Word.

A House on Clover Street.

2010-04-13T18:38:00.000-07:00

Jojo and Marcus Crane stood in front of their house, their past, they were moving on. As they stood arm in arm looking up at the massive three story home they had lived in for the past 15 years, a home they built from the ground up, a home they raised their children in, a home they fought, cried, but above all loved in, their parting was bittersweet. The Crane's would take with them those wonderful memories as they moved to a house on Clover street.

Clover street was in a newer part of town, the answer to the over crowding schools, parks, and stores in their current neighborhood. Years ago, everyone flocked to Mill Town because it boasted to be the all American town that every other nearby neighborhood promised to be but some how fell short. Mill Town got it right, so every couple with the hopes of raising a family in a nice, safe neighborhood came to Mill Town, and they came and came and didn't stop coming until the town was filled to capacity and the Town Association had to do something so decided to build more, but they would so it even better this time.

They named it Mill Mount because they had to build higher and this new section truly did reach new heights and did not disappoint. Everyone who saw the appeal of the original Mill Town saw Mill Mount as their savior, the relief that their old town desperately needed.

The Cranes had out lived their old house, with their children grown and moved out, they needed a smaller space and found their perfection on Clover Street.

Any Town USA.

2010-04-05T09:25:00.000-07:00

I'm doing script frenzy this month! I've committed to write 100 pages of script in 30 days. I chose to use the comic book format. Writing a script is different from what I'm used to, it's the structure that I'm trying to figure out but I'm getting the hang out it. I have a very rough idea for my comic book and I decided to also write it in a story form, hoping that it will help to organize my thoughts.

* * * * * *

Thanks MyEyesSee!

There is a town in the United States that looks very similar to the suburban neighbor where you live right now. In this town there are row and rows of houses that look very similar, only the most discerning of eyes can tell them apart. The lawns are well manicured and the white picket fences glisten brightly in the sun. There is a nearby park where children play and moms and dads laugh, live, and love.

There is a town center where the family can find everything they need from groceries to household supplies to new shoes to a good book. Ah yes, the good book. There's nothing like curling up with a good book that tells the story of people just like you, people you can relate to, so you know there are people out there just as insane as you. But the book is a work of fiction, a made up story about people who don't really exist. Your life on the other hand is real. The madness that surrounds your perfect little town is actually happening. The paranoia you feel because you think you're being watched is not just the voices in your head you try to ignore, there really is a man outside sitting in a parked van watching your every move. He know when you sleep, what time you wake up, he even knows about those dark thoughts that fill your mind when you think you're all alone. He isn't Santa Claus, but he does have a surprise for you. The question is are you willing to stick your hand in the bag to find out what it is?

The Deep Cut.

2010-04-01T18:53:00.000-07:00

Thanks nordlichter4!

The second time I tried to kill myself there was blood; a lot of blood, so much so there would forever be a stain on the carpet in the living room where I attempted to slice through my skin. The scariest part was making the first cut into my wrist. I felt like I was sawing back and forth for the longest time before the blade finally gave way to the pressure and sank deep into my arm. I didn't feel any pain although the blood did make me a bit whoozy, I had been in so much pain before that that this seemed like the release I needed to start healing. Later my shrink asked if this attempt was a cry for help and perhaps I didn't really want to die because I did it wrong, I cut the wrong way even after I looked it upon the Internet. I told her that I did really want to kill myself and cutting the wrong way was just another example of how I fuck everything up. She asked if I saw the irony on the situation. I laughed.

The most disturbing part of it all that still rattles me to this day is the memory of lying on the floor in a pool of blood and through half open eyes I saw my cat sniffing at my blood and licking it up. My cat, Q-tip, was never the same after that, her pure white fur was stained a burnt orange, a constant reminder of my failed attempt to end my life.

Until the day I died I never realized that there could be other definitions of right and how to do things the right way and maybe my right was actually wrong. I am beginning a slow realization now that had I thought outside the box my life would have gone in a completely different direction and I might still want to be alive.

Deathday.

2010-03-31T13:51:00.000-07:00

Thanks tochis!

March 27, 2010 marked the 13th anniversary of my aunt's death. It also became the day that I put my relationship of ten years to rest. Although it didn't die peacefully in it's sleep like she did. It raged on for hours and felt like it lasted for days and in a span of 12 hours I went from having it all with a boyfriend whom I thought I would spend the rest of my life with to having nothing except an incredibly dry mouth from all the yelling and crying. I remember being very thirsty as I fought to hang onto what, at that time, felt like the most important thing in the world. Now it makes me think about other things that seemed so important while I was alive that do not even matter anymore and I have to wonder if they ever mattered.

We walk through life building ourselves, molding our character, aligning who we are with what we believe and if we can lay to rest at night without being tormented by our actions towards others and ourselves then we know we did good. And if we can continue to sleep with an unburdened conscious until our dying day then perhaps our final resting place will be the heaven we imagine it to be. But if you were like me and spent countless nights tossing and turning because you are unable to turn off your mind and you question everything that you are, then I think you may end up with a fate similar to mine when it's your time to go. Because I never had restful night's sleep, I never went without doubting myself and the things I did, and I never knew if I was good.

I've met other souls like mine wandering aimlessly in this place. You can tell them from the people who are alive by their eyes. They are vacant but eager empty but hopeful compared to those who live who have eyes that betray their existence because the are dull and careless, blank and tired. There is a park I like to go to that I never went to when I was alive because it was overrun with the dead or at least they didn't exist to me because they were homeless, they were society's rejects, they were abandoned and left to die. I come here now because I am one of them. I too am dead but still hanging onto life. But this feeling isn't new, the last time I felt this was the day everything that mattered to me died. After that it was easy to let everything else go.

Imagination.

2010-03-30T13:28:00.000-07:00

Thanks mot!

Sometime I would imagine there were bombs hidden under the table when I was out at a crowded place. I would imagine there was a package taped under my table, perfect red cylindrical sticks of dynamite waiting in anticipation to explode. I would imagine the rhythmic ticking counting down to the final explosion and I would cross my arms and hug my body waiting for the blast that would inevitably come. And then I would close my eyes and imagine my body exploding into a magnificent kaleidoscope of bits and limbs that would litter the sky against a backdrop of deep orange flames and the red hot heat. It was so beautiful to watch the burnt ash of everything rain down and stick and cling to the dregs of bodies and building parts, and I would smile. But when I opened my eyes again there I was sitting in a crowded bar listening to music from a far away land that combined fiddles and flutes and voices that sang out and hands that clapped and feet that stomped and faces that smiled.

I don't smile, but when I close my eyes and see the bright flashes of color behind my lids, my lips slowly turn up.

Water.

2010-03-29T09:29:00.000-07:00

Thanks DawnVGilmorePhotography!

I last thing I remember was being in the shower.

It was one of those showers that is meant to change you, you go in feeling one way and when you come out you are forever changed. The water washes over your exposed naked body and cleanses you of all the dirt and grime and sin and filth that contaminated you. The water is supposed to make it all better.

I remember stepping into the water and immediately feeling the stream of bullets beating against my back. I hoped that it was beating out all the bad and all the negative, and for a short while it seemed like it was working. It was in that moment that I felt my shoulders relax and my head roll back and then I realized the water was filling my mouth and drippng into my nose, now the water making me worse. I was choking on it and gagging because I couldn't breathe but instead of moving my head away from the relentless stream of water, I stayed. I let the water fill all the crevasses of my body and get deep into those hard to reach places hoping that I'll get cleaner, hoping to get better, hoping that all the kinks would somehow work itself out and I would be free from the constraints of my mind and my biases and my steadfast resolution of how things are supposed to be. I was finding out that I was very wrong about the direction my life was taking yet I was glued to this path because I had paved it for myself since I was a small child and like most things that are learned and ingrained at a young age, this was something I could not easily let go.

What is this path that I speak of you must be wondering, well I'll tell you. It is the idea that was drilled into me as a child, but perhaps has been ingrained into American culture and perpetuated through ones upbringing for many generations, that of graduating from college, going to grad school, starting a career, getting married, having children, growing old and eventually dying. It is on this path that I began to waiver, it was more than just doubts about to whom to married or how many kids or which profession, it was why do all these things? I questioned if these were the things that I wanted to do and if maybe a more none conventional approach was my answer because after trying and failing at the path laid out for me I was ready for a change, but not just any change, something monumental that would really shake things up, so I let the water fill my lungs and I didn't fight it, I let my consciousness escape me and I didn't try to chase after it, I let my head hit the faucet and I didn't feel it.

That was the first time I tried to kill myself.

Common Ground.

2010-03-17T15:34:00.000-07:00

Thanks loonatic!

During my life I tried to define who I was in order to stand out from everyone else. I felt it was the most important and necessary thing a person could do, more so than having a successful career, or a stable relationship, or lots of friends; knowing who I was, specifically what set me apart from others was my Holy Grail. I thought that if I could achieve that, I could die happy.

I think if I knew that at 28 my life would be over, I would have done things differently, which isn't to say that I regret how I spent my final years, or any time of my life for that matter. But if I knew I was going to die, I would have wrapped things up, drawn some conclusions, and reflected on the progress I made towards finding myself.

But it's the nature of life not to know when the end is approaching, or near, or coming, only when it happens and then it's over just like that, in a split second, in the blink of an eye, except that eye never opens again, not even to say goodbye. Just one more peak, would have been nice, damn, it happened so fast. So, anyways, I can't say if I died happy, or died knowing I lived a full life, because what measures a life? How many years do you have to live for your life to be full? Was 28 years enough? I say no. Til the day I died, everyday was a constant struggle, with the choices I made, the place where I was. I was no more sure of myself then I was at 18, which isn't to say that I hadn't learned anything in 10 years because I did, I learned a whole hell of a lot, but learning quantity just makes it harder to find the things that really matter. I thought for sure I would have at least another 30 years to shift through all the stuff and make some sense of it.

Now I'll never know, but I do know this, I spent my entire lifetime searching myself for those idiosyncrasies that separated me from everyone else, that identified me, and as time went on, I felt like I was slowly creating my individuality. I had my own thoughts and opinions and feelings all of which were unique because I used my own reasoning and insight and reflections to come to my conclusions. I armed myself with these positions as I went out into the world and what do you know? I found others who thought like me and dressed like me. I felt, for the first time, that I was a part of something bigger and I felt safe. I blended in with a larger group and I felt more confident in speaking my mind, but what I was really doing was further dividing who I was from who I was not, creating a bigger gap between us and them,;and them over there, oh and them too, yup and them, and them, and them, until before I knew it my "large group" was a select few and everyone else was, well everyone else.

What happened was my individuality became a collective conscious, one in which I embraced while forgetting who I was and blindly running with the pack because I had made a connection with other people who were as individual as I was,. Yet somewhere along the way I forget who I was, and I lost that part of myself that defined me, that made me stand out from the crowd, because all of a sudden the crowd was just like me. The crowd was thinking my thought and having my opinions and telling me how I feel and my reasoning and values got skewed and I didn't even know it. And before I was able to find out what mattered, nothing mattered anymore.

A Cancerous Religion.

2010-02-24T21:06:00.000-08:00

Thanks daniel y. go!

I was 15 when my aunt passed away. She was the first person close to me who died and I didn't know how to deal with it, perhaps in the normal ways that people cope with their first loss, but in my egocentric mind, I felt, and I still believe to this day, that my struggles were unique.

I remember I was studying the Bible in my English class in school and I remember thinking that it was somehow against the rules. I mean I went to a public school for Christ sake! Were there not rule that separated church and state? My English teacher said she was not teaching us about the Bible but merely using the Good Book as a piece of literature to be studied and analyzed and close read just like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Catcher In The Rye and all those other novels we read. I remember thinking that was some how blasphemous but not really understanding why. I bought and read my first Bible that year, the same year my aunt died. I remember thinking there must be a reason or a connection for that but I never worked out a good reason without it sounding like a conspiracy theory. So perhaps it was just a coincidence.

I liked to think that I was a firm believer in science and facts and concrete evidence which organized religion didn't provide and I looked at devout believers as weak, lost souls who needed a crutch to lean on to get through life and I believed that I was stronger than that. But the longer I lived the more I realized that I was deficient in the basic decencies that most people learn about every Sunday in church, because of their religion, because they had a crutch, because they had a guide, that I never had and then I realized that perhaps there was something to this whole religion thing. But when I wad 15, in my twisted adolescent mind, I saw it as a curse that killed my aunt. It was actually the cancer that killed her but it all seemed the same to me, religion was a cancer that infected my life because once I let it in, it spread like wild fire consuming everything in it's path including my aunt who could not get out of way before destruction torched every inch of her body and soul and mine, my mind was forever tainted with death.

A Plan.

2010-02-22T20:42:00.000-08:00

Thanks Corie Howell!

In life, I didn't believe in an after life, or in heaven, or in reincarnation. I believed that after life you died and that was that.

I find it interesting that I was wrong about death because I still feel so alive. To me death was the only sure thing you could count on, so I was prepared to fall out of the life of the living into the grit of the earth where everything goes to die and decay and end but sometimes, like in my case, something gets stirred up and creates a new form of existence, dare I say life? Because as far as I can tell, this, whatever it is, is similar to being alive. I find myself wandering as aimlessly as I did through life, although now I'm wondering how much this existence matters in the grand scheme of things.

You see, while I was living I was one of those people who didn't listen when I was told 'don't sweat the small things' because that's all I ever did; all the time. Every mole hill was a mountain, every deal a big one, I was so sure that I had only one shot to live my life that I wanted everything to be perfect and so I planned and stuck to the plan and was completely disoriented if things didn't go accordingly, so much so that I would crumble and break and lose my way completely.

I planned every single detail from what I would wear to work for the next month to the final outfit I would wear on the day I was put to eternal rest. I never figured out how to act if things didn't go my way until it was too late and I saw myself being put in the coffin in the white chiffon dress I was supposed to get married in instead of laying to rest in the Chanel suit that I hoped to be able to afford some day. I envied that body wearing my dress, it was beautiful and elegant in it's simplicity because that's the kind of person I was, muted and passive, downplaying my traits in an effort to hide who I was. The dress didn't announce a bride walking down the aisle, it commemorated a life that wilted like a flower whose petals have fallen, but the fragrance still lingers long after.

Oh, well, I guess that's life, and death. Since I have another shot at existence, I plan to make the most of it, I plan to figure this place out a little bit more, I know what I can and cannot interact with, although I have yet to find someone I can interact with. Everywhere I go all I see are blank, vacant stares of the living, head down avoiding eye contact, rushing to who knows where? I wonder if that's how I lived life too, because now I'm wide eyed and looking at everything and everyone hoping to find another soul just as eager as I am to connect.

She's So Lucky.

2010-02-18T18:11:00.000-08:00

Thanks Gold 41!

I vaguely remember my grandmother telling me that her mother was one of those people who were lucky to be alive, and because of that so was she; later I realized that also because of that, so was I. My great grandmother's life was special because it was saved before she even began living. But then again aren't we all lucky to be alive? Isn't every life special?

My grandmother told me that the stars aligned that day in just the right way so my great grandmother could live even though she wasn't a boy. But aren't each of our lives because of some cosmic fate, the result of actions and decisions and choices of other people? Although most of us, or I hope most of us, were wanted. I used to hear my friends say things like, one day I want to settle down and have children, or we waited 5 years after we hit married to start a family or I really want a girl or I hope it's a boy. My grandmother's mother on the other hand was not wanted simply because she was a girl. This was like a century or so ago when the Chinese thought that girls were worthless and if the first born child wasn't a boy they would kill it. Actually, now that I think about it, the Chinese still have absurd rules about reproduction, so maybe things weren't so different back then, just slightly skewed. I think about my own thoughts on babies and wonder how much influence my Chinese heritage had on my decision to only want boys, except I didn't make it that far in life to have children. I don't regret it though, some people should not be parents and I guess the way the stars lined up in my life, I was one of those people.

On the Other Side.

2010-02-17T09:34:00.000-08:00

Thanks indieink!

My grandmother always told me, "wear nice underwear when you travel, just in case something happens." To her there could be nothing more humiliating then dying in holey underwear. What would they think if they pulled you out of the wreckage and the elastic band around your waist was all stretched out? Probably nothing, I would hope that saving your life would be the priority but then again maybe I'm wrong, maybe they are scoping out your underpants.

I was the type of person who thought something could happen even on a simple trip down the street to the grocery store, so I was always wearing nice underwear whenever I left the house. And eventually something did happen so when I see my grandmother again I'll be sure to tell her I took her advice.

I don't know how long it will take me to find her, they don't give you a map here, wherever this place is, limbo, heaven, hell if I know. But I don't know too maybe people that passed, not personally anyway, so it should be too hard to complete my mission: to find my grandmother and tell her how I died.

And I Wonder.

2010-02-09T16:26:00.001-08:00

I sit in a diner, the air smells faintly of burnt grease and ammonia. I sit in a bright shiny booth stirring my coffee with a thin plastic straw, thinking about my sessions with Dr. M. Immersed in my thoughts I watch without interest as a dark skinned man mops the floors, dipping his thick stringed mop into muddy water, returning the grime back to the checkered tile floor.

Thanks gwen!

A nondescript waitress asks if I am ready and I order a BLT with no bacon on wheat toast with some fruit on the side. My back is facing the door but I know when people walk in or perhaps out too because the metal bell chimes every time the door opens. I glance around me and realize it is almost closing time, one half of the place is shut down with the chairs on the tables, probably so it will be easier to mop. There is an older couple next to the window in the front, gazing out into the nothingness of the gray, bleak sky while sipping their coffee and I wonder if it's something they put in the water that gives everyone in here that far away look in their eyes.

There is a man in a suit counting money at the counter and a women sitting a couple seats down in an apron eating pancakes. This juxtaposition makes me chuckle to myself because just when I really start to believe the world has changed something like this slaps me in face and wakes me up.

All of a sudden I hear a familiar song fill the room and I ask myself why I didn't hear the music before. I start tapping my foot to the beat and wonder if I too am just a small town girl, living in a lonely world and I look up from the swirls in my coffee half expecting to see that midnight train pull up in front of the diner to take me to anywhere. It is then that I realize how perfect the final scene in The Sopranos was with Tony and Carmela sitting in the booth of a diner listening to that familiar tune on the radio because it captured a certain essence of American culture in a way that every heart beating red, white, and blue can relate to no matter where they are from.

Here I am in this diner dissecting my sandwich, eating it piece by piece, first the juicy tomatoes, then the crisp lettuce and finally the slightly burnt toast and I

Thanks grumpy chris!

ask myself how it is that I came to be in this quintessential American moment because everything in my life defied the norms of the country that I call home. Although perhaps I'm exaggerating that point because NOT everything in my life defied the norms, but my life didn't look like the America they showed on TV, the America I grew up learning about in school, the America that always seemed a part me yet an arms length away. While growing up I felt detached from the cultural conscious of the nation that I unquestioningly pledged my allegiance never believing that I would ever be a part of it and then all of a sudden here I am, in any town USA drinking coffee, eating a sandwich and watching myself sitting in a diner that smelled faintly of burnt grease and ammonia, lingering with the nostalgia of a distant time, in a far away land, that wasn't so different and reminds me of my yesterday, my today and without a doubt my tomorrow.

For some reason, this thought grabs hold me and shake me to my core, I see how things that once seemed impossible can one day be my reality. I trace my thoughts to figure out how I got to such an amazing conclusion, and all on my own too. It is with this on my mind that I decide not to go to therapy tomorrow.

Now is the Future.

2010-02-03T19:26:00.000-08:00

I tell Dr. M that sometimes I get flashes like I'm in the future. She asks if the flashes come true. I tell her I don't get visions of the future like psychic do, but I feel like the future that they always show in movies of how everything is high tech is happening right now. Like how everything in our lives is becoming automated so we hardly have to do anything on our own anymore and how everything happens so fast that we don't have time to appreciate what we do until we realize we cannot do it again or how we can hid behind our gadgets while still reaching out to people .

Dr. M says that a lot of people struggle with balancing technology and physically engaging and interacting with others and how we as a species are about to embark on a journey unlike any we've ever experienced before because technology is literally changing our social structure and how we respond to these changes will tell a lot about humanity. I tell Dr. M that I do not have this problem, I tell her that I think technology is incredibly fascinating and it is in fact enhancing our experiences with each other in ways that we are not yet aware and I welcome the screen that protects me from the world as I say and do things I normally would not have the courage to do. Dr. M gets this look on her face that makes me feel like she is going to tell me something I already know and I am right. I tell her that I'm not a 12 year old girl who uses the Internet as a way to hurt other people or make insensitive comments without thinking. I tell her it gives me the voice that I somehow lost as I got older because instead of becoming more sure of who I am, I'm questioning and second guessing myself more and more as every day goes by. She asks me how it is that the Internet helps me do this, then I say that I guess I didn't tell you about my blog.

Now Dr. M wants to read the things I write even though I tell her it's not like a journal or a diary, it's short stories that are loosely based on my life and how I feel about the world. I also tell her that it needs a face lift and I'm working on that, but she still wants to read it. She tells me our session is a little off topic today but that's okay because she has learned a lot about me.

Then she asks about my trip and I tell her I spent most of the weekend drunk and it was great and I can't get drunk anymore unless I'm away from home because when I'm at home I have too many things on my mind and I can't relax and let go and have fun. Dr. M wants to talk more about this but I keep telling her about my trip and how it took me 11 hours to get home.

The Things I Don't Say.

