Memoirs Of A Dragonfly Queen

I'mTerrified, okay? Sue me...

2009-06-08T15:56:00.003-04:00

Okay, so I'm scared to death right now. Terrified even, and I really want to go take a test just to confirm in my mind that I'm not overreacting, but how can I not overreact when me and my boyfriend are talking last night/this morning and he jokingly states: "Well, I might have to kick you to the curb." Seriously?

But it's my body.

Then, then, I get up and come to this office (let's not even mention that I couldn't sleep last night at all and kept on waking up with an irrational fear, which--in hindsight--isn't all that irrational), and I get online to do research and I find two bloggers at war with each other on this issue and it's not helping me at all.

So, I'm freaked because I know if I make a decision (and mind you, contrary to any of that "you're a couple so it's a joint decision crap", it's still ultimately my body and my decision) then I'll have to leave with it and he JUST might kick me to the curb and find someone else.

I said I don't want them now, but that doesn't mean I don't at all. Just not NOW. I'm stingy. I'm 23. I haven't seen the world yet. I haven't done anything worth mentioning. I'm selfish.

I scared shitless.

Oh please, oh please just start already.

Dashboard Confessionals...

2009-05-29T17:45:00.002-04:00

I haven't updated in such a long while with anything meaningful that I'll bet many think I've gone off the deep-end. I have three journals: one is the guilty pleasure of self-pity, the other is just the congregation of stories that I have variously compiled over the years and this one...? Well, I have absolutely no clear what this one is.

I could argue and say that it is like Victor, but then Victor is filled with much self-hate and has been buried in my closet. I could say that this is like Victoria, but Victoria is filled with too much self-discovery that it's too raw to put out for the public to see and judge. So, what are you, blogger?

When I come up with an answer, I'll give you a name.

I Want to Feel How I Want to Feel Forever

2009-05-22T17:11:00.003-04:00

You know that whole potential thing. Yeah. Methinks I'm wasting mine. I feel like I should be branching out in some kind of drastic way. Stop playing it safe, Erica. Grrruff!

The Dreaded Day Has Passed...Hooray!!

2009-03-29T15:47:00.000-04:00

Dear Blogspot:

Okay...an update. The day that I've been dreading has come to pass and the universe has not shrivelled in on itself and collapsed. Trust me. It's a good thing. What is this dreaded day, you may ask? Well, my ex-boyfriend got married to the chick he cheated on me with nearly a year and some months ago. I was dreading it: 1) because, despite my current boyfriend, I still care about that [expletive] boy that I gave my heart to that long while ago and 2) I hate/dislike the chick that he married because...well...a little voice in my head wanted to cry "she stole him from me!" But how can you steal something that was so readily given? The first one to join is usually the first one to back out, and he was the first one to back out of the relationship.

now, don't get me wrong. I care about him, but I'm not in-love with him or love him anymore. I know that if he ever approached me in any way, shape or form in a way that wouls suggest "hey-let's-you-and-me...da da da la-ta-da" I'd probably kill him. But, if we were able to become friends, I'd be cool with that. It's hard to not feel something that a person that you gave that much of your heart to and trusted almost implicitly for a while. But, meeting him was a good lesson for me in the long run, and it teaches to not...well, let's just say that it taught me a lot of things.

I mean, when I was told by a few friends that he was getting married, I kind of got a 'WTF?' look on my face because I was all like "hang on, neither one of them has a decent place to stay, she's the only one who has a job and neither one of their parents have the money to afford a wedding...WTF is this?" But then I stopped myself and said: "does it matter?" I had to stop myself from marching up to Art Institute of Atlanta and say, "Nick, have you lost your cotton-pickin mind?! How the hell are you going to afford a ring?! You've NEVER held down a job, balanced your own checking account and YOU DON'T HAVE A JOB! Neither one of you has a REAL place to stay except AiA student Housing? Did you get her knocked-up?!!" But, that wasn't my place and he ALWAYS hated it when I pointed out the flaws in any situation (matter of fact, a lot of people hate that. It's not like I say, "Hey, don't do it because this-this-this-and-this could happen. I'm more like: Here's the details. NOW, do you really want to take that course of action?" I'm a Libra; I can't help it). So, I left it alone.

So, I'm at Sutra Lounge last night with my girls Laila and Shari, and Laila's boyfriend, Marcus, and my boyfriend, Shawn, and when La La and Shawn went to put some stuff in the car, Marcus pulls me aside to first discuss a fighting tournament that's coming up in a few weeks (Am SOOOO going! <3!) and then to discuss Nick and Blasina (that's the chick's name)'s wedding. I wasn't attempting to listen. Okay, I'm lying...I was, but only because Shari was indignant that she didn't get invited and Marcus went onto say that no one came except her family and a few of Nick's family, but the key people that were supposed to come abandoned him (ie his groomsmen and the rest of the groom's wedding party), and that Marcus himself didn't really go, but heard about it from another friend who had gone. The rumor was that because no one at AiA really liked Blasina that they didn't show up because they didn't agree with him, Nick, marrying her.

And I was a little shocked because when I'd heard about it from La La that she wouldn't go unless Marcus went (and Marcus didn't go), I was a little ticked because I knew that while Nick, Marcus and Blasina had had a falling-out last year, I knew La La was still at least on speaking terms with Nick (then again, she too had had a falling out this year with Blasina over some inappropriate comments that the former had made about Marcus) and that if they had felt that they wanted to invite her, then she should've gone to support her friends and been apart of their day (I don't know if it makes me a chump for wanting Nick to have a happy life even if it is with her or if it somehow gives me some extra Karma points for my next life...I know! *Announcer voice*: "Now YOU can win Karma POINTS and apply them to our GRAND PRIZE SWEEPSTAKES...should you die in this life, you'll be reborn as a PRINCESS!!! *applause track rolls*)

Like I said, I still care about the knuckle head, no matter what happened (even though I felt a little vindication that he had a crappy wedding...it's bad, I know, but when you have a heavy influence of Venus-in-Scorpio, it makes you a little bitter, a little vindictive and a mite bit happy at your enemies' suffering...I try to balance it out though, with my insanely neurotic nature).

I'm just...happy that I didn't get depressed. I usually do when the subject of Nick is brought up, but this time, I was good. I could look at his picture without thinking, "I wonder if I could cook up a spell to ruin his face, DAMN THE CONSEQUNCES!!!" Instead, I look at it and think, "I hope you have a wonderful life with you new wife and that you both get what you want and need and that you both are successful in your chosen careers and, if you should want to go the route of parenting, that you don't have retarded babies" (look, I'm not the most articulate being out there. Sometimes, I say some pretty rude and offensive stuff. Sue me!......................
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Wait, don't sue me. I can't afford it. All I've got is a few thousands books, a busted jackass computer and a few pipe dreams. Please, tread softly. You're treading on my dreams.)

Anyway, that same night, Marcus tells me about the tournament, he also tells me that his "worst enemy is going to be there". Now, he has a long list of enemies, and I know that Blasina ranks as one of them, so I'm on my guard, but he says some other dude is going to be there, and in my head I'm all like, "Good because that bitch don't want me to throw down! NYAR!"

It's juvenile, I know.

It's immature, I know.

And disliking the girl won't get me the dreams that I want to achieve, but sometimes...just sometimes...I really just....UGH! (somehow, I think I missed the point of the post).

KESSI vs. KYLANDA

2009-01-30T18:06:00.002-05:00

This is x-posted from ABCfamily and the on-going debate of KylexJessi and KylexAmanda. I can't believe I'm spending so much time on this. sigh.

