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 |  Nothing like a fortune cookie to make a year intriguing. |
  Many thanks to kiyasama for the lovely image gracing this blog! A huge thank you to GabriellaR45  for the shiny yellow awardicon to bring the new year!It was a simple crack of an ancient fortune cookie that sparked the courage to keep writing on the eve of the new year. This is a test to see what a tiny slip of white paper can do for someone who was ready to hand in the towel, allowing every self-doubt and negative thought to take control. May this mark a beginning; a fresh start for the potential of something messy, dented around the edges, and absolutely all mine. Here's to blogging in 2011 (and 2012).   |
| It has been one of those months where the ups are high and the downs are deep. NaNo was a bit depressing, my lowest score since I first began, but two jobs and working full time has cut in on my writing time. However, several of my friends made it the finish line, which is extremely awesome. Hopefully, when I have my winter break, I'll be able to write more like I wish to. It has been a sweet nothing kind of time, creatively, yet there is still hope. "Sweet Nothing" - Calvin Harris ft. Florence Welch |
Chimamanda Adichie - "The Danger of a Single Story" |
Turns out I'm alive. I made it through the first winter quarter without too many hiccups. Sailed through spring quarter on a hope and a dream. And ended the entire process with two jobs and being president of two clubs on campus. Talk about going from nada to "Holy Hellballs, Batman!" Recapping (in the simplest terms):  I'm currently working for my community college, in two different capacities. Makes the commuting thing easier, although I suspect I will loathe my school by late December. Especially with the club presidencies. I was volunteered for those. Note to Self: I really need to be in the room when these votes go down. With my work, I've been conferencing quite a bit. Finally spent some time in Seattle last month for the Int'l Gender Odyssey Conference, and will be headed there again in a couple of weeks to see more of the city. Was in Yakima last April for the Students of Color Conference and will be attending again next year. Will be at a leadership conference in central Washington for the coming week. We've got a decent mix of people in terms of age. I don't feel completely out of place with the few extra years under my belt. Found out over the last few months that I am sensitive to gluten and have done my level best to cut it out of my diet. As a result of being gluten-free, almost dairy-free, and pretty close to sugar-free, I've lost about fifteen pounds. There is a heavy dose of stress in there as well. Unfortunately, I haven't learned how to be stress-free. Not sure my mind could compute that. My sleep is still crap. I'm so medicated up to sleep these days it isn't even funny. I was also told to join a gym by my doctors. I've joined a gym for a year to see how this goes. I can be honest, I miss the activity. Before my health went down and I blew out both of my ankles, I was active in sports all year round. There is a feeling that comes with being physically fit that I miss. It'll be good if I can keep things up. Heading to DC in January for the presidential inaugural. This will probably be a profound experience. Profound in what way will depend on who that it home in November. I've signed up for October Prep for NaNoWriMo. Determined, even with my work load, to finish NaNo this November. 2012 is the year. As Captain Jack Harkness says, this is the century when everything changes. I'm hoping, for my sake, that change happens sooner rather than later. I'll be working on an older idea, but I think I'm in a better place to write it now than I was three years ago. Oh, one of the biggest things, I'm getting married. To Mr. Awesome. We've picked a date and a tentative year. Go us!  "Neruda: Sonnet 49" -- Luciana Souza |
There is an English paper I'm in the midst of writing that will probably be the death of me. For some reason I cannot write the damn thing. Being that I consider myself a writer, this has an extra dose of shame added to the already late pages. Over the past several days I've been trying to figure out what my problem is. My research is done. The topic is something I'm interested in. I've written longer, more tedious papers in the past. Why, oh why, can't I get this albatross off my shoulders? Today is the last day I can get this damn this in without completely shredding my final grade. So I will get it down and hand it in no matter what happens. This will not be the end of me. When I finally collapse under the stressful situation I've created all by myself, it will be on my own damn terms, not an English paper. See how my apathy has changed? Apathy to arrogance with a nice dash of self-preservation. Talking with my friend M back in Orange County, I realized that mental deterioration seems to be contagious. She's off to DC in a month, so the end of her quarter means freedom. Everything else in her way, like her current classes, will be carnage in her wake. Same thing is happening with my guy. He's one of the most dedicated students to his craft, yet no matter how he tries to get to his exams, nature seems to get in the way. Frustration ensues. Anger comes next. Apathy sets up house. Arrogance seems to be the next step -- a brutal and blunt approach to survival. Well, back to writing that damn paper. I'm going old school to reduce the urge to internet surf. Motto of the day: "_____ even if it kills me." Try it and see what happens. "Us of Lesser Gods" -- Flogging Molly |
