Friday Fictioneers - The Old Tramp.

I have no excuse of neglecting my blog (again), but with a little encouragement from of all people my American Lit Teacher, I've decided to return to it for the time being.

This is of course due the the Flash Fiction book that finally got published. Yes, yours truly got in on that action. And trust me I'm happy I did. Being the overachieving twat that I am, I had to show it to my teacher. Which brings me to the question she just had to ask: Are you still doing this every week? 

No, said I. Which forced her to ask me, why not. I didn't have an answer to that. 

So without further ado I bring you, The Old Tramp (98-99 words)

Copyright Adam Ickes

Tuesdays and Thursdays she passed the old tramp. He parked his cart, with all his belongings, near the table by the mural. He would feed the birds using the money he made, panhandling. 

Thursday she was rushing, but noticed he wasn’t there. Tuesday, he was back, empty handed, minus the cart. The birds hungrily milling about his unprotected feet. 

She left home earlier that following Thursday, carrying a pair of shoes her husband wouldn’t miss. She placed them on the table. The tramp needed them more than she did. Her husband died last year. She hoped they fit.


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The Scariness of Failure

I've been harboring some negative thinking regarding just how smart I think I am. I feel like I'm not as intelligent as I try to appear. So with that in mind I try not to challenge myself too often in an effort to not fail.

I've talked about my issues with failure before. I hate to fail, when my body limits me, I count it as a failure, my dog does something wrong, I count it as a failure. My world is shot to pieces because I didn't do something the right way. I end up not trying at all some times. In the end I never challenge my potential, and that in itself is another failure.

School is the ultimate mental test for me. I have to learn something and learn it fast. I have understand it  to a point where I can apply it and retain it. I have to do all this on someone else's schedule. Accelerated courses will do that to you. There's not much time for you or anyone for that matter to cram. The class is so short, it's really one big cram session. Every minute counts, and every word is valuable. This is pressure. This frighten me.

What if I read the wrong section? What if I do the wrong assignment? I didn't get that email. I missed the bus on the way to class. I can't fail. Failing is unacceptable. Failing is why I tried to kill myself in 2011. I'd like to say that I've grown a little from that experience, but I can't really say if I have.

I held my breath as I checked my grade for my Psychology class today. I got the email sometime last night. The grades have been posted. Logging on to the the Student Portal felt like I was walking toward my execution. The seconds it takes for the page to load, seemed like hours. I almost wanted to hold my breath while clicking the link to my class grades.

I surprisingly got an A. Wait. What? An A, after that poor showing on the mid-term? How is that possible? I must have beasted the final. I already knew what the score was on the Group Project.  I was sort of expecting the worst. I was prepared to sulk for the rest of the month and eat ice cream and cry on my sewing machine.  I guess I don't have to do that.

Smart is the New Sexy

Actually Sexy is the New Sexy. With that said, I'm finally in school; have been for two months. I could go into every minute detail about it or I can just say that I'm happy to be finally working toward another goal. I'll go with the latter choice. But I will wax a little about what I have done class wise.

The first class was called Information Literacy. Recommended for every student upon entering. I'm glad I took it first and not something else because I learned how to navigate the schools online library, their actual library, write a research paper and give a non-DOD related presentation. Pretty freaking fancy if you ask me.

The class I'm midway through right now is Introduction to Psychology I may or may not have said on Facebook several times that I was intimidated by the class prior to sitting through the first lesson. I have since changed my mind. It's a little time consuming but otherwise not as scary as I thought it would be.

What I am most worried about is the fact that while I'm taking a class twice a week in the evenings I still haven't found a job. There is this crazy guilty feeling in the back of my mind that urges me to keep searching. Whenever I do search, every other day, I just become depressed. There is this feeling of utter hopelessness when I check my emails and find that all of the employers I've contacted have failed to reply. I try not to let that discourage me. Most important, is that this feeling does not bleed into my studies. 

I'm motivated to succeed at something. Almost two years of constant failure, on the job front, motivates me to do well. I do find myself getting fixated though on wanting to succeed just to succeed and not to retain information and that will lead me to become overconfident. I guess my motto should be, strive for the best, but always stay humble. I don't know, something like that or some other Jedi Yoda-style proverb, what ever. Before any people with much higher levels of education go all grammar nazi on my fragmented sentence, I meant to write it that way.

