favorably. And truly they are positive traits. But with them comes others. Tunnel Vision. Obstinate. Static. Simply put, unchanging. Unflinching drive.

What happens to life when one looks diligently ahead, with tunnel vision? It passes by. It floats by unnoticed, until old age approaches and one has time to look back. Now they see all the missed opportunities. Now they see the worth of the small things. Now they strive for something different.

They strive for the encompassing warmth. They let their muscles relax. The strain on their neck is finally released. They sought to not feel, to not think. They sought to do no work. In the end they finally ended up with what they hunted.

Comfort surrounded.

5 pages of opinionated bravado

I wrote 5 pages yesterday woohoo! Definitely not a fast draft... but I'm going to be working at my own speed for now. I have enough things to worry about. Writing is supposed to be fun for me, an outlet. I don't want it to turn into work. I mean, I'd love it if writing were my job, but since it isn't, I'd rather just enjoy my time writing for fun. Should it ever come to pass that writing will be a full time gig? Yea, I'd be way happy. An excuse not to have all the laundry done! Now that's worth a Woohoo!

I'm going to a Mongolian BBQ place today. Oh man am I excited. I haven't been to one of those in over 4 years.

Interesting fact about me: In high school I was involved in something called "Discussion Festival" basically it was a debate team type thing. Our topic was China and our foreign policy. Our school entered late and had no time to research the topic. The first session, all I did was listen. The second session, I had some information, so I was a little pushy. Third session.. I evened it out and advanced on to the state level.

The state level was pretty cool actually. I was on the energy commitee and it was our job to write a bill that would be presented to Congress. We stayed at the capitol of Michigan, Lansing and actually worked in the capital building. I was one of the house of representatives and had my own seat there. I don't remember who's seat I was in though.

As of 7:53 am I became an Aunt today!!!

My sister had her baby this morning... yay!

And here is a writing prompt...

My Christmas was in Florida this year. Is it possible to really have Christmas in Florida anyway? That’s like having it in July. There is no way it can be done without snow.

Driving past the cookie cutter… no, cookie cutter was too cute a word, it was more like they all came from the same bag of tortillas. Cookie cutter houses don’t have stucco on them. Regardless, I was driving past an endless sea of them at 5:30 at night. Yup, night, not afternoon as it would’ve been in my home state of Michigan, but night. It was pitch black out here. And what, do you think, besides my headlights and streetlights illuminated my way down the depressingly suburban lane? Decorated palm trees. The most garish things I’d ever seen in my life. Oh some people just put lights in their palm trees, like fairly normal people who are crazy enough to winter down here. No, these people actually bought these trees like this. It was fake plastic and looked even brighter in the daylight if that’s possible. Vegas had more tasteful things. The frickin’ thing was orange for Pete’s sake.

Maybe it was the only color these old biddies could see anymore.

Am I wrong here? Is Christmas down here alright? Maybe I just grew up on too many holiday specials on television. Please note, that every one of them has snow. Santa Claus is from the North Pole. Snow is like… a requirement for Christmas. Been good? Check. Cookies and Milk? Check. A way to break into the house undetected? Check? Snow on the rooftop? Check.

I grew up on How the Grinch Stole Christmas. That movie wouldn’t even be possible here. Lack of snow aside, there isn’t a hill to be found in Florida. It was the long lost Great Plains state. Maybe that was my problem. I’ve always liked Christmas in theory, but in reality? I always sided more with the Grinch. Or maybe Scrooge would be more apt.

Bah-humbug.

Then again, I tended to side with the bad guys a lot in movies. It seems backwards, but maybe it’s the social worker in me. I have to be understanding, and I am, but typically only of bad people. All the “good” people out there just bitch and moan about the stupidest things. If there was a hill high enough in Florida, I’d throw them off of it. I’d watch the broken crown and the tumbling after and let my evil laugh echo off the walls around me. Whoa, getting way too ahead of myself in this fantasy.

Being a social worker, I see the bad things that come from the holiday. Talk about peer pressure. So many people commit crimes in the attempt to provide a good Christmas for somebody, not to mention all the suicides. It was not the most wonderful time of the year. It is a rat race. There are many weak willed people in this world, and this type of consumerism sucks them in like no other.

That’s why I was driving down this orange-lit gateway to a muggy-hell after all. I was doing a personal favor for a friend of mine. I was the caseworker for her grandmother, who just happened to commit identity theft and took over a timeshare that belonged to a laid up old geezer. Slippery one, that Betty was.