2010-01-30T08:11:00.000-08:00

During my session Dr. M she tries to ask me questions that are in search of an answer, but Dr. M doesn't know what she's looking for so she's not asking the right questions. I don't correct her or lead her in the right directions with my answers. But Dr. M is quite intuitive and after about 15 minutes she catches on and knows it's pointless to continue with this line of questioning.

She finally asks me if there is something in particular that I want to talk about. I tell her I'm excited for the weekend because I'm going away for my boyfriend's birthday. I tell her we're going to Victoria and I'm especially excited because I get to go to Canada again and it look me basically ten years to finally cross the boarder after living in Seattle for so long and the first time I went was three months ago. She asks me why I didn't go before and I tell her I don't want to talk about it. But I couldn't help but think about the times when people I knew went to Canada but I was never around to be included in the plans so I never went and I wonder why that was. I don't want Dr. M to think I have no friends even though at times I don't think it's true. Instead I tell her that I actually don't feel very well, that my stomach started to feel very achy. Then I tell her that something very upsetting happened to me at work that could be making me physically ill. And I tell her I don't want to talk about it either. Then Dr. M says it looks to her that I'm all over the place and I say it's true and suggest we end early even though it's almost time to go. She says she hopes I have a nice trip and I say I hope I do too.

Behind the Front.

2010-01-28T12:00:00.000-08:00

For some reason, I don't or can't tell Dr. M about the memory of when I was in the second grade. I decide this while I sit in the "living room," in the single chair by the window, next to the table with a bouquet of flowers; there are always flowers of a yellow variety on the table but this week I can't tell what kind they are. They are very pale, barely yellow with delicate petals. They look very fragile as if they will shatter if anything or anyone gets too close. I factor this into my decision of sitting in the chair by the window, but I figure someone must have put the flowers in the vase and they are still in one piece so sitting in a chair next to them will probably be just fine.

Whenever I go to Dr. M's office I feel like I'm stepping into an upscale apartment that's actually a front for some kind of underground business, not an office on the 17th floor of the Two Union Square building, a building I once temporarily had a job in. This building is so tall that there are two sets of elevators. I took one set that went up to the 20th floor, the other set of elevators takes you to floors 21-47.

Anyways, I call the reception area the living room because that's how it feels, and I call Dr. M's office the "bedroom" even though it is an office and because of that I always feel oddly like I am seeking out the services of a prostitute or something that is forbidden as I wait for my appointment to start. I don't know why I feel this way, perhaps part of me still feels like what I am doing is a dirty secret that I dont want anyone to know, I mean I can't even tell my boyfriend where I go on Wednesday evenings, he thinks I'm volunteering at the library. But it's in everyones best interest if I keep these sessions to myself, I'll let other people know when I think the time is right, maybe after I know when or if these sessions will be helpful.

Follow the Arrow.

2010-01-21T18:03:00.000-08:00

I tossed and turned last night with Dr. M's voice ring in my ears, repressed memories, something so horrible that I buried it deep down, in the depths of my soul where it would stay for as long as it could until one day it had to come out. It would be conjured up at some later date, after I had made my way merrily through life when all of a sudden a field of tulips triggers a memory and I remember that one summer I went to my uncle's cabin, deep in the forest, right by the tulip fields and I remembered the abuse I suffered at his hands.

But there was nothing like that in my past, I was sure of it, the time I got molested in the second grade is still as clear as if it happened yesterday and I can describe the culprit's face as if I some him seconds ago. I can feel my body stiffen as he comes up behind me and I squeeze my private areas as tight as I can because I can feel his fingers creeping lower and lower down the smooth, soft space that forms a triangle shape between my legs, like an arrow pointing the way to the hidden treasure.

It was as if my body betrayed me and made it easy for anyone to find what should be the most sacred and protected place for all women, I mean isn't that where the idea for the Chasity belt came from? But no, here my body was providing a guide for whomever came along to seize, to conquer, to take whatever liberties they pleased. I often wonder how a seven year old knew what lay beyond the flimsy protection of cotton and denim? Perhaps he had an older brother who showed him the way or an older sister whom he peeked at in the shower, whatever the case this boy violated my innocence before I even understood what his actions meant. I guess I don't have to suppress things to have skeletons in my closet.

A TV Guide.

2010-01-20T20:25:00.000-08:00

I had my second appointment with Dr. M today. We actually talked about real things in this session. I told her that I think I watched too much TV as a child and while I tired to convince myself that I wasn't affected by it, how I knew that real life problems didn't resolve itself so neatly and so perfectly and in under half an hour like it did on all the great sitcoms of the eighties, I can't deny that I some of it seeped under my skin and played itself out in my own life.

Like how they make friends on TV, the new kid happens to be a her locker at the exact same time her future bff goes to open her locker right next to the new girl or how a fresh face navigates through the cafeteria forlornly looking for a friendly face when someone calls out to her and there is an instant connection or upon being gawked at for being new, the somewhat awkward girl gets rescued by the person who she will soon be having sleepovers with and sharing intimate secrets.

My experiences as the new girl didn't quite work out that way and maybe because I believed it would happen just like on TV, I lingered at my locker but never reached out to the girl one locker over and I wandered aimlessly in the cafeteria until the bell rang signaling that lunch period was over instead of asking if I could have a seat with someone. It was that way when I was 10 when I started a new elementary school and the same when I was 18 starting freshman year at college a quarter behind all the newbies. And I wondered why I had a hard time making friends and so when I finally did I tried so desperately to hold onto them in any and every way I could. I molded relentlessly thinking that if I could be the person these new people wanted me to be I would have a friend for life. So I became the tough girl who picked on others because my new gang needed a bully, I tortured and stole lunch money all in the name of friends, but when we went to middle school, my friends and I were no longer the bullies but the bullied so I was no longer needed so I faded away.

I wore all black one day and the goth people thought I was one of them so I obliged. I painted my finger nails black and started listening to Marilyn Manson and wore dark eyeliner, my first try at makeup. But when we got to high school and I was put in all the honor classes my goth friends didn't want anything to do with me. It made me wonder how it was possible for the Saved by the Bell gang to incorporate the jock, the geek, the cheerleader, and the straight A student in such a cohesive group. So I played up my scholarly side and joined the national honor society and the debate team and organized study sessions at the library, and true to form the friends came but instead of devoting myself to them I held back and observed how they were able to juggle different groups of friends yet still hold onto their smarts, perhaps because they knew who they were or as much as they could know about themselves as teenagers, but for some reason I just couldn't get the hang of it.

At this point in the session, Dr. M asked me if I knew who I was now and I told her that I'm still getting the hang of me but I often feel uncomfortable in my skin and I'm practically 30! She told me that a lot of people feel the way that I feel that it takes an entire lifetime for people to have a true sense of who they are because people change always, people progress and advance and learn and make mistakes and that is the beauty and curse of being human. I told her that I understand that but I feel like a walking contradiction and I don't know who I am at all. She suggested we go back in time to see if there was anything I suppressed that might shed some light on my current state of mind, but before I could reminisce, she said that time was up and we would have to continue next week.

Real Friends, Maybe, Not.

2010-01-16T20:55:00.000-08:00

The blunt truth is no, I tried talking to my boyfriend until I realized that it was starting to drive a wedge between us and I came to terms with the fact that maybe it's better if some things are left unsaid. I mean isn't that want compromising is all about and isn't compromise at the cornerstone of any good marriage?

I talk to my mother, but she lives an ocean away and too much happens in between even our most frequent conversations, and while no topic is off limits with her, there are some things I hold back because I don't want to worry her. I want her to think that I'm happy and safe because if she knew the truth it would hurt her and that is the last thing I want to do.

My coworkers and I have had experiences together that qualify us as friends, but I wonder if our friendship will last if we are no longer coworkers. And my actual friends, well they are few are far between and the longer I go without seeing them the less I have to say to them, so when something plagues me, they aren't the people I turn to, but now that I think about it, is there even one to turn to?

But where did they all go? Because at one point there were lot of people around all the time, I was a social butterfly juggling a hectic schedule of happy hours, dinner dates, house parties, movie showings, gallery openings, live concerts, and on and on and on. In the midst of all that I vaguely remember thinking that what my mother said was true, that the friends you make in college are the ones you keep for life because I had found people that I had opened up to more so than I had anyone in my life up until that point. And I thought we would be friends forever. But now, they are all gone, sure I "keep in touch" with a few but the connection we had is severed, some beyond repair. Maintaining a friendship is a two way street and so is losing one, I know I have my own issues with people and with myself that factor into the demise of my relationships with other and I hope Dr. M can help me with, that but sometimes I wonder if I imagined the whole thing, perhaps my friendships with these people were not based on anything real, but forged under the influence of college freedom and experimentation. Maybe, not.

Is Anybody Listening.

2010-01-15T21:19:00.000-08:00

"I'm here because I have no one to talk to."

After about 15 minutes of nervously twitching my leg and biting my lower lip and doing a lot of ums and ahs, I finally answer Dr. M. I thought she would want me to elaborate, but she continued with what seemed like a questionnaire form that she asked all her patients. She went on to ask about my family, my job, my hobbies, my health but I didn't go into details with any of my answers, it didn't seem like the right time and I also was not comfortable enough to open up. Sometimes I give people too much information too soon, almost as if to come across as confident about who I am or someone who is easy to talk to or even something else that I can't quite place my finger on, but it's not really who I am.

Even after twenty minutes of going through seemingly routine questions, the very first one was still on my mind, actually it wasn't so much the question, but my answer to the question, 'I have no one to talk to,' was still plaguing me. I tried to analyze this statement in the back of my head during my session with Dr. M.

Was this true? Was there no one in my life that I could confide in? Had I succeed in alienation myself from others? On the surface it wouldn't seem so, I had a great guy, a healthy relationship with my parents, coworkers that turned into friends, and friends whom I could spend the day with tasting samples at the Sunday Market or going out for dinners on Friday nights, but did this mean I could open up and share my deepest darkest feeling with these people?

First Impressions.

2010-01-14T14:17:00.000-08:00

My first session was awkward to say the least, partly because of my own expectations of what I thought therapy was going to be like and also because I was distracted my doctor. Her name is Dr. Sophia Montgomery

Dr. M has a corner office and two walls are floor to ceiling windows and while I expect she has an amazing view during the clear summer months, on wet rainy days like this it makes things seem so much more depressing or at least I thought so, but Dr. M had a calm, pleasant disposition as if the beating drops against the window panes didn't bother her at all, as if I was just background noise of her already serene space.

Her office was an extension of her waiting area, rich mahogany wood furniture, overstuffed chairs, but to my surprise no couch. I am very wary of new situations and like to picture myself doing and experiencing whatever new thing I'm about to do and prior to this, I imagined myself lying on a couch with my eyes closed and my ankles crossed extending over the arm rest at the other end listening to soothing music while telling my shrink all about my problems. But there was no couch in this room, I scanned the walls to see if there was another doorway that led to a hidden room with the couch, but all the walls looked solid.

Dr. M grabbed her netbook from her desk and sat in one of the oversized chairs and motioned for me to do the same. I walked to the chair, dropped my bag on the floor and sat down, but my eyes continued to scan the room because I didn't want to make eye contact with Dr M. I felt like once I did, it would mean that this was real, that my session was beginning and I would have to start facing all the things that had tormented me and brought me here in the first place. I think my doctor could sense my unrest because she kept clearing her throat but never said a word. Finally I stopped looking around and turned my attention towards her.

"Hi," I said.

"Hi."

"So, how are we supposed to do this?"

"Well why don't you start by telling my why you're here today," Dr. M spoke loudly and firmly which struck me as odd if only because her overall demeanor didn't give off a commanding presence. She was rather tall, but not imposing. I'm five feet six inches and she was almost a whole head taller than me, so I was guessing she was around five ten or eleven. I always check for heels if I think a woman is tall because it can be so deceiving; Dr. M wore flats. Women are lucky because they can fake lots of things that men can't like their height, their cup size, their nails, even their orgasms.

Anyways, Dr. M was tall and thin and she wore pants with vertical strips which gave off the illusion that she was even taller than she actually was which also reminded me of myself since people also think I'm taller than five six. She had on a silk blouse with lots of ruffles around the neck that made its way down the front of her shirt typically where buttons are which made me wonder if the ruffles were covering the buttons or if it had a more functional purpose. Don't get me wrong, it was a cute top, but I could never pull it off. My mother used to tell me I was lucky because I could wear whatever I wanted and I used to believe her, but it's a shame that I lost some of the confidence that let me do that, let me be uninhibited in my dress - let me make the distinction that uninhibited for my purposes does not mean scantily clad, because that isn't me either. I guess that's another thing I can tell Dr. M, about my loss of confidence, but this first session didn't seem like the right time.

While I Wait.

2010-01-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

I left work early today for a doctor's appointment, and to be honest with you I was pretty nervous about it; the last time I was this anxious about seeing a doctor was when I was a kid, even then I was a very private person and I hated exposing myself to people I didn't really know.

After I checked in with the receptionist, I surveyed the waiting area, deciding where I should sit, this shouldn't have been as difficult as I made it because the room was completely empty, usually if there are other people waiting, I try to sit farthest from the person whom I deem the most likely to talk to me because I despise making small talk. But this time, my indecisiveness came from the overall feel of the room. The space looked more like a living room than a waiting room, like one of those classic American style rooms you would see in a Pottery Barn catalog. The reception desk actually looked extremely out of place I decided after taking in the rustic bench that served as a coffee table which combined the look of distressed hardwood with handcrafted detail that made it the most fitting choice to accompany a plumb off white couch that was decorated with an assortment of pillows of various sizes, colors, and patterns. Two over sized leather chairs faced the sofa as if friends would gather around the bench table and catch up over wine and cheese. Then a little further away there was a single geometric patterned chair facing a window with a pedestal looking side table housing a bouquet of bright yellow sunflowers.

I decided on the seat by the window, only because the rest of the room made me feel awkward. Perhaps it was trying to make me feel like I was at home or in a very comfortable place so I would feel equally as content when I stepped into the doctor's office. I didn't want to let my guard down just yet. I always approach new situations with my shield poised and ready just in case I need to protect myself. So I sat in the chair by the window and looked out through the rain splattered window into the dreary streets of Seattle and I thought about how one week ago, my exposed skin was burning from the rays of sun that blasting from the picturesque blue sky as I buried my toes in the sand and grabbed fistfuls of the grainy substance feeling very comforted by the familiarity of it all.

I wrapped my already buttoned coat tighter around my neck and closed my eyes trying to remember the feeling of being out on that beach again, but the harder I thought, the less I could hold onto; and perhaps that is way I'm here today, or at least one of the reasons why I'm here. When I think back on it, it seems inevitable that I would end up on the couch of a psychiatrist whining about my life, lamenting the woes that is me, but I also know that I'm here because I have no other choice. It's my last chance at a normal life, so when I hear my name being called, I open my eyes, dig my hands in my pocket and cross my fingers, hoping that this will make the difference that I so desperately need.

Remember Everything.

2009-12-22T10:22:00.000-08:00

December 22 Startup What's a business that you found this year that you love? Who thought it up? What makes it special?

The business that I discovered this year, while not a startup, was new to me and made the world of a difference. It came in the form of an app for my phone called Evernote. As some of you know, I successfully wrote 50,000 words for NaNoWriMo this year and believe it or not I wrote most it on my iPhone. When I started, I was using the Notes app that comes with the phone and after I wrote a piece, either on or waiting for the bus, I would wait to go home then sync my phone with my computer, then I would copy the note to my Google document for revision or Man was that a hassle! I could only edit what I wrote from my home computer which is not very convenient at all. Then I found Evernote and it was like the app was made for me. This way I could still write my novel on my phone but I could access it anywhere there was an Internet connection. It was beautiful.

More than that I can also capture voice and digital images of things that I wanted to remember which is perfect for me because I come across a lot of things that I want to create a memory for but I am physically unable to because my memory sucks. With Evernote I can remember it all and that is perhaps the best feeling ever or at least for now it is....

A Clueless Project.

2009-12-21T13:02:00.000-08:00

December 21 Project. What did you start this year that you're proud of?

The project that I am most proud about can must be summed up perfectly by a quote from Cher in the movie Clueless....

"Later, while we were learning about the Pismo Beach diaster, I decided I needed a complete make-over, except this time I'd make-over my soul. But what makes someone a better person? And then I realised, all my friends were really good in different ways. Like, Christian, he always wants things to be beautiful and interesting. Or Dionne and Murray, when they think no one is watching, are so considerate of each other. And poor Miss Giest, always trying to get us involved, no matter how much we resist?"

Throughout this year, I have taken steps to improve my overall wellbeing and completely make over my soul in the hopes of becoming a kinder, more accepting, more selfless person, and while the progress is slow, it is steady and this project will continue through the new year.

A Rare Treat.

2009-12-20T12:54:00.000-08:00

December 20 New person. She came into your life and turned it upside down. He went out of his way to provide incredible customer service. Who is your unsung hero of 2009?

I met two wonderful people this year and while their reputations preceded them, I was not at all surprised when my expectations were exceed above and beyond what I heard because they are the type of people that are a rare treat in this world. They are the type of people you hear about and perhaps strive to be like because they are kind and generous and welcoming and the list goes on and on and if I am able to achieve the kind of warmth they displayed towards me upon my first encounter with them, I will consider it a true gift.

I met Henry and Aki Anderson in October and upon first meeting them, Aki welcomed me into her arms and over dinner Henry and I laughed over the our horrible pronunciation of sommelier. We spent the weekend together along with my parents and their friends and the trip concluded with a delightful breakfast that combined the tastes of traditional Japanese fare with the heartiness of the American style bacon and eggs.

Although I have yet to see Henry and Aki since that weekend, they have graciously invited my boyfriend and I to see them again and perhaps once the holiday hussle and bussle is through, I will take them up on their offer, but until then, I have the memories and know that I am better off having met them.

Inspiration.

2009-12-19T14:00:00.000-08:00

December 19 Car ride. What did you see? How did it smell? Did you eat anything as you drove there? Who were you with?

I was on my way to Canada with my parents and @omgconor. This is what that drive inspired....

I got a kick out of seeing road signs that said 'food next right,' so excited in fact that I wrote home about it even though I got back home faster than my letter; I left two days after I saw the sign.

Every time we drove under two freeway bridges that crossed each other I put my hands on the ceiling of the car to make a wish, until I realized that my arms were getting tired because I was touching the ceiling every five minutes. See where I'm from they don't have signs that tell you food is at the next exit or freeways criss and cross and connect states and cities and countries.

Trees lined the roads as we ventured away from the city, it was overwhelming. I almost felt like we were invading their space like someone put a road right in the middle of a peaceful green forest and didn't even check with them to see if it was okay. The trees seemed to be getting their revenge by forming their growth into an almost tunnel like shape so that one day the tunnel will be so enclosed with branches, they'll take over the road and take backs what's theirs.

*I never finished the piece but perhaps the next time I'm on the road I'll find the inspiration I need to complete it.

The End of an Era.

2009-12-18T13:28:00.000-08:00

December 18 Shop Online or offline, where did you spend most of your mad money this year?

I immediately thought about clothes when I read this question, and while I did spend a good chunk of change on books and comic books, and aside from the usual living expenses, the mad spending money went towards clothes or shoes. Yet, when I think about it, the only reason I've spent so much on clothes is because for the past 3.5 years years I was employed part time at Banana Republic. So not only was Gap, Inc paying me, they were also acquiring a loyal customer who basically spent everything I earned in their stores. With my super sweet discount, I tried to fool myself into thinking that I was a getting good deal because a cute sweater that once was $100.00 is now only $35, I would always end up spending more than the original price of the sweater because everything is such a steal and I would spend twice as much and not think about it than I would in any other store, simply because I have a discount.

And so I continued this same pattern when the year became and stocked up on winter coats and got the newest spring fashions, but as the days got longer and the crisp Seattle air got warmer and warmer, I realized that I had had enough of Banana. For three years, I was working two jobs and I missed having a summer, so with a heavy heart I decided it was time to say goodbye, to my additional income, the amazing people I worked with, and also my discount, but what I did not say goodbye to was the clothes because I continued to shop there. I was so stuck in the routine of shopping at Banana that even without the discount, I still felt compelled to shop there. My boyfriend told me that I wasn't obligated to shop there anymore after I quit, but I continued to get discount cards in the mail, or a $20.00 reward card with my latest bill, and just when I thought I was done, I would get an email reminding me that Friends and Family weekend was right around the corner.

Like any addiction, I had to slowly weened myself off BR. I took baby steps, I stopped looking at the weekly emails they sent me, then I immediately recycled any fliers I got in the mail, and pretty soon I realized that I didn't need new clothes every month or even every other week because I had amassed quite a wardrobe over the past three years and now I realize that I don't have to be a slave to the styling of Banana Republic and can venture out on a limb and express myself in which ever way I chose.

OMG!

2009-12-17T10:12:00.000-08:00

December 17 Word or phrase. A word that encapsulates your year. "2009 was _____."

My default reaction to anything and everything this year has been OMG! It actually make me laugh now that I think about it....

I Digg Tea.

2009-12-16T10:24:00.000-08:00

December 16 Tea of the year. I can taste my favorite tea right now. What's yours?

I like green tea and drink a cup pretty much everyday, so that would be my tea pick of the year, however, I am not opposed to trying different flavors and thanks to Kevin and Alex at Diggnation, I was introduced to a variety of wonderful teas this year.

Last year during the holiday season, the gang at Diggnation, spearheaded by tea connoisseur, Kevin Rose, created tea blends and sample sets courtesy of Adagio Teas that were perfect for any novice tea drinker (and Diggnation fan) like myself to see what else is out there. @omgconor got me Alex's Tea Bag of Holiday Goodness. What a fitting name! It was absolutely delightful like drinking a candy cane, yum!