Overall I guess I'm about 50% content with how life is progressing. I want a job, and I look. I want to go to college and I'm in college. Now, if I can just get rid of my dog's fleas, and figure out what in the world is going on with my love life, I think I'd be a pig in mud? A perv at a peep show? A geek at Comic-Con? Kid in a candy shop? An NRA member at a gun show? Do any of these work right now? Anyone? Anyone?

I found myself...

I read a book. No, I ATE a book today. Instead of sitting at the computer forcing myself to write something that wasn't going to come easy, I decided to tackle my pile of books. Kresely Cole's book Shadow's Claim had been burning a whole in the ottoman I tossed it on since it arrived.

I cracked it open and pretty much didn't put it down. What can I say, it was a good story. I wonder if I'll ever get tired of the series? I hope not. But I'm not blogging right now to do a review. 

Though I probably should since I've read like a bunch of books.

What happened after I put the book down was something short of amazing. I sat at my computer and began writing! I was pretty happy until I looked at my ceiling and smiled. Next thing I know a half hour had passed and I'd typed nothing. 

Drugs are bad m'kay...

Who knew the ceiling could be so fascinating? I blame the meds. Which begs me to question: Do people space out like I just did or are my prescriptions messing with my focus? Most likely a little bit of both in my case.

Anyway I'm going to attempt to return to The new God and see how I make out. Let's hope that I keep my eye forward and not let them get fascinated my the cracked paint above me.

Word Association: Lush, Phantasm, Pander, Keeper, Mouth

Like I promised, I'd post later about my word associations exercise to see if I could break my writer's block.  I don't think it worked, but then, I haven't looked at my novel since about noon today.

Some of these seem kind of poem-y. Poetry isn't something I would willingly delve into. Yet, if I frame some of this just right... You never know. Anyway, let me begin with the last one I worked on. 

Lush

The grass and leaves exploded with life and freshness. The air was crisp clean and smelled sweet. The wind carried bird song aling on gentle breezes that even God himself stopped to here. It was a glorious day and the lush dreamt the day away. Hung over from a night of merry making and carousing. She partied long into the dawn and missed all the beauty and wonderment beheld by the breaking of day. How the lush wasted.

I feel sort of like I wasted my day a bit here.  Next was Phantasm. This is the one that seems a little poetic. I am not knocking poetry, I just don't normally go there. What I'm finding as I write that some times my mind will take something and drag me to a place I rarely travel. I should enjoy the journey.

Phantasm

It seemed to be fading in and out of the shadows. The moon was full casting it’s silvery light over everythign it touched. But this gossomar creature flitted in and out of the light quick as lightning. Fading esscences danced behind it as it passed. A wiff of mint, a touch of lavender a hint of you. Is it really you? I have to ask. You’ve been goone for months now. No phone calls or letters. The only thing that remains is an old t-shirt, the scent long worn away. But you’re echo blesses me anew. A ghost that calls my name. Why me? Why now? 

Mouth came before that. If you haven't realized by now I'm going backwards, in order of which they were completed. Mouth seemed to lean toward horror and frankly having once been the character and not suffered this fate, I consider myself very lucky.

Mouth

Teeth! All he saw were teeth. Sharp pointy things. Row upon row of them. The more he looked the more he saw. The large gaping maw froze him in fear. He was petrified at the monstrosity. What kind of creature was this that rose from the deep to take him. Posideon had out done himself. The sailor sank into the water accepting his fate. He didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. As the huge mouth descended on him blocking out the sun he tried not to scream. Yet the pain and the force tearing him apart cause his to yell. No sound came. Water filled his shredded lungs and his own blood came rushing up. 

The monster bit down again before rushing away. It’s dinner captured for the night. 

The next Word Association is actually a memory. This is back when I was much younger and still  wanted to save the world one animal at a time. For a brief moment I thought I might be an aspiring sports star. 

Keeper

I wanted to be goalie so much it hurt. Ever ever since that one day in gym class when I caught the ball that Timmy kicked. It came so fast that I didn’t see where it was going. All of a sudden it was in my arms. I’d caught it, and not with my face this time. I was going to be a star one day. I’d make millions and be on the front of a Wheaties box.