I checked the directions and pulled into the right driveway. Shutting off the car, I sat there for a minute. This would be easy as pie. She knows me, the second she sees me she’ll know she’s caught. She should come home just fine. She’s not a runner.

I folded myself out of my compact car, a twenty hour drive will do that to you, and headed up the landscaped walk. Pressing the doorbell, I heard Jingle Bells gonging inside. The door swung open and revealed something I wished never to see again. My friend’s little old biddy grandma was only wearing Reindeer antlers, a red clown nose, and some sort of harness covered in bells.

A low gravelly voice from the back wheezed, “Betty, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?”

“Nicky, your North Pole has to wait a minute, there’s an elf at our door.” She turned to me. “Do you bring any toys for us elf?”

I pressed my back to the wall of the entry way, eyes wide. She squinted and jingled as she moved around me to find me.

Giving up, she went back inside calling, “Damn it Claus, next time don’t be so rough that my glasses break. Rudolph can’t guide anything if she can’t see.”

I slid my way back to the car, hopped in and sped away. Looking at the orange palm tree with a fondness. Maybe bad eyesight wasn’t such a bad thing. In fact, I wouldn’t have minded some myself this night.

I'm a bad girl...

I didn't blog very early today. Sorry folks.

So... what's been going on with me? Not much really. Zip Zilch Nada in the writing department. I was actually social this weekend, imagine that. We had friends over on Saturday night. On Sunday, I met some of my fellow reader/writer friends that are on some of the same forums that I am. Mainly the paranormal fiction/romance ones... so we were your typical Women Behaving Badly ;) Actually I'm all talk... I'll admit it. I just pretend to be bad.

I'm totally sick of turkey. We cut up the rest for the dogs to eat. I'm not much of a turkey person anyway. Oh I like deli turkey on a sandwich well enough but other than that... Blah... not for me. I'd much rather have all the trimmings that go with it. But then again, I've always like starch best.

I found out my sister will be having a C-section tomorrow. She had an ultrasound today and they estimate that the babyboy weighs 10 lbs 14 oz... HOLY SHIT! That's massive... no wonder.

Hmm... I decided I'll give you one interesting fact about me today. And let's remember that interesting is a relative term.

Okay here it is: When I was in third grade I wrote a poem and it won a contest. It was published into an anthology, posted on the public transit buses and I got to read it on television. Pretty neat for an eight yr old huh?

And here is the poem:

Spring

Climbing trees
Buzzing bees
Blue Skies
Butterflies
Flying kites
Picnic nights.

I was a talented little shit. :-P

Shopping...

You guess it, the day after Thanksgiving and the topic is shopping... and how I won't be doing any.

When I first started blogging, I blogged about who I figured the modern day pioneers would be... and I theorized it would be the type of person who goes shopping on a day like today. They would take advantage of the opportunity of good sales, despite all the work that goes into it.

I don't believe I've ever went shopping on this day, the day after Thanksgiving. I'd like to think I have a pioneering spirit, willing to work for something. But this working for a good price on something... well, that might not be the kind of thing I'm willing to work for.

I do salute all of those brave capitalist souls who are out there today. You have more gumption than I do.

Please allow me to introduce myself...

I am the crazy lady who woke up at 4 something this morning to put a F*in turkey in the oven. My hubby works second shift this week at the hospital, which means I need to have Thanksgiving dinner ready by noon. Ugh! No one will even be hungry enough to eat at that time.

Okay, whining aside. Since my ass is up I may as well get into the spirit of things. It is Thanksgiving after all and I need to be givin out some gratitude.

I am thankful for... lots but I'll pick one.

My supportive friends and family. Especially concerning my writing endeavors. I am in new territory with all this and everyone has been supportive. Thanks to all of you who read my work and give me feedback. Thanks to all of you who listen to me talk about fictious characters and actually seem interested. Thanks to all of those who have time and money invested in me and my "talent." The warm fuzzies are a-flyin folks, stand back.

In honor of our Rebel puppy who just came home from the vet and his heartworm treatment yesterday...

Writing prompt courtesy of my friend.

She gave me the prompt... here are the results...

"Jesus, Ed, you stink."

"Well, aren't we just Miss Congeniality tonight. You do realize we have a job to do, right?"

Of course I knew I had a job to do, I'm good, I always have jobs I can do. Although if I had known this particular job involved a pushy, mouthy and not to mention rotting corpse; I might have reconsidered taking it. Mumbling under my breath, I prepared my tools.

“Why do you always call me Ed?”

“What do you want me to call you?”

“I don’t know, Grandpa?”