Curb + Packaging = Hilarious!

2009-12-15T11:58:00.001-08:00

December 15 Best packaging. Did your headphones come in a sweet case? See a bottle of tea in another country that stood off the shelves?

I don't like packaging here's a video that explains my frustration...

What is a Rush?

2009-12-15T11:53:00.000-08:00

December 14 Rush. When did you get your best rush of the year?

I was a bit stumped by this prompt, mainly due to the use of the word rush, what is a rush, how is it defined. So I did what I usually do when I don't know the answer to something, I looked it up, I googled it. According to the Merriam Webster online dictionary rush is defined as:

an intransitive verb:
- to move forward, progress, or act with haste or eagerness or without preparation

a transitive verb:
- to push or impel on or forward with speed, impetuosity, or violence
- to perform in a short time or at a high speed

a noun:
- a violent forward motion, an attack, a surging of emotion
- a burst of activity, productivity, or speed, a sudden insistent demand
- the act of carrying a football during a game

Interesting, because my initial reaction of a rush was one that included a moment or a time during the year where I felt the most alive, where my heart was racing, I was on the edge of my seat, I was bursting at the seams with excitement and anticipation, I was beyond exhilarated and enjoying my life to it's absolute fullest potential. But I rarely had those moments this year, 2009 has seemed to be a year of transition and introspection, of reevaluation and contemplation about the choices I've made and where I need to go from here. Yet often, there were times when I acted with haste, not thinking about how my actions would later affect me or those around me and I constantly felt that I had to accomplish and perform to a very high standard in a short amount of time and I was constantly in a state in which my emotions were surging and unpredictable, so in those ways I did have a rush, although I have never carried a football during a game. And so, if anything, this question made me realize that if 2009 was the year I looked in and tended to myself, 2010 will be a year in which I come out of my place of solitary musing and live as if I've never had before!

Gaius Baltar!

2009-12-13T18:26:00.000-08:00

December 13 What's the best change you made to the place you live?

Had I been asked this question last year, there would have been a long list of changes I made to the place I live because basically everything changed, the location, the furniture, the appliances, the electronics, and so this year the changes have been very minimal even though there are a ton of things I still want to do to my place. Then again, I forgot about the biggest change to the place I live and my life in general, about four months ago, my boyfriend and I adopted a cat from the Seattle Humane Society. She the perfect addition to our home and the cutest little kitty ever!

Where My Heart Is.

2009-12-13T11:28:00.000-08:00

December 11 The best place. A coffee shop? A pub? A retreat center? A cubicle? A nook?

I've turned into somewhat of a home body this year, or perhaps I've always been this way without really even noticing it because I never had to think about it, but with this prompt, I've thought back on all the places that I've hung out this year and find that I'm coming up short.

In college I would have struggled to pick the best place from the coffee shop I'd spend hours in chain smoking cigarettes and pushing my mental faculties or another coffee shop where they would start making my triple grande vanilla americano as soon as they saw my bright green puffy coat make it's way into the door or the many bars that truly was, just like the song said, a place where everybody knew my name. But I think about where I get my coffee now, mostly at home or at my office, and while I occasionally treat myself to a vanilla americano and the barista knows my order by heart, the shop is not a place I hang out, it's merely a stop on my way to somewhere else. I rarely go out to bars, only once in awhile to watch a game or meet up with friends, but I would hardly call it a place that I find comforting.

As I pondered on the reasons why I used to seek out the familiarity of a coffee shop or a bar, a place where I felt comfortable and would even call it a second home, it donned on me that that was exactly what I was looking for, a place that felt as warm and welcoming and comforting as a home is, but now that I have my own home, I don't need to surround myself with familiar places and faces to feel like I am in a safe zone because I have created my own home and right now for me, it truly is the best place.

Happy 101.

2009-12-11T13:52:00.000-08:00

Cool Beans! Jill over at Life After College, so graciously bestowed upon me the Happy 101 Award! I came across Jill's blog from 20sb and was totally feeling her vibe, she writes and blogs and dances and loves cats, she's my kind of gal! Her blog is a real testament to the trials one has to overcome once he or she steps outside the protective walls of academia and truly experience the real world for the first time. Whether you've gone to college or not, anyone can relate to her blog because part of balancing the bills and the jobs is everything in between, the fun, the laughs, the friends, the good times. So, I thank Jill and humbly accept her award.

So, this is how it goes....I have to list 10 things that make me happy, and try to do at least one of them today, then tag 10 bloggers that brighten my day. For those 10 bloggers who get the award, you must then link back to my blog!

1. Gaius Baltar, my cat, because she's so cute and a little sassy!

2. My family, my mom, dad, and brother, they make life worth living.

3. Blogs, my own and all the other ones out there that I have discovered and follow and read daily, but especially the ones I have yet to find because there could be an amazing blog around the corner.

4. My iPhone....does it need an explanation?

5. Organizing and cleaning because it give me a sense of control and order in my often times chaotic life.

6. Libraries because it's quiet and free and full of information and knowledge (even if it's sometimes smelly)

7. The Internet. Best Thing Ever.

8. Writing. It allows me to be both introspective and creative.

9. My Condo! It's an amazing feeling to walk in my door at the end of the day and know that it's mine, my first real home.

10. And my home wouldn't be a home without my boyfriend. He's kind and patient and smart and understands me in a way that I don't even understand myself yet. He makes me want to be a better person and that truly puts a smile on my face.

Now, here are 10 bloggers that brighten my day...

1. Yeri, with a very fitting blog for this award,What Makes Me Happy!

2. Novelista Barista

3. MJ at In So Many Words!

4. Molly at The Wrong End of a Telescope

5. Kim at J&K a Journey!

6. Ashley Writing to Reach You at

7. Fernando at Urbanomical

8. Stephan Baird at Nikon Sniper

9. Margarita at Ramblings of a Fab Brunette

10. Sillygrrl

Happy Blogging!

Does a Podcast Count?

2009-12-10T14:48:00.000-08:00

December 10 Album of the year. What's rocking your world?

This prompt reminds me of a conversation I had with a friend earlier this year which provides a perfect response to the question. It went something like this...

Friend: "So what are you listening to these days?"

Me: "Like music wise?"

(I listen to a lot of talk radio)

A Year Long Challenge with a Happy Ending.

2009-12-09T10:30:00.000-08:00

December 9 Challenge. Something that really made you grow this year. That made you go to your edge and then some. What made it the best challenge of the year for you?

This year has been nothing but challenging simply because it was a year in which I often felt lost and misguided, it was as if one day I looked around and realized that I had nowhere to go, I was completely stagnant with absolutely no prospects on the horizon. Part of the reason I felt this way was due to my confliction with the place I currently am in my life, my physical place, the location, 26,000 miles away from where I'm from.

An enormous uphill battle for me was to get settled into my adult life here in Seattle and more than simply finding a job and an apartment was trying to figure out how to balance a full time job (and sometimes a second part time job) and paying my bills on time while doing the things that made me feel alive, that sparked my passion, and allowed me release and relaxation. As time went on, this feat was turning out to be almost impossible because, as I juggled all these responsibilities truly on my own, I realized that I may have made a mistake, that perhaps this life in Seattle wasn't what I really wanted. I was having a hard time finding the reasons why I wanted this independence in the first place, it was such a driving and motivating force that got me here but then a mere two years later I was questioning everything I once thought I knew I wanted for myself. But being the stubborn person that I am, I didn't want to throw in the towel, I didn't want to give up everything that I started and go home with my tail between my legs, so I continued to plow forward, I made myself invaluable at my jobs and I planted myself even deeper into this life by buying a home and solidifying my place in the Pacific Northwest. I thought if I had reasons to stay eventually I would remember why I chose to leave the comforts of my home land.

As 2009 rolled around, four years since I came back here, I had created a nice life for myself with a steady job, a nice home, a loving relationship, great friends, a new blog, but still it wasn't enough, I wanted more and so I searched the recesses of my being and tried to tap into something that would make me feel alive again, something that would motivate me in the same way that allowed me to make the big leap to move and after months of seemingly futile options, last month I finally found it, it was both fulfilling and challenging and in the end I came out with a new sense of purpose.

The challenge I found for myself was called Nanowrimo, in case you don't know what is, it's a challenge to writers to compose a novel, 50,000 words, 175 pages, in 30 days. I found out about it two days before November began and decided to give it a try. Unbeknownst to me, my blog was basically my training for this. I spent the entire year writing short stories on this blog sometimes daily, sometimes every other day, sometimes once a week, but whenever it was, I was constantly writing and so I was prepared because Nanowrimo was my marathon and I came out at the end a winner!

I always knew I liked writing but this experience made me understand that I was capable of meeting a deadline, producing quantity, and creating a story. The entire experience was one in which my creation was truly one that was freely formed and knew no bounds. Every time I set pen to paper so to speak, it was a blank slate, I had no idea where the story was going, similar to watching an episode of your favorite show mid season, you already have a framework of what is going on and who the characters are, but as the music cues and the title screen displays, you eagerly wait with anticipation to see the show unfold and the next piece of the puzzle to be revealed, and it was in that way that I wrote my novel, completely unaware of what came next until I was writing it. I learned a lot about myself and what I'm capable of and I'm excited about where this accomplishment will take me.

Making Time for Me.

2009-12-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

December 8: Moment of peace. An hour or a day or a week of solitude. What was the quality of your breath? The state of your mind? How did you get there?

This question really made me think about my daily life and the moments I have in which I am totally alone and I found that these times are few and far between. From the moment I wake up until the time I lay my head down to end a long day, I am only alone for very short periods time usually in the bathroom during which I don't think about achieving a state of inner peace. I live with my boyfriend, I ride the bus, I work in an office, so I am constantly around people and while I didn't notice my lack of solitude, nor did I think it was an issue, as I come to this realization I am understanding the necessity of alone time. My constant state of restlessness because I'm always on, moving, doing, thinking so much so that I forget about myself, my needs, my wellbeing because in order have a wholly fulfilling existence one must have time to reflect, unwind, and just be in the presence of no one else but yourself. I wonder how that has affected my overall state of mind these past couple of years as seemingly overnight I went from being all alone, an ocean away from my family, distanced from friends by time, isolated as the new girl in a foreign office, longing for nothing more than to be a part of something, but that's the thing about wanting something, once you have it, it could be more than you can handle. If anything I know from now on, I need to really try to make more time for myself and then maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to achieve that moment of peace.

A Blog Around the Corner.

2009-12-07T10:23:00.000-08:00

December 07 Blog find of the year. That gem of a blog that you can't believe you didn't know about until this year.

I started blogging at the beginning of the year and because of that, I started reading blogs a lot more. Before this year, I subscribed to blogs like boingboing (only because my boyfriend likes it) or NPR's Planet Money blog, very standard, well known type blogs, but as I branched out on my own and explored the territory of the blogosphere, I realized that there are so amazing blogs out there and thanks to 20 Something Bloggers, I've been introduced to many gems, too many to even count, but I will mention a few that I can't go without.

I really enjoy MJ's blog, In so many words, her blogs radiates with positivity as she explores her many interests and makes every day an adventure whether it's starting projects in her community, participating in Halloween parades, or traveling overseas.

I also really connect with Ashley over at Writing to Reach You, she's very Wonder Womanish, she works, she blogs, she writes, oh and did I mention she's getting her Phd? Yeah, she can do it all. Following her journey is inspirational because if she can handle everything on her plate and then some, then so can I.

And of course, there's my dear friend Yeri. Her blog, What makes me Happy! is phenomenal. She highlight fantastic finds that sparkle and shine, that compliment everything from the finishing touch on the perfect out fit to the funky accent that completes a room. It's the perfect place for her to showcase her creativity with her DIY projects.

The list could go on and on because if anything the true gem of the year is knowing that right around the corner could be a great new blog, and there is nothing better than that.

A Bright Preview.

2009-12-07T10:21:00.000-08:00

December 6 Workshop or conference. Was there a conference or workshop you attended that was especially beneficial? Where was it? What did you learn?

I'm not sure if this counts because I don't really have to go to workshops or conferences for my job, nor do I really attend them independently, but I did go to a workshop of sorts that I think qualifies for this topic and it's also something I'm really excited about.

Last November, I attended a preview day at the University of Washington for the Information School. It was a Saturday at 830 in the morning and instead of snuggling up in my bed and indulging the playground of my dream world, I was bundling up and braving the cold in the early morning hours to travel to the UW campus. I passed by George with his foreboding presence looking down on generations of students, across the expansive of red brick in red square towards the impressive and imposing Suzzallo Library, down the stairs and around the corner to a fairly new edition to the campus, Mary Gates Hall.

Thanks physics dept.

Perhaps on a day when the sky was not so saturated with clouds, one could have caught a glimpse of Mount Rainier in all it's majestic glory.

That morning, for the first time in a long time, I got excited, genuinely excited about something, so much so that to this day, my mind is often interrupted with the possibilities of what could be. Recently I became interested in getting my Masters in Library and Information Science and this preview day fueled my interests and put then into high gear. Not only did I learn more about the program, but I also attend a mock lecture by Professor Joseph Janes on searching for information and how that process has evolved and will continue to in the modern world. There was also a student panel that spoke about their experiences in the program that actually changed my perspective on how I want to approach the program myself. All in all it was a great morning and by the time I left it didn't matter that I woke up at the crack of dawn in the freezing cold, because I had a new outlook on all the opportunities at my fingertips.

A Night to Remember.

2009-12-06T09:22:00.000-08:00

December 5 Night out. Did you have a night out with friends or a loved one that rocked your world? Who was there? What was the highlight of the night?

Best night of oh nine...wow, a lot of memorable nights have been drunken and hazy and while the details are not always clear, I know I had a good time, but at my age I feel a good night out should be more than just drunken abandon, it should put a smile on my face and make me want to hold onto the night forever because it was just that special, and to me there is nothing more dear to my heart than my family and loved ones and so I'm glad I had to take time to ponder on this topic because as I did the best night fell right into my lap and it happened just last night.

On Saturday December 5th, @omgconor, my parents and I shared pitchers and wings and watched the Huskies defeat the Bears in the last game of the season. Now this was no ordinary night and was not something that could just happen on a whim, see my parents live in Hawaii and my father my father, @treestumps, has been following Husky football passionately this season and every season since I came to the University of Washington in 1999 and while never seeing a game in the flesh he supports the team as best as he can even though the games are not always televised out there in the middle of the pacific ocean and after driving 20 miles last weekend to watch the Apple Cup that was ultimately not shown, he and my mother flew 2,600 miles to watch the last game of the 2009 Husky football season.

Although the game was just a 15 minute car ride away, the 30 degree temperature made sitting in the Husky Stadium for three hours an impossibility for my folks and so we settled in our new favorite sports bar and had the best night ever! The excitement on my fathers face will stay with me forever and it's small gems like that that can turn another Saturday night of college football into the best night of 2009.

An Amazing Read.

2009-12-04T10:03:00.000-08:00

December 4 Book. What book - fiction or non - touched you? Where were you when you read it? Have you bought and given away multiple copies?

I started this year with a newfound interest in comic books and I read them obsessively. I couldn't get enough of them, I was the girl on the bus who read comics, balding, middle aged men would strike up conversations with me (ew), someone even proposed to me when I told him I was reading Swamp Thing, and I would get recommendations from people left and right. The thing I realized about comics is they tell really amazing stories that are surprisingly well written and I've always been interested in how a visual image can enhance the written word. As an English Major in college, I would often find inspiration from paintings or scenery or images for my writing, so comic books or graphic novels for adults touches on that interest.

So, after about 8 months of reading strictly comic books, I decided that I needed to read a real book and I actually found it difficult to shift back to the novel form. The book that I read was The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon and it was a great segway since it was a book about the two title characters making their way into the comic industry during the 1940's.

Thanks amazon!

Once I got used to not having pictures to accompany my story, I got lost in the lyrical rhythm of Chabon's narrative. He is an amazing writer with a masterful grip on the English language with the ability to reach into his expansive bag of descriptive vocabulary to provide such a memorable reading experience that every sentence is a true gem. I absolutely loved it. I haven't bought copies for people, but I have gone to my favorite used bookstore and bought nearly all of Chabon's other titles because he is an amazing writer and I'm glad that I was introduced to his books this year.

An Article of Behemoth Proportions.

2009-12-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

December 03: What's an article that you read that blew you away? That you shared with all your friends. That you Delicious'd and reference throughout the year.

I used to read the actual newspaper daily, I don't do that anymore. I would read the New York Times, Seattle Times, and Honolulu Advertiser all online but I don't do that any more either. I don't read magazines except for Wired and the occasional US Weekly only when I'm on a plane. I get all my news and any other information from NPR, which I listen to all day at work, Twitter, my Reader, or Facebook.

This is another hard one, not only because I have come across countless articles all of which have been inspirational and thought provoking, but because I have a hard time remembering everything I read/hear. I consume so much information on a daily basis that it's overwhelming, that being said, I'll pick a fairly recent article I first heard on Talk of the Nation then read on the NPR website, I tweeted about it and also put it up on Facebook. It was called 'Googled': From Brainchild To Behemoth. Author Ken Auletta was on the show talking about his book Googled: The End of the World as We Know It, traces the growth of Google and touches on the ways in which the company enhances our lives in amazing ways, yet alarmingly it has the potential to ruin us, it's users, as well due to sheer amount of information that Google has about the people who use their applications.

I found this interesting because 1) I absolutely love Google and eveything they produce (except their phone because the iPhone is better) and

Thanks niall-larkin!

2) because I'm interested in how we search for information in this modern world and how searching for information has significantly changed since I was growing up. A friend of mine often says 'why wonder when you can know' and that is exactly what Google provides for us, a direct link to knowing, to knowledge that a lot of people literally have at their finger tips and carry around with them in thier pocket, the possibilities are endless and that makes it so exciting.

Restaurant Moment.

2009-12-02T13:15:00.000-08:00

December 02: Share the best restaurant experience you had this year. Who was there? What made it amazing? What taste stands out in your mind?

God! This is a hard one, simply because I absolutely LOVE eating, out, in, anything, everything...I've been thinking a lot about this one and I've been to a lot of deliciously tasty restaurants over the year, some finds thanks to Brett and Mandy over at Seattle Date Night who offer great recommendations of places to dine around town. Yet I keep going back and forth among a handful of moments unable to decide, mainly because part of what makes these times so memorable are the people with whom I shared meals with and for me that is key to a pleasurable dining experience.

Thinking about this brings back a lot of great memories like the time a friend and I shared a cozy corner at the end of a bar in a carefree organic cafe and munched on tasty bacon and savory jam, or the time at the seafood buffet in Vegas that turned into a food frenzy gone wrong, or the countless Friday Vietnamese lunches with my coworker(s), or the birthday dinner for my boyfriend's mom where we dined on Italian Food and closed down the place, or the drunken feast of salmon burgers with my brother, or the last of a whirlwind of eateries when relatives came to visit, the list could go on and on but I keep coming back to a meal I shared, not too long ago, with my boyfriend @omgconor, and while we share practically every meal together and it's always good times, this one particularly sticks out in my mind because I ate the most amazing piece of meat! I love a good piece of bloody meat nothing in the world is better than that, which makes me wonder why I ever was a vegetarian, youthful idealism probably, anyways, back to this meal...it was a somewhat spontaneous dinner, although we did make reservations and we braved the pouring rain and blustery winds to dine atRuth's Chris which neither of us had ever been to which is another reason why I picked this night because while I patronized many places, they were all repeats of restaurants that I dine at frequently. I had the

Thanks Passionate Eater!

ribeye and it was divine, so savory and juicy in all it's meaty goodness. @omgconor watch in absolute wonder as I devoured the entire thing, well almost, I took a very small piece home because we also had dessert, but he was still pretty amazed at the amount I consumed, so with our bellies contently full and a giddy smile on our faces, we once again stepped out into the November cold on our way home but this time we didn't seem to notice the whipping rain drops and chilling winds because nothing could put a damper on our wonderful evening.

Best Trip of 2009.

2009-12-02T12:21:00.000-08:00

I came across an amazing find today thanks to The Novelista Barista, it's a blog challenge hosted by Gwen Bell. It is 31 post in 31 days about the best of 2009, I think this is a great idea! After nanowrimo, I really need take some time off from writing and do something fun. This is a real departure from what I usually write on this blog and while I wanted to stick to short stories, perhaps it's time to deviate from the well worn path and try something new, so here it goes...I'm a day behind so i'll do two posts today to catch up.

December 01: What was your best trip in 2009?

I didn't go on a lot of trips this year, I went to Hawaii twice, Las Vegas, and Canada. They were all fantastic trips and served it's purpose of relaxation and good times, but if I had to pick one, I think I would have to choose Canada only because it's the only place that I've never been to before and the experience was shared with people I love and hold very near my heart. I would like to mention that I've lived in Seattle for the past 10 years and have NEVER crossed the border so it was all very exciting!! I was like a little kid going to Disneyland, seriously I was that amped about it and although it wasn't that much different, I was not disappointed in the least.

X plus Y.