Well, seeings as how I work for an attorney, and I am attempting to become one (either that or psychologist, I'm still on the fence), I'd have to say that neither side has really provided ample reasons as to why Kessi should be together or why Kylanda should be together. On either side, the summary is thus:
1. They are soul mates
2. They are meant to be
3. They look cute together
4. They understand each other
It's all conjecture. Neither side is going to be convinced that the other is right. If there are individual conversions, then fine, but I don't suddenly see you or Cnith converting, neither really do I see myself or Amber converting. It's going to be on-going until the season ends and the writers make up their minds creatively. Either side has potential for success or failure. And I'll even go against the grain and prove and disprove why each side does and does not work. Here goes:
Since I love Kessi so much, I'll take this side on first:
PROS:
Since "conception" from the pod, Kyle has felt alone (of course, until he met the Tragers, but even then he hesitated in telling them everything), and that loneliness was compounded upon by the fact that he believed there was no one else in the world quite like him; no one as advanced, no one that could think on his level, no one that would truly understood who and what he was. However, when he discovered Jessi's existence and what Jessi was, he tried hard, very, very hard to be with her, show her that there was someone else out there just like her, and--in a sense--was able to assure himself that there was someone else out there, just like him, who could understand. From the moment the two saw each other, there was a click, and even before them meeting, there was the constant feeling of something, just something out there, that connection floating in the aether that drew him to her even before she was fully conscious and out of her own pod. When they were at the bonfire, when they were at the Rack, when they were at Hands on a Hybrid, their connection drew them closer and closer and closer until they finally met, were finally within each others' space, and that connection would never tear them apart, would always keep them on the same wavelength. Kyle needs her as much as she needs him; they balance each other out, they match each other-wit for wit, strength for strength. They are the only ones of their kind. Where Kyle is ice, is stoic and calm, prefers peace over violence, Jessi is fire, prefers action over waiting, prefers adventure and getting to the heart of things. Both crave foundation, reliability and a place to belong, a home to always call their own. Not only that, but it is in fact true what they say, opposites do attract each other; however, Jessi and Kyle are not that dissimilar from each other that there is no shared compatibility, and it has nothing to do with their shared abilities, the fact that they were “born” the same way or even what the psychic said in episode 3x02. They both have that deeply rooted fear that no one will understand them, that when it truly matters, everyone will leave them and there will be no one left to care for them or for them to care for. They are the only constant, so far, in their lives that will manage to remain the same: Jessi will be there because, truthfully, in this world there will be no one else like Kyle, and Kyle will be there, truthfully, because no one in the world will challenge him quite like Jessi, and will assure him (even if she betrays him), that when push comes to shove, she never forsake him fully. Jessi is afraid of life with no one around to truly care for her, and well, if she betrays Kyle, she’ll be in for a very long, lonely existence. She’s not like Sarah and yet she is everything like Sarah. When Sarah told her to come with her and leave, she didn’t; she forsook her one opportunity for a familial connection with her biological mother, to help the one person in the world that matters to her more than life itself. When push came to shove, and Kyle was in pain about what he had done to Amanda, she decided that his happiness meant more to her then her own and told him to “go make it right.”
CONS:
As some have stated, quite adamantly, Jessi could still be suffering from the after effects of MadaCorps’ botched programming attempts. Her affections, and strong feelings for Kyle, could all be the manufacture of some sick and twisted game, and there has been no resolution as to whether or not that programming has been wiped or is still messing with her mind. In the end, it could very well be that he feelings for Kyle are a bi-product of that mental tampering. After all, MadaCorp didn’t fully understand what they were getting into when they tapped Jessi as a resource for getting closer to Kyle. They didn’t fully understand the Zzyzx project until they realized that the complete data was floating out there in the ether somewhere in Kyle’s brain. So, the “suggestion” that they implanted may, in fact, still be working its way in her psyche, twisting her natural ability to find someone else of whom she maybe truly be compatible with. Also, the current state of her psyche. Children that have abandonment issues often latch onto the first thing that appears to them as a constant, even if it is a negative influence, it is the only thing that remains the same in their lives and gives them something to believe in, that will never leave them. Kyle is the only real constant in Jessi’s life that has not changed, has not left and has proven to be able to be her foundation. Her “affections” for him could merely be the bi-product of her abandonment issues and once she develops that ability to stand on her own and be her own person, then she may very well discover that she can develop healthy feelings and relations with others elsewhere. Kyle’s feelings for her, thus far, have been platonic. He has not shown any true romantic emotions towards Jessi, despite what others may want to see. He has made no advances, and no overtures that can be construed as “romantic”. He sees her as his counterpart, but not as THE counterpart. HOWEVER, as a side note, platonic relationships can very well develop into romantic ones (as I have seen, and as many have seen, in their own personal lives).
And now for Kylanda:
PROS:
With their relationship, is a romantic ideal. They are the innocent couple, a simple boy and a simple girl, meeting each other for the first time and falling for one another. He was drawn to her, not by her looks, but by her music, and as most know, music is an outlet for the soul. He was drawn to her soul, in a sense. He pined for her, for the first portion of first season and for a portion of second before finally building up the courage to pursue her openly. Their’s is a match of innocent souls, exploring life and the murkiness of life’s waters with the other. Amanda, in her own right, has underdeveloped strengths: she is firm in her beliefs, stands her ground when tested and when she discovers truths, is able to adapt semi-effectively. She believes in the good in people, as does Kyle, and is able to give others the benefit of the doubt. She helps friends in need, have overcome the difficult obstacles in life and is a constant, reliable, dependable young girl. Kyle needs that in his life. She is the one place he can go to, without having to worry about the pressures of being Kyle XY. With her, he can be a regular boy.
CONS:
However, despite it all, Kyle does not trust her. Kyle’s feelings for her are, as many have stated, idealized. Their relationship is one built on smoke and mirrors. Kyle sees her as a person that needs to be protected, as a person that can not handle the secret life that he lives and fears that she will be hurt by it. Even upon fear of her possibly being harmed during her kidnapping, and even possibly killed, he still did not reveal to her the reasons for why he is what he is, and what is was that had truly happened. Yes, there may be trust that exists in their relationship, but it is all one-sided. As stated again, their relationship is one of ‘first loves’, and first loves should always be sweet and endearing, and the type of love that you can look back on and say, ‘that was the one that taught me how I want to be treated in a relationship, how I want to be loved and cherished in a relationship.’ However, that’s all their romance really is: it is that first kiss, that first romance and that first heartbreak. It’s the superimposed view of what romance novels and romance movies strike to make their audiences drool over, but it’s unrealistic. It’s the honeymoon stage, where every single flaw is overlooked and every single problem is smoothed over with a kiss. But eventually, reality sets in and the honeymoon stage is over. Things that were smoothed under the rug can no longer be overlooked, problems that were “solved” with a kiss come back with bloody vengeance, and it’s up to the two involved to work it out. And, as we can see from the problems that have arisen in this current season, the problems are not able to be worked out so far. Not only that, but the believability is also a factor, and that while Kyle XY as a show has some pretty unbelievable themes, it still has to connect with its audience in such a way that one can tag along on the adventure from the comfort of their own living rooms. Amanda’s blind acceptance of the strange things that Kyle does and the secrets that Kyle keeps are not believable. She has yet to ask questions, has yet to make demands, and—in all honesty—if your boyfriend told you that you had been knocked out at prom, but you come to find out later that you were kidnapped and he “might” have had something to do with it or was a part of it, however remotely, everyone knows they’d have dumped the guy like a bad habit.
Kyle and Amanda are cute, but real life is not all butterfly kisses and longing looks from across the room. Sometimes, life hurts, sometimes people betray you and sometimes it’s not all smoke and mirrors. Kyle sees Amanda as this idealized and fragile thing, that can do no wrong and is always pure. That’s his vision of her, but if she were to do something bad, what would happen to his vision of her then? He has seen Jessi’s flaws and seen her at her lowest, so he knows what to expect from her bad girl side, but he too doesn’t know what to expect for her good girl side. He has yet to see Amanda’s flaws, and if he does see them, can he ever see her again as ‘good girl Amanda’? His love for her is puppy love, the first stirrings of a boy growing into a man, and what he has to discover for himself about relationships. It is not mature, and it is not self-actualized. It’s just beginning.

NOW, as I stated, neither of these relationships can the automatic cosmic ‘OK’ stamp of approval. They are both littered with their problems, their deceptions, the joys, their sorrows, their happinesses and their triumphs. I’m not here to sway one side OR the other, but I certainly hoped I have provided and ample basis for either side. I know there’s not much in the way of PROS for the Kylanda, but I had to stretch myself. I frown on ‘puppy love’, and while I had my own bout with it, I will say I’m more of the wild adventurous Jessi-type so it took me a minute to get passed my own trust issues to understand where Amanda is coming from. Sorry for such a long essay too, but I’ve always wanted to be a writer too, and writing was always a good trait to have to become a lawyer.
INTERESTING SIDE NOTE:
Amanda’s name means ‘lovable’ (it’s my mom’s name), and we can see from the show that she is quite the lovable character. However, Jessi’s name (originally derived from the name ‘Jessica’) means ‘He sees.’ Isn’t THAT interesting? Whereas one denotes automatically feelings of love, the other implies that one can truly SEE the inside of the other, and not feel the need to see one with the deceptive goggles of love, but to truly see one and grow to love them. I wonder what Kyle’s name means. Hm…..
/ramblings

Kessi esta FUEGO...Kyle/Jessi alles der Weg....cheers

2009-01-23T14:58:00.003-05:00

Oh boy! That kiss...AWESOMES!!!! I've heard people claim that that kiss looks forced, but if you study the body language, he's leaning into the kiss, not pulling away...if it were a forced thing, he'd have pulled away immediately, not leaned right into it and kept his hand positioned on her cheek. He looks like he's craddling her face: a CLEAR indication of affection. His kisses with Amdanda are chaste. That kiss with Jessi was FUEGO!!!!!

I am so tempted to post an entire post on body language and signals and human sexuality, but I'm at work, so...I'll probably do it later. I LOVE JAIMIE ALEXANDER!!!!

A Total Rant On Something Pointless. sigh.

2009-01-23T14:56:00.001-05:00

On the GRAVE Disservice and Manipulation of One Jessi XX By Kyle XY and The Writers Of This Sow, Or...This Show Is So God-damned RIGGED!!!

Okay, so, I’ll admit that I am a late starter to this show. I only recently started watching it when I had nothing else better to watch one insanely boring night, and I figured…what the hell? So, I tuned in and watched, and was immediately smitten with the character of Jessi XX. I’ll admit that when I first heard of the teen drama KYLE XY, and saw the promo commercials for it, I knew that it was going to be a disappointment in some ways. And I wasn’t wrong: every other character in the show, except Jessi, of course, is so focused on the ‘ME-ME-ME’ aspect that they’re all convoluted, selfish and manipulative. HOWEVER, what gets me, is that one of the characters—Mrs. Nicole Trager, the matriarch of the Trager family, whose supposed to be this understanding and caring psychologist—is treating Jessi, and yet in her in notes says that Jessi ‘lacks empathy’, is ‘socially manipulative’ and ‘remorseless’. I am prepared to argue in this essay as to why Jessi is probably the most unjustly demonized character on the show.