I snorted. Yea right. “Grandpa? Get real. Why the hell would I call you that?” The needles slid into their slot. I prepared small little cups in a neat row.

“Look young lady, there is something to be said for respect.”

“Ed, when you deserve my respect, you’ll get it. Until then, you are Ed, family or not. Just be thankful I’m calling you by your given name. It could always be worse.”

“That is such a bad attitude for someone so young to have. Could always be worse? Of course it could always be worse. I could be Satan in hiding and about to rip out your soul.”

“Ed, if that’d get you to shut up, it may not be so bad.”

“You, little girl, are going to get smacked in the face with reality one day.”

“Disappointed you won’t be around to see it, Old-timer?” I can’t believe I’m doing this here. I guess it had to be sanitary considering the location, but still. The smell was getting to me. If it wasn’t the moth balls it was the Bengay.

“You need to lean back so I can shave and clean the area,” I said in a professional tone. I’m not a big fan of chatter when I work anyway. It’s not like I’m a fucking hair dresser or something.

With some grumbling, Ed did as he was told. Bout damn time.

“This will hurt, you know that right?”

“What am I some green horn? You startin’ to care about me?”

“I care about my work. If you flinch because you can’t handle it, my work will be fucked.”

“Such language.”

“You’re one to talk, Sailor.” After a beat I said, “Is that what this is about?”

“What this is about is nunya.”

“Yea, I gotcha. Nunya God damned business.”

“I would’ve taken the God part out of that statement.”

“That’s cause yer old and soft.” I pressed on the flesh of his chest. “It’s watery under there old man. You are rotting before my very eyes.”

Ed grabbed my hand and held it there. His clear, directive gaze bored into mine.
“Lay off me okay, Squirt?”

“Alright, geez.” Oh man, I’d never seen him like that before. Ed was a certifiable hard ass. He could take my shit as well as I could dish it out. I liked that in a person. It was even better in family. Yup, Ed is family. He’s my mom’s dad.

Notice I didn’t say Grandpa. He was never that to me. Hell, he was never dad to my mom. He came into our lives pretty late. Late for us, way too late for Louisa, my grandmother. I didn’t call her a family name either. My mom didn’t call her mom. If she was mom, then there should’ve been a dad, and there wasn’t. Same for Grandma I guess.

I finished shaving his chest and laying the design on it. “Sure about this?”

“Absolutely, just shut up and work.”

“Nice, what kind of sailor are you anyway. No tattoos. Sheesh, that’s a sailor abomination or something.”

“You gonna do this or what.”

“Sure yea, no problem. I just want to make sure this is what you want.”

“Hell why would I not want it. You said yourself, what good is a sailor without tattoos.”

“Not any good at all.”

“Yer startin’ to get it, Squirt.”

“And you want Louisa on the banner below her?”

“That’s what I said isn’t it?”

“Yes, but…”

“Speak of going soft. Are you touched in the head or something girl. We’ve got a job to do here. I said what I wanted and I meant it, now get to the causing pain part.”

“Fine, ya old codger. I’ll make my deceased grandmother have huge perky boobs. Happy?”

“Immensely.” He waggled his eyebrows at me.

And this was why I didn’t call him Grandpa. It was just too creepy.

Based loosely on a true story...

or at least inspired by one... if horrorified can be considered inspired.


The head wouldn’t fit in the pot. It was that thought that did him in. He was okay until that point, okay being a relative word, of course. There was nothing okay about him today. Yesterday? Yesterday, he was just fine. But today… well today the head wouldn’t fit in the pot.

It wouldn’t have fit yesterday either, but that wasn’t his concern then. It was his concern now, and that concerned him. God, he was talking himself in circles. The strange numbness had left him as soon as he had to break the nose to get it to fit. One would think the screaming, hacking and blood spattering would’ve done it, but nope, it was the bone crunching noise against the stainless steel pot. It reverberated through him. That’s when he knew he was fucked.

Hadn’t he loved her? He did. He knew he did. What had prompted him to do this terrible thing anyway?

********

I'm thinking of turning this into a longer story, perhaps full length. We'll see.

Who... are you? Who who. Who who.

The Who, how sad they are now. I love The Who, one of my fave bands in fact... But on AOL they handpicked some performances from their tour to be shown on there, and they sucked ass. I mean really really sucked ass. They tried rocking out, and old guys can rock out, look at the Rolling Stones, but The Who, simply cannot. The guys filling in for Entwhistle and Moon did an admirable job. No one can be Keith Moon. Entwhistle was an amazing bass player with his finger plucking, and whoever filled in did a good job. Then we have the original members, Pete Townsend and Roger Daltry... Pete can't rock and Daltry can't sing anymore. He couldn't hit the notes anymore and melody seemed like a lost cause.