A year later in soccer camp I was placed in the keeper position again. Ball after ball went past me. Reality sunk in. Not only was I a terrible Keeper, I couldn’t play soccer.

The first and my favorite so far has to be Pander. I didn't know what the word meant. Funny, I thought up the word and wrote it on a note card. I thought initially it meant to sell something. I wasn't far from the definition but the whole meaning gave the word a sort of sordid taint. I love this word now.

Pander

The madam stood outside the brothel. It was early evening and only a few clients were expected tonight. The butcher across the street threw his waste on the street and eyed her coveteously. She remembered him. He was one of her first clients so many years ago. Back when she had to work the streets. The money he paid regularly helped her set up shop.

He watched her smoking her cigarrette. The madam winked at him salaciously. He gulped. He was a married man now. A pillar of the community. If he was seen going into her house of loose morals he’d be an outcast. The thrill of getting caught tempting him even more.

The butcher returned to his shop. Oh well thought the madam. Maybe another day. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and went inside.

I guess I'm done playing around with words for today. If anything I've realize that I can still write which is what I mean to do for the rest of my life so that's good. If only I can get my juices flowing on my novel. Work work work.

Writer's Block Free Writing Exercise

Today is day three of my writer's block.

I'm not surprised that this has happened since I've been working most of the month to finish my novel. But today as I sit at my computer wondering wiht inspiration will hit I decided to do something about it.

I took to the web, for once in search of some thing that will get my juices flowing. Normally this is when I clear my work area and start sewing. I found a few tips to help me out, and I'd like to share one or two with you,  if you don't mind.

Free Writing, or something close to it. Just tell you to write what ever comes to mind. Well that sucks, because everything else comes to mind. But I tired it out anyway and got nothing but a To Do List of things I cold be doing instead of staring at t a computer all day. I recommend this when I'm not under so much pressure to do something.

Then there was word association. The site I took this from is called MakeUse.com. It sent me to One Word where a word was chosen at random and I' come up with something, anything in about 60 seconds. They word I happened upon was frenzy. The first thing that popped in my head was shoppers after Thanks Giving day. Oh yes The Black Friday Shoppers. They scare me, they scare me to death.

This one being a little bit more freeing to me I decided to take five words and see where they go.

Here are my five words:
Lush
Phantasm
Keeper
Mouth
Pander

I would love to hear what others think about this. I'm wondering if others who read this blog would be interested in contributing. But as far as the exercise goes I'm going to post them later one and see how it went.

Friday Fiction - Wouldn't It Be Funny

While I happen to be writing this whole month I figured I'd return to my roots with a little FridayFictioneer. What a lovely picture, it tickles me. Plus, She and He  (links to their other stories above) finally got names (yay...)

Copyright John Nixon

Wouldn't It Be Funny

Heydan hated clowns. Ever since she was little and her parents thought it was a good idea to let her watch It on television. But this clown was part of the play so she remained calm.

Harry next to her whispred, “Wouldn’t it be funny...”

Suddenly, Harry was lifted and thrown into the old piano that sat dusty in the corner. The audience thought he was part of the act and applauded. The actors on stage, clueless.

Only Heydan knew, she pictured it, so it happened. His colorful foot wear adding to the effect.

“Why yes, yes it would be funny.” 

The Blog Hop has already begun, so you should all take a look inside and see what the other awesome writers do with this photo prompt. Don't forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules. 

#Writingallmonthonpurpose

It has been a while and this will be short. Sorry folks.  A lot has happened in the six weeks since the Marathon Bombing  and the freakishly freaky moment of lost hysteria, which may or may not be the last post I've done on this blog. None of it (my lots happening) is majorly life altering, some of it is just plain outright dull. But nevertheless I've sort of stayed busy.

I finished a few sewing projects. I've been in Craftermath mode for the longest, only because I keep thinking I need clothes. Realistically I'm never going anywhere to wear this stuff but that is just another one of those issues I've yet to deal with. Sewing is just a happy distraction. One I'll blissfully delve into at some other time. Every now and again I'll feel the itch to go cut some fabric. I even caught myself ordering some the other day. I couldn't help myself. But I'm going to exercise some discipline.

