Tuesday, January 27, 2009

   MEME!
The Rules:
A: Put your music player on shuffle.
B: Post the first line from the first 25 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing - UNLESS it contains the title of the song.
C. Bold/strike out the songs when someone guesses both artist and track correctly. Italicize the last song to be guessed.
D.Looking them up on Google or any other search engine is CHEATING!
E.If you like the game post your own!

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1.She put him out. Like the burning end of a midnight cigarette

2. I heat up, I can't cool down.

3. I got chills. They're multiplyin'.

4. The storm. Is. Calling. But I. Don't. Mind.

5. Seems a down right shame. (Shame?)

6. I sense there's something in the wind. It seems like tragedy's at hand.

7. When in the springtime of the year, when the trees are crowned with leaves.

8. I wonder what it's like to be a Rain Maker.

9. Live in my house. I'll be your shelter.

10. Someone told me long ago - there's a calm before the storm.

11. If you were falling then I would catch you.

12. Some stupid chick in the checkout-line was paying for beers with nickels and dimes.

13. An old man turned ninety-eight.

14. I keep trying to find the light - on my own, apart from you.

15. Do I stress you out?

16. Go to sleep you little baby.

17. Weather it's rock and roll or old soul - It don' matter.

18. Well, you could say, I'm the one curly fry in the box of the regular.

19. It took too long, for you to call back.

20. Have you ever stood outside a picket fence you can see through?

21. Speaking as a guy who's really got it going on - It's only natural.

22. I was born three months too early.

23. Well, I was running down the road trying to loosen my load.

24. Ever close your eyes? Ever stop and listen?

25. I may run and hide when you're screamin' my name, alright


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I never realized that most of music is a product of guilty pleasures . . .

And I know full well that not all of these are going to be guessed. Not that many people read this journal. But these are always fun to do.
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Sunday, January 25, 2009

   time
I am rereading posts from high school and from the beginning of college. It's odd to read them b/c I realize just how small my world has always been. I am in my own head. And a lot of what I wrote I still feel, but I know how to control myself and my emotions better. I don't go into those deep, dark places anymore. Plus my grammar and spelling have gotten much better.

It is depressing, though, to read back. No one got how bad it really was to be inside of me. I was constantly being either looked over, ignored, or berated. I was mocked, made fun of, ad mentally tortured inside my own home on a daily basis (And when I write tortured it was, non of it, physical. Basically my brother had a free hand to do and say what he pleased and I was the bearer of his angry tirades). I think that I couldn't have looked on it at that time for what it really was. I had a mentally ill mother who couldn't take care of herself let alone three children. One of whom was clinically nuts (for lack of a better term) and who, now, cannot be trusted.

It really is a wonder that I am as stable a person as I am. That I am capable, after my mother's years of neglect and unintentional psychological abuse, to lead a relatively normal life. Stunted as it is. I only trust one person in my life without any walls between us. I cannot form normal relationships. I feel the need to lie all of the time. I talk incessantly. I eat for comfort. I feel unworthy of anything and everything.

I am self aware. But that gets me nothing. To be self aware is one thing. To know how to deal with life and how to move past one's problems is entirely another. I know what my problems are. But not how to fix them. I bet if someone presented them in a case study format I could easily tell them what needs be done to help that person. But I can't look at myself and do it. And without guidance I couldn't actually perform the necessary tasks to fix everything.

Maybe someday I'll be able to afford a psychiatrist. Maybe someday I'll find my niche and feel good about my life. Maybe I won't.

For now I am simply going to move forward. Taking each day as it comes and not looking too far into the future. I don't like what I see down the road so I know better than to frighten myself with it. But then again if someone would have told me three years ago today that I would have had a car, moved in with a friend, lived with my father, built my own computer, paid bills, or even stopped living with my mother, I would have said that they were nutty. So truly, only time will tell what happens. Or doesn't.
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Friday, January 23, 2009

   reading
Okay - So I am reading Escape by Carolyn Jessop with Laura Palmer and am beginning to get utterly horrified.

Here are some passages (and mind you I am only on page 40):

This was after a principal beat nearly an entire an entire classroom of children:
Children were seen as property, and physical violence toward them was not only permissible but a way of life. It was preached at church that if you didn't put the fear of God into children from the time of their birth, they would grow up and leave the work of God. Abuse was necessary to save a child's soul (pg 38).