Now, I'm not too old, only 26. So I definitely never saw The Who in their prime, but you don't have to eat an egg to know the smell of a rotten one. My hubby and I couldn't even get through one song of the online concert... it was too painful to watch.

I understand that music is a passion that doesn't go away with age... we watched a Devo concert recently, that was really strange in itself seeing how old they were getting and still wearing those hats HA! I guess once a rockstar, always a rockstar isn't true for everybody.

Part 2

Staring up at the green-tinged fluorescent lighting, I dug my free hand in the warm stew called me. One hand, gently holding the remaining organs aside, the other slid the key along my spine. I’d have to get it lower to grab it.

Removing my gallbladder a month ago must have been in preparation for this. Although it is messed up to be thankful for anything in this predicament, them starting to remove my intestines had really helped. Once someone does the first step, I can finish the rest. In school, dissecting in Biology class had been the same. If my lab partner could make the first cut I could do everything else.

The key was in the place my guts should be. Placing the organs back in place, I grabbed the key with both hands and lifted it out. Laying it on my chest, I felt around for my intestines. The smell of blood and sweat was mixed with disinfectant. That was a favor too, although I suppose it was in their best interest. No reason to have me get an infection and die from something so innocuous. They had bigger plans for me.

The ropes didn’t seem to fit back in. I crammed the extra ten feet into my gut and placed the skin flap back over it. Holding my stomach in place, hate to lose anything on the way, I kicked my legs. Finding purchase on a spot of the floor that wasn’t covered in my blood and other bodily fluids, I scooted myself to the door. Getting there wasn’t so much of a problem. How was I going to sit up and reach the keyhole?

The sucking noise of my movements made this a bit too real for me. I needed something to distract me from the noise. I really must’ve been on some sort of Disney kick because “It’s a Small World” came out of my mouth. Maybe just the thought of the world being small made the distance to the door seem shorter.
The door hit the back of my head as I propelled myself forward one last time. Biting down on the warm, bloody, tissue-covered key, I used both hands and feet to prop myself up against the wall next to the door. Some of my guts spilled out of my stomach. It was unavoidable; I’d have to get it fixed later.

The key had too much stuff on it to slide in easily. Biting off the excess and spitting it on the floor, the key fit. I forced it in and turned. The door fell open. Standing there waiting for me was the Boss.

“Well done, Jamie.” He always called me by my first name. It pretended an intimacy between the two of us that just wasn’t there. He knew everything about me. I knew not a damn thing about him.

“We’ll get you cleaned up and then brief you on your first assignment.”

I should’ve been relieved and excited at the prospect of my first assignment, but emotion was conditioned out of me.

“May I ask what my first assignment is?”

“You’ll be undercover for this one.”

“As?”

“A daycare provider.”

A gruesome little ditty: part 1

A response to a writing prompt... part 1.

A little darker than stuff I normally write.

I, Jamie Lynn Woriski, have never been to Disney World, and don’t think I ever will. Strange really, what inane things run through your mind at such times. I couldn’t think about my family, my friends, or hell, even my dogs. No, I thought about fucking Disney World. I’d watched too many game shows growing up.

“What do you plan on doing with your winnings,” said the deep, expressive announcer’s voice.

“We’re going to Disney World,” said the white trash family, whose winnings would mostly go to the IRS. They had probably never made it there either.

The clock just finished tolling the ungodly hour of 5am; franticly I told myself I must finish this one last task. Steeling myself, I gingerly slipped my arm, elbow deep into the almost empty intestinal cavity...chanting over and over "One last task, this one last job and then I’d be free.” Free of this torturous hell, at least that’s what they told me. This wasn’t the first time they said it though.

What other choice did I have in the matter? Die a slow painful death, not unlike what I was feeling now, or try to do what they asked in the hopes that I could one day leave.

I moved the intestines aside with my free hand, strange how I couldn’t feel that. Moving the stomach carefully, my buried arm searched beneath the kidneys. That’s where they put the key wasn’t it? The organs felt like warm dressing. Was the inside of a live human supposed to feel like a stuffed turkey on Thanksgiving?

It was difficult to lift my head. Having your stomach ripped open and intestines taken out will do that to you. Laying my head back on the cold grey concrete, I figured it wouldn’t help me to see. Watching them cut me open and act out the end of Braveheart was enough for me. Who knew when those dwarves play acted taking out intestines with a rope that was what it actually looked like, except the coloring was wrong. That could’ve just been my perspective, though. I definitely wasn’t objective at the time. Athough, this wasn’t the worse thing they’ve done to me.