Okay, so…I watched the episode ‘Psychic Friend’, this being my first introduction to Kyle XY, and I immediately—for some reason—identified with the character of Jessi. I don’t know if it was her soulful eyes or the clear indication that this is a girl who has been beaten down by life and is just reaching out for a hand. I usually identify with those types of characters because point blank, they have meat to them to chew over and analyze the various flavors. I knew, right then and there, that I was hooked on the show, but only to see Jessi. Call it a ‘sistamance’ (you know, a totally innocent friendship with your sistah (friend, whatever)…something…look, if guys can have totally platonic bromances, then what can girls have? Exactly!). So, I decided to find the last two seasons’ episodes on Kyle XY and hunker down and watch them.

Let’s just say that I didn’t even make it to episode two of season one before I got irritated with all the Kyle/Amanda time. Anyway, I skipped straight on to Season two, and I was rewarded with JOY. Jessi’s character is the most well-rounded of all the other characters. Here you have a human being that is basically a blank slate: she has not been influenced by anything in the world and is pure innocence. Then enter ebeel MadaCorp and Jessi’s character is portrayed (quite unjustly) as the antagonist of the show. She does things, and every other character foolishly believes that all of the actions done were of her own accord. Point blank, they weren’t. Nothing Jessi did was her own fault, and I’ll prove it too.

Firstly, the “murder” in the woods: she is completely innocent in that action because we all know that murder, as defined by Webster’s dictionary, is a premeditated act. She didn’t wait, watch and plan to kill the guy, it happened because he was a twisted, sexual pervert and she did the world a service by ridding it of one sick f**k. Now, some of you may think that the moral ambiguousness of her actions is totally up for debate, but I submit to you that she perceived a danger and acted on instinct. She was not possessed of the higher reasoning processes or logic that most of us were raised with (and some who still don’t even employ it either way). So, accountability of her actions is null and void where she is concerned. You can’t prosecute a baby if she accidently pulls a trigger, can you? No, and basically the brain that Jessi possessed was that of a baby, who in no way shape or form understood the logic or right or wrong about her actions.

Second, MadaCorp and its inability to not f**k with human beings. Everyone seems to readily accept Jessi as being inherently evil, even though in the end it gets revealed that MadaCorp messed with her head and made her do the things she did, or rather: planted suggestions and she acted on them. For example, they clearly programmed Jessi to do as her “sister” Emily said, but only because Emily “loves [her]”. That one statement means that Jessi was powerless to refuse the suggestions that were implanted. When she “betrayed” Kyle, she was obeying the suggestions planted in her brain and took the information from his mind. She is consistently demonized for these actions even though it can clearly be determined that she had no control over her own mind or what she did: MadaCorp and its employees were the ones pulling Jessi’s strings; every time she acted defiant or rebellious, she was brought in and “adjusted”.

That, in unto itself is enough to mess with anyone’s head beyond repair, and if you don’t think so, think of MadaCorp’s tampering as a higher form of brain washing. Most victims of brain washing are permanently scarred for life by what their captors did to them, what they subjected them to. With Jessi, she’s been permanently scarred, permanently damaged, and is certainly trying to make amends for actions that weren’t even her fault, and yet she is still treated like a ticking time bomb.

Third, with the incident that happened with Lori, I fully blame that on Jessi’s inability to deal with, or understand, human emotions or how to cope, and deal, with them and their aftermaths. She has the mind of an infant, and what do infants do when they usually can’t communicate what they’re feeling, when they want something or don’t understand how to maturely process their emotions? They throw tantrums, they cry, they scream, throw things, act out rashly without understanding the consequences (until, of course, they are taught). Now, what happened with Lori was a bad thing; however, when Jessi came to understand that her actions were wrong (as proven by her inability to understand why the police would be involved in the incident with Lori’s attack, when she and Declan were talking in the café were Josh works, and when she was FINALLY made aware of what she had done and returned the necklace back to Lori anonymously), she tried to make amends so as to alleviate herself of guilt and to seek redemption from her prior actions.

Ah yes, and lastly, let’s get into the episode where she jumped off the roof. Now, she seems to be exceptionally demonized in this particular episode and—I am happy to report—that in this episode too, Kyle XY showed what a manipulative, conniving and selfish bastard he really is (I always knew there was something shady about that kid). Anyway, I understand where Jessi’s frustrations were coming from. Since the time she first arrived to the present, she has been pushed from one extreme of emotions to the other, with no clear anchor either way as to who she is, what she is or what she is meant to be. When she returns to the school, she is overshadowed by the things she had done, not just to the people there, but also to those that live and work outside of its walls: from the Tragers to the asshat in the woods, she is haunted by those memories. She is haunted by memories of Declan, haunted by what MadaCorp had done to her, how they had stolen the life that she had wanted so desperately to have—even if it were just faked memories—and how every person that she’s ever trusted was lying to her, manipulating and abusing her for their own ends.

Now, she comes back to the biggest and most daunting cesspool of all: High School, where any little thing you do, can follow you for the rest of your high school career. And, it seems, especially at this school, where the shallow student body votes on who’s who of their own number: who’s the slut, who’s the perfect couple, etc, etc. Jessi is thrown back into this hostile environment and forced to deal with the peers that ignored her or were completely hostile to her from the get-go (let’s all remember Lori’s little dupe at being Jessi’s ‘frienemy, shall we?). And, if you have ever been in that type of environment, or are still dealing with that type of atmosphere, you can remember how nerve-racking and daunting it is to take on.

So, Jessi lashes out in the only way she knows how: she uses her special abilities to be seen, to be heard, to be known, to be more than just that weird girl with the strange tendencies. People see her, like her and want to be around her. She’s not alone. Now, most of you would argue that she’s got Kyle, so that makes her not alone. HOWEVER, let’s remember that when Kyle was going through all his bullshit, he knew he had a place to go back to, a home to call his own and a family that would catch him if he ever fell. Let’s remember that Kyle has had a support system in the Trager family since the very beginning, that—aside from ol’boy at the group home punching him in the face—he has always had a much easier time of it than Jessi has. No one has been there to anchor her, support her or care for her, and Taylor—the man who claims to be her father—could very well be manipulating her for Latnok.

And then, she is antagonized…again. By everyone. Now, I’ll admit that showing off wasn’t a very good thing, but her secret is her’s to share. Not Kyle’s. Kyle can disappear and not have to share what he has, but she can share it. She was thrust into a situation that she is barely able to cope with and now she has to be manipulated by Kyle because he’s a pansy-ass, who’s afraid of being extraordinary (this is where, I feel, that HEROES should come in: Sylar should so totally go Medieval on Kyle’s ass). Anyway.

Kyle manipulates Jessi because he is selfish. He wants to keep the nice, comfortable life that he’s living, and he doesn’t care who he hurts or what he has to do to maintain it. He has friends and people that love him and care about him and sacrifice for him and adore him, and he wants to keep it all. Everything he does, he claims is for the greater good, no matter if it isn’t actually good for everyone. He holds to this belief that his moral compass is straighter than everyone’s, when it’s just as fallible as any human being’s. He made that judgment call, even before he was fully conscious, when he downloaded Zzyxx’s mainframe into his mind. Now, if Adam Baylin had still been in charge of the company, would he have even been allowed to complete that action? No, but he still assumed control over something that he had no business attempting to control, regardless of whether or not, the information was right or wrong. He keeps that knowledge locked in his own head, so that he holds all the keys and all the power and if he ever wanted to, could use it against his captors and MadaCorp, or anyone else.

And THEN to add insult to injury from that episode, he has the nerve to sit there and listen to Jessi pour her heart out and then give her some bullshit lesson about how she’s supposed to only ‘be herself’ and everyone will accept her’ crap. Seriously? Because, I can tell you, everything in the world, EVERYTHING, is about that first impression, the way you look and how you act upon that first meeting. Why else is Jessi so demonized if everyone is supposedly suppose to look underneath the surface and see the real you? BULLSHIT! Kyle only told her that crap so that she’d keep her mouth shut and so that his happy little world wouldn’t be ruined, where as her’s could fall the f**k apart. He needs to be needed, and so he creates the situation so that he can continue to be the one everyone leans on.

Now, onto the writers.

They irritate me because it’s not like I can’t see what they’re doing, and it was kind of the reason that I avoided the show in the first place. Let’s get something straight: I don’t like Amanda, and soon as I saw her and her plaintive, woe-is-me looks from the first season’s promos, I knew that I wouldn’t like her character, that the show was going to be some angst-ridden teen drama that ‘Not-Another-Teen-Movie’ was spawned to criticize and make fun of. She’s a stock character as far as I’m concerned, with no backbone to speak of and seems to NEED to be protected from the rest of the world. She has no depth, and nothing that inspires me to think: ‘day-um, that is a sweet character you might say…ROUND!’ She’s a Mary-Sue of epic proportions. She’s a goody-two-shoes, easily taken advantage of stock character, and it’s a pity that she hasn’t been killed off because of her own stupidity. She doesn’t even fight for Kyle when she sees Jessi going for him, she just stands around and whines and cries and THEN, when Kyle says, ‘Oh pity me, oh pity me, I’m the lonely bleeding heart teen that woke up from a pod and doesn’t understand the wrong that I do, forgive me sweet, sweet Amanda! FORGIVEEEEEE MEEE!’ She cries and goes back to him, EVERY TIME.