This was something her grandmother taught her:
The principal of celestial marriage is what defines the FLDS (Fundamentalist Church of Latter Day Saints) A man must have multiple wives if he expects to do well in heaven, where he can eventually become a god and wind up with his own planet. (pg 17).

. . . my sole purpose on earth was to have as many children as possible (pg 19).

This all profoundly disturbs me.
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Thursday, January 22, 2009

One down, eleven to go
Not much to really post here.

I have finally finished a book. *does little happy dance*

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

1 / 12 books. 8% done!

Also I have been playing a lot of Sims. I am actually thinking of packaging and adding some of my apartment buildings and homes to the online exchange. Might. Might not. We'll see . . .
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Wednesday, January 21, 2009

End of the Reign
I watched the Inauguration. Dad woke me up and told me it was on TV. It was kinda cool. I got to see YoYo Ma perform and Itzhak Perlman. One of my favorite violinists and my absolute favorite cellist. That was more than enough reason to make the effort to get up and make the sacrifice of having to spend a morning with Dad. And then later the afternoon. Sometimes he can be a real pain in the butt. Then sometimes he really is a nice guy. I just wish that the one balanced the other out.

Anyway, then there was the speech. Barack Obama had two career choices when he was left high school: Preacher or President. Obvious which one he chose. lol. But it was beautifully delivered. The man has a gift with building up people. No more Bush stupidity, thank God.
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Monday, January 19, 2009

   a.r.g.
I am kinda annoyed with myself. I need to read more. I try to read at least a little everyday. But I worry that I won't finish in time. One month - One book. Not that difficult? Apparently I am not handling it too well. *headdesk*

*crawls to book on hands and knees*

.5 / 12 books. 4% done!

Oh, and here are my dragons:


Click here to see more Dragon goodness
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Thursday, January 15, 2009

   Resolutions and Books Lists
I have decided that I need goals this year. Last year was pretty much a bust so here we go.

2009 Resolutions:

1. I will read 12 books. One for each month. At least.
2. I will NOT use the phrase Gay anymore. It is as bad as using the word Jewish in the same context.
and
3. I WILL get another job. That is NOT seasonal.

I think these are adequate. And I think that I can accomplish all three of them. *is proud*



And here is my book meter - stolen from Kara's lj. :P

I am currently reading my first book of the year:

Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

And I am going to have that book finished by the end of the month. If I really want to get going I will have it done by the end of next week.

0 / 12 books read. 0% done!

I am on a role with goals!
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Wednesday, December 17, 2008

   Fun, fun, fun . . . till daddy takes the t-bird away
Put your music player on shuffle, and write down the first line of the first twenty songs. Post the poem that results. The first line of the twenty-first song is the title.

Let me know that I've done wrong.

Wait! What's Your Rush!? What's Your Hurry!?
Front step. Cha cha cha.
Great-Grandfather met Grand-mother when she was a shy young miss.
Finally found a fella.

Sun's Up!
I thought Love was only true in fairy tales.
It's a new day, but it all feels old.
I'm the Son of Rage and Love
I never knew. I never knew that everything was falling through.

Well, when I was kid, I'd take a trip.
There lived a man so long ago his memory's but faint.
I like the Che-che-che-cheroni like they make at home.
Little bitty pretty one, Come-a talk to me.

Some boys kiss me, some boys hug me.
Along time ago in a land far away lived the Pineapple Princess Tiki.
An old man turned ninety-eight.

I got you. I got you on my mind.
Well, you done done me. In your bed, I felt it.
On a dark desert highway.
Feather Moon.





Dirty Little Secret - All American Rejects

The Worst Pies in London - Helena Bohnam Carter
Miss Baltimore Crabs - Michelle Pfieffer(sp?)
Lavender Blue (dilly, dilly) - Burl Ives
Murder He Says - Tori Amos
Perfect Day - Hoku
I'm a Believer - Smash Mouth
The Anthem - Good Charlotte
Jesus of Suburbia - Green Day
Over My Head (Cable Car) - The Fray
Mississippi Squirrel Revival - Ray Stevens
The Yodeling Veterinarian of the Alps - Veggie Tales
Thomas O'Malley Cat - Phil Harris
Little Bitty Pretty One - Frankie Lymon
Material Girl - Madonna
Humuhumunukunukuapua'a - Ashley Tisdale
Ironic - Alanis Morisette
No Sleep 2nite - Faders, Inc
I'm Yours - Jason Mraz
Hotel California - The Eagles
Feather Moon - Vienna Teng




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Friday, December 5, 2008

   A retelling
I decided to post the beginning of a story that I am trying to work on with little success. I started it for Nanowrimo, but my comp crapped out. C'est le vie yet again . . .