2009-12-01T20:02:00.000-08:00

Now if you ask my Aunt Yanni, she'll tell you that she knew way before either one of my parents that they were destined to be together. I often tried to pick her brain about that, but she remained elusive and would simply smile and say, 'when it's meant to be, I can always tell.' I never knew what to make of that, sometimes I thought of my Aunt Yanni as some prophet, like in the way olden days, way before even my mother's time when people lived in villages and traveled in carts drawn by horses or some kind of animal and sought out the eldest person who spoke in cryptic messages that always had some deeper meaning; my Aunt Yanni had that kind of aura. So while Aunt Yanni was sitting on this secret knowledge, my mother still didn't know even after six years of dating, but if you ask me I'll tell you that five years into dating I knew they were meant to be because something changed in my mother's eyes in the pictures I would see from that day at Comicon. But to really understand where my mother's doubt and uncertainty came from you would have to know about everything that led up to that day when they stood up on the stage as Yorick and Amp, my dad dressed in a gas mask and a cape and my mom as a monkey wearing a diaper and everything that came after that day. Their outfits were fashioned after the graphic novel series Y the Last Man in which Yorick is the last male human being on earth and along with his pet monkey Ampersand aka Amp, make their way across the country and over seas amidst all the surviving women, to find out what caused the death of all the men. Let me just stop for a minute to say how silly these interest were that my parents slightly obsessed over, I mean this wasn't written by a man hating feminist during the Women's Right Movement, this was in the year 2001 and while that may have been eons ago, it was still well within the time frame when women were equal and had been for many many years.

So, I Wrote a Novel.

2009-11-28T10:41:00.000-08:00

The month long craziness finally came to an end, and with 5 days to spare too, on Wednesday November 25, 2009 just moments before the clock stuck midnight, I had successfully written 50,000 words thus becoming a winner of nanowrimo. I can look back on the experience and wipe my brow and tell you it was cake, and sometimes it was, sometimes I was in a zone so fueled with creative inspiration that I would look up and realize I missed my stop and the bus I was on was carrying me farther than where I planned on going, and like this novel I have traveled above and beyond that which I thought I was capable. Yet other times it wasn't so easy, other times I was staring at a blank screen and a blinking cursor cursing myself for undertaking a seemingly impossible feat, but I kept my head down and my fingers typing and I came out on the end side with a novel. It's not a great novel, it's not even a finished one, but it's a start. I'm drained and excited and proud of myself and I guess that's the whole point of nanowrimo, self satisfaction, a frenzy of words and idea, a testament of will, and a great jumping off point to start the second draft. That being said, I need to hang up my writer's cap, take a little break and do the things that I was unable to as I raced to the finish line, like read my book, hang out with people, and most importantly sleep.

Interest in Love.

2009-11-24T21:37:00.000-08:00

I can only suspect my father's giddiness at my mother's new found interest because that meant he could indulge and enjoy his own interest without the questioning eye of my mother. Now he was able to share them with her which brings us to Comicon, short for comic convention, a weekend long event held all over the country, actually all over the world, celebrating artist and writers and comic and merchandise and anything and everything in between related to comics, included in the everything was a costume contest which yes if you're thinking it, you are absolutely right, my parents in all their twenty something awesomeness donned costumes the following year, entered a contest and got second place.

Years later my parents would show me a faded colored picture of themselves standing on the stage being presented with their second place sash, my dad looking proud and a little sheepish and my mom beaming with excitement tail in hand, and yes explanation of the tail is coming, but first I want to say that I saved this particular photo and downloaded it into my cranial hard drive for a number of reasons, but mainly because this photo captured in my mother's eyes a change that I would continue to see in pictures from then on; on occasion I have attributed this look to the picture quality or the excitement of the moment or the angle in which the photo was taken, yeah they had to manually take photos and then have then developed, crazy, I know, but no matter what the reason, I keep coming back to my own hypothesis that it was this moment that my mother knew she was going to marry my father or at least be with him for the rest of her life, perhaps it was the fact that they were sharing a very public moment together for the first time and in some ways it reminded my mother of a wedding ceremony but whatever the reason, from then on, there was a glimmer in my mother's eyes that said to anyone who took the time to notice, that she had found the love of her life.

Watch Me.

2009-11-23T11:23:00.000-08:00

Eventually my mother came around and lucky for me she did or else I wouldn't be here to tell you this story. Anyways, back to my father, the type of guy who didn't give a damn about about what people thought about him or so he led everyone to believe, that's what my mother thought until she got to know him, see my father didn't give off the air of someone who thought he was better than everyone else and thus didn't care what everyone thought, on the contrary, he was extremely self conscious and what people mistook for aloofness was actually insecurity and self doubt coupled with patience and objectivity.

Thanks piterart!

He was naturally rational and perceived the world around him in a very analytical way, to my father, emotions and feeling a certain way didn't play a significant role in the outcome of a situation, rather logical and reason were the deciding factors.

So it didn't matter that he was a twenty something reading his comic books, or should I say graphic novels on the bus, but if you paid attention every once on awhile you will see a grown up kid at heart pulling out the latest edition of a graphic novel series from his (or her) bag on the bus and assume the position of the child they were many moon ago enjoying the fantasy of a marriage between pictures and words on the way to school. My mother scoffed at my father for wasting all his money on comics until one day she after the steadfast insistence of my father, my mother picked up and read, her very first comic book, The Watchmen.

Thanks mediamolecule!

The Watchmen written by the epic writer Alan Moore, was probably a good pick for my mother to start with because with that particular book she saw how capivating and well written a comic book could be and upon finishing it she wanted more, and just like that my mother the skeptic became a comic book fan.

First Sight.

2009-11-22T18:53:00.000-08:00

I was telling you about my father the quiet genius who I guess now that I look back on it was ultimately responsible for the crazy names that would be the legacy of my family. He made his way into the adult world not giving a care to what anyone thought about him, reading comic books on the bus, picking his nose at his desk, riding his bike in 30 degree weather, well I guess that ones a little crazy but he knew what he liked and indulged his interests because it made him happy. It was the same way with my mother, he knew from day one that he liked her. It wasn't a love at first sight thing, it wasn't even lust at first sight, it was simply like at first sight and my father was the type of person for whom a like could turn into a life long love. I suspect he saw her around briefly, in passing, but the first time he noticed her was a

Thanks Looney 1!

winter day typical of the pacific northwest climate, my mother was sitting cross legged on a twin bed in her friend's dorm room. My mother and her friend Yanni were studying or so they said, later I would found out they were eating Stoffer's lasagna and Tim's jalapeno chips lamenting how school sucks, pining for the weekend, wondering if Paula would have another party, while playing an animated computer game called Booty Call in which the main objective was to get Jake laid, (trust me I had a hard time hearing that this was the kind of activity my mother engaged in). Yanni progressing through the game, occasionally asking if Jake, should go to the jacuzzi or stay in the house and go upstairs, when there was a knock at her door. It was my father looking like the 18 year old punk that he was asking for a cigarette and also if Yanni could introduce him to her friend sitting on the bed. Yanni tossed him a cigarette and told him to get lost. My mother and Yanni were mean to my father back then, not really mean they just held him at arms length not yet sure that he was worthy to be friends with them. It wasn't like they were being elitist and thought people were lucky to be there friend, it was just that they were meeting so many new people that they couldn't be friends with all of them, they couldn't extend themselves to all of them, they had to test drive so to speak these friendships to see it fit.

Thanks PJM!

Yanni and my mother were a package deal in college, you couldn't get one without the other, so I guess it worked in my mothers favor that Yanni also decided my father was cool enough to be friends with them because that was just the first of many attempts my father would make at asking Yanni to help him get my mother to fall in love with him.

Comicon.

2009-11-21T23:49:00.000-08:00

Since then my mother learned how to be pushy without actually touching anyone but rather than it being a quality that was revered, it sometimes has the effect of being off putting and annoying, but at least she wasn't pushing people down hills anymore. So here was a fictional television character that my mother looked up to and thought about dressing up as for Halloween but was unable to pull off, although she did tell me that Starbuck didn't have a distinct enough look to do a costume, yet she showed me a picture of her Internet friend who was successful in mimicking this character. All the way on the other side of the world, a girl in Australia was donning the perfect kick ass Starbuck gear for a costume contest at Comicon. Comicon? you ask, well to tell you about Comicon I need to tell you about my father, he was the one that sparked these scifi show watching, comic book reading interest in my mother. I guess it added to my mothers interest that at around the time my father was planting these seeds in my mothers head, she met someone that would be her friend for the rest of her life and he too liked comic books and Battlestar too. His name was Fernando, Uncle Ferd as I would call him, but his story comes later

Push.

2009-11-17T14:13:00.000-08:00

I would like to say that I dutifully assumed my role as the eldest child and was very responsible and helped my parents out as much as I could and strayed away from devious, experimental, rebellious teenage behavior

Thanks PrAsanGaM

and I tried to impress upon the younger children to do the same and for the most part it worked. Kara and Lee, the twins who were two years younger than me held me in such high regard, they looked up and idolized me even wanting to be me. I'm not trying to flatter myself here, I see all those skeptics rolling their eyes thinking 'yeah, right' but I swear to you it's true. Kara and Lee were also named after characters in Battlestar Galactica, they were fighter pilots in Galactica's fleet and had cool nicknames. Kara also known as Starbuck and Lee was also known as Apollo (thank goodness, the twins didn't end up with those nicknames as real names, my youngest brother, wasn't so luck though, his name is Number Seven, no really it is). Starbuck was a real bad ass and I sometimes think my mother wanted to be her, like have that no nonsense approach to everything and be able to stand up physically and mentally to any man in this world and have the confidence to actually try to take a man down in a fist fight. My mother liked to think she could do what Starbuck did but she wasn't into violence and causing physical harm to others. I think she got that out of her system when she was in the sixth grade and accidentally pushed her friend down a hill and had to go to the principal's office. Her friends thought it was fun to pretend fight with each other and would push each other around and sometimes throw in a slap or grab a fistful of hair and then when things got right to the tipping point where someone could get hurt they would retreat, comb through their hair with their fingers, smooth out their clothes, give each other a sheepish smile and got back to gossiping about boys. But one sunny afternoon, my mother, an awkward, lanky girl of 12 didn't know when enough was enough and when her fighting partner was trying to pull away, my mother kept pushing and pushing and pushing until there was no where else to push and with one final shove, her friend went tumbling down the hill.

Thanks raphael gerber!

My mother never physically pushed anyone after that day when she sat with her head hung low as her father a big physically imposing man standing at six foot four inches walked into the principals office and with his huge pigskin throwing hands took my mother's petite piano playing fingers and led her to the parking lot and drove her home disappointment reeking from his silence.

Balancing Act.

2009-11-16T12:55:00.000-08:00

Being their very first pet, the very first thing other then themselves that they had to take care of, my parent's had yet to learn the fine balance of tough love which is like walking a tight rope, lean even just a little to one side and you'll fall and you'll fail and you'll lose whatever upper hand you had and back then neither of my parents had very good "balance" so to speak although it was one skill that my father liked to boast about having, so instead of giving her a firm no when she walked on the kitchen counters they tiptoed around GB and sometimes said no and sometimes said nothing at all and most always ended up with fur in their food. My mother dismissed it saying Gaius Baltar was her little baby and could do no wrong and my dad, well my dad the eternal moderate never wanting to cause conflict, never wanting to confront anything, always wanting to have peace hung out in the gray area and let Gaius Baltar do whatever she wanted.

I have to take a moment to digress and say that that was my parents then raising their first cat, they learned a little more about balancing with they're second cat, Serenity, and a little more with their third, Boomer so by the time they finally had children my mother's real little baby, me, could do lots of wrong but because she loved me so much she wasn't about to tiptoe around me, she would set me straight so I wouldn't turn out as bratty as GB and because of her, I would grow up to have a very clear sense about right and wrong, I would learn later that, like my father, sometimes taking the middle ground is the best way to go.

As for my father, as being a father he continued to keep a level head and didn't say much but when he did, he spoke words of wisdom that would stay with me for life so it became that I had the freedom to do what I wanted but I knew my limits because I didn't want to disappoint my parents, and what more can parents ask for? But more than that my parents deserved well behaved children I mean they were in their sixties after all when they had us and then in their seventies when we were all going through those angst filled teen years. Man that must have been the worst!

The BSG Legacy.

2009-11-15T18:35:00.000-08:00

Now that you know my mother, I'll get back to telling you about my parents, ah my ancient parents and their quirky naming, you gotta love them. I guess if you knew them, which I'm sure almost none of you do, it would make sense. They named their first cat Gaius Baltar, after another character on Battlestar Galactica, Caprica was on that show too, it wasn't a character but the name of a planet. See Battlestar Galactica was set in the future and Caprica was one of the planets which got obliterated by the Cylons.

Thanks ronallan!

Cylons were these robots that humans created to do stuff for them only the Cylons got smart, evolved, began to think like and even look like humans and attacked their creators! Wow! What a storyline! I apologize for the sarcasm but really television and broadcasting so 2050! The idea of sitting in front of a box for about an hour watching a scripted show then waiting a week or more to see the next episode is absurd to me. Who has time for fictional television today when you can live it? And I actually did once, I mean my family was so heavily influenced by this show that I had to see what all the fuss was about, (did I mention that my Uncle Tower, that's right Tower, his story will come, I promise, named a cat that wasn't even his, but he fed occasionally, Cylon and wrote home about it and sent pictures?) so I put on my Dream Fold one night and lived on a Battlestar and piloted fighter jets called Vipers and, meh, so so, I'll tell you more about that later. Anyway, Gaius Baltar, was the first of many scifi named cats my parents had and trust me there were lots of them and you know it was all my mother's doing, my dad never knew he liked cats until he met my mother, in fact, if it wasn't for him, she would probably have ended up as that crazy cat lady living alone with her 50 cats, yelling at neighborhood kids and generally making a nuisance of herself and her cats, but alas, my father's appearance in her life saved her from that end and instead she became the sometimes crazy, always with lots of cats lady, but because she lived with my father it was somehow okay that they had a lot of cats; not 50, but I think at one point they had eight. They named their second cat Serenity after the spaceship in a show called Fire Fly. They thought that the name would somehow ooze into the cat making her calm, see Gaius Baltar, or GB

Thanks @omgconor!

as they sometimes called her was either naturally agitated or her behavior was the result of being spoiled. She was constantly biting people when they tried to pet her completely unprovoked, she would look so calm and peaceful sleeping but try to touch her and claws were digging into your skin and sharp teeth were bearing down on your hand! This isn't an exaggeration, but its not as bad as it sounds either from what I heard about Gaius she was simply overzealous and extremely playful.

Steely.

2009-11-14T19:25:00.001-08:00

A marriage of all these factors, the inception of a new political and economic climate, the warm, sunny, unique culture of the Hawaiian Islands, and a name like Steely would shape my mother into the semi adjusted to normalcy person that she turned out to be. Steely Tomskin defied all the the things that tried to define her while she was growing up, so instead of being one of the money hungry, self entitled people that so many of her generation turned out to be, my mother was frugal and conscious of fully deserving the things that she had, expecting if anything to work hard and maybe even suffer a little if it meant that in the end she was be crowned with the fruits of her labor and know that she earned it. And in protest of the welcoming smiles and warmth of the Aloha spirit in which she was raised, Steely was a cold and very standoffish person for which acceptance into her graces were often met with resistance and skepticism but once this barrier was breached, the Steely that only a few were lucky to know, and the one that I desperately wish I knew, was one who exhibited considerable kindest and trust and true and loyal friendship. The one thing that she couldn't shake as a trait handed down through the generations was naming her offspring after something, because just like her parents, she was known for naming children and pets alike uniquely as the individual they grew to be, and what else could you expect from someone named Steely.

Foreigner.

2009-11-12T19:29:00.000-08:00

Steely Tomskin was only made aware of this fact, not because she went seeking out it out, but because she a little different and despite her multicultural heritage, her majority Asian and Polynesian backgrounds weren't enough to combat her light green eyes and pale skin and Caucasian last name, so she was always thought of and referred to as haole, meaning foreigner in the Hawaiian language but the definition of the word became convoluted to refer only to people of Caucasian decent, especially those from the mainland or continental united states, and not unusually had derogatory undertones.

Thanks Stephen Poff!

That coupled with a name like Steely, (my mom was named after a jazz rock band, Steely Dan, who's popularity peaked in the late 1970's, right around the time my grandparents were getting high and rocking out to Steely Dan's euphoric and eccentric lyrics declaring to each other that they would promise the band's name to their first child),

Thanks Dimi the Geek!

provided for not the best childhood for my mother and I can only imagine why she sought desperately to leave that place behind, although she would later learn that she had a hard time blending in with Caucasian Americans who lived in the continental united states, because they knew that even though she looked like them, once she opened her mouth they knew she was far from being one of them.

Scars.

2009-11-11T18:12:00.000-08:00

The Hawaii that you and I know today, the epitome of relaxation and harmony, the true definition of paradise,

Thanks beautifual cataya!

isn't the same Hawaii my mother knew as a child although at the time, the official tourism website for the Islands thought that Hawaii done the impossible by achieving an almost Utopian state because along with sandy beaches and sunny skies they promoted 'a warmth of hospitality and generosity from everyone you meet' as an example of their culture in which different ethnicities melted together and lived side by side in blissful peace and invited you to share in this unique experience.

Thanks merwing little dear!

But as Steely Tomskin would find out, things were not always as picturesque as they made it seem especially not when you lived there day in and day out because, as my mother would experience first hand, for all the idealistic harmony that Hawaii seemed to offer, there were deep seeded scars from hatred and racism and unfounded biases that were handed down from generation to generation that years and years later, no one knew exactly why they hated or where they hate come from but knew that hate existed and hung onto it and wore it as a badge because it was in their blood and so as it was, Hawaii wasn't so different as any other place in the country, but the State Department of Tourism didn't want to know that, so they swept it under the rug and hoped no one took a peek at the dirty little secret they tried to so desperately hid.

1981.

2009-11-09T10:13:00.000-08:00

My mother was born during a turning point in American History. The country had just elected Ronald Regan as their president and unbeknownst to the people, this collective decision would lead to deficits in not only the national debt but in the moral capacity of people as the seeds of greed and capitalism were planted and nurtured and thus

Thanks Lillou_Merlin!

ingrained into a society that would continue to perpetuate this philosophy until they would suffer the consequences of their excessive ways 27 years later, some years after President Regan was laid to rest. Yet the unrest that he initiated during his presidency would continue to disrupt and perturb the lives of the American people for a considerably longer time. But during his inaugural, Regan boasted that in light of the "present crisis, government is not the solution to our problems; government is the problem," and from the height of his seat on his white horse, he rode into the White House to save the day. His solution to government was to turn the governing branches into a well greased cog in the the machine of a well run business and as the CEO of this company he took a tough stand on unions which resulted in increased productivity but meant wages for blue collar working people remained stagnant which greatly increased the gap between the haves and the have not's

Thanks Nugmeg 66!

and this would continue through his presidency so the rich got obscenely rich and everyone else worked twice as hard and wondered what it was all worth because at the end of the day, they barely had anything to show for their work. And in this hard working class is where my mother, Steely Tomskin, found herself growing up on an island in the Pacific Ocean, you may have heard of it, called Oahu, Hawaii.

Pick One.

2009-11-06T11:06:00.000-08:00

Anyways, like I was saying my mother was always late because she could never make a decision and so she waited until the last possible second to make a choice before her time was up. This probably had something to do with her strong belief that we make our own destinies because she never wanted to make the wrong decision for fear of living with the consequences. I am like my mother in a lot of ways but I've also learned how to not be like her too, because when given a choice I don't drag my feet or ho and hum, I weigh my options, make a list, (list making something else I got from my mother) and pick the best option in a reasonable time frame, reason-ability that I got from my father, but I'll tell you his story later.

Late.

2009-11-04T20:47:00.000-08:00

This was typical of my mother now that I think about it, she was always late to do everything, she was late to start her career, late to get married which by the way, was one of the things she vowed never to do, along with having children and may I add I have three younger brothers! She was late to start college, late to pick an extra curricular activity in high school, which is not to say she wasn't involved, because she was, it just wasn't doing things she wanted to do (but that's a whole another story which I'll tell you later). She was even late getting her period, don't ask me how I know that, it's just another example of how lateness was inherent in my mother, which isn't to say that my mother didn't have a say in what happened to her and used her perpetual lateness as an excuse because she was the type of person to accept full responsibility for the outcome of her life. And I wouldn't expect anything less from my mother because of her, I am a very firm believer in free will and personal responsibility, don't give me any of that destiny, things happen for a reason crap! We make things happen. Period. Sorry, where was I?! You'll have to get used to those tangential outburst, I get minorly passionate about things sometimes and I just have to say something.

Caprica.

2009-11-03T18:32:00.000-08:00

And so the novel begins...

They named me Caprica, and no my name is not influence by Greek mythology although I wish it was because that would have been a lot better than what I was actually name after: a television sequel to Battlestar Galactica, a sci-fi show that was popular among a subset of the population in the late 2000's, which was actually a remake of a less successful version of the show that aired almost 20 years before, ancient right? I know, I know, but these are my parents we're talking about so what do you expect? And if you know me, which I'm sure some of you do, you will know that my parents were close to ancient when they had me. I guess you could say that in that way I am lucky to be alive and my parents were equally as lucky to be living during the advent of modern medicine, and I say advent because if they knew what medicine is capable of today, how it shames cloning and stem cells and all the Mickey Mouse stuff they did back then, they would know that in vitro fertilization and having a healthy baby at 65 wasn't so amazing at all. But like I said this was a long time ago and back then 65 was the new 45 and everyone waited til they were 45 to have babies, so instead of being a fantasy in my mother's late to start ticking biological day dreams, I became a real live human being!

The Madness Begins.