Technically, the Ides of March isn't until the 15th, but given the last couple of days, I thought I would trot out the idea right early. A warning, if you will, for the possibility my head may explode sometime this month. Yes, I can tell that this is going to be one of those months that I will look back on in five years and wonder where the hell I went wrong. I'm behind on everything. No surprise. Seven classes is a bad idea for anyone, but seems to be a horrific idea for someone with a severe case of insomnia. Even worse, I am not alone. How many of us here on WDC are completely lacking in the sleep department? Here's the problem: I don't seem to care anymore that I'm so far behind. My mind has reached its maximum saturation point. Apathy has become my friend. We are bosom buddies now. Yet, with all the apathy I have, a plan has been formed. The quarter is almost over. I'm going to drop my March class at Saddleback and take only one class at Whatcom come spring. Will that put me behind? Absolutely. But I do not care anymore. After putting the hammer down for so many years, I've finally hit the point where running away seems like a fantastic idea. So fantastic, the realization that I could really just let everything go makes me giddy. So I'll just keep moving forward at a slower pace, turtle-style. Everything and everyone can go bite me. (Not anyone here, this is mostly advisers and family; who am I kidding, my family will be the biggest aggressors in this battle.) A great deal of this has to do with my upstairs neighbors. They're noisy bastards. I mean, all day and all night, scream fests. They walk like giants because they could care less who lives beneath them. We have two confrontations. Polite, but strident. The lady of the house told me in so many words that she was going to do bad all by herself. The manager is going to get involved soon, although my faith in him is waning. Between the addicts and noise mongers, the threshold is kaput. Signs, I tell you. These are all signs that I need to move on. Or get a new brain. Or better yet, a lifetime vacation. "Old Number Seven" -- the Devil Makes Three |
Somewhere along the way February came along and forgot to inform me of its presence. This is a shame, really. I feel like we had a better connection than that. Then again, I've been so bogged down with work that I have been having waking hallucinations. Those are awesome when you're sitting through a lecture. Or waking up from a dead sleep because my equations for my Physics class cannot possibly be right, and I must fix them before I get another wink of sleep. If you can't tell, I'm having a hard time adjusting. But there is good news on the horizon! I get to go have a sleep study done next week. That's right. Me, electrodes, and a sleep setting where someone will me stalking me as I try to naturally get some snoozes. I, for one, think this has disaster written all over it. Yes, the sleep deprivation over the past fifteen years has been killing me. Yet the idea of being watched like a rat in a maze does not put me in a sleeping mood. It puts me in a paranoid mood, and I need to take a Physics midterm right after. The crash and burn seems self-evident. I do not want to look at the dim and gloomy side though. I want to look at the bright and shiny things in my life. I have my health (besides the whole sleep thing). I have my wits about me (except when I am stumbling around from lack of sleep). I have a family who loves me, and friends who shares awkward humor with me. These are things to revel in. Also, I freaking won "Poetry Reviewer of the Month" on "Random Thoughts and Cares"  ! Check out the shiny:Nice, right? Nothing but good times ahead. "Attaboy" -- The Goat Road Sessions |
| "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" by: 30DBC Creator/Founder The Prompt: If you have five (5) days left to spend together with your love one how would you spend those days? The Music: "Moving Pictures Silent Films" - Great Lake Swimmers There are a few ways you can take this prompt. I'm going with the idea that I get five days left with my guy. No death involved today. It's too snowy and silent out tonight. Just five days before there are only memories left. Using some creative liberties here, I'm going to write this as if I was just writing to him. A letter of sorts.