He was beautiful. His ebony curls pulled back to stay out of his chiseled feature filled face even as he took off his gleaming and equally ebony metal helmet. Had this been any other young man casually disarming himself on a jousting field after having unseated four consecutive practice dummies Morgan would have been wondering to herself what metal he'd used to make it that lovely shade of black or if it was a caused by the way it was heated. But the man standing on the field, eyes shining with pride at his work, body near soaked in sweat was not simply any other man. He was the American National Jousting Champion, Reeve Talbot. And this year he was aiming to become the North American Jousting Champion. A competition that Morgan had managed to not only win tickets to but to also win a dinner with the man that she had idolized since high school.

"You know, she'll have to blink at some point." The deep voice beside her pulled her softly out of her imaginings of what this dinner might consist of; some talk of his amazing jousts, her work with unstable compounds at the college, and then maybe into the common ground of their love of all things medieval and renaissance fairish.

"That is unless she managed to learn how to breath through her eyes. Like those one creatures. What are they called?" Her mother's bird-like tones brought her back to earth completely.

"There isn't a creature that breathes through it's eyes, Mom" Morgan sighed and patted her mother's thin graying quaf as she stood from the wooden bleacher where she'd been glued for the last hour and a half. "You're thinking of the Yogi from that episode of Roseanne." The older woman was forever mixing up episodes of Roseanne and reality. Morgan simply supposed it happened when you got older and figured out the wonderment of being able to watch your favorite show over and over and over again because every episode was on a little disc that could be tossed into that thing that the kids now use to watch movies.

Smoothing her shirt over her all too flat hips, she smiled as her mother nodded placidly, the thoughts of whether or not her daughter was correct already having left her mind. And without a pause Morgan's mother turned to her husband and asked him if he had remembered to take his heart medication that day or not. Morgan shook her head, a familiar smile passing over her lips and causing her to find her parents in that fond spot at the edge of her vision. The one that always is there but is so easy to forget when at any given moment they can turn around and nag at you. Remember not to eat that giant turkey leg. Those things can't possibly be cooked thoroughly. And then there were the warning about behavior. Don't pick your nose in public, Morrie. You never know which of the men you're looking at is going to be your husband some day. Oh, and there was one that she heard more often than any other. Always wear clean underwear just in case you die or for some reason have to go to the hospital. That way you'll never be called a whore. Her mother always had a way with advice. She gave it freely and often, never expecting any in return.

The sound of the planks beneath her feet were soothing with each step. Nearly as if she'd heard them all of her life. They made her feel as if she were home and as if it were right. There was not a real explanation as to why. It was simply a feeling that she'd retained since her first walk around a Faire. Boots crunched against the falling leaves below as costumed actors, jousters, wenches, pirates mingled with paying customers, visitors to the land of Medieval Great Britain. Horses and dogs, the occasional pig and even a cow could be seen. One lady kept a little green fluttering feathery thing in a sparkling gilded cage. Nothing that could be easily pegged as a bird or bug. It was probably no more than a trick of sorts. Like the idea of walking an invisible dog that was so popular at amusement parks the world over, but that were only metal wires attached to a collar that seemed to levitate like a pup of some magical sort.

Here Morgan felt at home. Here she felt that she belonged. She wasn't some odd science geek. She wasn't that girl in the second floor dormitory that only reads fantasies and books that no one can decipher the title let along pronounce it. She was Morgan Emrys. A wench who, when asked could juggle near anything she was handed. An excellent swordsman and fencer. And also the assistant to the flame Swallower, who had a show at the Faire each year for seven of the ten weekends it ran. She was known by all but the jousters, whose faces changed with each year and each weekend.

Each year new stands were erected for all manner of new trinkets and interesting nick knacks to be sold by the various vendors. It was never old nor stale. It was by far more and more intriguing with each passing day. The first time that Morgan had gone to visit a Faire she'd been with her ninth grade English class on a field trip. It had been within those first twenty minutes that she had fallen irrevocably in love with the entire Faire. From the animals to the jousters, not that the two were always so easily distinguished from one another. And from the wenches to the Queen. Morgan loved it all and had applied that next year to work anywhere, doing anything. She'd done it all thanks to that. From cleaning the privies to picking up trash and aiding anyone who needed a hand. The past two years, however she had been a fully fledged wench, able to aid the Performers. Something she dearly loved, as most were happy to teach their helpers whenever a break in the schedule appears.