I slid my hand carefully under my kidney. The least they could’ve done was clip my fingernails. I could be taking chunks out of my organs and never know it. They taught me the importance of keeping organs in tact. God, if only I knew this was going to happen when they were teaching me human anatomy.

God? Heh, had I just said God? Funny twist of fate that is. I wasn’t even going to waste my time thinking about it. It wasn’t going to help me one bit in here. I knew that now. Maybe that’s what they were waiting for, the end of my conscience. I bet it was. If I was strong enough to get the key out of myself, put my intestines back in and crawl to the door, then I’d be done in here. I’d be ready. I hadn’t even prayed for it to end this time.

I have the survival instinct. Killing my partner at their order proved that. I have the mental capacity. I beat their gauntlet. And this time… well… I thought about Disney World this time. That has to count for something.

My fingers connected to something hard. Hmm, either my spine or the key. I suppose it could be a kidney stone too. It moved. The key. Yes. It was going to be difficult getting it out of there without permanently harming myself. I’d have to put my other hand in there.

Sam does a survey...

1. Name:
Samantha... ugh... Thorrson. *insert my distaste for my last name here*

2. Name someone with the same birthday as you.
My good friend and confidant, Sandra Tuttle

3. Last thing you ate:
A Sonic burger with a Cherry Limeade.. yum yum

4. For or against same sex marriage:
I'm against marriage all together at the moment

5. I say Shotgun! You say?
Die.

6. Last person you hugged?
Probably Skoll, or Hati, much to his chagrin ha!

7. Do you believe in God?
Yes, although my definition has recently become a bit more complicated.

8. How many U.S states have you been to?
I used to travel quite a bit. So a lot, pretty much everywhere east of the great Sippy and a few of the SW. Never been to the NW though, I don't like rain that much.

9. How many of the U.S states have you lived in:
3, grew up in Michigan, lived in Florida and now I'm in Georgia.

10. Ever lived outside of the US:
nope

11. Name something you like physically about yourself:
I'm pretty flexible which can be a bonus in fighting, so get your mind out of the gutter Ben!

13. Who is your best friend?
Skoll? Pilar? I don't really have one right now. God, how lame is that?

14. Why are you still up?
It's 11:40 am, why wouldn't I be up?

15. Who made you angry today?
Who didn't? I'll say that Mr. Gilf took the cake though, fuckin dwarves.

16. Favorite type of Food?:
Dwarf head on a platter? Finger foods that I can dip in things.

17. Favorite holiday:
St. Patty's Day. Woohoo green beer!

18. Do you download music:
No

19. What illegal things have you done?
What do you think I'm stupid?

20. Are you shy?
At times.

21. Would you date the person who posted this?
Nope, I'm trying to live a datefree life.

22. Has anyone ever sang or played for you personally?
Yes and I won't go into details, it was a bit embarrassing, for both of us.

23. Do you love anyone?
Not anyone who knows me anymore. Skoll comes close though, big dumb puppy.

24. Do you like Rap?
I won't even grace that question with an answer... yes I wil. Ah. Hell. No.

25.Have you ever bungee jumped?
nopers

26. Have you ever gone white-water rafting?
Nope

27. Has anyone ten years older than you ever hit on you?
Try thousands of years older. heh and you think I'm kidding.

28. How much money ya got?
More then ever... thanks Lance!

29. Have you met a real redneck?
Yes siree.

30. How is the weather right now:
sunny, abnormally warm for this type of year.

31.What are you listening to right now:
Marilyn Manson's cover of Depeche Mode's Personal Jesus.

32. What is your current fav song?
I ite ite ite ipplies and binines. I eat eat eat eeples and beeneenees...

33. What was the last movie you watched?
Over the Hedge.. yes I know, sad huh? A single 26 year old women renting kids movies...

34. Do you wear contacts:
nopers

35. Where was the last place you went besides your house?
To a motocross exhibition

36. What are you afraid of?:
I normally would've answered this question, but I fear that my answer could easily be used against me.

37. How many piercings/tattoos do you have.
1 tattoo, A thor's hammer with the insignia of the King of Woden.. my ancestor bitch!

38. How many pets do you have:
2 if werewolves count.

39. What's one thing you've learned?
All I know is that I don't know nothing... thanks Op Ivy.

40. fav current food ?
what's the obsession with food on thi survey Sheesh!