And, let’s not forget that shoot-me-in-eardrum disgusting music that they play every time she’s around! Every time, I saw it it reminded me of that scene in Not-Another-Teen-Movie, where the girl of everyone’s dreams steps into the room and no one can do ANYTHING until her theme music stops playing and she finally moves on. You know the one, that annoying bitch that just needed to fall down the steps and break her neck? Yea, that one. She’s easily able to be walked over and yet people are enamored with the walking-doormat, claiming that it’s great to see that kind of purity and innocence in a TV character. Okay, okay, purity and all that is well and good, but honesty, how many people go for so-naïve-it’s-sickening? Seriously?

Okay, sorry, I digressed a lot in that last paragraph, what I meant to say was: I hope they didn’t add Jessi as the foil to Kyle and Amanda getting together in the end and Jessi gets the short end of the stick. She’s a character that’s been emotionally and mentally battered and abused, manipulated and screwed over and this is just one more time that the writers can’t seem to utilize her character and make her kick some serious ass. Like, seriously, if Kyle had embarrassed you in front of everyone, I don’t think you’d be willing to hear him out. I think you’d probably kick his ass and then hear his lame ass apology while you tell him: ‘I WON”T LET UP UNTIL YOU GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE AND SCREAM ‘UNCLE’!!!’ Or mayhap that’s me.

I mean, don’t get me wrong: they’ve made an extremely complex character with this chica. She has depths, she has the emotional angst that all good storytellers should infuse their characters with; she’s amazing, gorgeous, beautiful and brilliant, but what I always see of her, is that she’s thrust into situations where she comes out last. With Lori and Declan, she actually LIKED Declan. She wanted to be with DECLAN. She didn’t manipulate her way into his life, didn’t sabotage anything, didn’t betray him. Her heart pounded when she met him, she felt genuine feelings for him, but then MadaCorp terminated that when they made her go for Kyle, and the writers terminated it even more when they wrote that bullshit ass storyline and stuck with it. They brought Declan and Lori together (of a sorts) and are pushing Jessi between Kyle and Amanda just to give some romantic tension and drama so that Kyle and Amanda will eventually get back together, get married, have disgustingly chipper, super genius kids, get old and die (good riddance). Of course, Jessi will be the doting “aunt”, who’ll secretly wish for Kyle, but pine for him from afar. Once again, Jessi gets the short end of the stick.

And please, don’t feed me that bullshit about Cassidy. So, all Jessi is good enough for is the evil guy? Let me guess: evil guy sees girl, girl is evil guy’s target, but evil guy—in being around girl—ends up falling for girl, evil guy turns away from life of super top secret evil, gets with girl, both have angsty-guilt-ridden love affair, girl’s super powered counterpart gets mad, super powered counterpart sees error of his ways, girl stays with evil guy, evil guy’s company gets mad, kills evil guy and super powered girl is left all alone once again.

Seriously, that better not happen or I’m raiding the studios and writing this crackpot storyline right: Jessi with Kyle. Amanda with….her piano, Declan and Lori and Josh and Andy, and everyone lives happily every after.

ROUND!

PS: Upon watching the indignity of Jessi getting talked down to by Lori in Episode 16 of season 2, I realize that none of these characters understand the trauma that she—Jessi—has to endure and cope with. I get it: Lori got her ass kicked and that was a scary experience, but at least she was in control of herself at the time, at least afterwards, she was still in control of herself; she was able to pick herself up and understand that the actions done were not her fault. HOWEVER, no one seems to want to face up to the fact that Jessi was programmed to be a specific way and that that programming got messed up.

If Lori’s all twisted about her getting her ass handed to her, and then having that be a ‘traumatic experience’, try not even being in control of your own body, never knowing who you are or who you could be at any second because something could go wrong in what someone else did to you that you had no say so in. Try living with the knowledge that at any point in time, you could become a walking killing machine and not even realize or understand that you’d done something wrong until you find out about later when you think you’re this sweet and innocent kid. Try having every memory that you ever thought real or true, being a manufactured by-product of someone else’s sick and twisted game.

/rant…hopefully

Blessings in disguise....?

2009-01-15T21:07:00.002-05:00

Is is jealousy? Or maybe anger? Or is it an unhealthy combination of both? I ask this because I have this unnatural need to look and see, hoping for some scrap of failure or defeat. But there never is anything, and the first rule of a trick is to cast and never look back, knowing beyond all hope or fear or desperation or anger or revenge, that something bad is going to happen; justice is going to be served and life will continue on its natural course, where as the power of the unnatural will reek its havoc.

But all I ever see is good things happening. Good tidings and good everything, where as my life feels like it's about to spiral out of control; like, bad things are just constantly happening and that nothing good will ever occur: I have to figure out how I'm going to pay for car insurance on a car that I probably don't even own any more; how I'm going to get out of debt and find myself a much better apartment; how I'm going to move out of my current place at the end of the month; how I'm going to become an attorney in an economy that's clearly heading towards a depression. So many issues, so many things, so many problems that I'm trying to work out and overcome.

Why me?

I Fear What Aphrodite Has Become...

2009-01-09T22:08:00.005-05:00

I am really disappointed at the state of beauty nowadays. There are two flipsides to beauty that permeates in the modern age--one that is hidden and the other that is not, but either are intensely disgusting. It might just be my sole opinion though, and not shared by others. Okay, okay, that's true and I verily have to learn that not everyone shares my opinion. My boyfriend most certainly doesn't, and while I can't fault him for that, much to my chagrin...it still...irks me a bit. Anyway, onto the reason why I'm writing this blog: nudity, porn, the modeling industry and the American Dream...

Okay.

Not that last part, but I think it has everything to do with the perverse way that the American culture prohibits/condones sex. Like: you can watch near porn acts on television, but if you try to teach high schoolers proper sexual behavior, the parents, MAAD and other PC-organizations get steaming mad. You can't have it both ways, people!

Alright, so I'm watching MTV and VH1, and slowly feeling like my brain cells are dying and I realized, nobody cares about beauty as it used to be. No, I can hear the echo of thousand 'd'uhs', but it's true, and in our desensitization of watching television, paying attention to the media-driven machine, we seem to have forgotten what real beauty is, and now worship venerable walking strippers and porn stars. Rock of Love, Flavor of Love and Real Chance at Love are poor examples, but then again, they are probably the best examples to show how fucked up the US of A has become. These shows, or the channels that these shows are on rather, were the leaders of the entertainement industry. They spoke to the disenfranchised youth, the loners, the nerds and the punk-rock-wannabes. They spoke to a generation of whose parents could no understand. And if we are to still hold those above stated facts as true, then don't these channels still reflect the youth of today: the 'ME' mentality that permeates the generation of our parents and ourselves and even our younger siblings.

Teeny-boppers are now dressing like they're twenty-year-olds, sexual deviancy is condoned, teachers sleeping with barely legal students and getting off easy for it. All kinds of random craziness and it's like everything's going to hell. People have lost their values and have lost their moral compass, but then sometimes...I think people never had moral compasses in the first place and that 'JESUS' was just a pipe dream. Beauty is stripped naked, dashed with hot oil, teased up to look like a burned-out hooker with bleached blonde hair and a disproportionate figure, and people were harping about how bad Barbie is to their children?

In my mind's eye, I see what beauty used to be. I see beauty as a woman's power, I see it as one of her many mysteries, bespeaking of power and authority in the most simple gestures. Forgive me if I think of a Geisha or a cocubine. These women were beauty to me. They didn't let you see their secrets, they never looked ruffle, they never showed you anymore skin then what you deserved and they never, never, never did it out in public where they will forever be immortalized as that "chick that showed everyone her boobs at Mardi Gras". No, no, when you think of Geisha, you automatically have a romanticized view of what their lives were like, of the polished woman that was educated and could match wits with any man, who could be both confidante and sexual mistress.

Nowadays, you don't find that. You find bimbos with huge boobs parading around as if this is what makes them appealing and unfortunately, it is. By today's standards anyway. You can find strip clubs, where even the dances are even alluring anymore. And these horrible dances, where the woman opens her legs wide and shows a man everything and leaves NOTHING to the imagination, are what draws people--men--flocking to these sinfilled meccas to waist both precious time and money, on hoes. There. I said it. Hoes. Because nothing good is EVER thought about strippers and the like. When you think of concubines, you think of the Arabic beauties that charmed their men with their sultry dances, with their ability to wrestle mentality and sway their men to their points-of-view with their mastery of wit. Instead, men are too busy wanting to have their shit handed to them instead of working for it.

This world saddens me.

(BTW, I said strip clubs, not gentlemen's clubs...there is a BIG difference between the two....well, actually...not really as one is just a higher class of tittie bar...in the end though, they're just tittie bars).