2009-11-03T14:03:00.000-08:00

I'm doing something crazy this month. I'm trying to write a novel, a 50,000 word novel by November 30th. Maybe some of you heard of it NaNoWriMo?? I'm doing this completely blind, I have no outline, no character sketches, no planned story lines, no plot ideas, I'm basically making it up as I go along and doing most of it on my iPhone during my commute. Thus far, it's a pretty interesting experience and it's only day three!

To my loyal readers, I thank you, as always, for reading my blog because I know it takes time to get invested in a story, and once again, who's inceptions was the brain child of the Fabulous Margarita aka FabBrunette during a 20sb blog swap we did back in July, (who may I add, is also taking on the NaNoWriMo challenge) will once again be put on hold as I attempt the (im)possible of writing a novel in a month.

I will post my story here if anyone is interested. Thanks for reading.

16.

2009-10-31T20:07:00.000-07:00

As Kenneth plunged deeper into his roll and the drug took over his entire body, he because the person he swore he'd never be again; he was that person lying on the floor with his eyes towards the ceiling completely unaware that his body was violently twitching and his hand was extended up towards a metal bar that he clutched with all his might in a futile attempt to pull himself up, he was unconsciously grinding his teeth away and then his eyes rolled back into his head. Kenneth lay limp on the ground at the peak of his roll in the dark corner of an abandoned warehouse, all around him people were devoting their dance to the music and flashes of green light occasionally brightened the room and if you looked close enough, you could see Kenneth's body and there was a smile on his face. Kenneth was in complete and total ecstasy, he felt that he belonged, he finally felt comfortable, finally felt accepted: he was home.

the end.

15.

2009-10-30T15:21:00.000-07:00

Kenneth longed to feel that again and while he knew the drug created the false illusion of connecting with people, it was the entire atmosphere and energy that Kenneth pined for. He was tired of being alone and decided it would be worth giving up his sobriety to be able to experience that one more time.

If Kenneth ever once stopped to look around at the new life he was building for himself and stopped trying to relive the past and uncover a feeling that was never there to begin with, he would have seen that everything he wanted was right in front of him with Melanie and George and the honest albeit lowly wages he was earning. But Kenneth never had anything in his life that he could count on because once he started believing that things could change for, he would get a rude awakening and because of this, he missed Melanie's outstretched hand trying so desperately to save him.

Walking into Seventeen's again made Kenneth feel back in his element. All around him he heard familiar voices asking, "Are you rolling? Do you want a light show?" But when he turned to look, it was a face he had never seen before. Yet it only took a second for Kenneth to be surrounded by people that suddenly felt like his closest friends. All around him people were piling onto the floor with him retarding their vision trying to focus on the microlights that left traces of blue lines everywhere it went. Kenneth tried to focus but couldn't keep up with the lines whipping around his head. His whole body started spinning as his eyes tried to look up and follow the light.

14.

2009-10-29T18:08:00.000-07:00

Kenneth did not see Melanie for four days, whether it was on purpose because Kenneth felt guilty about his increasing desire to get back into the scene and knew Melanie would disapprove or if it just happened, would be a question that Kenneth's actions would answer as he found himself actively seeking the company of George. He knew it would just take a little prodding to entice George's budding interest and he began feeling a hint of excitement as his nights turn from the red Jetta to sitting in front of his house in George's dark blue SUV talking about raves and music. Had Kenneth known that these innocent conversations with his friend would lead George down a path of destruction, that for George this would be his gateway to a dark life, that his friends would never know the real truth about, and ultimately end with his untimely death, Kenneth may have thought twice about introducing this devious lifestyle to George, but at the time Kenneth was trying to fill a void in his own life and thought he was helping George find his place as well.

Although it was over a year since Kenneth indulged himself, the idea of doing it again tempted him more than anything and constantly consumed his thoughts. To Kenneth, it was the only time in his life when he felt that he matter to other people in a world that usually paid no attention to him. In that world, everyone mattered and Kenneth was welcomed by the open arms of a stranger that he immediately felt close to, a person he could confide in and expose his true self without fear of being judged for not having money or a family. He was able to find common ground with the one person he always thought was better than him and he was humbled. In that world, Kenneth was able to release his inhibitions and for the first time in his life he understood what it felt like to be love, then Kenneth saw that it was easy to fall in love with living and with himself when he had people that really, truly cared for him. It was in this environment that Kenneth saw that there was a flip side to the real, cold, callous world he grew up in and it gave him hope.

13.

2009-10-28T10:58:00.000-07:00

That night Kenneth could not fall asleep. Although this wasn't unusual, but this time it wasn't because he couldn't find a comfortable position on his bed, if you could call a sheet on the ground a bed. Kenneth recently discovered that he could fold his comforter in half and put the sheet over it to make the ground softer and then he could fall asleep, but tonight it didn't work. He tried folding up a towel to use as a pillow. As he lay staring at the ceiling with his neck unnaturally propped up, he considered smoking a cigarette, or maybe a joint, or maybe a joint and then a cig or maybe he should just close his eyes and try to sleep; but he couldn't, something was bothering him. But what? Kenneth decided to put on some music. He made his laptop, a gratuitous gift from his stepfather, and knelt down at the cardboard box that served as his desk. As Kenneth looked through the thousands of songs that he downloaded, he realized that 742 of his songs were filed in a folder labeled 'Seventeen's' and then something clicked and Kenneth knew what was bothering him.

12.

2009-10-27T11:22:00.000-07:00

The red Jetta was parked in front of Kenneth's house; two silhouettes filled the front seat, the tinted windows were halfway open and thin stream of smoke wafted out.

"Kenneth, do you really want to get back into all that...you know stuff," Melanie asked, "I mean from what you've told me, it seems like that was a time of your life that you wanted to put behind you. It was nothing but trouble if you ask me, and you're doing really well right now." Melanie put her hand comfortingly on Kenneth's arm.

Kenneth felt his insides melt as Melanie's hand gently stroked his arm. He immediately felt guilty about the surge of emotion he felt towards Melanie in that moment and tried to bury the attraction he was starting to feel towards her. Had Kenneth correctly identified Melanie's intent with that touch he would have understood that she was letting him know that he could finally put the past behind him because she was someone who accept who he was, unconditionally. But Kenneth, would never know that because he said,

"I appreciate your concern kiddo, and I wouldn't be going back there to slang, I'm done dealing, but sometimes I miss the scene and the people, the mutual respect and trust, the love everyone has for each other, even sometimes from a complete stranger, it's nice to have that, and that's the only reason why I would even consider going back."

Melanie moved her hand from Kenneth's arm and placed it back in her lap. She shifted her body so she was looking out the window. It seemed to her that after all this time Kenneth still didn't get it. Here she was offering her friendship, a real connection with a person who actually cared and still Kenneth wanted to seek out a bond and the illusion of trust and love from people in a drug induced state. Melanie took a long drag of her cigarette and blew out the smoke in the shape of O's wondering how to get through to Kenneth before he did something he would regret.

11.

2009-10-26T19:21:00.000-07:00

Melanie was suddenly alert when the topic of Seventeen's came up. She released her embrace from George and stared at Kenneth concerned, "Are you sure you want to go back there?"

Kenneth knew what Melanie was referring to and immediately regretted bringing up the topic. He steered clear of discussing his past with his new friends, but somehow, Melanie was able to coax it out of him, he felt comfortable sharing this part of himself with her because he had grown to trust her, but more than that, he knew she genuinely cared.

Seventeen's was an abandoned warehouse that was turned into an underground party space. Kenneth now thought back to how things got incredibly out of control, how something that started with his love and passion for music turned into an opportunity to make easy money then ultimately resulted in a confrontation with rival dealers, a bullet through Kenneth's shoulder, and a wound to his pride.

As Kenneth pondered on the friends he had and the pressures he succumbed to and his desire to feel important in whatever way he could, he never quite got around to the root of the cause which was to say that he needed to be a part of something, he needed to belong, he needed what he became more than his "friends" needed their fix. Kenneth and his crew were known for "owning" the club about a year ago when it went by the name of Pyramids. They were the dealers that pushed pills in this space and did their part to distort and corrupt the rave scene so when Kenneth went back for the first time in two years, he saw children who had grown up too fast trying desperately to recapture their youth and he finally understood the falsity he had veiled his eyes with just so he could belong and be accepted.

10.

2009-10-20T19:55:00.000-07:00

"Hey dude," Kenneth said, snapping his fingers in front of George's face. "Still with us?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm just really stoned," George replied still daydreaming.

"Where were you just now George? Thinking about being at a rave? The way you're dressed tonight, looks like you'd fit right in?" Melanie joked sarcastically laughing at George's bright orange pants and pastel green baby tee shirt.

"Oh, nails girlfriend, I know you didn't just dis on the threads," George snapped putting a hand on his hip and throwing his head back with attitude. " Don't be hating just because I'm a man that knows how to dress, mmkay. And what about him?" George shifted his weight and turned towards Kenneth. " What snooty comment does little miss-thinks-she's-Joan-Rivers have to say about this stylish man over here? Always wearing the same khaki cargo pants and white t-shirt, look like the brother stepped out of a J Crew catalog, and you know anyone who shops there has taste."

"Hey, hey, hey, have you ever tried cargo pants?" Kenneth asked defensively. "They're hella comfortable and that's why I buy them all the time; ain't got nothing to do with taste, comforts the way to go." That was the standard line Kenneth gave when people commented on his khaki cargo pants and white t-shirt uniform, but in reality Kenneth didn't have a lot of clothes and although he really did find the cargo's comfortable, maybe they were comfortable because they weren't two sizes to small and actually fit.

"Boy, shoot, you might as well roll up in here with sweats if you wanna be comfortable and go for that I-just-got-out-of-bed-and-I'm-way-too-cool-to-look-decent look."

"Now boys, be nice," Melanie interjected reaching up to put her arm around her six foot six friend. "George you know I love you and your adore your style. And yours too Kenneth." Melanie wrapped the other arm around easily around Kenneth, resting her hand on his shoulder.

Kenneth, needing to change the subject offered, "Well, George, if you ever wanna check it out, I know this place called Seventeen's that used to throw a lot of parties. I haven't been there in awhile, but I'm sure it's still bumbin."

Kenneth started going to parties because he loved the music and he needed an outlet to forget about the hardships of his life. There was something about walking into a dark, smoky room with loud music that struck a chord in Kenneth down to the depths of his soul. He felt the bass reverberating throughout his entire body to the point where the beat consumed him and he was finally able to let go and when he did something so liberating happened to Kenneth that he was hooked. He let the music in and started moving effortlessly, the mixing of beats and rhythms made his feet criss and then cross and then pop, faster and faster and faster until he was moving with the crowd to form one liquid motion. Hebobbed his head down and bounced his head up towards the ceiling and he felt a connection that he had only dreamed of so he kept going back for more. But soon, the scene changed and the Kenneth changed with it because the music wasn't enough anymore, it became about those little pills, it was unreal, the thrills they yield, until they kill a million brain cells.

09.

2009-10-19T19:42:00.000-07:00

George Christian was the restless type, it was in his blood; his mother was the same way. After five years of being a mother, she got bored and left George in the care of his grandmother while she went on a vacation; just to relax and take a break. Twelve years later, his mother was still on vacation. Now at the age of 17, George's only reminder of his mother comes in the form of a card on his birthday and Christmas. George never knew his father, but figured that his father got restless with his mother and went on a vacation to relax and never came back. George tried to ignore the subtle cruelty his grandmother displaced towards him because she was bitter and resentful at having to raise another child; but he couldn't. George tried to love himself, accept himself, and acknowledge who he was; but he never felt love or acceptance from anyone in his life, so how could he be expected to do that for himself?

It wasn't just that, physically there was a lot of George to love. He ad a hard time looking at himself in a mirror, his height literally surpassed the rectangular glass that hung in his room. With so much of himself, his presence announced himself before he would even walk into a room. He hated that the steady, heavy, thumps of his feet approaching was often mistaken for the the low rumbling of a bus coming miles away, or so he was told by his classmates. Later George would carry his six foot six inch frame with a pride so forceful he would initially come across as intimidating until he got closer and his kind eyes smiled at you in a way that only someone who always stuck out like a sore thumb and came to turns with himself could. But as a teenager, George still felt awkward and clumsy as he positioned himself in two door sports cars and said he was comfortable when he really wished he was behind the wheel of his Ford SUV. Yet for all of his qualms about his height and his built, he convoluted the mix by discovering his true self in a gay chat room at the age of 14 under the guise of the screen name, Dark Chocolate. At first he thought a gay chat room was funny because here was a place where he could laugh at other people for being different, but when SexyRexy started chatting with him and probing him with questions, George took a real hard look at himself and wondered if it wasn't his size that made people look twice at him, but something that George had yet to notice.

He took the plunge figuring he had nothing to lose, but what he didn't know was the curiosity that he finally indulged was his last link to his youthful innocence that was lost when after two months of chatting, he met SexyRexy in the back corner of a deserted parking lot where Dark Chocolate last his virginity in the bed of a beat up Ford pick up truck that George felt immediately comfortable in.

From that moment on, George embraced his sexual, but he also abused it and used it to define himself. He made gay being a fashion statement, a personality trait, a way of thinking, an excuse for being sexually promiscuous, a scapegoat for having unsafe group sex. George embraced being gay and basked in all his homosexual glory, he wanted to shout it from the roof tops, "I'm Black and I'm Proud. I'm Gay and I'm Proud." But it never crossed George's mind to stop being gay and just be George.

08.

2009-10-18T20:17:00.000-07:00

Later that night the red Jetta pulled into an abandoned parking lot and when the doors opened, Kenneth, Melanie and George emerged followed by a thick cloud of smoke; and the doors closed the sound of upbeat electronic rhythms mixed with a deep bass that vibrated through the open windows from Melanie's newly installed car speakers.

"Awww, yeah, this music's dope," George said as he bobbed his head and started moving effortlessly.

"Yeeeah, George," Melanie applauded his amazing dancing abilities.

"This beat is so awesome. Ken what group is this?" George asked while pausing from his grove to light a cigarette.

"It's a mix I grabbed from the internet. It's an hour long live set from this one DJ, John Digweed who spins at a lot of parties in the UK," Kenneth said.

"Very cool," George said while popping his arms and shoulders to the music. "You know I've always wanted to go to a rave after seeing the bloodbath in Blade, you guys ever see it?"

"Ewwww, was that where everyone was dancing and blood was shooting out from the ceiling?" Melanie asked. "All that blood was disgusting."

"Ah, kiddo, you know that was all fake," Kenneth said putting his arm around Melanie reassuringly. Then to George, "It was that song that got to you, huh?"

"Yes! You know exactly what I'm talking about; the bass is throbbing through everyone and when the blood shoots down, they all dance as if they're praising the pure rapture of the music," George said in a trance like state.

"Whoa, dude, you sure you've never partied before," Kenneth asked.

"What like gone to a rave or rolled?"

"Well both, the way you talk about it," Kenneth said as he leaned towards George, "it seems like you know; like you know what you're talking about, as if you've been on that level before."

"Neither, but it sounds like a scene I'd totally be into, all those candy kids dressed in bright colors and crazy costumes, dancing all night long," George trailed off.

Kenneth nodded in agreement and turned to look at George seeing through him in a way that showed Kenneth that this was exactly the type of person that would be perfect for the scene. Sure George loved to dance and party, but more than that, he was lost, restless soul that needed a reason to keep going. Kenneth was about to give George that reason and offer him a place to call home.

07.

2009-10-16T12:21:00.000-07:00

Kenneth walked up his driveway smiling to himself as he thought about Melanie's enthusiasm of seeing her entire family. Melanie always talked very highly of her family, with such respect and trust; love. It was in such a way that Kenneth appreciated and so naturally assumed was something he desired for himself, yet there was something innate in Kenneth that unconsciously rejected the open arms of a loving family, perhaps it was because he didn't understand want it meant to be a family and only had a vague sense of unconditional love and support because although it seemed that these emotions should be automatic, when Kenneth unlocked his front door the reality that he stepped into was one he fully understood: his family, his house, his life didn't resemble Melanie's because Kenneth didn't belong in the suburbs; he was meant for the streets.

He quickly made his way through the living room that didn't have the warmth of a space you could relax and gather in, rather had the feeling of a storage room for random furniture and unwanted boxes. Although Kenneth's stepfather bought this house for his new wife over a year ago, anyone who stepped foot in the door would think they just moved in. The only part of the house that was unpacked and set up was their own bedroom. Kenneth often wondered what his mother's room looked like; he was strictly forbidden to enter her room, not that he really cared to go in there, but even if he did, he couldn't because at the request of his stepfather, the master bedroom was to be locked at all times. Kenneth sometimes believed that his mother's room wasn't locked because his stepfather had a lot of valuables and expensive electronics, because of course Kenneth could be trusted, it simply was locked because their room looked like the rest of the house: a bunch of unopened boxes, because they didn't want Kenneth to to see their room yet because they didn't have time to set it up, because she was never home.

Kenneth's mother now had a new career as a secretary at his stepfather's law firm and they worked a lot of late nights, maybe finishing up a case? If that wasn't it, maybe they were drinking tea on the green of some country club or going out to fancy dinner, or so Kenneth thought. He actually had no idea what kept his mother out so late, but now at the age of 17, he knew better than to wait up for her. The only difference Kenneth could see from living in the suburbs versus the housing projects, was the home he always knew to be a dilapidated apartment was now an extravagant mansion that he still couldn't feel comfortable in. Only the outer appearance of his residence had change, but inside everything was the same: Kenneth was alone.

06.

2009-10-06T19:28:00.000-07:00

"It's so nice to finally be able to sit down, Kenneth sighed while sinking into the plush seat of Melanie's car.

"You know what's even better," Melanie asked as she climbed into the drivers seat, "being done with work and having the next three days off!"

"What?! How did you swing that kiddo," Kenneth asked, "it's almost unheard of to get that many days off in a row." Kenneth's voice ached with a misplaced longing for whatever plans Melanie had, not so much because he didn't want to to work, on the contrary, he needed all the extra hours he could get, rather, he pined for any example that showed him life could be more than the bleak and dismal horizon he looked out onto every day and Melanie was the one person who showered rays of sunshine down on him.

"Well, in case you didn't know, I'm only like the best CEC employee ever," Melanie laughed while lightly tapping her steering wheel. "Seriously, though, my grandparents are flying in tomorrow morning so I requested time off while they're here."

"Ah, right, family time," Kenneth said in a slightly mocking tone that just barely hid his bitterness. Although he always joked about Melanie still having to be home for dinner at the age of 17, he secretly envied Melanie for having a family to go home to, and then as if to add insult to his already wounded heart, she had to add grandparents to the mix, a relation that Kenneth never knew.

"You know it, gots to have that family time; speaking of, I'm having an early dinner tonight with the fam, so I'm gonna have to just drop you off today, Melanie said.

"Oh Mel," Kenneth exclaimed holding his hand against his heart. "How can you do this to me? You're actually going to make me go home when evil stepfather may be lurking around? Melanie, I thought we were friends, but alas, you are showing me your true colors." Kenneth hemmed and hawed as he pleaded with his friend who gave him a knowing smile.

"Ken! Don't make me feel bad! You know I love you, it's just that my older brother Charlie came back home last night, so we're all going out to dinner. Besides, it'll only be for a couple of hours...you should call George, he's always down to hang and then when I'm done I'll meet up with you guys."

"So, now that your real brother is back, I'm not going to be your 'big bro' anymore?" Kenneth asked giving Melanie a pathetic look.

"Well as long as you still call me kiddo, you'll always be my big bro, you know that," Melanie answered reassuring that their affectionate nicknames were still solid.

"That's nice to hear, you're the closet thing to a family I got," Kenneth said as Melanie pulled up in front of his house. "Well thanks for the ride kiddo."

"Anytime, big bro."

05.

2009-10-05T18:33:00.000-07:00

Kenneth waved back towards George before continuing on his way to the front door of Chuck E cheese, he couldn't help but replay Melanie's rant about parents in his head. He tried to remember if there ever was a time when he was seven and his mother tucked him into bed, but the longer he reached into the crevasses of his mind, he murkier his memories became and made him want to crawl into a corner and hide because all he could see was himself, all alone, wandering the streets well past 11 PM with the other kids from his housing project whose parents were working the graveyard shift or more often than not, simply didn't care. Kenneth wondered where his mother was at night, especially when he woke up in the morning after sleeping on the couch waiting for her to come home, only to find that she still wasn't there. It wasn't until later that Kenneth learned his mother was actually spending most of her nights with a man that would soon become his step-dad; some rich, obnoxious lawyer that would scream to late night viewers that if you were driving without insurance and caused an accident which you subsequently got injured in then he was the one you should call, he was the man that could get you off. His arrogance and smooth talk promised Kenneth's mother, his special "waitress" at the strip club he most frequented that he would rescue her from a degrading life where you sell a cheap image to a life where you could buy the most expensive image you want. It was a true Cinderella fairy tale for an 18 year old girl who fell in love too fast, got married even faster, and was divorced by the time she was 20. Somewhere in those tow years Kenneth was conceived, but became a constant reminder to his mother that love can sometimes turn into extreme hate.

04.

2009-10-03T11:12:00.000-07:00

In the Chuck E Cheese parking lot, other employee cars were already scattered about as Melanie maneuvered into a space. The conversation in the red Jetta turned from carefree chitchat to complaints about work.

"Man," Kenneth lamented, while getting out of the car, "these closing, opening shifts suck ass."

"Tell me about it, I'm starting to feel like this is my second home, " Melanie joined in as she protected her Jetta with the press of a button; tow honks and a flash of red light confirmed that her car was safe. "I should just start camping out here."