41. What do you usually order from Starbucks?
All coffee sucks ass.

42. Have you ever fired a gun:
Not many guns that I haven't fired.

43. Are you missing someone?
I'm missing lots of people, but no one's missing me.

44. Fav. TV show?
No time, but back in the day it would've been the Simpsons

45. Do you have an ipod?:
nopers

46. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celeb?
No.

48. Who would you like to see right now?
There would be dire consequences should my wish come true... so I try not to think about it.

49. Favorite movie of all time?
Dude Where's my car. HA! SOOOO just kidding on that one. Hard to pick but Clockword Orange is up there, right next to the A&E version of Pride and Prejudice... I know, I'm a freak

50. Do you find yourself loved?
I've got to find myself first.

51. Have you ever been caught doing something you weren't supposed to?
yeppers

52. Favorite flower:
Tulips

53. Butter, plain, Kettle, or salted popcorn?
White Chedder

54. What magazine are you reading?
Guns and Ammo heh.

58. What's something that really bugs you?
What doesn't bug me?

60. Do you like Michael Jackson?
Not in any way shape or form... I almost hate him with a perfect hatred... wait, I'll ansswer the question from above... what scares me. Michael Jackson scares me.

61. Whats your favorite smell?
Yummy men's cologne

62. Favorite basketball team:
don't like basketball

63. Favorite cereal:
Cinnamon Toast Crunch

64. Do you drive?
My Beemer baby

65. What's the longest time you've gone without sleep?
What's sleep?

66. Last time you went bowling?
since before I hit puberty.

67. Where is the weirdest place you have slept?
Spread eagle in the boiler room with a vampire and a werewolf?

68. Who was your last phone call?:
Ben.

69. Last time you were at work?
Yesterday, soon to be in a few hours. Stupid night shift

70. Whats your favorite state to be in?
A happy state.

Sandra Tuttle... "On Writing"

Alrighty, I am definitely not Stephen King here, but hopefully I have a few interesting things to say.

Over the weekend I attempted fast draft writing. Basically without reading what you wrote, or caring about how good it is, you just keep writing. On Saturday I wrote 13 pages, on Sunday I think I wrote another 8 for a total of 21 over the weekend. Not bad, but or fast draft I really should get up to 20 a day.

Hmm, she didn't mention how many she got yesterday. um *blush* 1.

I like the method, if only I could get it to work with my kids around. I know I just have to make myself. I just have to knuckle down and get writing. I'm not really in a rush to get the first draft of the second novel done. But I figure hey, I'm not revising at all this month so I might as well get the most done on Book 2 that I can. Who knows.

I can definitely see the merits of writing like this. First of all, it takes so long to edit a manuscript anyway, that I don't see it taking that much more time doing it this way. You have to go over every word anyways.

Secondly, I think your continuity will be that much better. There hasn't been a lengthy period of time while writing the book. The writer will be more in the zone, or in the characters head.

It has a lot of benefits, if one can find the time.

BTW did you hear about all the writers gone berserk lately? Yes,none of them knew each other, but they all had one thing in common. They were carrying Strunk and White's Elements of Style with them ;) Who needs the Catcher in the Rye

I don't like coffee... yup that's right I said it.

*stands tall and proud amid the endless sea of gasps coming from the peanut gallery*

I don't even like tea that much, but it is 1000 times better than coffee. I'm more of a purified water, apple juice and hot cocoa kind of gal.

What I find odd is that when people first drink Guinness Stout, they compare it to coffee. Now I like Guinness with its dark creamy-stouty smoothness. Coffee just tastes like ass.

I know they say both are acquired tastes, so I can see that parallel. But really besides color what else do they have in common? I'd really like answers too, I'm not just venting. Well, okay I am venting, but I'd like to know my faithful readers opinions as well. So pipe up damn it!

Public Service Announcement: Warning: Disturbing Images

canada and norway

"we" animals are all gods creatures, have some respect!

How would you like it to be whacked hard over the head as a "sport"!?

Norway and Canada have a new kind of tourism. Killing baby seals. They call it a "sport"..

You want to call this a sport ?

Is he a sportsman?







Why?







You're our only hope !!!







This barbarism shouldnt be possible in our society..







Dont turn your back on us, we are defenseless







I know these images seem painful for you, but we feel the pain. We are being slaughtered and its going on RIGHT NOW...







What gives him the right to kill us? Who is he to decide about life and death?







What kind of sport is this? I didnt harm anyone. I was just swimming around..







Please help me and my friends...







You cant just ignore these images.. Keeping silent and doing nothing makes you guilty...







Please help us







Please dont leave us alone...