* * = Forgive any sappiness. It's going to happen, and I have at this point, properly warned you. Day One. I woke you up this morning by poking your nose. You didn't seem happy with me, especially when I laughed in your face. Don't be surprised if I run away after that. You have that expression on your face like when you're about to tickle. I hate that. No, this is not a time for you to be chasing me. Really. This is vastly uncouth. Stop it. No, not my feet, damn it! That's it! I'm not responsible for what happens next. I stole your shirt again while you were resting with a pack of frozen pea. They're roomier than mine, and you seemed to be busy with icing. In my defense, I did warn you. When you're not looking, I bring the collar to my nose and breathe in your scent. Depending on what music is playing in the background when they shoot this into a movie, I could come off as sweet or very creepy. Try to make sure this moment has the right overtones. To make it up to you, I sit next to you on the couch and let you rest your head in my lap. It's getting cold outside. There might be snow soon. I know how much you hate the snow. You stare at the window and frown up at the sky like your stern expression will tell the gods there will be no snow today. I'm not sure that's how it works, but I smile at you like it does. You'll cook stew tonight to further you cause. It'll be the hearty kind that I eat too much of and moan about when my stomach is too full. I'll blame you. It is your fault. You'll revel in this so much that I'll try to hit you with a pillow but miss as my aim has gone to my stomach. You'll take the blame though you don't believe it. We'll have to snuggle (yes, I used the word snuggle) as your punishment. Pick a movie. Pick a song. It's your turn and we have the night. Day Two. I'll put on a dress. You know how much I hate them, but I know how much me wearing one makes you smile. If I have to put the dress on, you have to dance with me. Nothing truly fancy - just twirl us in circles. I'll rest my head as close to your shoulder as I can. *insert joke about my height here* There can't be too much of the sappy stuff. It'll make me itch. So you'll have to make fun of something, and I'll sock you in the arm to lighten the tension. There is no sleep tonight, not that we actually sleep. I'll make you play Scrabble with me so I can prove my superiority in spelling. You'll frown at me when you think I'm making up the words, then frown even more when you realize it's a real word and I've been wasting time on the internet again. When the games grow old, and I just want to hold your hand, we'll put some "Torchwood" or "X-Files" - the shows that highlight our romance. Nothing like aliens to get us in the mood. You can pinch me now. It's okay. I'm being a fool, and I know it, but I don't want to say goodbye yet. Day Three. The rain is falling again. The sounds fill the room as the drops hit the pavement. I'm there in the window when you come up behind me and wrap me in your arms. It's a beautiful moment until you decide you have to rest your chin on the top of my head. I throw an elbow that you playfully dodge. Disgruntled, I proclaim I'll be making cookies and that you can't have anything. What a shame. Yet when your smile slides into a pout, I cannot help but feel the winner. The pout is too cute for words. If you help with the batter, maybe I'll give you some cookies. Maybe. The day will dissolve into too many cookies and horrible television. At the last minute I'll pull a book from my ever-evolving stacks and read to you, my head resting on your knee. I'll do all the voices, which will be entirely inappropriate, but will make you laugh all the same. Your laugh - so unguarded, so mirthful - is my ultimate reward. We'll take turn reading until the sky is light again. Time is ours now. Day Four. Peach pancakes for breakfast this morning. The only way I'll be able to get you to sleep is to put something in your coffee the night before. You'll wake up groggy and give me the squirrel eye, but when I place a large plate on pancakes and peaches in front of you, you'll melt and forget the deception from the night before. Almost, anyway. We'll go to the market today. Because we own time now, the rain will stop long enough for us to venture forth into the world of vendors. We'll walk up and down the aisles, soaking in the colors of fruit, vegetables, and large bottles of gourmet olive oil we really don't need. I'll be picking up random numbers of edibles that I like the look of but don't know how to cook. Dinner will be adventurous, possibly poisonous, and all the better that we make it together. Note: If there's a sauce, I'll stain your shirt with it. It's not intentional (probably). It's just how I roll. Lack of coordination makes everything just that little more special. Don't you think? I'll make another pot of coffee at two o'clock. You'll have fallen asleep at the table by the time I get back with two more cups. I know it's not intentional. You fall out under the most stern resistance. Usually mid-sentence. It is so fun to watch. For a minute I'll stare, wishing I has seen the sleep battle one more time. The coffee will be abandoned in the kitchen. I'll curl up next you at the table, hand in your shirt pocket, one foot tucked next to yours. Day Five. I'd make you breakfast again. For no particular reason other than I can. It'll be fancy like one of those postcards they have of Paris in the summertime. I'll sit with a strong cup of tea and watch you eat. Payback for all those times you'd watch me squirm while shoving a fork in my mouth. In movies, there is usually some poignant soft song playing in the background. I'm thinking for us, maybe some Neil Diamond to watch your eyes twitch in annoyance one more time. Maybe some Hendrix or