"Ha! Why not?! This place has everything we need; food, bathroom, an endless supply of fountain drinks and best of all, the comfy ball crawl we can sleep in," Kennethjoked while pulling out another cigarette.

"Well, if you comfy you mean I'll end up waking up with a stiff neck because I'll have plastic balls as my mattress, then sure why not. Hey mind if i bum one?" Melanie asked.

"Sure kiddo," Kenneth replied, extending his pack towards Melanie while giving her a knowing look. He noticed Melanie was bumming more and more cigarettes from him lately and while feeling hypocritical, he silently objected to the habit that Melanie was picking up from him. "This summer rush is crazy' I never new that kids could be so out of control."

"It's more like the parents that are out of control," Melanie retorted between drags, "I mean what normal parent would let their seven year old child stay out until we close at 11pm, and then keep them here for another half an hour because they can't make up their minds about what toy they want? It's absurd if you ask me."

"Yeah, uh-huh," Kenneth responded while looking down as he dragged his feet on the gravel. "Well at least their parents are with them that late at night." He heard Melanie say something, but he wasn't listening anymore, his mind was occupied with the lyrical rhythm that calmed the bubbles that were on the verge of boiling over.

and I am going home...

...to where? The land of the lost souls
Feeling the loneliness that really only exists in abandoned foster homes
How many images of missing kids can be fit onto a milk carton?
Framed, they're starting to look the same
Starting to say his name, and claim privileges
As if they found HIM!
The strangest little kids surrounding the circle of false friendship
Rings of fire are connected at the elbow
Cause they're tired, moms unexpectedly let go

"...once in awhile, on special occasions I could stay up past my bedtime, but that was only until 10," Melanie continued. "Hey Ken, you there?" Melanie waved her hands in front of Kenneth's face.

"Oh, hey, I'm here," Kenneth answered unconvincingly, then paused before cocking his head and turning on his heels, "Hey kiddo, you hear that singing?" Although Kenneth was purposely changing the subject, he was curious to know if Melanie heard the throaty rendition of what sounded like a 70's disco song.

Melanie paused to listen, "Actually, now that you mention it, I do." They scanned the somewhat deserted parking lot until their eyes spied their coworker George marching to the beat that blared into his ears from huge head phones, singing and smiling.

03.

2009-10-02T17:41:00.002-07:00

As Kenneth eased himself into Melanie's car, he had to carefully position his gray scuffed shoes, that were supposed to polished white everyday, to avoid stepping on the random assortment of tubes and compacts, brushes and hair gels, granola bars and empty water bottles that littered Melanie's car; not to mention a lone left shoe.

"Sorry about the mess Ken, but you should know me by now."

Kenneth nodded, remembering when he first met Melanie he was overwhelmed at the sheer amount of stuff in her car. Melanie had everything from clothes to shoes to belts to the perfect bag to compliment the outfit that was circled in red in the Cosmopolitan that Kenneth mistakenly grabbed while trying to find his seat belt. Kenneth secretly thought to himself that living in Melanie's care would be more luxurious then his own sparsely furnished bedroom.

"Yeah, yeah, kiddo, I'm used to it, but one question - why the one left shoe?" Kenneth asked, "Where's the right?"

"I wear the right side only when I drive," Melanie said accelerating the car to third gear with one swift move of her arm. "I can feel thee clutch better without like three inches of shoe between my foot and the pedal. I always wanted a standard car and i begged my parents to get me one, but they thought I wouldn't be able to drive it, ha!" Then as if to prove her point, she popped the stick into fourth gear.

"Did you feel that transition? Betcha didn't," Melanie said beaming with pride at her driving abilities. The Jetta sailed pat the seemingly endless rows of trees that were interrupted once in awhile to remind drivers that the speed limit was 25 mph. Kenneth noticed that Melanie's digital speedometer read 47, sometimes 48, 49. He chucked under his breath at the irony of the situation: a car in the suburbs blatantly exceeding the speed limit and not a cop in sight. Figures, Kenneth thought to himself. Cops never patrol "Plesantville" it's already safe, protected from the crime and violence, drugs and addicts, runaways and throwaways secured with a wrought iron fence. And if that wasn't enough, Bob, the friendly security guard monitored the gate, waving the familiar cars in and hassling those who didn't belong. Little did Bob know, as he smiled a good morning while opening the barrier for the red Jetta, he was releasing Melanie into the unknowns of the outside world and returning Kenneth back where he belonged.

02.

2009-09-29T20:14:00.000-07:00

Once outside, Kenneth dug into his pockets and pulled out a pack of Marlboro's and ignited a fire to extinguish his addiction. Kenneth pressed his lips into the butt of the cigarette and sucked hard as if it was his last breath and when he exhaled, he blew the smoke in the shape of O's. He hung his head and dragged his feet as he walked down the driveway and slowly he started nodding his head and then his lips started moving and the song that came out was the song that Kenneth always had playing in his head slowly creeping in with a beat that became his metronome, keeping time, keeping him in line, keeping him on the edge of madness when he couldn't get the words out of his head but keeping him grounded when he knew that he was still alive.

It's time to rethink every fact that is imaginable
Survival instinct dwells in a past that is inhabitable
I happen to pull fast ones over the slow parole board
Who likes to speak to de-fanged wolves who cry sheep
Time seeps into our skin, age indicates how long we've been lost in space
I keep putting expression-less upon my face
An awful waste of human skin who waits for Autumn to begin
My fall from grace, will do me in too late

Sage Francis spoke to Kenneth in this song in a way no one had spoken to him before and so he took those words and held it close reminding himself that he wasn't the only one. Just as Kenneth was about to dig himself into the a hole of self pity, a shiny red Jetta pulled up and stopped right in front of Kenneth. He peered in the dark windows trying to see inside, but only saw an image of himself looking for something that he couldn't see. Then slowly, Kenneth's reflection disappears and the driver rolled down the window.

"Hey stranger, going somewhere this early in the morning?" said the voice of an eager and attractive girl whose perky smile was a vain attempt to hide the exhaustion in her eyes. "Need a lift?"

"I was planning on catching the bus...but if you're offering, I'd be a fool not to," Kenneth courteously replied.

"I don't know where you're heading, but I'm not my way to this place called Chuck E. Cheese, heard of it? You know it's that place where kids get all hyper off soda and greasy pizza and go crazy playing ski ball just so they can get a plastic, cheaply made-in-Taiwan key chain of their favorite mouse Chucky that they'll cherish forever and ever as a constant reminder of their fun filled family day," the girl said in a super high, overly enthusiastic voice drooling with sarcasm. Her sun streaked ponytail swayed back and forth as she finished her slightly maniac monologue with a big forced smile and a thumbs up.

"Work getting to you Mel? Kenneth asked laughing at his coworker and friend's exaggerate yet true description of their summer job.

01.

2009-09-29T19:17:00.000-07:00

For those of you who have followed Manhattan Lovers, I thank you and implore your patience as I take a break to share a story that will appear in a series of posts that I wrote while in college about people I experienced some amazing times with. I feel that now is an appropriate time to share this story in memory of a friend who recently passed. With this story I honor him and the life I was fortunate to share with him and the life that unfortunately he was unable to continue. My heart goes out to him.

* * * * * *

Kenneth's hand fumbled in the darkness and met cold textured drywall until his fingers grasped a small plastic switch and with a flick of his wrist, he was forced to adjust his eyes to the light. In his refection, Kenneth confronted a tired, run down version of himself staring blankly in the mirror. It was just past six in the morning and Kenneth was getting ready to go back to the job he got off from less than seven hours ago. Upon completing his morning routine, Kenneth inspected his smoothly shaved skin to make sure he didn't miss a spot; he checked the other side admiring his work, considering that he hadn't shaved his armpits in awhile, he did a pretty good job. He put both arms down and rubbed his silky hairless armpits together sending a shutter down his body that made it's final stop in the crotch of his pants. A smug look passed over Kenneth's face at this unexpected morning stimulation. Maybe I should shave more often. Kenneth slipped on his red polyester shirt and straightened his navy blue and yellow checkered collar. Kenneth pushed his wire rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose, looked at himself one last time in the mirror and with the flick of a switch, he made his way down the hallway, pass the closed door of his parent's room and on his way to work.

18. Living The Dream.

2009-09-25T16:27:00.001-07:00

The day Charles Marshall found out Linda Baker was pregnant would be one of the happiest and saddest in his life although he would not immediately notice it because he welcomed the day like any other day: to the pitter patter of paws marching on his bed in attempt to awake him from his slumber. Charles rose to reward Sparrow with breakfast for being the perfect alarm clock, not too obnoxious, but always consistent then begrudgingly began to get ready. He pulled out a razor and inspected his skin, aside from a little stubble around the edges, he looked pretty clean, but decided that a closer shave couldn't hurt. When Charles finished his morning routine, he ascended the stairs from the basement and entered his mother's kitchen. Upon seeing her hard at work at the stove, he came up behind her, gently squeezed her shoulders and gave her a kiss on the cheek. They did the same song and dance they always did as Charles offered to take over cooking while his mother insisted that he relax, Charles telling her he just woke up and her telling him that he needs some coffee first, not wanting her bacon to get burnt on account of him being too tired. Ultimately, they both knew that she would always make the breakfast, but she liked that he offered to help.

After doing his chores around the house, Charles went for a 7 mile run before getting ready to go to the pizzeria. He knew his 5 hour shift would fly by because all he would think about was being with Linda after work. But to his surprise, when he got to the restaurant there was a note taped to his locker summoning him to see the boss. Charles the eternal optimist walked into his boss' office with a smile on his face as a lowly worker and after 20 minutes emerged whistling as the new assistant manager! Charles knew that this was the first step to living the dream. He couldn't wait to tell Linda. Had he known Linda was going to tell him she was pregnant and the child wasn't his, he would have gone home to share the news with his mother so they could savor the moment together. Instead he found himself sitting with his head hanging low listening to the lies from the woman he loved, seeing his future fall apart before it even began.

17. Metallic Money.

2009-09-18T14:49:00.000-07:00

Charles Marshall always had money on his mind; perhaps it started when he went to the US mint on a school field trip and he felt the same wonder and excitement as Charlie touring the chocolate factory and he watched in awe at the intricacies of the minting process. This fascination was further cultivated by his grandfather who had a very special coin collection that he shared with Charles so to this day, he could recall in specific detail the history of every one of those coins.

As Charles got older and realized the value of money, he was determined to make as much of it as he could. His incredible work ethic wasn't taught to him by his parent, but rather it was due to his own desire to earn copious amounts of money. It was because of this that he was steadily employed since the age of 12 when he obtained a paper route, then started his own "landscape" company where he went around the neighborhood soliciting work to trim hedges and mow lawns, and then became the neighborhood dog walker until he was 16 and able to earn a real paycheck as pizza delivery boy. By that time Charles had amassed a small fortune for a teenager in the sum of about $1,000.00, but rather than spend it foolishly on sports magazines or baseball caps or any of the other delights for boys his age, he kept all his bills and coins in a shoe box under his bed knowing that someday this money would come in handy.

Despite his passion for money and obtaining wealth, Charles was a simple man who wanted nothing more in life than to have a loving wife and a healthy family whom he would nurture and care for and nothing would make him happier. He had no ambition to go to college after high school and wanted to maintain his constant but menial work, perhaps not as a delivery boy, but something where he could make an honest living and stay close to home. So when Charles started dating Linda Baker at the age of 17 and found himself falling in love with her after she seduced him into bed, he began imagining spending the rest of his life with her.

16. Towards The Light.

2009-09-16T22:06:00.000-07:00

Imagine Trevor's surprise when he found himself standing in the doorway to his apartment wearing nothing but his candy cane boxers screaming Juliana's name as she walked away from him. As the pain in his voice grew with every last call, he knew that she would eventually look back, but Juliana kept on walking focusing less and less on a sound gave her the feeling that someone she once cared for was calling her name, never looking back. The incredible irony of the situation would have been apparent if Trevor knew the history of his mother but this fact was lost due to the orphanage where Trevor grew up being burned to the ground by his own coaxing of an impressionable friend. Although it became more and more clear that Trevor's years of using and manipulating people was finally catching up with him because had this happened to someone else, Trevor would have loved to use these circumstances to his advantage.

As Trevor stood half naked in the hallway watching Juliana leave, he was left with an overwhelming feeling of not sad, but what he could only describe as utter confusion. Trevor always thought that the discovery of the subject of his second book would be the reason why Juliana would leave him and he prepared himself for that yet he never thought he would get so attached to Juliana. The only reason he pursued this relationship was because he saw potential in her as material for his book but nothing more. The fact that Trevor had recently toyed with the idea that Juliana may be "the one" perplexed him to no end.

Trevor's outburst was a momentary lapse in his overall composure and when he realized how his emotions led him to act so foolish, he sheepishly looked up and down the hallway, covered his crotch with his hand even though it was already covered and slunk back into his apartment. As he closed the door, he picked up Marley, his short haired black and white cat and absently stroked him as he sat on the couch to logically reason his next step. But when Trevor was unable to see any acceptable path forward he decided to take a step back and look down the path that got him to this precipice. Upon closer examination of the situation, Trevor was beginning to see a light,albeit a dim light, but it was illuminating a darkness that, unbeknownst to him, was surrounding his very being. As Marley kneaded and clawed on his shoulder losing himself in a temporary euphoria, Trevor focused his eyes on the grooves in the floor board as if trying to see the picture in an autostereogram to search the patterns within the frame to find new life in the image. Trevor focused and unfocused his eyes until he could plainly see that the face that was portrayed in the picture was none other than his father Charles Marshall.

15. Name That Feeling.

2009-09-15T14:07:00.000-07:00

Toby Steward adored Trevor in the unique way that little boys do as they form their first male bound when they discover another person who also thinks it's funny to put lizards in girls' shoes and roll with laughter when they hear shrieks and screams as tiny toes are intertwined with scaly bodies. But more than that, he was attracted to a quality in Trevor that he could not yet pinpoint but he knew that it was something desired. Being around Trevor made Toby feel like he was a part of something bigger than what was going on in the orphanage, being with Trevor meant you were important, admired, and above all else meaningful. Toby would later learn that it was confidence that Trevor displayed so naturally and effortlessly that it attracted people like himself who tended to be timid and modest, alone and looking for someone to hold onto to; something to belong to. And as it was, the orphanage was filled boys like Toby and they all flocked to Trevor, perhaps because he never outwardly showed his fear and insecurities about being discarded as a child yet he was sympathetic to their darkest pains and could identify the origin of their trepidations. No one would ever know that Trevor harbored the same anguish as everyone else because he knew how to bury his feelings and turn it into the confidence that gained him so many followers.

Why Trevor picked Toby Steward to be his sidekick was not obvious to outsiders, nor was it blatant to Trevor, but he saw something in Toby that he would later see in Jules Mitchell, his best friend in prep school, and Morgan Tam, his roommate in college, and his current girlfriend, Juliana Ernst. Like Toby, Trevor was unable to articulate what he saw his is new pal, but when he was able to easily convince Toby to set fire the dry brush in the school yard just to see how far the fire would spread and then when it ultimately burned down the entire orphanage and Trevor completely washed his hands clean of his involvement, Trevor understood just a little bit more that within Toby lay a weakness that he could manipulate for his own advantage. As he got older, Trevor continued to fine tune this ability, so by the time he met Juliana he had expertly cultivated a trait that he used with ease and grace, he did it so well in fact that he convinced even himself that he wasnt' doing anything wrong, although there was always a lingering weight on Trevor's shoulder that he couldn't quite place and although if you if could correctly identity the feeling, he would name it guilt.

14. Picture Perfect.

2009-09-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

Trevor and Juliana walked down the street hand in hand, they had just celebrated their 6 month anniversary by dining at the same establishment, ordering the same entrees, and gorging themselves on the same alcoholic beverage to recreate the night they first met. Of course it was all Juliana's idea, if Trevor had it his way, they would have gone to a slam poetry reading and sit in a dark bar while drinking wine and getting intoxicated from the lyrical rhythm of words. But when Juliana scrunched her nose at the thought of a crowded, smoky hole in the wall with the type of people that intimidated her, Trevor dropped it and conceded to her perfect albeit duplicate evening. Since Juliana overindulged herself with drinks and had to hold onto Trevor's arm as they walked home, he knew it was the perfect time to ask to see her journals.

* * * * * *

When they first met, Juliana fawned over Trevor like she was a star struck groupie hanging out with the band after the show, and while Trevor liked the attention, he did find it rather odd. He often wondered if her enthusiasm was sincere until one night after they finished off their second bottle of wine, Juliana confessed that she was in awe that he was a writer and had always dreamed of becoming one until her creative writing teacher in high school made an example of her poor writing style and weak metaphors that put an end to her ambitions. Trevor listened to her story and saw it as a motivator, had someone made a fool of him like that, he would have taken those words of discouragement and the sneers from his classmates and created something so big and powerful that it would explode onto their psyches so they would never laugh at him again. He would make everyone understand the true power of words and how he could manipulate them and use them to hurt and disgrace others just as he had been shamed standing in front of the his class, redden with embarrassment. Yet as he nodded emphatically while holding her hand as Juliana shared her broken dreams with him, Trevor knew that this was exactly why he stayed with her, because she was so different from him, his exact opposite but in this case opposites didn't just attract, they created a chemically charged reaction that shattered into all the little pieces of what would be his next book.

Since that fateful day in high school, Juliana shelved her desire to write and started recording her thoughts and feelings in a more visual way. She first had the idea one day when she was thumbing through a Seventeen magazine and in between an article for What to Wear Now: 10 Must Have Looks for Fall, where items of clothing and accessories were pieced together and displayed by nonexistent bodies and Confessions of an Online Dater: Real Stories, Real people, Real Love, Juliana saw an ad for a new reality show called A Montage Called Life. The ad was a collage of seven people from vastly different backgrounds crowded around a big question mark that boasted: Where it's ALL Coming Together: Are You IN? Juliana fixated on the ad getting lost in the kaleidoscope pull of the composition and her mind began wandering as she invented stories about who these people were and realized that this was her medium for storytelling and so she made her first montage that day that depicted her raging teenage emotion. She found an anti fur campaign ad that had red paint spilling down a framed picture of animals and asked, "Would you like some blood with your fur?" She just cut out the picture and left the slogan because she didn't care about the message, but she felt compelled by the picture, each animal looked pained but acquiesced to accept their fate, a feeling Juliana felt her entire life but would never be able to express in words and so she continued to create montages of her life for the past 10 years, yet she never shared them with anyone before. As she handed the first book to Trevor, her heart burst with love because not only was she finally sharing a piece of her soul with someone else; she was sharing it with the man she would spend the rest of her life with.

13. Looking In.

2009-09-03T14:34:00.000-07:00

She was the stereotypical image of what American beauty was modeled after, she was tall and thin with just enough muscles in her calves and arms to be considered tone but not bulky, her hair cascaded down her back in light brown waves to frame her oval face and compliment her pale white complexion while accentuating her deep green eyes that sparkled with flecks of gray to give her a haunting yet inviting aurora. Perhaps it was because her womanly curves didn’t sexually stigmatize her until she was just beginning her second decade of life that she didn’t play the field and use her appeal to chase men and delve into her carnal appetite that always tempted and teased the forbidden fantasies that she kept tucked away because she knew it wasn’t proper for a woman in her social position. Or maybe it was because she found the love of her life when she was just 16, that Julie Deacon never knew that men could be the source of utmost please and happiness and also the cause of hopeless despair and overwhelming grief. She believed in true, soul mate love and trusted in the vows that she took when she was 19 that in sickness and health, good times and bad, she and Bill would stay together. So when after 22 years of marriage, Julie Deacon found out she had breast cancer, it never crossed her mind that Bill would leave her. But as it was, she found herself sitting in a cold, sterile hospital room at the end of her first chemo treatment listlessly staring out the window wondering what went wrong. She vaguely noticed her three adult children walk into the room and sit beside her as she continued to process the events that transpired to end the life she built for herself. Julie gave the occasional nod and smile as her children chatted about their kids and jobs and office scandals in every effort to keep their mother’s mind occupied to prevent her from asking them the inevitable question about their father. Julie’s mind often invented reasons why her husband chose that particular moment to leave when he did.

* * * * * *

Elizabeth Marshall's face flushed as she put Tales of the Upper East side: An Inside Look From An Outsider, her son's first best selling book on her end table. She tightened the shawl around her shoulders and stared out the window and watched as heavy drops of rain fell and ricocheted against the leaves of her favorite orchid plant. Elizabeth studied the crystal balls that lingered on the purple and white striped petal of her prize winning Paphiopedilum Fairrieanum before free falling to the ground where it mixed with the earth. It was in this moment that Elizabeth Marshall realized that her body mimicked the storm brewing outside as she her own tears began to fall, slowly at first and then unrestrained and uninhibited as she released the pain of memories she buried long ago about family secret that were never supposed to surface; and the betrayal of the only child she ever had, a son she cared for when no one else would; and the sadness that consumed her tiny frame as she heaved and sobbed searching her mind for reasons why Trevor chose to expose and hurt her in such a public and extravagant way, but above all else she wondered what she ever did to deserve this.