Anyway, I have many things to discuss on this issue. MAybe it's my own insecurities...Maybe, I really do have a green-eyed monster wanting to take me in its fold and pervert my sight. Who knows?

I rememeber watching the movie Serenity and its television show, Firefly, and seeing the character of Imara. Now, she wasn't my favorite (I liked Wash, Shepherd Book, Jayne and Kaylee), but I did admire her. She wasn't the prettiest on the show (that honor goes to Gina Torres), but she had a subtle beauty that she added to the character because of the fact that the character of Imara had the intelligence, knowledge and capability of a woman trained in her craft and didn't just give it up easily. No, no, there were morals and principles that needed to be upheld and that's what made her a galaxy-famous Companion. She didn't just give it up to the men, and women, that she catered to, she let them wait for it, charmed them, made them want her services, and even want her as a person because of what she presented and how she presented. She left much to the imagination and let her client's minds do the rest.

In the old days, these women were the only ones that were educated. In the old days, these women were worshipped as being sacred to the gods. In the old days, these women--while not always being respected--knew how to command power.

LEt's take for instance, the late Eartha Kitt. Even to this day, when you see pictures of her from her youth 'til now, the woman had spunk, she had pizazz, she had all of the makings of a mondern Geisha, and point blank, she didn't let it all hang out for the world to see. She charmed men with her inner beauty as well as her outer beauty. She commanded her lovers, charmed her haters and made herself a much loved figure amongst fans and critics alike. Women should aspire to her image. Should erect her as the modern day Venus because in my mind, that's what beauty was. She was flirtatious and promiscuous, but she never let herself be defined by it. She let people see her as a foul-mouthed smartass, but also knew how to peruse the murky waters of life and public opinion to become a star known for her talent and not just her personal life.

And this doesn't come from the mouth of a Conservative Christian, or anything like that. This comes from someone who is tired of those girls who are clearly whorish and skanks and low-class getting good men and then turning said good men into asshats because the dumb-ass-testerone-driven-morons can't let go of easy pussy. Now, I'm not saying that a woman can't have sex, be sexual, sensual or even promiscuous if that's her thing, but have some class, and the unfortunate thing that also comes into play with my disguntled blog about beauty is culture and culturalism that often make people believe one thing being true for one person is, unfortunately believed, to be true for everyone.

For example: I suppose most people who view me see me as an African-American. Fair enough, the bulk of my blood is African-American. I profess proudly that I am an American of African-descent. HOWEVER, I refuse to not acknowledge that my father is a mixed breed with Puerto Rican, German, Hebrew, Scottish and Cherokee Indian. My mother's family is Black and Cherokee Indian. If you looked at me, you could clearly tell that I was mixed with something because if I weren't I wouldn't be considered 'light-skinned'. Although, unlike the BULK of my people, I don't think that certain things are beautiful like a girl with a fat ass or big breasts. I personally think that a girl or guy with multiple piercings, tattoos and what not are cute, gorgeous, beautiful. I've found myself falling more so for the odd looking guy with multi-colored hair, mohawks, fauxhawks, spikes, shaved heads, gadged ears and other such oddities. Guys who were probably the craziest looking bunch who's short a few apples from a full tree.

I've dated a Satanist, a goth who was in ROTC, fell for a pothead, an Irishmen, a German, a half-Thai who was into a partial rock culture, and others. I've even entertained the idea of getting with a girl named Sarah, with--of course--multi-colored hair. So, my idea of beauty is different: corsets, torn jeans, fishnets, studded gloves and jackets, all kinds of weird, funky things, Afrocentric things, bondage pants, all kinds of things like that. But regardless, even with these things, I hold to my same standard. Hell, it might even be that I'm a Libra-y Libra, and that I'm feeling the pains of not being in my own apartment and being able to do the things that I'd usually do to keep myself to what I believe is beautiful for me as a person. I'm at my boyfriend's house and there are things I know I can't do, like take a 30 minute shower, or occupy the bathroom for an hour because that's what I do: I clean, then I dress, I apply make-up, I apply accessories if necessary, I apply lotions perfume and the like, then I check to make sure the over all look is good before slipping on my shoes and being off.

Who knows?

I'm just disappointed, and it probably also has something to do with disappointment at my boyfriend for his obviously horrible choices in females before me. I guess, because they've all been pretty (except for the hood-rats that I've heard aout), but really damn selfish and just...hoebags (<- it's the best I could think of), and it makes me wonder if that's why he got with me because I'm some kind of undercover 'hoebag'? I don't know.

Whatever.

/rant

Back-dated Entry: Happy New Years! Now, let's get down to business...

2009-01-08T00:08:00.003-05:00

I really don't understand this article...I'm sorry documentary. In all, it's bullcrap, and here's why:

Basically, the doc is called 'Black Women Walking', or something like that, and it details the experiences that at least four or five black women (and one white woman; let's not leave her out) have in reference to black men catcalling and 'hollering' at them, and just the way black males flirt with their female counterparts in general. I will cite the validaties of the documentary short as well as the inaccuracies, and also comment on some of the comments that were made in reference to the article. You can find the link to that doc here.

Now, I get it. As a black female who's dated outside and inside her race, there are BIG differences between the way black males flirt and the way people of other races flirt. Now, I won't say that ALL black males do it because I have definately encountered black males, of ALL walks of life, that have approached me and did the respectful, "Hey, miss, what's your name? My name is such-and-such and I just wanted to let you know that I thought you looked very pretty and wanted to know if I could get to know you?" I can also say without a doubt that I've been the aggressor, at times, flirting shamelessly because...well...let's face it: when I'm at my personal best, I am a bit of a flirt...

There. I said it.

However, in listening to this documentary and reading some of the responses, both the mature and immature ones, I will say this one thing: black males DO have the market cornered on the way they can be very disrespectful in flirtation. I have experienced it, but then again, my scope of the human condition is very limited. I can only go by what has happened in my own personal life and not what has happened in others. I will say this: it is according to what type of group you aspire to hang with and where in any given city you chill. If you chill in areas where the thuggish types are in high abundance, you typically get the asshats that don't understand the concept of how to approach a woman. However, if you're in a moderately to highly educated area (I say the suburbs, and I mean the clean suburbs, not those places where the mini-thugs chill), you'll find young men willing to approach like how you wish to be approached. Not only that, but it also matters with how you carry yourself: if you carry yourself like a hoe and where a hoe's uniform, well...

Now, there are ALWAYS exceptions to the rules: such as quietly riding the public transit bus or train, minding your own business and a brotha dressed in a business suit has the thuggish attitude, where he thinks he can get what he wants merely because he's getting paid or you could encounter the one that looks like a thug, but has the swagga of a college kid and has a good head on his shoulders.

Anyway, let's dissect the first half of the issue: the disrespect that is paid to black women. Now, as a black woman, my opinion is biased. I do not grow up with a man's outlook in this world. I can only do me. So, in my opinion, and from my experiences, black men are more overt with their disrespect. They can say the most ignorant things, expect you to respond and then get pissed off if they don't get the response that they want. They try all types of ways to get your attention, some of which are just down right rude and dangerous. The strategy of driving up right next to a woman and honking their horns and catcalling out their windows: dis-re-spect-ful, and dangerous in the sense that if the woman feels threatened, you're being brought up on charges of sexual harrasment. Seriously, do something with yourselves.

Now, men of other races can be just as disrespectful, I have been told. I've never experienced this. I've mostly encountered men of other races who are much more respectful. With my ex, he didn't even start getting sexual with me unti I said it was okay. Other than that, our conversations were surprisingly G-rated. Even the other few sexual encounters I've had...not disrespectful. Nothing turned sexual until I said so. HOWEVER, in contrast to that and the feeling that white guys are most respectful: they have a tendency of being subtle with their disrespect, being a bit demeaning in their own way so that you know EXACTLY what they think of you. Like I've said before: this is not the case with all of them, as some whitey-hatin-neo-black-panthers would have you believe. They are not all white devils that these people paint them to be; some of them are quite nice. We've got to get out of that slave mentality in general: stop thinking of white people as devils (it gives them a power that they don't have) and stop thinking of them as gods that walk the Earth. Either way, they are just people and while their ancestors did horrible things, it's not like Africans too didn't rape, pillage, kill, murder, cheat, lie and disenfranchise their own kind too.

I think I explained my second point to this documentary in the above paragraph so...huh...nothing much left. Well, flirtation styles are different. Like I said, black men are overt, but--in my opinion--other races are not so overt. Usually, people that I've dated got to know me first and then whatever happened and proceeded. Usually, more than one person too. But, I've usually started out getting to know a person.

Except in this current relationship. All that kind of...flew out the window...LMAO!!!

2008-12-24T15:44:00.000-05:00

wHY DO i EVER TRY? Why do I ever think that...I can't do this.

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

2008-12-23T22:45:00.001-05:00

All day today. Lying isn't the most fun a girl can have...sometimes, it hurts when you do it to yourself.