That was how she had learned to juggle. A wandering juggler had seen her bored during a break and had taken pity on her, having her stand and giving her the benefit of the doubt. Two days later she was juggling without help. Entertaining children as she walked through the dirt paths and over the wooden bridges. Tossing pine cones into the air with no sort of care or worry that they might fall. That was the key. Knowing that it was possible to accomplish the task. That had also been the key to learning to use a sword. You had to be certain in your ability. She was a natural, or so she'd been told by the self proclaimed Master at Arms. He had spent the days in which the classes had visited giving demonstrations on sword play and she had been the more than willing student. Bruised though she had become she had enjoyed every moment of it. For two solid weeks they had class after class come from schools all over the state. To witness and to learn about Queen Elizabeth's England. She'd gotten good. And she knew that soon she'd be able to compete. That was if she hadn't been the only woman at the Faire this year that was knew how to handle a broadsword.

Morgan waved to the blacksmith who serviced all of the horses that were brought to run around the practice field. He'd gotten her the entry form to win the evening with Reeve. And had acted much like her father. Morgan would have to introduce them to each other. Both reenacted the Civil War on their days off. She supposed that was where she got her longing to reenact this period. Her father and his love of all things that resembled the seemingly long forgotten past.

"Ye cannah wish for a lovelier day, lass. Care for ah romp on ma dragon?" Morgan felt a laugh bubble inside of her throat as she turned around, towards the sound of the deep Scottish brogue. Collin could make anything sound dirty with that voice, but as he stood in front of a large mechanical dragon ride resembling a small roller coaster, that the owner of the property had insisted be a part of the Faire to assure that money was being made, it was clear that there was no sexual bent to his words. This time.

Her laugh was easy, and soft as she faced the tall, broad man. His red mop was disheveled as he ran a work worn hand through its tresses. "Ah. Morgan, didn't know it was you. First time I've seen you without your corset." His smile was lopsided, making his entire face look off center. But in the way a lolling tongue makes a puppy look off center. It fit his broad jaw, that smile. It fit his all around hugeness. He truly looked the part of a man who had tamed a dragon and was now offering rides. Complete with a faux dragon skin vest that barely fit across the expansive chest.

His almost Southern baritone moved right through her. The deep tune nearer to a bass than tenor. It had a slight lulling effect, making her feel as at ease with him as she felt at home when she entered the Fairegrounds themselves.

"You mean that I am clothed for the first time in our acquaintance?" His eyes scanned her for a moment, as if he'd barely noticed what she was wearing before her having mentioned it. From the tip top of her brown curls, pulled back into the laziest of pony tails to her basic brown t-shirt, jeans, and her one true splurge. The Nike's on her feet.

"Nah." He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the stair post that stood poised at his back, not quite able to manage the nonchalant air he was too obviously trying for, but looking instead like he might have been unduly cocky in himself, when in truth he was nothing more than a somewhat clumsy farm boy who enjoyed being at a good Faire. "Ya always wear your hair up with a Celtic knot hair thingy."

Morgan looked at him for a moment. She hadn't thought that anyone would notice her mother's silver hair clip. The Celtic knot had come with her mother's grandmother when she'd immigrated from Ireland. It was the only thing Celtic that she owned and she had seen many like it at the various Faires. No one had mentioned it to her until now. Collin was looking right back at her. His face plainly searching hers for what she could be thinking.

"I've always thought that kinda made you look a bit . . . earthreal. Like you were one of the faerie folk or somethin'." He shook his head as if making it let go of something and turned towards a crowd of teens wearing beaten metal crowns and battling against each other with painted wooden swords. "Arrre any of ye brave enou to ride the dragon?" The brogue was as thick again as if he'd spent his entire life in the Scottish highlands farming sheep instead of having grown up in rural Southwestern Ohio farming fields of corn.


(Write what you know . . . Well, I know Faires, farm boys, and girls who's parents think they know what's best for her. . . . And although I don't know them I have a real thing for jousters and Scotsmen . . .)
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Wednesday, December 3, 2008

   stuffer-nonsense
Gots nothing to really report on today. I was considering the idea of posting the portions of a story that I want to work on. But I honestly can't say that I am going to work on it exactly. I dunno.
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