My next two projects are actually set to go. What's stopping me, JUNE. Yes, the whole month of June is stopping me. Yes, I know that my father's birthday and Father's day is in June. I also know that June is the month in which summer kicks off. None of that matters. What matters is that I applied to school and I am seriously hoping to get in. I should know by the end of June. If I get in I'll be starting in August. I wont even get into the amount of hops I didn't have to jump through while dealing with Admissions. So blissfully easy I wish I'd thought of it sooner.

I took the month of June to work on my book. The book that should have been in the revisions step of my process back in March. The book isn't even finished yet. What would make me happy is to at least finish the story before I let it collect dust. So on May31st, after a brief three way Facebook conversation between myself, my old friend Rita and my old shipmate Steven, I decided to take the month. I won't do anything but write. If I'm lucky I can get to the end and then actually revise.

Today is day six. I have stuff I could be doing. But I'm afraid in my usual fashion of afraidiness that once I leave the house I'll come home tired and not write anything that day.  So I haven't left my house yet this month. I did take out the trash and walk the dog a few time though. It's not a healthy way to live but fuck it the book has to get finished. I've got a billion ideas for the revisions and I can't do any of them until I get to the end.

So here's to the month of June. May every moment in front of the lap top be worth my "pale" summer tan.

A quick reminder that I'm not well

The VA contacted me recently by snail mail and told me that my claim for disability was under review. Well that's just peachy. Then I got a letter stating that I'd have a bunch of appointments to verify if I am in fact in need eligible. Understandable. What I had not prepared for is the trip to that particular office.

I am pretty much afraid to leave my house somedays. Brings out my completely illogical fears of being unable to make it back to my home. Despite my constant search for a job I really dread going to them because I don't like getting lost. I swear by Google Maps. If I find a place to be inaccessible I'm not going there. So you can imagine my freakishly out of proportion reaction to getting lost on the way to my first appointment.

First off there were at least four ways of getting to this location by bus. I left with plenty of time to make it there and I even choose the best route (the one with the least amount of connections). I left at nine for an eleven AM meeting. The traffic was fairly light and I'm expecting this to be an easy trip.

What I did not plan for is the grossly inaccurate distance I had to walk. Normally I like walking, just not on the side of the road. I also like nature too, not up close and personal like the snake I encountered on said side of the road. The same goes for the mud I slipped in or that soccer mom that almost rolled over me.

Like any person with anxiety issues I panicked. While the road continued the buildings became more sparse and then completely disappeared. I found myself on an empty road with woods around me, highway flowers, a big ass snake and those huge red ant you only read about in National Geographic Magazines. Looking at my watch I saw that I was late and I feared that if I missed this appointment I'd be automatically disqualified. I'm not going to say I don't need the money. I had to make this meeting and walking down a road that seemed to go on forever without any signs of civilization scared the shit out of me.

I became this sniveling hysterical creature I haven't seen in ages, inconsolable, begging for help that wasn't there and desperately wanting to go home. I really had no choice but to keep walking. So I walked and cried, imagining my body being eaten by carrion birds. I pictured my dog slowly baking to death in my empty apartment. No one would come looking for me because I'd managed to alienate everyone local because of my reclusive tendencies. I'd sort of die on this empty road.

When I finally found the building out in the middle of nowhere I was too tired to even be happy that I arrived. I wanted to go home. I didn't feel safe even if I manage to get back to civilization. I didn't want all these people staring at me. I was covered in mud, there was a snake, I was late, I failed to help myself and now everyone knew it.

Someone took pity on me and I was able to meet with the person assigned to assess me. She was coincidently the person there to my mental health. How oddly convenient. She asked me how have I handled my anxiety, then answer for me because I was still upset. It went something like, I have changed my behavior so much to avoid situations where my anxiety will be triggered.

Well there is a way to look at that. I wonder if that's what she wrote down? After my morning the day pretty much went smoothly. I made my next appointment and even donated plasma today. I am pretty tired and my legs hurt. I am glad to be home though. Things make so much sense here. The noise outside is sort of comforting. Even the chickens are welcome to me right now.