Which Way To Murder

2008-12-18T14:23:00.003-05:00

I'm irritated. What else is new? I don't know...you actually I do know why I'm irritated, I just don't know how to express what is pissing me off right now. Strippers, stripclubs and my current boyfriend's need to discuss with me his feelings, thoughts, recollections and reflections on why he likes them and would probably like to visit them again in the future (this is all just conjecture though. I'm not sure if he'd actually disrespect this relationship by doing so because if he did, he'd be out the damn door faster than you could saw: "WTF?"). Anyway, on numerous talks we've had--and I'm trying not to be the type of girlfriend that says, "HEY, can you PLEASE stop talking about this shit? I really don't give a damn." In that sense of giving a damn as in, I don't like to hear you talk about this type stuff because it either makes me uncomfortable or mad as hell--he tells me how he had a predilection of going to strip clubs and that in the span of maybe a month, he literally forked over 600.00 dollars.

Blink.

Come again. Six hundred damn dollars, and you can just hear the wistful sound to his voice, a kind of those-were-the-days type sound that makes me want to ball up my first and punch him one good time in the mouth. AND THEN, he makes the oh-so-stupid mistake of telling about him wanting to get with a stripper and that he doesn't like those particular high class gentlemen's clubs where you're not allowed to touch the strippers and I'm just thinking, "Oi vey, shut up already." But I don't say anything of this to him; I feel he should have the ability to express his feelings on specific subjects.

Sigh.

And the only real reason this has come up is because a friend of his girlfriend is going to take said friend out to a strip club for his birthday, and this friend wanted to know if my boyfriend wanted to come. Funnily enough, now that I think about it, said friend did NOT ask whether or not my boyfriend wanted to bring me either. No, no, what my boyfriend said was, "I'll call you back on that decision." Hung up the phone and THEN asked me if I wanted to tag along. Kudos to him for being smart enough to tell me, minus the kudos for me having to recall: "OH YEAH, this is that friend who is sleeping around with a woman who is ENGAGED. YEAH, that's awesome! Let's all go out and chill with the two cheating skanks and have a jolly wonderful time!"

Esta puthamadre baboso.

But that's not the only thing I'm irritated about. Oh no. I'm also irritated that somehow last night we got into the discussion of living together and he somehow thought that it was a bright idea to get a two bedroom so that he can his own room and I can have mine.

Blink. Blink.

Sometimes, I want to ask him where his head is at and whether or not there is a filter that SHOULD be operational in his head that says to him: "Uh-uh, don't say that!" Because when he makes statements like that it makes me wonder, where the hell is your head at? Why do you let sheer stupid come out of your mouth without asking yourself if that's the brightest or dumbest idea you've had this century? What the hell?

I get it. Life isn't a fairy tale and certain things don't go as you plan, but I've always thought that when I got into a relationship with someone there'd be somethings that would just be done formally: meeting of the parents for example, formal; getting asked to move-in, formal; meeting the friends, formal. And mayhap it's just my overly romantic side, but you know, not alot of that has happened. Last relationship, didn't meet the parents formally: it was kind of like,"Hey! Here you go!" This time around, kind of the same difference. What is it about me that just makes people think: "Hey! Here you go!"

But this isn't the only thing. The apartment situation is erking me because it's just that I when I said, "What do you mean 'two bedroom'?" He was all like, "Well you know, it could be like us having our own apartment and when you wanted to come by..." And after that my brain only heard "blah blah blah blah..blah blah...blah blah blah...blah blah..." And I'm just thinking, WTH? I pass it off as a joke, but after my brain has gotten the chance to go over it, it's kind of like: "WTF?" Why do he say things like that to me? Where is his head at in this relationship?

I should've realized that this is a bad relationship to be in because my Mom likes him. Every time my mom liked someone, they always turned out to having some part of them that is severely lacking in something.

Like Tuesday for example. It was supposed to be OUR day: he said we were going to a movie and have dinner, and I'm all bubbly saying in my head: "YAY!!! Finally!" But then that Monday, surprise sur-frickin-prise, his friend Lamonte got to tag along too, so that on that Tuesday there was no back-up plan as to what we were supposed to do and my friend Shari was feeling sick (when does this girl NEVER S.T.O.P. needing my help) and I had to take her to the hospital because she wasn't sure if she was pregnant or not (and yet the moron doesn't seem like she needs to use a condom when having sex because she doesn't like them; okay. Blink. Frickin-blink. WHAT?!!! If you get knocked the fuck up then it's your own damn fault, huh?), so I didn't get my day with him and he once again got to chill with his friends and play video games and chill with that fucking girl and her fucking mother and I'm getting fucking irritated. More on that later. I didn't say no to that Monday-even though I wanted to, but like I said: not mean and I'm not one to deny another person their happiness no matter how pissed off I may get or ho much I want to say 'no'; WALKING DOORMAT HERE, PEOPLE-because I figured he would've had a back-up plan. Nope! He had no clue as to what we were going to do, even though he said, "Nope, that Tuesday's just going to be you and me."

Now look at me, I'm getting all worked up again and angry.

Huff.

And there are other sheer stupid that comes out of his mouth, other things that he'll say that makes me wonder why the fuck am I here. Like, he'd tell me about his relationship with his ex, and my mind is like a sponge people, so when I hear these things I'm going to remember them when say something similar comes up and I think, "Huh, so you could buy this bitch a car, but if I want something tiny done, we have a problem? You can let this bitch stay at your apartment, run up your bills, fuck UP your credit and you two argue all the damn time, but if *I* want something tiny, we have a problem?" WHAT THE FUCK?!!!

Maybe I'm not being fair.

Maybe I'm exploding all of these flaws because I'm used to being treated like I'm the only one that matters, that while I'm in your room, you're not going to be blatantly looking at your ex girlfriend's Myspace page where I can clearly see, that you're not recieving random phone calls from whoever-the-goodly-fuck at 3am in the morning, and most importantly, you are NOT going to think it's appropriate to let them girl you WERE fucking with to do the hair of the girl you are CURRENTLY fucking with.

It's that filter I was talking about.

Geez!

Not only that, but then my mom tells him last night when she saw my hair and that it's gotten shorter (horrible cutting hair mistake of mine, but it needed to be cut anyway, and she suggested me cutting it and starting over), that I used to have such long hair when I was a kid and that it used to be so good and awesome before my coursins cut it and my aunt put a straightener relaxer thing in my hair. So, as we're in the car driving back to his house, he's all like: "I would've been so much more attracted you if you had longer hair." And I'm like, "WTF?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" (read: I'm going to grab this wheel and drive this car into a ditch). He appologized, of course, telling, but I am attracted to you! And I laugh it off because that's just how I am, it didn't hurt until well, it brings up the fact that I never talk about his shortcomings or tell him: "I'd be SOOOOOO much more attracted to you if you were taller or were well built like say Steve Yoo." I aceept the way he looks because it's fine for me, he looks good to me, he's beautiful to me. I don't need some stripper to puff me up and talk to me to make me feel good about myself, I don't need to do any of that becase I KNOW who I am and what I am, but when you're significant other says something about apart of you that you are pretty proud of, or are vain about, or are a little unsure about, it kind of hurts.

/rant

I Have To Pour It Out Somewhere

2008-12-03T00:47:00.003-05:00

I want to murder him. Well, I want to wipe them both from existence, but I'm not willing to sully my karma for either of them, but it all just makes me so angry, and the anger feels like this thing crawling up through me, burning and caustic. It's a thing that just makes me want to set fire to something, punch something, hurt something and it rips apart my self-control to the point where the illusion of my centered-ness is shattered and my heart screams: why?! A woman scorned indeed. I want to make them both hurt and suffer and feel the pain that they've caused, but I NEED to let this go and not let it consume me; it's not worth it. I have too much to do in my life and not enough time. When we are born, life is a slow march onward to death. I've got to get my life on track, be with my boyfriend and enjoy my friends, enjoy the breath that I breathe and the heart that beats steady in my chest. I have to focus on my life path and not do things merely to show someone else how well I'm doing. Life isn't about one-upping other people.

I am beautiful, and I am strong and free and able to do things within the scope of my life that God allows. I'm trying to reconnect and rediscover my faith and my God, who I left behind because of some stupid child. I'm trying to find a peace and calm within my soul so that this anger doesn't tear me up inside or eat at me so that I can't function. I know it's no good to bury it and pretend it doesn't exist, but what else am I to do? I have to let it go. I can't let the Scorpio, or whatever the fuck ails me, to let this gnaw at me and my life. I want to figure out how to be free of this emotional menace. They say that you don't actually get over your first, and that's cool. Whatever. But, I can't help this sneaking thing that crawls up inside of me that wants and screams for blood. What am I do with that?

What am I to do?

What the Fuck is Up with Straight People Sometimes?

2008-11-19T21:25:00.002-05:00

The Original Post: ENTER THE GAY MARRIAGE BAN and the responses of Yahoo!users:

And the response that I didn't get to post cuz it was too long:

I have to admit to what some posters are saying...

Since when did marriage become a 'sacred' right in this country? The divorce rates among supposedly "straight" and "normal" people are through the roof; and I work in a Family Law Office, I should know. We've got more people tearing their families apart for the stupidest reasons, not thinking of their children, their finances or their over all state of being because of such an action. The reason Prop 8 was passed was because too many of those people were thinking with a religious frame of mind when majority of them were not truthfully religious. So many people don on the mask of believing in God when they are the least rightous of all, and then have the nerve to judge a minority of people that--if you think about it in Biblical terms--are doing the LEAST of the sins (whatever happened to getting these damned murderers off the streets, huh? These individuals care less about life and more about ending it, then homosexuals do).The supposed "sin" that they are doing is NOT an automatic death sentence to Hell, and can and WILL be forgiven, if it is in fact a sin at all.