Zeppelin to make your head bob while eating an expertly burnt piece of toast with homemade jam. You hate the cold but you'll go out in the snow with me because I asked. It'll be peaceful at first, a nice walk while holding mittens. Then you shove some snow down my shirt and I'll get you back with a snowball in the face. Things will disintegrate from there. A good and true battle with laughs, threats, and hiccups we'll collapse in the snow - inadvertent snow angels. I'll make you lay there with me so I can remember your face just like it is at that moment. My mittens will be gone and my hands will be freezing when I touch your face, but you'll let me because you let me get away with most things. I will remember you with snowflakes on your lashes and the red mark on your dark skin from the snowball I planted on your face. Smile for me once more so I can remember. I won't tell you I love you. You already know that. To say it again would be to state the obvious. How normal of us. We've never been normal, have we? Why be normal when we have so much fun being ourselves? That is what I want you to remember. How odd we were, and how happy that made us. Remember, dear dork boy, when you stole my heart and promised to never give it back? |
"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" by: Prosperous Snow celebrating  The Prompt: When you went to sleep last night, it was in your own bed or familiar surroundings. You wake up this morning in a strange bed and unfamiliar surroundings. You recognize your reflection with some differences, the face in the mirror is an older/younger version of you. Everyone you meet knows you, but by a different name. Where are you? What is your name? How do you believe you arrived in your present location? The Music: "Us of Lesser Gods" - Flogging Molly I pulled at the tiny crinkles next to my eyes, their shade a lighter, deeper golden brown. Every strand of black hair had turned into a curl of dove grey. I twist it around my finger. It bounces a little as I pull my finger away. More curl, less frizz. Who ever thought that would happen? The smile in the mirror is less cynical than usual, but there is still small slant of sarcasm. I'm glad it's still here. Reminds me of who am still partially me. There is a knock on the door. The dull orange paint flakes away from the frame with the force. Such an odd choice for a hotel door. "Who is it?" The question is raspy, deeper. Like smoke trapped in a clear glass. "Umm...Dr. Harkness?" He had a young man's voice, barely broken into the prime of life. "There was a package left for you at the door." I open the door. The silk robe over my shoulders billows with the new found. It's the reason I hate silk. Too slippery. Too delicate. Too easily torn. The bellboy looks frighten at my appearance. He smiles slightly. I try to give him one back, but only serves to frighten him more. I grab the white box - "Dr. Jacklyn Harkness" sketched over the top. It's not my name. But the boy seems to think otherwise. I grab the cookie I found of the dresser and handed it to him before shutting the door in his face. There are no sharp implements in the room. The wallet I've been too scared to look at sits idly on the dresser next to where the cookie once sat. I open it now, looking for any means of cutting through tape. The ID inside shows a picture of me in my altered state. The name reads "Tosh Tam". I rolled the name off my tongue. It was too foreign, too new to be real. The plastic of the ID cuts through the box tape with easy. Inside white box sat a brown one, also taped to the gills. There more and more boxes. Black. Blue. Red. Aubergine. Finally, the last box, no bigger than my palm. I pull the forest green velvet ribbon from the bow and let it fall onto the comforter. Inside, nestled in a bundle of cotton balls, was a scarred medical bracelet and folded crane paper in origami. The medical bracelet fight well. The cool metal was nice against my skin. I ran my fingers over the engravings. This was my name. My true name. The name I could aloud over and over, and it would never grow old. The note on crane paper was not as joyous, the words running through my brain over and over. Next time, sweet. The words were as bitter as the realization was sweet. For the next time could always be better.  To put a little jig in your step. |
"30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" by: BIG BAD WOLF is Merry  The Prompt: AHHHH!!!! It's the Zombie Apocalypse! Run for your good-for-nothing lives! Okay, hopefully that got your heart racing, and your brain a-firing. The situation is grim, the undead are coming for the brains of the living and you must protect yourself and your loved ones. What would you use to protect yourself if ZA occurred right this second? This means that you are limited to what is in your place of residence/work/education/wherever you are. Be realistic- you probably don't own an assault rifle, machine gun, flamethrower, or a bazooka, or some other such weapon. Be practical- do you really want to lug around a 10lb chainsaw, especially when it attracts more undead through noise, gets stuck, and more than likely you don't know how to use? Less is more- Limit yourself to as few weapons as possible, which will help you out