How dare you ruin my City: The 116th Boston Marathon and it's Bombing

My Facebook friends and to a much lesser degree my Google + friends know that I am a native Bostonian. They know that I have a special place in my rude Bostonian heart for the Marathon and all the parties leading up to it. Some of my Navy friends will say that I've even gone home in April on leave just to watch it at the mile 20 mark with a group of very special people.

It was no major surprise that I would mention the Marathon once or twice last week leading up to all the excitement that was expected to go down this weekend. I was secretly hoping that someone would spill all the highly embarrassing stories so I could live vicariously through them and reflect on how much fun I was missing out on by being here in Sand Diego and not there where I belong. I'm a Hasher and Boston is my Home Kennel. There will never be a Kennel quite like it. Ever.

So I'm really sad that someone bombed Marathon, twice. Right at the finish line. Read a few articles from the Globe here. I'm more than sad, I'm angry, I'm enraged and I'm pretty powerless. Absolutely powerless. The rational person inside me says to ask if all the Hasher are accounted for, and I got one person telling me yes. I'm happy about that. I really am. But I'm still mad. It's not enough that they are all accounted for and hopefully unharmed. It will probably never be enough.

What bothers me is that I fell like I should have been there. Boston is where I truly ever belonged, I never had to pretend to be anyone else. I had a group of friends that accepted me completely flaws, crazies, anger management issues, ever changing body shape, employment status and everything else wrong or right with me. I had all that and I had a beautiful city as a backdrop. I understand and so do they why I left and they accepted that. Not too many of my friends back home understand why I never returned after getting out of the Service. So on top of all the rage I feel toward this unnamed Bomber I feel guilt for not being there.

Don't get me wrong I don't wish to have been maimed or injured like the people at the finish line. I wish I was where I normally would be. Passing out beer at mile twenty. I'm a Hasher whether I and active or not and that's what Boston Hashers do.  It's been the tradition since forever, not as old as the Marathon itself which is 116 this year but still pretty traditional.  I remember the last time I stood at mile twenty there was an announcement on the radio about us. I got tongue kissed in the face by old men with marathon ick mouth. We got to harass the Kenyans at they ran by. I heard Joey McIntyre (NKOTB) ran this year. I would have loved to see that shit.

What made all this debauchery said and unsaid so much fun was that Boston is a relatively safe city. I say relative because you have to consider the context. Now that's all ruined. Next year people will run the Marathon just to spite the terrorists. The free spirit of the race is gone. People will leave their kids at home next year. The Hashers might not even be allowed at mile twenty next year. You gotta admit we are strange. You can forget Patriots Day in New England. This is going to turn into a day where before we do anything else we'll have moments of silence and stories of triumph over adversity. The Boston Marathon was never supposed to be like this.

Yeah I feel pretty fucking violated. There is no nice way fro me to say that. I feel ashamed too. I am  busy  hiding out here away from all my friends and I hate to admit it family (gross-- family). I feel like I should have been there. I should have been there helping in some way making a list and coordinating people, just generally being of some use. But no, there isn't any action I can take. I can't even donate money. I'm broke.  The only thing I can do is complain about my own impotence in angry posts on Facebook:

I think I said this when my brother was shot several years ago. It's not often I demand that level of barbarism. Also the Marathon only started in 1897 not 1843 as stated in my post. I added the Wiki Link above. 

And I do want to know why? The so far the news sources haven't a clue as to who is responsible. Me personally I think it is a Domestic Terrorist. There is some speculation that it might be a random Saudi National, but I'm not leaning that way. Another part of ME speculates that it might not even be political. 

Of course it could be political and then the real fear begins. It could be related to the wars. Americans are still the Infidels. Maybe the jihadist are just reminding us that we are not safe.The Threat levels we've all grown accustomed to since 9/11 will have a whole new meaning. Every middle eastern person will look like a suspect now. Let the racial profiling begin again.

  

Or it could be about taxes which ties in with Patriots Day like the article said. Massachusetts regularly gets an extra day to file taxes if Patriots day falls on the 15th. The American Revolution began in MA about taxes, but nobody had to die today to make that point all over again. If it's taxes, then, hey, I get it, no one likes taxes.  