We also have to realize that the US of A, recognizes that there is a seperation of Church and State, and that the people are biased, that is why there exists a checks and balances system. Instead of people complaining that homosexuals were given the right to marry, they should've just moved on with their lives when the Supreme Court deemed it a right for these people to have. And really, what hurt is it doing to anyone? These people are not thrusting their lifestyle upon you. You bring their lifestyle into the limelight by bickering about it and dissecting it. Move on! There are more important things in this country to worry about instead of whether or not these people want to say 'I do' and 'I do'. What are we straights so afraid of? Afraid that the gays will be better at marriage than us? Afraid that they'll raise their children better than us?

I'd say with how graceful the homosexual rights' movement has been these last few decades, it's a wonder that we straights aren't modeling our sense of morals and ethics after these people. You don't see them telling straights how to live their lives, raise their children, spend their taxes. But you mostly see the straights doing that.

Both Sides Now...I've begun a love affair with Joni Mitchell and it's going to last a lifetime

2008-11-16T16:10:00.002-05:00

Anyway, I'm mad and then I'm flabbergasted. Mad because of last night and at my boyfriend, and then flabbergasted at Michael Vick.

Okay, so the boyfriend pissed me off because of his just...ARGH!!!!!! Wishy-washy ways when it comes to making a damn decision. I mean...okay, I don't feel like rehashing it. I'm just irritated.

Michael Vick on the other hand, and just celebrities in general who think that just because they are suddenly top shit that they think nothing can or will touch them. Oh how the mighty have fallen. I always wanted to know why, when people get wealthy, they suddenly think that they can get away with things, do things and that the money is just going to keep coming. You have to be responsible with your spending but these people never seem to remember that; unless, of course, you come from old money, but even then...the children born to old money are acting the fool nowadays anyway so what's the fucking point?

Listen to Joni Mitchell and shut the fuck up, bitches.

Fucking Politcal Correctness...I WANT CANDY

2008-11-07T00:04:00.002-05:00

You know what I hate the most about he politically correct system that seems to permeate the world nowadays? Just the sheer niceness and false saccharine feelings that people have to express so as to tip toe and not hurt someone else's feelings. Ys, this is a fucking rant about astrology. You know, I can respect those muthafuckahs that talk about shit that's not politically correct because at least those people are being honest about what they feel, you know? None of this pansy-ass catering to another person's feelings. We're all walking on egg-shells around each other.

So, I'm trying to understand what a Libra Sun-Carpicorn Moon means in my personality and instead of it just telling me the good, the bad and the neutral, all I encounter is flowery-PC bullshit about how I can wield my place of authority like some Arthurian leader and 'manuever people into doing as I think they should." And then it has the nerve to say that that's not a bad thing.

Isn't that just a nice way of saying that I am a manipulative, power-and-control freak bitch? I mean, seriously! When did this shit become so hard to just tell people the truth and not give a shit about trying to spare their damned feelings about the matters at hand. I want to know what my emotions are like when I am a Cap-Moon, not the fucking PC descriptions so as to not hurt my feelings. I'm getting hurt more because I'm confused as hell about how I feel and how to balance it all, and no one will tell me what the FUCK it means!

The Current Political Process, Or How Much More Racist Can This Country Possibly Get...

2008-10-29T15:51:00.005-04:00

Oh My, What Obama Really Thinks Of White Folks...Doesn't Everybody?

What McCain Voters Think of Obama, or Racist Hicks from the PA..Givin y'all a shout out from the SOUTH

This current election season has brought out the best, the worst, the immature and the mature, but what it has currently brought out in abundance are the Racists. I figured that, being a sound 22-year-old with a good head on my shoulders and a bright outlook on life, that I would never have seen a minority president in my life time, or my younger brother's lifetime or even my children's life time. I can look around me and see that the people in this country staunchly hold onto the stories that they were told as children, the hatreds that were expressed towards them and those that they expressed towards each other and the inherent hostility that belies any dealings that every race in this country has for each other; no matter that we're all mixed raced, no matter that no one in this country is pure-whatever-type blood. We're all mutts.

However, as stated, this current election process has brought out the ugliness that exists in people. And while it's not just on the side of white people, but other minority groups as well, I think I highlight on white people and their prejudices and hatreds for other races because they really, truly have no reason to hate or have prejudices against other races; after all, not to be cruel, but...white people started it. Now, I've heard the white argument that blacks owned slaves too, and while that maybe the case, race never had anything to do with it. Black people in Africa didn't own a person or mistreat a person because of the fact that their skin was darker, their facial features were different and their language was different from their's. Generally, people that were in the same regions in Africa spoke the same language or a variation of it (I said region, not country). However, when whites invaded Africa and captured peoples and brought them to Europe and America as slaves, they were the ones that first introduced the concept of demeaning another race because they were of another race and ethnicity, not because there was something imperfect about their peoples, no. Merely because their skin was darker and their features different, they considered them somehow less intelligent. Check out the Library of Congress. The books that were written about just these subjects are still in print: in paperback, hardcover and even available as an E-book.

So, that's my first problem with white people. They refuse to believe that they are the reason that many problems in the world arose because of them and their ancestors. And while not all whites are bad, they still bear the mark of what their ancestors have done by not identifying with others, by subtly teaching their children that they are entitled to all the fruits of the earth and other races aren't. They just have this...thing...about them that marks them. It's in their blood, etched into their genetic code, and any minority that's dealt with white people on the dailey knows it and sees it and are irritated by it. Anyway, I've digressed from my original point of this particular post.

I got on youtube and was scrolling through some of the posts of vids for this particular election season and what should catch my eye? A post that a person put up in reference to what McCain voters shout out whenever Obama is mentioned, and it sickens me. Young people and old people, arguing and shouting at the Obama supporters, while simultaneously shouting 'Bomb Obama' and other such alarming remarks, and that even a Democrat was saying that he wasn't going to vote for Obama becuase he doesn't want a black man in office.

That's...depressing.

White people are ONLY seeing the color of his skin. They've forgotten that there is a such thing as needing to have an education in order to even become a Senator: you know, going to Law School, Practicing Law, Getting Elected and what not. It's like they forgot that no matter what you look like, if you're going to take on handling the finances and policies of an ENTIRE state, you've got to have at least some form of education. They don't see where this man is qualified, where he's gone to other countries and made allies, where he's carried himself with dignity and integrity in this process...No, no, no...all they see is his skin color. And yet, they want minorities of all races to be proud to call themselves American, when they are blatantly met with this underlying hostility no matter what college you've graduated from, what honors you've recieved in your lifetime and that no dirty laundry other than a habit for smoking cigarettes has been aired on National Television. I mean, you'd think if they wanted slander his name they could find an illegitimate child, a drug addiction, something. No, all they can say is that because he has friends with opposing views that he clearly shares those views too.

Really, people? REALLY? Is that all you got?

Not only that, but then I clicked on a second post on youtube where it was a clear warning for white people in which some idiot poster was trying to slander Obama because of certain things he said in his book. I must say that whites are grasping for straws. I believe, just about every minority in this country has at least one bad thing to say about whites because white people do it to themselves with their ignorance and their inability to attempt to understand cultures different from their's. And Obama is no different. And he's what? In his mid to late forties? He's grown up during a time when whites were more asshole then they are now, when they were more out in the open with their hostilities for other races. He's seen hatred heaped on him and those he loves, so how is it wrong for him to cite these experiences in his book(s). What? Is he just supposed to forget his life experiences in the face of this election? Is he supposed to forget that those experiences made him who he is? What he is and what he could mean for this country?

I'm not going to say he's a messiah, but he's a breath of fresh air because there's a new perspective that country can get, that this country and its citizens can see. That he can show to everyone: Niggers aren't stupid, ape-like, obnoxious, smelly individuals. Black people are proud, caring, hold to their family values and are intelligent beyond measure. His perspective can shed light on the hostilities that whites have to minorities and the hostilities that minorities have to each other. It's a way to show that skin color shouldn't matter, that we as a species can grow and prosper if we stop trying to figure out ways of alienating each other and come together to build a brighter future.

I just don't understand why whites have troubles identifying with him, and that's the real reason why they hate or dislike him, and other races. They feel like they can't identify with us and they only delve into understanding others at a skin deep level. They never think that we share the same religious, family and core values, that we don't love the same way they do or care the same way they do or feel even the most basic emotions.

They see us as different merely because of the color of our skin and not because of the fact that we have different opinions or different tastes. And it also gets me that whites expect us to be able to identify with them. That when a television show comes on that deals with certain themes--drug culture, for instance--they can't identify with the black face that may be on screen, but put a white guy on screen with the same character and the same lines and they can automatically relate...even if they've never lived in that type of lifestyle or environment. But, we--as minorities--are supposed to agree, supposed to be able to identify with the all white cast of characters, even though not all minorites are blonde haired, blue-eyed and rosy lipped, growing up in a suburbia and spoiled rotten by our parents to be irritating, lifesized Barbie dolls. Seriously, people? Seriously?