STOP THE KILLING OF SEALS







You can make a statement by

reposting this to get as many people as you can

to repost this.

Bring these murderers to the attention

of world leaders.

Thank you!!!!

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Blog Bloggity Blog Bloggity Blog Blog Bluroo

Good Luck is quite possible
When I decide to write about you...

Doubtful, though.

Brr. It is cold here today. The temperature was nice last night so we left the windows open. Ooh man was it cold this morning. My toesies were a freezing and my boys were a whining, but my pocket book will be a thanking when the electric bill comes a calling.

I'm making progress on book 2, and am having more inspiration for rewriting book 1. I am staying steadfast about rewriting though, not yet. I need more time. Instead I am taking notes to remind me later. I've also joined a yahoo group led by Candance Havens for revisions. I look forward to getting all the info out of the workshop before I begin my journey into Changing Everything land, aka the That's Not Good Enough Anymore territory.


Up where the words are
All billered and curled
'Tween paper and parchment
Is the blog writer's world

When the's 'ardly no day
Nor 'ardly no night
There's things 'alf in shadow
And 'alf way in light

A Blogger's imagination running wild...
Coo, what a sight!

Blah blah blah all day long. Blah blah blah while I sing this song.

There once was a man named Jed,
All deep thoughts went over his head.
He limped, he skated, he even skipped,
But Jed's mind was nothing but blunt tipped.
Round and round he would go,
On the merry go round so slow.
Stomach of his would get queasy,
Nothing for Jed was ever easy.
He slipped, he tripped, he fell right down,
Nothing in life could prevent his frown.
One thing Jed never did was fear.
He was known to perservere.
So while Jed was the one whom every one made fun,
He proved he was no less than any man's son.
Jed was determined, Jed was proud.
Jed's song in church was so loud.
To some things one can't be numb.
And eventhough Jed as known as dumb,
His invitation they would never rescind,
For Jed was not known to ever have sinned.

I wasn't feeling very inspired to blog today but this just came out up my head (no I didn't pull it out of you know where)

Stand on it's own will this little ditty, without a video to distract so pretty.

Hoisting myself back onto the writing bandwagon.

I've made some progress on Book 2 of the Sam series. Which by the way, is not the title of the series. I am currently without a title for the series and would love ideas so fire away.

I have received high praise from a friend for a part in the beginning of the book. May be some of my most clever work yet. heh. Little does she know I am an endless vat of quips.

Speaking of which, I took a stupid online quiz about how much of a smart ass you are. And can you believe it! It said I wasn't a smart ass. I think the test was overloaded with my smartassness or it just decided to be a punk ass and tried to be more a smart ass than I was... who knows, but regardless it was a bunch of hooey.

My current reading list:

I read Kresley Cole's new one. No Rest for the Wicked and I give it a two thumbs up. I wasn't so sure about this book from the preview in the previous book, A Hunger like No Other. I did really enjoy the first one so I wanted to give this one a try and it exceeded my expectations greatly. Go buy it.

I bought Light My Fire by Katie MacAlister, which just came out yesterday. Not quite finished with it but I love this series and can't wait to see where it leads. Despite not finishing it I will still tell you to go buy it.

I've been having a yen for Vikings, so I checked out some Sandra Hill books from the library. So far I've read Tykir's book and am onto Rurik's now. With only reading one book so far I believe I can recommend the others. Nicely written indeed, especially if you like Alpha viking which I....mmmmm yum.... do.

Now witness, the personal growth of two young, misguided individuals.

Troll: the soap opera part 1

There once was a troll named Sleepikins. He lived on a bed in the forest. Just a bed? What about a house? Sleepikins needed no house, for all he needed was a bed. He was Sleepikins, after all.

When Sleepikins wasn't sleeping--a rare feat indeed--he had a different name. He was then known as Grumpikins. Grumpikins, as you may be able to guess, was not the nicest of trolls.

This grumpy troll would stroll throughout the small forest looking for food--to steal. For Grumpikins had no patience for finding his own, he much rather find someone who had done the work for him.

One day... what happened? I'm sure smart reader you can guess. He either couldn't find anyone or he ran into someone who wasn't too happy to be stolen from. We'll choose the former.

Why do you ask? It may make for a better story to have a conflict with another creature. Ah, yes you are correct there, however we must be true to our story.

This forest is small, you see, and small forests can only hold so many creatures. Sleepikins has lived in this forest for a long time. That is a long time and many turnings into Grumpikins have been witnessed by the creatures of the forest. We will pick the former for Grumpikins has pushed all of the creatures away with his stealing and general disagreeable disposition. There isn't even anyone for him to argue with anymore, so grumpy he is.