If the reasoning behind today's bombings was something different, I guess I need some clarification. What I'm not looking for is another Batman massacre. I'm hoping and wishing that the person who did this is of sound mind and has some kind of conviction or belief that what they did was right. I hope that this person had a series of goals that they they met today. Because otherwise today was pointless, and the thought of that makes me even more angry.

Everything's for Sale- Friday Fictioneers

Once in a while I'm reminded that I'm a fan of Steampunk. I'm a fan of a lot of things but that's not the point. When I saw this week's photo Prompt offered up by Sandra Cook, my comment on Facebook was something like: I'm in  love.

It's pretty in a  rusty greasy gear head type of way and I'm not ashamed to say it. In fact, it makes me want to dig out my halloween costume and go find  a dirigible. Which brings me to my submission. 

Copyright Sandra Cook

Everything's for Sale

The young pilot eyed the contraption eagerly. The old tramp watched as the youth approached the steps of the local saloon. The tramp recognized the want in her coveteous eyes. Everyone who saw it had the same look.

“I see you looking at the bike little lady.” The tramp siddled between her and the bike.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about old man.” The pilot knew his kind. Meddling. Out to make some money.

“Sure  you do. But this baby ain’t for sale.” He patted the seat.

She drew her pistol, aiming it at the old tramp. “Mister, everything’s for sale. Now get out of my way.” 

The Blog Hop is going pretty good this week, so you should all take a look inside and see what the other awesome writers take from this work of art. Don't forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules and tips on how to induce labor. Hopefully you'll participate too.

Yes and instead of writing, sewing, cooking, or sleeping...

I went to the movies. Not just any movie, I went out with a

Even the poster is deceiving.

bunch of women I hardly knew and saw a Tyler Perry Movie.

Now if you'll remember, I talked about Tyler Perry some time early last year  in The Blessing and pretty much after watching this movie I firmly believe that he's wasting my time. It wasn't even that good a movie. I'm sure the rest of the ladies in the group enjoyed it though. I was not impressed from beginning to end.

Temptaion: Confessions of a Marriage Counselor is supposed to be this steamy movie about a seemingly happy woman being swept off her feet by this man who represents the Devil Incarnate. It's there trust me. From what the advertisements and the movie trailers said this was going to be sultry and sexy. A far cry from what Mr. Perry normally does.  Consider my hopes dashed when I realized that this sensual, erotic experience turns out to have a PG-13 rating. I mean check out the trailer:

Even the page on Imdb looked all grownfolk-y and stuff. (yes that is a picture of Kim Kardishian, no she did not do a good job) The movie followed the same stagnant formula all Tyler Perry's movies followed. Do the right thing, if you leave God behind you'll only end up hurting yourself, everything that is all consuming is bad, and you might even die from it because God will only go where you let HIM. By the end of the movie I felt like I'd done something wrong. 

The guy who does all the bad things in the movie was played by some guy who was clearly cast for his dashing good looks. The acting was terrible on his part and there seemed to be something really bad about the way he projected his voice. It got annoying really quick and when h finally stopped doing it somewhere near the end and actually started "acting," it was too late to save the rest of this train wreck. On another note, that same guy was an extra in the pilot episode of Fringe. Go figure!

Overall I don't blame most of the actors and actresses for this movie. I blame the script. Granted some really good people did really bad, the script couldn't be more awful. And let me tell you why.

People we've seen this shite already on Lifetime. There are a million billion movies just like this starring has beens from the 70's, 80's, and 90's that have in some way shape or form all chronicle the rise and fall of one woman being lead away from the good life by her coochie. I said coochie, yes and it's more powerful than any drug if tempted by the wrong guy. Ladies you've been warned. Every Lifetime Movie Special has the female lead end up killed, pregnant, raped, or HIV positive, because the guy she "fell in love" with, was utter poison to her life. I guess the moral of the story here is to stay in your house for the rest of your life. Yeah, with duck tape over your mouth and around your ankles ladies, because all that bad stuff that happens to us is all our fault.

Trust me when I say you could save your $11 and the trip to the theater by just catching one of those on the telly.