12. Unconditional Love.

2009-09-01T19:28:00.000-07:00

Melanie Wakefield often thought about how she would die. Her visions of death could be trace back to when she was only a child and found bloody pieces of her pet rabbit scattered around her back yard. As she unhinged the gate that led into the yard, she thought someone had sprinkled rose petals on the lawn in some grand romantic gesture that she didn't yet understand but saw on TV. Melanie approached hesitantly because on some baser level she could tell that this was a situation that required utmost caution. She squinted through her thick glasses and brought her face but an inch away from one of the pieces before slowly realizing that the raw, pulpy mass of bone and guts somewhat resembled her rabbit's paw, yet she never quite understood why Bugs, her snow white bunny that was a gift from her grandparents on her 4th birthday had suddenly come apart and turned red. Being the kindhearted, intuitive person that Melanie was, she knew her rabbit was hurt and wanted to help him get better so an hour later, Melanie was covered in the bloody tissue of her dead rabbit as she gathered the body parts and tried to piece her pet back together. When Luna Wakefiled walked out to the disturbing scene she choked on the dread and fear that was slow making it's way up her throat as thoughts filled her head of her sweet little baby girl performing unthinkable, inhumane acts on a poor defenseless animal and let out a scream that pierced the ears of dogs 100 miles away.

The fatal outcome of Bugs was the culmination of the stars lining up at just the right position that set aim to Bugs' cage and released him from his imprisonment so he could enjoy what would be the last moments of his life unfettered and free. As Bugs roamed the grass and nibbled at his freedom, a stray dog scaled the wall that surrounded the Wakefield house to protect them from the evils of the outside world. The possibility of an animal breaching this secure barrier and causing harm to the furry member of the Wakefield family had never crossed their minds, they focused on the human members of their family never considering that an ill done to any member of their family could penetrate the sanity and sanctity of life as they knew it.

Yet Peter and Luna Wakefield would never know that their property had been invaded by a scavenger beast because upon seeing her mother, Melanie started clapping her hands and spraying drops of blood around the already saturated yard and proudly taking credit for the masterpiece she created saying, "look what I did Mommy, look what I did." Whether the miscommunication was due to Luna Wakefield's already shocked and battered state or her inability to ask the right questions for fear of her daughter's answer or denial of the situation and inability to take responsibility, she took her daughter to mean that she tore the precious body of her pet into little pieces. And when her daughter ran to her, arms extended for an embrace on a job well done, Luna Wakefield turned away and never looked back.

As Melanie watched her mother walk away, her prideful shoulders sagged and her winning smile was clouded with confusion as she wondered why her mother didn't praise her for putting Bugs back together. Luna would never look at her daughter the same after that day and as time went on her love for her daughter slowly waned until eventually there was nothing left inside of her. She was completely void of any feelings for her daughter and became consumed with self hated for creating a despicable creature that could destroy life so viciously and careless. It was because of her mother's unexplainable disregard for her that Melanie never understood what unconditional love was and would never feel the bond that a mother has with her child because when Melanie became pregnant and had a son that she named Trevor, she did the only thing she knew to do when things got rough: she gave him away and never looked back.

11. The Dance.

2009-08-28T21:50:00.000-07:00

Linda Baker did as she was told her and put the bug in Charles' head that the child may not be his. She danced around the subject like a ballerina tip toeing when she didn't like being pressed to say yes or no and performing a jete when he asked if there were other men, pirouetting around and around until Charles was so dizzy he conceded when she finally ended her movement with a curtsy because she knew he was eating out of her hand. But 2.5 months later when Linda went into labor Charles Ernst was there coaxing her to breath and push and enduring the broken fingers he was sure he had as Linda squeezed his hand with a new found strength until finally the painful screams that filled the room turned into the cries of a new life calling out, announcing her arrival into the world. Linda's worn, exhausted face turned into joy when she gazed upon her daughter's face, and maybe because he by her side as her emotions reached unexplored territories or maybe because there was really something there, but she saw the image of Charles looking back at her. It was in this heighten state of elation that Linda Baker told Charles he could name their daughter. Charles looked alert when she said "their" but let it pass when he looked over at Linda and she continued to stroke the baby's head so gently and so calmly, that in that moment Charles saw the epitome of happiness and love so he tucked her words in the pocket of his soul and secretly knew the baby was his. Thus from a bed of lies and love mixed with deception and passion, Juliana Ernst came into this world.

10. Protection.

2009-08-27T15:14:00.000-07:00

Juliana unconsciously turned on her autopilot very early in life perhaps as a defense mechanism to adapt to the monumental changes that were happening in her life, when at the age of 2, her single mother, Linda Baker, met a man and fell in love. Juliana had a vague sense that life as she knew it would be vastly altered from that point on. In the minuscule awareness of her developing brain, Juliana put up walls and bars and every kind of barrier that she could not yet name to protect herself from the upcoming blow that would inevitably fall on her.

* * * * * *

Linda Baker found herself touching her belly more often these days, hoping to feel some movement. It was her second trimester and she was very anxious to connect with the life growing inside of her. As she turned the spare bedroom in her mother's house into a nursery, bordering the walls with smiling yellow suns, she thought about her mother being so accepting and accommodating when she told her about the child.

* * * * * *

"I'm going to have it." Linda stood facing out the window and only slightly turned her head when she spoke so her mother could see her profile.

"Is it Charles'?"

"I don't - I mean, of course"

"Linda Baker, do you really think you can live under my roof without me knowing about the slew of men you drag in here?!" Marlene Baker lit a cigarette before continuing, "If Charles weren't so madly in love with you, you would see though your deception and wouldn't hang around you like wounded dog grateful for whatever scraps you throw at him."

"Mom, please -"

"But you're too good for him anyway Linda. He's a pizza boy for God sakes, with no prospects, no goals and no future with you."

"Mom! Can you put that out?! Jeez, I'm pregnant!"

Marlene took a long drag before snuffing out her cigarette. "Are you still seeing this Charles?"

"Not really. I kind of broke it off, but this was before I found out."

"Well let me give you some advice Linda and you'd be a fool no to take it. Whatever you do, don't tell Charles it's his, the last thing I need is for my daughter to get stuck with some loser who's going to sell pizza for the rest of his life. How will he support you? Where will you live?" Marlene choked on her words and tried to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat, but was unable to stop the tears from streaming down her face.

"Oh Linda, I wish you were smarter about this. You're only 18, you won't be able to do anything with your life now." Marlene walked up behind her daughter and gazed out the window, stroking Linda's hair. More than anything, Marlene didn't want Linda to have the same life as she did, but history has an eerie way of repeating itself and there she was lamenting and comforting her daughter, just as her mother did 18 years ago.

Marlene kissed her daughter's head and squeezed her tight. "We'll make this work baby. Mama's here for you."

And with those words, Linda knew her mother was just doing what she always did: protecting her at all cost.

09. Stroke of Genius.

2009-08-25T19:56:00.000-07:00

In the pale glow of a flickering light bulb, Trevor's hand cramped as he worked his instrument with a masturbatory zeal, culminating in a release as his creative juices spilled onto the page. Trevor dropped his pen just as the barely legible ink dried and he shook his hand out and massaged his knuckles. Trevor often experienced bouts of inspiration that he could only express by putting pen to paper; in a way he felt this was a more authentic way to write rather than typing on his laptop, everything from the misspelled words to the X's and scratches and arrows pointing to the margins that were choked with words oozed with the passion and intensity Trevor was feeling in the moment. It was in this raw medium where Trevor's genius truly festered and bred and grew into something magical.

After dating Juliana for two weeks, she let her guard down and shared more and more of herself with Trevor. Although Trevor's initial judgment of Juliana was a little off, he was still dizzy with the material she was giving him. With each night, their pillow talk revealed deeper crevasses of Juliana's soul; and it couldn't have happened at a better time, just when Trevor hit a dry spell, Juliana was the Muse that sparked his fire that was dormant for far too long.

Trevor reread his work and let his lips slowly curl up and his eyes narrow as he looked up and saw his reflection in the window with a backdrop of lights from the city. He let the sneer completely encompass his face as Juliana's body appeared in the reflection and grew bigger as she approached him until she blended into the foreground. Knowing he would meet his deadline, Trevor casually closed his journal just as Juliana draped her arms around his shoulders and kissed his neck. Trevor pressed her hands into his chest and let himself be consumed by his lust and his craving to finish the story.

08. Stop and Look.

2009-08-24T16:39:00.000-07:00

Now in her late twenties, Juliana knew that the crossroads she encountered when she graduated from high school wasn't unique to her, but a rite of passage everyone goes though as they test the waters on their own for the first time. She was finally able to remove the water wings circling her arms that kept her afloat in the past and she no longer heard the warning from the shore that the current was too strong or the water was too cold; she was going in on her own terms and she was not about to tentatively dip one toe in, no Juliana was going to jump in head first. At the age of 17, Juliana Ernst felt her self coming into being and regarded this experience as a privilege that was bestowed only upon a few and she felt lucky embracing such an honor knowing that she would exploit this time to it's fullest.

As Juliana got older, she liked to boast about the experimental time in her life, right before college, when she kissed girls and smoked joints and went to all night dance parties where she met strangers that she immediately felt close to. Juliana was able to shed her suburban shield and allowed herself to be carefree and open for the first and only time in her life; later when she picked herself from the momentary slip off the well worn path, her shield went right back up and she would continue to hold it there for the rest of her life never wanting to deviate from what was expected of her. Juliana would also later learn that her transgressions were a little more extreme then most people and she clung to this one reckless period in her life and retold stories about it a lot longer then she should have until one day when she was 32 and she still talked about that one time when she was at a rave that she realized she couldn't use her teen years as a badge anymore. Yet, Juliana held on to it because she had a vague sense that it was important, what she didn't recognize was it was the one time she forged her own path, however off beat it may have been. Perhaps with time, Juliana could have corrected it, but she would never find that out because before she knew it some outside force reached down, picked her up, and put her back where she was supposed to be.

Juliana confided in Trevor that she thought she was doing what every one did, that she was tired of being labeled as good, that she wanted to prove to everyone in her high school that she didn't fit into the straight A, student government, band geek mold that everyone assumed she belonged. Juliana saw her senior year as the time to break away, the time to start displaying some deviant behavior so people would start talking. She hung around the locker room when the football team finished practice and made sure everyone could see her kiss one of the players; because jock and nerd worlds never collide. She rolled down her window as she drove out of the parking lot and casually hung her hand out the window, her fingers embracing a circular blend of tobacco and addiction. She left campus during lunch and came back for the last period of the day with a different outfit so people would ask why she changed. But that wasn't enough for Juliana, because once she knew people were talking she wanted to fan the flame even more so she started taking more risks with herself and never said no to anything, yet as she continued down the black abyss, Juliana forget that she was trying to prove something to everyone because graduation day came and went and the only thing she was trying to do now was keep up with all the people around her so she would fit in as they put things up their noses, in their veins, and through their lungs. Juliana never once stopped to look at where she was until it was too late.

07. City Self.

2009-08-19T22:38:00.000-07:00

Juliana Ernst dreamed of city life for as long as she could remember but her idealistic fantasies were always grounded by the idiosyncrasies of suburban life; a force akin to gravity, so powerful and so predictable that it always brought her back to the place where lush trees lined every street and houses looked more and more identical, and men in matching jumpsuits raked leaves, picked up garbage, and polished the entrance sign welcoming you to upper middle class life. Yet for as long as Juliana could remember the dream of life in the city was always just a vague notion, merely what was expected of her; to move on to bigger and better things before inevitably ending up right where she stared, but this time on the other side of the coin as the mother, the nurturer, the planter of the Dream that was packaged and sold on the corner of any town in every city all across the great money capital of the world.

Juliana walked along the path set out for her by society of which her parents were a product so they expounded the same values that she saw all around her. She did the minimum to fit the mold never questioning what she did or why she wanted the things she did, so when she failed twice at moving to New York City it was probably because she just didn't want it that much even though she was raised to believe that that was the goal, the ultimate mark of success. Juliana would never know this because when she finally made it, she believed it was her own doing and not because she had a man in her life, which was another myth that she was taught to believe.

Juliana lived this life as best as she knew how but was merely the product of her generation where the media, models, and magazines tell young women what to wear and what not to wear, when you're ready to have sex and when you should wait because he's not "the one," who to be attracted to and how to shed those unattractive pounds. They told her what to be and who to be, but did they ever tell her to just be herself - whomever that may be. Did they ever tell her that outward appearances don't last forever, that beauty and perfection isn't everything? Did they ever tell her that all the makeup, and hair products, and fancy clothes were just layers upon layers that covered up the self? But they never asked Juliana if she would know her real self when she saw it?

06. The Sound of Pain.

2009-08-18T19:49:00.000-07:00

Disturbed, troubled, afraid, alone, no matter how you put it, Trevor was in need. His first memory was of waking up in a cold damp bed to the sounds of children screaming in pain as if their limbs were being yanked from their little bodies, or so Trevor imagined he would cry if such unthinkable acts were performed on him. Fear crept over Trevor and he pulled it tight under his chin and found solace in the embrace of the only emotion he knew. As he lay in his bed and the wetness of his sheets soaked through his pj's, he timidly looked around for the origin of the pain and horrid cries anticipating whatever monster out there that would inevitably come for him. Yet as his eyes looked left and reached their farthest corner he was shocked to see his reflection staring straight back at him. The refection he saw was equally surprised and mimicked Trevor's movements of immediately jerking their eyes back towards the ceiling. When Trevor finally got the courage to look again he saw that his reflection was staring back wide eyed at him. It was only then that he realized that what he thought was a mirror image of himself was actually another boy lying in a bed no more than 12 inches away. He turn to his right and saw a body covered in a heap of blankets rhythmically moving up and down. Trevor's heart still pumped fear through his veins, but his curiosity gnawed at him so profoundly, he had to know; he propped himself on his elbows and saw rows and row of identical beds filled with bodies as far as the eye could see. A new emotion of utter despair and sorrow so powerful, so raw, and so consuming coursed through Trevor in that moment and made him feel physically ill. Then he understood the pain in the cries that interrupted the dark, cold night as scared children were haunted in their sleep of being abandoned by their parent. Trevor swore then and there that he would push this ordeal out of his mind forever. Only later when Trevor was a successful author, and he saw his work being printed and bound and put into stacks, the sheer quantity and uniformity of the rows of rectangular books as far as the eye could see overwhelmed him and Trevor had a flashback of the first night he spent in the orphanage.

05. A Dark Past.

2009-08-17T19:46:00.001-07:00

Trevor Marshall didn't always know upper East side Manhattan life, but he always knew city life. He was one of those people that had the stench of alley ways, the buzzing of 24 hour fluorescent lights, and the continuous movement of a city that never sleeps flowing through his veins. His family went way back and had their roots planted during a time when street cars ruled the roads and a beer was a nickel; or so he liked to think. As a child Trevor liked to imagine he had an intricate family legacy full of important men and noble women whose accomplishments were known world wide and maybe even some old money as the cherry to the sweet life that he only heard about in movies, but like most orphan dreams, his got blurrier as he got older and he realized he was meant to just get lost in the shuffle.

It's not to say that he didn't try, but Trevor's aim always kissed the rim of the basket and performed a toilet bowl trick of pretending to sink before regurgitating itself from the net. And so he bounced along hoping that the next person to catch the rebound would be someone he could really score with. But Trevor could only shoot and miss so many times before he gave up and opted for life on the sidelines where he remained until Mr. Marshall and his family with all their wealth and status and chest of hidden gems sired him with a sir name he could call his own. The Marshall family swooped in at just the right time as Trevor had turned towards the creatures of darkness. He roamed the streets evading the world with a hood masking his face and putting up defenses even when no threat appeared. It was in this world that Trevor built his reputation among the street rats that ruled the city when the white collars retired to tuck their children in at night while filling their heads with sweet thoughts and dreams of a world of love and peace and happiness when on the streets below the rancid, despicable breath of the city bellowed and belched itself into the atmosphere clouding the peoples minds with thoughts of horror and savagery that Trevor knew as home. He crouched in dark corners and hid in shadows and began filling journals with the decrepit decay of life as he knew it. Trevor's prose and metaphors highlighted his pain and suffering but also had an underlying theme of hope or so he was told by his English teacher at his fancy new prep school after she bounced back and forth from writing him off as a dark problematic child or declaring him an articulate genius. On his progress reports she described him as 'a promising writer although topics are often troubling.' Trevor who had an unconscious sixth sense to constantly adapt his ways to please others saw right through her comment and began producing subjects about meeting girls or making the team to show he was a normal teen feeling the angst that everyone goes through when at the age of 16 and he portrayed it in the style and artistic manner that he was known for with his pen so his teacher never doubted him again. Although if she had she would have seen that Trevor was a very disturbed child.

04. Try and Try Again.

2009-08-04T20:08:00.000-07:00

Third times a charm; that's what people told Juliana at her going away party. She smiled and thanked friends and coworkers as they wished her well in the Big Apple, but she knew it wasn't sincere. After all this wasn't the first time Juliana had this party. Twice before she boasted about how this was her chance to really make it, yet she always came home with a sheepish concession that things just weren't meant to be.

The truth was, being on her own was a lot harder than she excepted. She watched shows like Friends and Sex and the City that made being single in New York City so glamorous and easy, not to mention completely doable on a barista's wages and tips. Juliana was naive enough to believe that these shows portrayed real life and was in for a wake up call when she found herself broke and alone in a 300 square foot studio in a part of town where she was afraid to leave her building even during daylight. But Juliana was determined to try it again and after two failed attempts, she knew how to do it right. This time she had a nice cushion of money saved up and found an affordable, decent sized apartment on the fringes of the good part of the city, and already had one telephone interview with an independent boutique where she could eventually sell some of her own designs.

Juliana's good feeling about moving to New York was looking grim after being in the city for three months when she started noticing the same pattern that resulted in failure on her previous attempts. Her cushion was dwindling fast and living expenses were constantly on her mind when the boutique cut her hours and her designs were still stuck in her daydreams and hadn't' quite made it to the drawing board. Juliana wanted to prove everyone wrong, but she secretly knew it was only be a matter of time before she was buying yet another train ticket back home. She desperately wanted something to happen, but she was stuck in the rut of her daily routine to do anything to make a change. And then she met Trevor; meeting him was like a dream come true and slowly, the pieces of being in a real life in New York was falling into place.

Trevor was all she could think about as she got ready for work, she waltzed around her apartment in a dream like trance picturing his perfect face and piercing blue eyes, then she let her mind wander to his other perfect features and she blushed at the thought of seeing him again. She hoped she didn't come across as desperate by jumping into bed with a man she just met, but she had to admit to herself that part of her really needed to feel the arms of a man holding her and she felt validated as he made love to her. But it was Trevor who suggested they meet again, so Juliana figured it was a good sign.

Juliana was so happy and couldn't wait to get to work to tell Abbi about Trevor. She glanced at herself one last time before leaving the house and nodded to herself with approval but she was so distracted with thoughts of Trevor that she didn't notice one earring was missing.

03. In the Light of Day.

2009-08-02T11:18:00.000-07:00

Trevor lay in bed staring at the ceiling. He turned to look at Juliana, her naked body slowly heaving with every breath. He gently ran his hand through her hair and felt only slightly guilty about sleeping with a women he just met. Trevor had a bad habit of falling for women real hard, real fast and then losing interest just as quickly. He was trying to change his ways but Juliana's passionate kisses and the deep curves of her body made it hard for him to resist. Trevor tried only once to slow things down and suggest he walk her home, but the look on her face told him that she needed this; she longed for a man to touch her and pleasure her in a way that would make her feel beautiful and desired. He didn't know where this would lead, but he went with it and gave her exactly what she needed.

In the light of day, Trevor decided that he would just take things one step at a time, for all he knew Juliana didn't want a relationship and was simply trying to have some baser need fulfilled. Yet something about Juliana still nagged at Trevor and he hoped she would want to see him again. As Trevor jumped in the shower, he tried to figure out what Juliana had that made her so enticing to him. He couldn't figure it out in the coffee shop and even as they shared nachos and sangrias, he was still stumped. Perhaps it was because she was the type of girl that he didn't normally fall for; she seemed very naive about the world and had very superficial interest. He wondered if he met the real Juliana last night or if it was the Juliana that she thought guys liked; he wondered if she even knew who the real Juliana was.

Trevor was lost in thought as he wrapped a towel around his waist and walked out of the shower. He was only slightly caught off guard when he saw Juliana scrambling around for her clothes. He smiled at her awkwardness as she hurried around the living room trying to pull a rug over her head before realizing that he sweater was in the other corner. Trevor could hardly contain his amusement and tried to cover his laugh when Juliana turned towards him.

"Did you find your clothes alright," Trevor asked, with a slight hint of a smirk on his face. Juliana blushed and nodded. "Oh Juli, you don't have to be shy around me. How about some coffee? Skinny Vanilla Latte right?"

Trevor sauntered into the kitchen and was fully aware that his towel was positioned just barely covering his back side and was hoping Juliana could see that.

"Well I don't think I have vanilla, but I could do a Skinny Latte?"

"Oh, sure. That sounds perfect actually," Juliana said.

Trevor brought two cups of coffee to the bistro table where Juliana was sitting that face a floor to ceiling window that looked out onto the city. As they sat sipping their coffee and watching the city stir to life, Trevor asked, 'What are your plans for the today/'

Juliana told him she had to work until close which was 8 PM and then said her evening was open. Trevor knew she wanted to see him again and took the chance to ask if she wanted to have dinner with him, and of course she said yes. As he walked her home, she told him about her coworker, Abbi, whom she was closing with and described 'like Paula from the Real World,' and when Trevor didn't get the reference, she launched into a full recap of MTV's 17th Season of the Real World. Trevor's head was spinning as he tried to keep up with who was who and just why Abbi was like Paula. He was revealed when they got to her door, but when she continued to go on about how Svetlana and Paula were BFF before Janelle caused all the drama, Trevor grabbed her close and kissed her goodbye.