And we'll continue this story later.

Swedish Cooking Vaction from Writing

So what's new with me? What are my writing plans? Any large appliance purchases lately? I'm sure these questions are plaguing your minds.

This is a scary Stay-Puft Marshmallow smiley.

We'll start with the most pressing... appliances. Why, yes, in fact we did just buy a large appliance. We finally got a new range yay! It has a ceramic glass cooktop. YAY! I'm thinking of making fudge today, and then cookies, then anything else I can think of that requires a stove/oven. Do any of you have a clue on how difficult it is not to have a stove/oven? Talk about forced creativity. Screw writing prompts, take away an appliance and you are forced to bend your mind. I made spaghetti in the microwave people.

Anything new with me besides that? Hmm well the boys are at their grandparents so I've had a bit of a break here. That's been nice. Hubby and I went to see The Guardian last night. Good movie... holy cow those are some big scary waves. I have plans for setting a future book on a boat, and I may just have to add a storm into the mix, great imagery.

I took our pitbull to the vet today to start heartworm treatment. I hope the little guy takes it alright.

Ahhh, now onto my writing plans. Well folks I'll be honest here. I suck. I haven't been sticking to my plan. I didn't take a long enough break from book 1. So it isn't fresh to me anymore. I am not able to properly do rewrites currently. Therefore, I will be taking the month of Nov. off from revising and working on my other two stories... book 2 of the Sam series and the Post-apocalyptic hardass-killer lady series. (Seriously that is totally the name for the series ha!)

Reaper gettin his freak on

Its a sad day in hell when even the Grim Reaper is feeling societies pressures. Come on, how marketable does the Grim Reaper have to be? Apparently very. Watch out kiddies, peer pressure is out there everywhere.

When heavy metal was popular this wouldn't have looked so odd... but somethings just don't mix and I think that may be the case with this.

A writing prompt that turned into a Sam story

We walked in, and immediately the stench overwhelmed our senses. I thought females were supposed to be neater, cleaner than males. Ugh, guess not. A public restroom is a public restroom is a public restroom. They all had the same cream concrete walls and at least one missing tile. Oh, and I forgot about the constantly repainted door that doesn’t quite shut. I always managed to get that one. Leaning my head against the cold metal of the paper towel dispenser I sighed. I so did not want to do this here.

Wrinkling her nose, Rosebay spoke, “It’s gotta be here, Kitten. There is nowhere else. Kind of fitting, though, isn’t it, Sam?”

Fitting it was, although I was having a hard time matching Rosebay’s amusement. This was something to be taken seriously, that’s why I was doing it after all. Wasn’t it?

A black haired Goth chick opened the door, letting the sensual pumping of the music from the club loose. The smell of cigarettes, sweat and sex from the dance floor was almost as overwhelming as the smell in here, only it was intoxicating. The bass beats reverberated in my chest and made parts of me vibrate, the good parts. God, I couldn’t do this.

Eyes roaming over me, the black fishnet-infested chick opened her retro, metal lunch box and extracted a tube of black lipstick. Our eyes met in the mirror, her taking in my blues as I took in her yellows. Yellow. She wasn’t human, or was trying to appear that way. My red hair was shockingly bright to her black exterior. Heh, interior as well, I bet. She’d have no problem doing what I came here to do.

“Just so ya know, I wouldn’t bother going after him if I were you.”

The pumping of the music wasn’t the reason my heart was frantically trying to beat out of my chest. She knew. She wasn’t human and somehow she knew.

Smacking her reapplied black lips, she said, “He doesn’t like your type. Too clean. Too good. He likes them… well… dirty.” Her robust laugh seemed to echo in the room even after she had departed.

My heart calmed a smidgen. I hadn’t thought there would be competition, but at least she didn’t know my motivations. Hopefully, he wouldn’t either, or I’d be in a world of shit. She was right, though. He wouldn’t like me as I am, and that was the reason I was in this funk hole.

To become dirty.

Vikings!

Ooh man you can't get much better than Vikings. Big strong, tall alpha male warriors.... yum Really Alpha almost anything is pretty hot, but damn Vikings just have this stigma to them that makes them irresistable, to me at least. Which is why I'm writing about a few of them.

And then there are vampires... dark tortured creatures that they are. Oh, perhaps I didn't tell you, I am a SUCKER for tortured characters. Mix a viking and a vampire... I'm a goner.

Here is a special ditty. Not a Viking, but a hot Scotsman auditioning for Dracula in 2000. Gerard Butler!