Then there's Brandi making this movie just that much more predictable by admitting that she was the former love interest of the villain and that she been running and hiding from him for damn near ten years. Doesn't that just tie up everything so neatly. Do I sound bitter? Maybe a little. I hate things that end so neat and clean the way this story did. I feel insulted to think I spent money to view this and even more insulted that this movie was made for my "demographic." Like that drivel concerns me, gimme a fuckin' break. At least he's not misquoting the Bible in this one.

Truthfully I saw the movie the day after it cam out on the 30th.  There really is no nice way to talk about a movie I didn't like. My disappointment with it hasn't dulled much either. So with that being said, I really don't think I'll being watching anymore Tyler Perry movies until they come out on Netflix.

And you shouldn't either, unless you like that stuff. Of course I'm judging you right now if you do. Totally judging you.

Totally Judging.

Totally.

Friday Fictioneer- The Dig

You know some people just don't care how they get their kicks. "She" is back with her careless side kick "He" and this time there is a little assist from every one's favorite wizard. 

No, not Gandalf the White. Harry Potter. Though Meeks was pretty bad ass too even if he's a bit on a shady side. Geek points if you even remotely remember who that guy was. Is not was, because in books your characters live forever. But this isn't about wizards, so lets focus. Focus. Focus Tia, there's a cool picture and you were trying to make a point.

I want to thank Scott Vanatter and whom ever Indira is for submitting the closest thing to the Whomping Willow without actually be-spelling a willow. Don't judge me.

Submitted by Scott Vanatter with permission from Indira

The Dig

“It looks like the creepy Harry Potter tree.”

“Creepy Harry Potter tree!?”

“It swung at people - nasty piece of work? You don’t remember that?” She pushed her shovel down into the ground.

“Not really some of us were busy getting laid.”

“You can be so crude sometimes. Just dig.” 

Silence followed until he paused in his exertion.

“Hey wouldn’t it be funny if there was a tree like that in real life?” He said.

Above them creaking and snapping began. The ancient knotted behemoth bent forward splintering and ripping roots that moments before was held fast to the earth. It was going to kill them.

And here is an orgy of other bloggers joining in on the Hlog Bop Blog Hop. I think "Orgy" is probably too strong a word here. I don't feel like changing it though because it's 2:27 AM PST right now and I should be in bed. I will probably regret that statement later in the week.

Anyway, here is the Linky thing that gives your access to the party. Do not forget to drop by Rochelle's blog for the rules and her beautifully written submission.

Enjoy your weekend.

Dating is: Me Totally Judging You

I love going on Okcupid.com for good  no reason. I like to see what's out there and I like talking to folks who wander in and out of my peripheral. Today I got a sincerely awesome message that while it was a little too forward for my taste, still demanded I respond with honesty. 

Hello. I just wanted to stop by and say that you are VERY BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!! I know this seems a little off the wall but i would really like to get to know you. You can feel free to skype me at BlahBlahBlah or text me anytime at MehMeh-MehMehMeh. Please dont think i am strange giving out my info but to be quite honest, im not here for games. I really wanna get to know someone and possibly share my life with someone. God1 has been good to me even through all of the problems i have been through and i call this TAKING A STEP OF FAITH2 if that makes sense. Anyway, God3 bless you and i truly hope to hear back from you, but if i dont then i understand but atleast im putting myself out there. 
Showers Of His Blessings4, 
Le-Derp:-) 

P.S. I know the distance between us is great but i must be honest with you. If God5 brings 2 people together, not even distance can stop his plan6 and if God7 were in this i would come to YOU believe it or not. I try not to look at the natural and just see through his eyes8 in whom ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. God9 bless you and i do hope to hear from you. Im so ready for what God10 has for me no matter what....

Clearly I've edited this a little bit.

The first thing that comes to mind after reading such an introduction is Bible Thumper. Now hold on a minute, don't get your King James wrinkled. Let me explain why I thought that.

Urban Dictionary has 22 definitions of Bible Thumper, (go ahead and look through them, very interesting) the ones that matter here are 6, 7, 18 and 20. Basically a person who lives by and is guided by the Lord, or basically any outwardly proud uber Christian. Whatever get's you up in the morning mate.