at all ranges of combat- Far range, Medium Range, Close range, and Intimate range. Well, I'm off to grab my weapons- oh wait, I just picked up a sand-wedge golf club. Not ideal, but it will do until I can get to the 12-gauge and the 30-06 in the back bedroom. Oh, and I just grabbed my sword-like letter opener- perfect for stabbing a Zed through the ear canal. May you still be alive come day 16. The Music: "House of the Rising Sun" - the Animals the Far Range. Zombie-fiends, bring it on. Wooden board go up on the windows and glass doors first. A small deterrent, but we're only working with things we've already have in our household arsenal. Unfortunately, my Winchester hasn't arrived in the mail yet, and the heaviest weapon movie I have on me right now is "Wanted". "Tombstone", and "Shaun of the Dead". I could chuck the cases at them. Maybe play some Enya over the loud speakers. Next, grab the rocks I brought with me from the California beaches. Sentimentality saves my ass again. That's right. Get David-and-Goliath on these living-dead. It just got real. the Medium Range. By this time I'm hoping my neighborhood squirrels are bringing me back prime information. You figure the television, phones, and internet are gone. No communication. Never fear, squirrels are here. Don't mock. They're the pigeons of our time. About three miles heading northeast you hit farm country. Hopefully, they're back some heat. I've got kitchen knives and bunnies slippers at the ready. Don't launch fuzzy objects until you see the bloodshot whites of their eyes. the Close Range. This is where things get tricky. I have stumps for legs. Like Gimli said in LotR - "I'm wasted over long distances." If we're in a pack, and we have to run from a hoard of zombies ready to eat our brains, trip me and make a run for it. Appetizers. Don't worry, I'd do the same to you if the roles were reversed. You're welcome. The plan is to have traps set up around the city. People are so nice here I'm not sure they could kill zombies outright. This is where you utilize you foreigner force. Anyone who is not from B'ham should be in charge of killing. We're less likely to sit down with zombies to try and talk it out with some organic granola bars. Also, I've been keeping my eye on machete prices at my local grocery stores. In this economy, they can be brutal. $7.89 has been the lowest so far. Go pick up a couple for safe-keeping. Remember - it's all about the slice, bob, and weave once you get in close. Watch for that wayward decapitated arm. Again, you're welcome. the Intimate range. Showtime. This is where we cut the wheat from the chaff. This is where grown men pee themselves. Or lose a pair of legs. It is time to put those limited acting skills to work. You know where I'm going with this. Break out the shredded jeans and face makeup - it's "Thriller" time. Bust out your best Michael Jackson moves and zombie out with the rest of the prion-disease seeking rejects. If you can't beat them (literally), join them. Just make sure to try and cook the brains first before you eat them. Interesting enough, this is not Michael Jackson. Maybe next time.  |
| "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" by: evertrap The Prompt: Explain something or someone that you feel is widely misunderstood. The Music: "Please Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood" - Nina Simone What is commonly misunderstood? What do I think can be better explained, understood? I went around and around with this. There are several topics that can be explored. Those quirky people on the conspiracy shows, now the specialty on the History Channel. These are my people. They are no doubt misunderstood. But I have kind of already talked about it. There are the zombie survivalists throughout the world. A city in Britain was sued by a citizen for not having a contingency plan in case of zombies. But zombies are for tomorrow. Sociopaths - maybe not. So, where to go... People with common sense. Unfortunately, people with common sense are often misunderstood. When they state the obvious, others jump on the wagon to bring them down. When they raise an eyebrow at the ignorance of certain special individuals, people call them elitist or snobs. I feel this in unfair. Let's just call it - common sense is not common. There are far too many poor choices being made this very minute for everyone to have this embedded in their grey matter. That's alright. It really is. Let's just not bring down those who use the gift. Let me give an example to demonstrate. Having intimate relationship while driving a car is not a good idea. It doesn't how good a driver you may be or how little skill your partner may have. This is just a bad idea all the way around. Very bad things can happen. Just say "no". Common sense people see this. Those who like to take unnecessary risks, don't. Guess who is more likely to die an embarrassing death. We can fix this trend. Next time you see a person with common sense. Give them a nod. A hug. A smile. A fist pump for being just a little more with it. And if you feel you are a person with common sense, know that you are appreciated. Keep up the good work. We salute you.  A lovely tune for the ears. |
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