As Trevor was walking home, he finally realized why he found Juliana so interesting and his mind started working in high gear as he saw the beginnings of a story play out. He didn't' want to make too much of it, but he knew he was onto something and Juliana was the key.

02. Taking a Chance.

2009-07-30T13:00:00.000-07:00

Trevor sat in the coffee shop and stared at his laptop; the blank screen daunting as if challenging him to a duel that he was without a doubt losing. Every thought he had was immediately deleted with furious taps on the backspace key and to add to Trevor's frustration, the cursor continued to blink at him calm and steady as ever.

This used to be an environment where he flourished, where thoughts were easy to come by, where he wrote his first best selling novel. Trevor loved the dynamic coffee shop atmosphere where hipsters and businessmen, socialites and average joes, stay at home moms and trying too hard teenagers converged for their daily caffeine fix. He thrived on the interaction of people as social spheres collided and life happened. But now the familiar sounds of coffee grinding, milk steaming, keys tapping, and the occasional street noise that disrupted the latest indie rock song were all blending to create a cacophony that was driving Trevor mad. Even the silence was deafening in the packed coffee shop with no one saying but two words to each other.

He had a contract for his next book with a 500 page draft due in three weeks and he had nothing. He was about to give up for the day when he saw an interesting woman walk in the door. She was the first person to catch his attention in a long time but not because she was particularly attractive in anyway and he couldn't quite figure out what it was about her that piqued his interest. Trevor began to close watch her in the same way he was taught to close read books in his English 101 class by paying attention to the particulars rather than the general. He started with her face, but came up with nothing; it seemed to Trevor that her features were ordinary enough so that she wouldn't stand out in a crowd. He critiqued her outfit and decided that while she was dressed well, it was nothing special compared to all the other fashionists in the city. Then he pondered on her vibe and noticed something familiar: just like the hundreds of women he saw everyday, she held herself with a misplaced confidence, almost as if to tell the world that she was a force to be reckoned with and could be if only she believed that herself. She could be anyone and no one, so why did he notice her?

Trevor continued to watch as she casually twisted her long brownish hair that cascaded down her back almost consuming her tiny frame. She occasionally glanced over her shoulder like she was looking for someone but he doubted she was meeting anyone; she looked like a loner, like someone who was always alone, although not entirely comfortable with it. He imagined her going home every night to an empty apartment with only her cat to talk to for the rest of the evening. She probably ate from the same Chinese take out restaurant, had her routine of nightly shows to watch, and went to bed longing for something to happen with the coming day. Then he realized that the loner he saw in her was a reflection of himself. He was tired of his mundane, day to day life and the pressure to create by a deadline. He longed for something to happen, something to change. Trevor still eyed her as she made her way to the front of the line and ordered. She fidgeted with the zipper on her wallet as she waited for the barista to take her money as if she was in a rush and needed to be somewhere important, but Trevor knew that wasn't true. Yet, when the time came, she seemed nervous and caught off guard as she fumbled with her cash and double and triple counted her bills.

This girl fascinated Trevor and he watched as she asked another patron if a seat was taken, then sat down and opened her pink Juicy Couture messenger bag and pulled out a sleek paper thin Air Macbook. Trevor let out a sigh of relief that she was a Mac girl and gazed at her as she opened her computer and started browsing the Internet. After a couple of minutes, it looked like she found was she was searching for as her eyes darted back and forth across the screen. He hoped he didn't come across as stockerish as he unabashedly stared at her, but when she finally looked up and caught his eye, he smiled at her and he thought he noticed a spark of interest flash across her face. Trevor took that as a good sign and suddenly felt a strong need to talk to her, every day he waited for something to happen and was starting to realize that things wouldn't happen until he made them happen. He summoned all his courage, packed his bag, and walked over to her, asking, "seat taken?"

20sb Blog Swap - Manhattan Lovers

2009-07-28T17:55:00.000-07:00

For the 20sb blog swap, I got partnered with Margarita who is nothing short of amazing over at Ramblings of a Fab Brunette! Her blog details her life, her loves, and a little bit of everything else. She did me the honor of writing a short story to go along with the theme of my blog, and who knows I may continue this story....it's that good. Enjoy, and definitely check her out.

Manhattan Lovers

Juliana lay awake in the dark, on a bed so heavenly, next to a man who she thought must be an angel sent directly to her from heaven, but her thoughts were keeping her awake.

She was in New York again, determined to “make it” – for the third time in her life. Only this time, she had found love. A love that made her believe that she and New York were meant to be after all.

Trevor was a writer who she had met at the Starbucks on the corner, between their two buildings.

He would go there to write, and watch people, and get inspired – inspiration which he was constantly lacking.

Juliana would go there for the free WiFi, since she couldn’t afford it after charging her new MAC Airbook to her sole Visa card. She would go to Starbucks and look at celeb gossip, checking out Gawker and what else there was to do in the seemingly busy city.

This time she had been in Manhattan for no more than two months, working as a shop girl at an independent clothing designer’s boutique. The city seemed to swirl like crazy all around her, but she had yet to be sucked in – instead she watched stolen cable on her 27″ flat screen, set up crazy outfits for work the following day, and went to Starbucks, which was, ironically, consistently packed with people, all who said not more than two words to each other – “Seat taken?” – and even that was sometimes drowned out by the incessant ‘klickey-klack’ of keyboards on laptops.

To be so entirely surrounded and yet feel so disturbingly displaced from it all made Juliana a little angry and a little hopeless.

When she finished reading the latest gossip, checking the latest fashion shows on Style.com, and even reading random blogs from old classmates on Facebook – she would people watch. Juliana often sat there, waiting for life to happen, and then it just did.

She saw Trevor. A dark-haired, blue-eyed man, who kept glimpsing over his laptop to look at her.

At first she was freaked out, imagining a stalker-like scenario, but then he lifted his head, smiling at her, showing off his perfect teeth and chiseled features. After a few minutes of stealing glances, he closed his computer and left when she wasn’t looking.

She considered jumping out of her seat and chasing after him, but didn’t want to appear desperate. A tap on her shoulder brought her back to reality and a ‘Seat taken?’ took her right back up to the heavens.

Trevor bought them another round of coffees – his a Tall Americano, her a Skinny Vanilla Latte – and she suddenly felt alive. She felt a connection with someone other than a computer screen and it was exhilarating.

He was 28, a published author working on his second book, raised in New York – Upper East Side, but needed to a find a more ‘real’ scene, so he moved down to Greenwich Village. He used to play piano, doesn’t watch much TV, and spends his weekends walking in the city, discovering places.

Juliana knew it was love at first sight. And although she didn’t confess her TV-obsessed, non-reading, hermit-like ways to this sexy artist, she did tell him about her job and her two previous apartments in New York. And when she started ranting about something irrelevant, which is what she did when she was nervous, he touched her hand ever so softly and asked if she wanted to go somewhere to eat.

They walked half a block with their cute messenger bags in tow – his a beaten up brown leather, hers was a pink Juicy Couture – and she thought they must have looked like a real couple to the strangers around them.

They arrived at a shabby chic Mexican place that Juliana passed on her way to work. During the day the noticeably peeling paint, mismatched colorful furniture and broken door looked downright gringy and ghetto. But at night, with colorful string lights, candles scattered on all the tables, and the smell of good cooking in the air, the Mexican place looked cute, romantic and cozy.

Sharing nachos, fajitas and a pitcher of sangria, Juliana swore to Trevor that she would read his book, her first in 3 years, and he swore he would start watching MTV – just to stay pop-culturally current, for his “material”.

The drunken sloppy kisses started when the check arrived, her Juicy bag felt so heavy she made him carry both their bags while he groped her walking down the sidewalk to his building. The building was two blocks away from hers, a five story walk-up of which they climbed to the fourth floor.

He fumbled with his keys while she kissed him as passionately as she could. When he finally got his door unlocked they fell into his apartment – dark, and smelling of coffee, Chinese food and vanilla (thanks to Glade Plug-ins found throughout the place she would later discover).

They eventually made it to his bed, which was surprisingly comfortable, with a mountain of pillows and a cozy duvet which landed on the floor. Their lovemaking was passionate, lengthy, and very satisfying. Jiliana hadn’t made love in ages, and this made the wait worthwhile. Trevor was attentive, intuitive, and made her orgasm four times.

They fell asleep all over each other, literally a tangle of limbs, sweaty and exhausted.

When she awoke she felt enlightened. This only happens in the movies, she thought to herself with a smile. Meeting in a coffee shop, a lovers tryst, one that you could only dream about in Paris, a city full of romance, and not in New York, a city full of cynicism, failed idealism, and those drifting, like herself, waiting to be found.

Now awake, she heard the shower running and she was alone in bed. She suddenly felt shy – she was nude, and the large windows all through his apartment let in so much daylight she felt exposed, as if people could be watching from the outside.

She scrambled around his apartment trying to find her clothes, her bra was hanging gleefully off of a lamp in the corner, her pants were found scrunched up on the sofa, and she mistook her sweater for a sweet little area rug by the doorway. When she gathered up her clothes and quickly threw them on, she noticed there was a sudden quiet in the apartment, and she realised that the shower had stopped running.

And then there he was. Trevor was in the doorway, his hair wet, a towel wrapped around his waist and a smirk on his face.

“Did you find your clothes alright?”

Juliana nodded, and noticed a weird feeling creeping up behind her, an uneasy feeling that she attempted to shake off, even just temporarily. Trevor made her coffee, he actually used a coffee grinder and the glossy high-tech machine and made her the best tasting latte she’d ever had. And then she realized what that feeling was.

She suddenly felt like this was all too good to be true. She’d been in New York twice before this, her last sexual encounter was with a busboy at an Italian restaurant in Brooklyn, and she heard so many stories about love in New York – most specifically that it doesn’t exist. In one single night she had fallen for a man so amazing, so romantic, so sexy, but what if it was all fluff? A dream? What if when she goes back to her apartment and her heart gets broken again and she’s left alone, again?

She shrugged away the feeling yet again and put down her latte. Trevor walked her two and a half blocks to her apartment, and she was surprisingly calm. They held hands, he even kissed her before she went up to her place.

She wasn’t sure what this would lead to. She wasn’t sure about Trevor or the future or love. She looked in the mirror with happiness, and walked to work with a kick in her step. All she knew was that she didn’t feel alone anymore. Someone had found her.

And that was the only sure thing that mattered.

Civil War.

2009-07-23T11:24:00.000-07:00

I didn't tell my parents how I felt about it; that I didn't want to have the operation because I wasn't ready to die. I did, however, put on the bravest face I had and told them I would do what was necessary and I understood what it meant not to have the surgery. But perhaps I didn't fully grasp the concept of what was going to happen to me because what I knew about surgery was both my cat and my great-grandmother went under the knife and neither one come back up. I didn't know anyone who made it out alive so it seemed like it was an extremely risky procedure. It made me think about one of the comments my fourth grade teacher wrote on my report card. She said that I 'play well others, has a competitive spirit and is a risk taker and a natural born leader.' At the time, I didn't exactly know what that meant, but it started to look like she was right. Here I was on the front line of a battle to save my life and I was going to fight to the end even if it meant getting slain in the process. It was war and while I was still confused as to whom I was fighting against, I was sure that every war had casualties and people made sacrifices so the greater good would reap the rewards, but it seemed as if the battle was within me and there would no one to benefit from my sacrifice. I'll admit that my metaphor was a little skewed, but I knew I had to take the risk and be the brave solider no matter what the odd were.

Perhaps that was the first role I ever played long before I realized I could take my pretend game out into the real world. Ironically I never wanted to play the dying child role because the reality of the situation might force me to face what I didn't want to. No, my real world pretend game was for me to escape, so that's just what I did. I wanted to get lost in the lives of other people and really become them, not just spontaneously making up with a story off the top of my head; my next character was going to be carefully thought out and planned, researched and prepared.

MeMe.

2009-07-22T13:18:00.000-07:00

MJ, at In so many words... , one of my favorite bloggers who always spreads positive vibrations in her posts, tagged me for a MeMe Award. So now I will share 7 things about myself and tag 7 fellow bloggers for the award.

About Me:

1. I am terrified of driving because:

a) I have not had a car for 6 years. The only time I'm behind the wheel is once a year when I go home for Xmas and need to go somewhere and there is no one available to give me a ride and I then I go into panic mode and it takes me 15 minutes of deep breathing and adjusting my mirrors before I can back out of the driveway

b) I do personal injury cases at work and every file is a reminder of how a pleasant drive to the store or to school or to do anything ordinary can turn into a disaster.

2. I used to love writing by hand because it felt more authentic as my raw emotions exploded onto the page and my sloppy handwriting reflected the rapid pace that my thought were occurring. It was so much easier than staring at a blank page and a blinking cursor. Now I never write by hand because now I have a computer, a netbook, and an iPhone so everything I write is typed on one of these mediums. I love having these mobile devices so I can record my thoughts and write no matter where I am and can always have access to them.

3. I listen to NPR all day long and I thoroughly love public radio/podcasts like this american life, the diane rehms show, planet money, diggnation (I also have a school girl crush on Kevin Rose!)

4. I desperately want to be passionate about something but I lack the commitment to devote myself to anything.

5. I don't have a lot of close girlfriends and usually I'm okay with that, until I think about getting married or I see pictures of close friends that have maintained a ten year plus relationship. Sometimes I wish I had that bond with another female, but I have a hard time letting my guard down around other girls.

6. I am and have always been fiscally conservative. I never overspend or charge more than I can afford, I pay all my bills on time and in full. I save a huge chunk of my paycheck but I never deny myself anything that I want. I am incredibly annoyed at the financial mess our country is in and the all irresponsible, greedy, spend-happy people that got us into this debacle.

7. I am currently learning how to relax. I cannot sit still and I am constantly thinking about the next things I have to do or looking for things that I can do. I feel like this is contributing to my impending mental fritz!

From Me:

1. Mandy at Freshly Good

2. Yeri at Gluttons Paradise

3. K at J&K, a journey

4. Amanda at Sassafras

5. Little Miss Kitty at The World According to Miss H

6. Twopenneth at Going Dutch

7. Rabbit Write at Rabbit Write

On Your Mark.

2009-07-20T21:00:00.000-07:00

It was scoliosis; and while it wasn't a deformity per say, I liked to making everything in my life a huge production with everything exaggerated to it's utmost potential. Yet, now looking back, it was a strategy I used to poke fun at myself and laugh on the outside when all I wanted to do was cry.

So, if my parents found out about my condition when I was seven (or six), I found out when I was nine. My parents explained it to me with a picture. They made two crude drawings of the backside of a body, on one they drew a straight line for a spine and on the other one they drew a question mark where the spine should be. They they told me that my spine was growing like the question mark. I looked at them confused as I ran my hand down my back. It didn't feel like a question mark. It felt like a straight line except for the bump half way down. That bump, my mom told me, was the question mark. They asked me if I remembered my doctor telling me to do my exercises and of course I remembered because he would tell me every year and I would do them every year. The exercises were a series of stretches I would do everyday for about two weeks, then everyday became every other, and then it became only on weekends, and then whenever I remembered. Perhaps neither I nor my parents knew how much the exercises could have helped or if my fate was inevitable. Then they drew rib cages around the spine. Around the straight spine the rib cage looked normal. On the question mark spine the rib cage was at an angle and you had to tilt your head to make it look straight. My dad told me that while my spine curved, my rib cage twisted and the more it twisted the more likely it would crush my lungs. It was then that I knew I would die. What I didn't tell my parents was I was already starting to get short of breath. I had a promising track career ahead of me, with talk of being on the track team in high school and how I had no place to go but up and if I continued to train I could compete in meets and win medals when I got older. Yet recently I was finishing in the bottom half because I'd lose my breath halfway through the race.

It never occurred to me that my speed and my deformity were two sides of the same coin. I had incredibly long legs I had for my age, but my spine could not keep up with the rapid pace that my body was developing, hence the scoliosis. It was a blessing and a curse, but it looked like the curse was going to win.

Seasons Change.

2009-07-16T16:20:00.000-07:00

It started at my annual appointment with my pediatrician when I was seven, possibly even six, he would ask me to touch my toes so he could check the curvature of my spine. Although he told me what he was doing, I didn't really understand what it meant when he said that he wanted me to do special exercises to ensure that my spine would grow strong and healthy. I simply did as I was told and thought, like most kids, that I was invincible, that nothing bad could ever happen to me and nothing could ever break me down not in mind, spirit, and especially not in body. Everything about my life was normal, my parents had a stable marriage, I had a little brother that I got along well with, I was an A student, I was took piano lessons, and played soccer. I was completely normal and I thought that would never change.

Every year, after my physical, my pediatrician, pat me on the head, gave me a sugar free lollipop, told me to be a good girl and study hard and do my exercises and he would see me next year. Then I would leave and not think about going to the doctor again until next year rolled around. Little did I know that, behind closed doors after my appointment as

Thanks Serolynne!

I blissfully played building blocks in the waiting room, my parents were learning that their normal daughter may not be so normal after all. I sometimes wonder what it feels like to hear news like that. I imagine life to be like a remote, undiscovered lake: calm and placid, rippled only occasional by a breeze or rainfall that temporarily moves the tide, but the overall peacefulness of the lake remains.

Over time, as things change and seasons pass, someone happens upon the lake and everything changes. It starts as being one person's oasis and before you know it the word spreads and people start congregating at the lake every summer. The lake becomes disturbed as children come to play and swim,

Thanks Seuss in NC!

fathers teach sons to fish, older brothers show their sisters how to skip rocks, and the entire landscape of the lake changes and destroys the serene environment that once was, after which things will never be the same. The lake will always be haunted by remnants of the time when people came and spoiled the tranquility of life. From now on the lake knows that it cannot exist alone, but will have to bear the burden that comes with change. This must be how my parents felt. A gradual acknowledgement, understanding, and then acceptance of a life and a family that had been disrupted, a family that enjoyed a peace that was now broken and could never be repaired and every happiness from here on out would be under the guise of the season that brought unforgettable change.

Where does one find the strength to continue after knowing something like this? How do parents continue smiling at their child when they have a secret that changes their child's life in such monumental ways? Can a child detect the sadness in a smile? Can a child detect a parent's pain? No, because all i saw when I looked into my father's eyes was the love that he always had when he looked at me, his eyes never betrayed him. And for my sake, I'm glad they didn't.

A New Outlook.

2009-07-15T13:48:00.000-07:00

In the brief 20 minutes that I capture the attention of the people in the food court, I knew I was onto something; something big; something monumental; something life changing. I knew I only had a short time left and I had to make it worth while because unlike most kids my age, I had a deformity that had the potential to kill me. I think I envied that "child star" because he was able to achieve such great success in his short life whereas my life was almost over and I had not done anything. What being Shelley had taught me was, even if for a little while, I could be whomever I wanted and I planned to make the most of this opportunity.

Although at the time I couldn't quite articulate what I hoped to accomplish, it would ultimately be the escape I was looking for to forget about a reality that I was too young to handle or to truly understand the ramifications the situation would have on my life. In hindsight, I'm not sure that I'll ever be okay with my deformity or the results of the corrective action taken, but I did what was absolutely (medically) necessary at the time. Perhaps I should be (and I am) grateful for the procedure for saving my life, but I wish I'd done things differently, taken more preventative action rather than waiting for the most extreme means that had to be done or else...

So, during my 12th year when I had no other choice but to face my reality (although I was far from accepting it) I made the very "adult" decision to undergo a major operation to correct my repulsive, abnormal body. I also knew that this decision meant that I would never make it to my 13th year and while initially I was content on my fate, sitting in the SFO airport showed me a way to use my final year to live out all the lives I would never have.

Split Milk.

2009-07-11T22:16:00.000-07:00

A loud piercing scream echoed throughout the food court and although the scream came from my mouth, it sounded surreal. It sounded like it carried every pain imaginable; as if in that moment I experienced all the terrible things that happened to a person in a single lifetime. Every head turned in my direction to witness a child, all alone, covered in chocolate milk. Sure I was exaggerating, but I got their attention didn't I? That scream would dg down in the books as one of the many tactics I would employ to draw attention to myself, although as I got older screaming at the top of my lungs wouldn't come off so well and would have the opposite effect; people turning their backs to avoid the crazy lady. But since I was only 12, it worked like a charm.

The "child star" or whomever he was ,wasn't the center of attention anymore, I was, and as people rushed over to see if the poor helpless child was okay,I saw him narrow his eyes and glare at me. I felt all the more satisfied when even his mother left his side to come to mine. As more people gathered around me, the gears of my mind mischievously turned and a story unfolded. I wanted to draw sympathy as it seemed the only way to keep the attention on myself, so I became Shelley a product of divorce being shuffled from one parent to another, on my way to Texas to see my father where I would spend two weeks before flying to London where my mother worked for half the year. I got more excited and animated as my tall tale grew to extraordinary heights. The people around me were fixated on my story and I saw their eyes widened in shock and then soften in sympathy as they helped to dab up the milk that soaked into my jeans I knew I was teetering on the brink of something magical.

I was riding on a high like I never knew before. It was the first time in my life that I felt alive. During my childhood, I looked towards the adults in my life thinking I couldn't wait to get older and finally start living, but in my condition, I wasn't sure if I would ever make it that far. If childhood was simply a waiting period where nothing of significance happens except bideing your time until you were finally old enough to do all the fun and exciting things that grown ups got to do, what happens to those people, those children who never get to be adults? When do they start living? I thought I would never get my chance, but I figured out a way, here I was just 12 years old going on the rest of my life.