This would not be a bad thing if I were as committed a Bible Thumper as is my friend here. I am not, but I had to let the guy down easy. Or what I thought was easy:

I'm sorry but you and I will not mesh. After reading your message and your profile I have judged you to be a Bible Thumping Jesus Freak. I'm not insulting your Bible Thump, it makes up a lot of who you are. I can not be a party to that kind of proud faith in something that in my mind, depends wholly on mob interpretation. 
I hope that you find the one for you, but please continue your search.

You think that was harsh? Now that I look at it on my blog it may be a little harsh. Oh well. I really didn't expect a response because no one likes rejection.   But:

u make absolutely no sense and u r pre judging me but oooooook

Maybe it doesn't make sense, maybe it does. Here's why I'm a little perturbed: In looking at my response I specifically used the word judged. I didn't say think, I said judged. As in - to infer, think, or hold as an opinion. I said this purposely to make him understand that I have made my opinion and I am deciding not to pursue a relationship based on this first impression. I'm entitled to do that. Did you count how many times  Divine Intervention/Power was mentioned? I already did that for you, a whooping 10 times.

I may have read that response as accusatory, but I will not be made to feel guilty because I exercised my right to choose a suitor. My ego needed to nipped this guy in the bud.  In that poorly formed 13-ish word statement was a guy who didn't like me being truthful in my response. This guy despite only communicating with me twice had managed to get under my skin even though I had no intention of letting him near me. 

My ego demanded closure and the last word:

I am prejudging you, I don't see the problem. I'm being honest with you, rather than make something up and lie. I CAN lie to you and say something that has nothing to do with how many times you made a reference to God, his blessings and HIS plan, but would you really (be) satisfied with that? 
Look my friend, if there were something else to hinder a relationship between to two of us I'd say that too. Regardless of political, religious, social status or superficial reasoning, I will always be honest enough to recognize what will and will not work. It is up to you to acknowledge that when you put yourself, publicly on a website, you will be judge(ed), and you will not like it sometimes. 
So accusing me of prejudging you, when that's exactly how online dating works, means that you're not understanding the fundamentals here. We are all prejudged. You need to get accustomed to that. 

I haven't heard back yet. 

As I said this is online dating. To me online dating is something like matching shoes to an outfit. What
well works  today may not be the appropriate shoe tomorrow. Some styles you just know will not work well with your ensemble.  Some will break your foot. The same rule applies to men, or women if that is your thing. I'm not particularly big on my faith in God, so a Bible Thumper isn't really going to work for me. They have needs I can't fulfill and I have too much stock in Science and my own abilities to put my faith and everything else on a person that might not exist. In other words if Le-Derp was a pair of shoes he'd be painful and not go with anything in my closet. There's no point to owning them (shoes). 

Is there in error in my judgment for not picking up the bad shoes? No, and a good girl friend will tell you that a good shoes is 100 times better than six cute shoes that feel bad. So why should I be ashamed to judge a person if there is a possibility of us dating? 

I think it sucks that we're taught not to judge when we do it everyday.  Job interviews, book choices, television, the clothes we wear, the people with whom we associate ourselves are all based on choices/ judgements. When did having an opinion about these, become a bad thing? When did voicing them become a bad thing? I don't know.

I guess this concludes my rant on dating for the week. I hope I made a point in all that.

Friday Fictioneer Photo - The Long Weekend - It's not what you think.

I'm from the city and I love it. I'll admit that once in a while when I leave the city I get a little homesick for the noise. I don't miss the dirty air though. Or the rude people, or the street vendor food. I take that back I love street vendor food.

Copyright Douglas M Macllroy

The Long Weekend - 102 words

“What’s that smell?” Shayna gagged.

“It’s called, clean air.” Marissa inhaled deeply.  

“Well, I don’t like it.”

“Sucks for you. You need to get out of the city more often.” Maybe taking Shayna to the farm was a bad idea.

“For what? Hills? Grass? The grass looks dead and there’s no cell reception.”

“But look a horse!” She pointed to the field, which was pretty brown.

“Oh wow, a stupid horse.” Sarcasm, not necessary right now.

“You’re blowing this.”

“Blow me.” 

“What’s it doing?” Marissa ignored her.

 “Ha, Ha, maybe it’s watering the grass.” This was going to be a long weekend.

Check out the rest of the Blog Hop over on Rochelle's WordPress Blog. Of feel free to lurk on the Facebook Page. Happy Reading