Get out of your "safe", "comfortable" damn bubbles and do something with yourselves instead of wallowing in your hatred and prejudice. It just makes your souls ugly.

It disgusts me, but we have a long way to go. This is just the first step.

I wish these people would grow up and take this step with me.

ORGANIZATION STRATEGY ONE...Commenced

2008-10-20T16:46:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I've actually started on and completed the organization strategy one as I am going to call it and I think my boyfriend thinks I am insane because I bitched out my book last night, although he's a sweetie pie and made up for it with some awesome snugglage after I was finished. Anyway, I bummed off from the early hours of work to do this so I'm going to go in at five and just contact clients before the work day ends to get their sides of the story for whatever this and that so that I can at least attempt to earn my paycheck. Not that I don't attempt to earn it either way I've just got to buckle down so that I can pay my rent by then end of the month and my ever wonderful bills too.

So, I've got the prologue, chapters 1 - 20 and the epilogue planned out and am trying to determine whether or not if I should write them on my computer or write them in a notebook. My brain shouts both, but my brain is currently turning to mush so I can't be too sure. I hope my boss wrote my paycheck out. I'll be insanely irritated if she hasn't.

Anyway, I'm off to the writing of the book. Aw, wait no..It's almost five o'clock...let me go make a twenty minute drive to work. Laters!

My Brain Feels Like Mush....

2008-10-19T23:52:00.002-04:00

Okay, there's this author I love, love, love to absolute pieces, but can I just say there is a thin line between love and hate? I mean, she is PHENOMENAL in that kind of oh-my-god you could win all the Pulitzer Prizes in the known galaxy and I was sooooooooooo totally be happy for you, but then there's little voice inside that wails and screams and stomps its little foot and says: DAMN YOU, WOMAN!! DAMN YOU AND YOUR MUSES!!! DAMN YOU AND YOUR WITTY LINES AND WITTY COMEBACKS AND YOUR SIMPLY FLAWLESS POPULARITY!!! DAMN YOUR BOOK DEAL!!!"

It's just jealousy really.

I love her books and her ideas, I just hate that I can't seem to stick with one idea and then make it work. Take for example this one story I've got, I've revamped it at least three times already because the first two story lines were just too big and too confusing and were opening a lot of doors to plot holes that my brain was screaming at me: please don't make me fill them. I'm irritated and annoyed, and am hoping that I can finally implement ORGANIZATION-STRATEGY-ONE, in which I finally draft an outline after much procrastination and just piteous shouts of 'I dun wanna!'

I want to be famous like her one day, or maybe just more famous so I can good-naturedly rub it in her face and say, YARG!!! The apprentice has now become the master! And then do some respectful bow before whipping out pens that have lightsabers at the ends of them and do some huge, epic battle that could rival that of Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader.

I don't know.

I'm going to go back to hating my book now.

The Downfall of Positive And Negative Stereotypes

2008-09-12T21:16:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I was watching a Nelly video a few minutes ago, and was also thinking about this guy that I'm...dating? seeing? chillin with? (I don't know; it's...interesting to say the least)...he's Chinese, but he likes black girls, and well....it got me thinking about the media stereotypes, media depictions and the standard of beauty in the US of A, and how that can affect someone's vision of their body image.

Statistically, white women are more prone to be Aenorexic or Bulimic, and Black people have a much more positive body image, but when can that body image (no matter how positive) go bad? I will admit, my body type is not the voluptuous sex-kitten figure that men drool over when you see...well, videos like Nelly's. I don't think too negatively of myself, but it does make me notice that I am NOT at all shaped like them....I do not have the big butt nor the shapely hips, the OMFG thin waist or the big boobs. I won't say I'm average because I'm not, but it was always made quite clear to me growing up that I had a "white girl's figure" and that that particular body type (while usually being said in jest) was negatively loked upon. I've been told by family, "We gon' git sum meat on dem bones..."

So, while the supposed "healthier" body image is more prevalent in black women, why is it that you can still fell negatively about it? When does the reverse of aenorexia and bulimia become bad? When does it become unhealthy?

Just a short blurp really.

story: Broken Heart's Club

2008-09-06T14:48:00.001-04:00

Title: Broken Heart's Club
Author: ME!
Summary: What's a girl to do when her heart gets broken?

“And God said, go ye forth for the eighth day of break-ups will suck. And suck hard.”

“You don’t have to be so negative.”

“Why? Because the guy I thought I loved was a snake and a manipulative bastard, who was out for his own ends? No, I’d like to call myself and optimistic realist; and therefore, the eighth day sucks.”

“I brought you out here to cheer you up.”

“Fat load of good that did you.”

The sharp look that was shot Sadie’s way was of clear annoyance, and Brandy turned back to her rapidly cooling mocha choosing to ignore her friend’s tirade or pseudo-Biblical prophecies. She turned her attention to the Atlanta city skyline as cars rushed past on busy Buckhead streets and life pulsed as it usually did in a semi-metropolis like the southern city. They were seated outside of a Starbuck’s barista, the day an unseasonably warm one for it being winter in the city; but, then again, the south had been having a lot of unseasonable weather for last few months. Brandy wondered if it were because of global warming, but attention was soon pulled away from her own meandering thoughts when a loud sniff issued forth from her right. She turned abruptly, gasped in dismay.

“Aw, Sadie,” she clucked sympathetically and scooted her chair over to her friend, and the other woman leaned into her shoulder. Sadie’s eyes were already tell-tale red of soon to be shedding tears and her mouth was drooped at the corners. Her large brown eyes looked up at Brandy’s and she sniffed loudly.

“It’s only been eight days,” Sadie told her. “I’m twenty-one years old and I only have had one sexual encounter in my entire life and he was it, and when I told him I loved him: WHAM!”

“I know, I know.” Brandy rubbed Sadie’s back in soothing circles, slow, but firm as her friend’s body shuddered and a small sigh issued. Brandy knew the story all too well. She’d been studying for a term paper that fateful night, eight days ago, when Sadie called, clearly distraught, tears audible over the phone line, telling her that Mark had broken up with her, saying, “He said he just didn’t feel the same way. I told the bastard I was in-love with him and he said he didn’t feel the same way. He didn’t feel the same way. He said he doesn’t want me chasing something that’s fleeting.”

Brandy remembered casting aside her term paper and everything else, a murderous intent rising in her belly like hot acid and bile, wishing she knew exactly where Mark lived so that she could show him just how much of a jerk he had been for that. But she’d kept it to herself, consoling her friend the best way she could over the phone. She’d felt guilty for only being able to talk to Sadie on the phone anyway over the past seven days and so, on the eighth, she decided to take her best friend out.

“I know you loved him, Sadie, I know you did,” Brandy informed her, her voice firm, “But he was just an ass. All the things you put up with, all the things you did. He was your first, babe.”

Sadie sniffed louder. “I still do love him, which is the messed up part, and I still want him back. I still want….”

The barista came outside to see if they needed anything else and Brandy waved the nice young woman away, not wanting anyone or anything to impinge upon her friend’s sadness. She turned to Sadie, watching as thick droplets of tears fell from the other woman’s large brown eyes, her mouth drooped lower and her shoulders slumped.

Brandy swallowed thickly.

That murderous intent was rising again with a vengeance, clawing its way up her body from the base of her spine and spreading out throughout her body, through her limps, prickling her finger tips in a way that made her want to grab one of the Starbuck’s chairs, rip it out of its place in the cement and march right over to where Mark lived and beat him over the head with it. Sadie was a gem, even though she often didn’t realize it herself. She was the type of person that would help no matter who you were, from her greatest enemy to her dearest friend. She was the selfless type of person that you only encountered once in your lifetime, who’d smile at you or do her damnedest to get you to feel ten times better if you were down and out. Brandy couldn’t understand why Mark could just be so…

She wanted to hit something, hit him, but her anger was not what was needed here, and it would only make things worse. This was Sadie’s time, and she had to be there for her friend.

“It’s natural for you to feel that way, babe.” Brandy rubbed her friend’s back some more, wishing she could impart some kind of sense of stability to her friend’s feelings, wishing she could show her that tomorrow would be a brighter day. She remembered her own break up with her first girlfriend, and that had been a harrowing experience. Back in high school and her girlfriend had told her that she just couldn’t see herself in a relationship anymore and then not a week later: she was out dating some other girl. Brandy had been heart broken, but she had violently and forcefully made herself get over it.

She didn’t think her quick fix, get over her break up plan would work for Sadie. Because Sadie had truly, truly loved Mark, or as Sadie said, still was in-love with Mark. Brandy didn’t know how her friend was ever going to truly heal from it. Of course people got their hearts broken all the time, but she didn’t know those “other people”, all she knew was Sadie, and she knew that her friend was the type to dwell on things too much and too often.

“I know you hate hearing it being said, but….” Brandy paused. “It’ll get better. It’ll get better and you’ll soon be thinking ‘Mark-who?’”

That got a small chuckle from Sadie, and she looked up, her brown eyes still watery.

“You think so?”

Brandy smiled at her. “Hun, I know so.” She rubbed her friend’s back one last time, then gathered their things briskly from the Starbuck’s table. “Now,” she began, “let’s figure out what else we’re going to do today.”

“What else?” Sadie asked, puzzled. Brandy nodded, handing her a tissue, a look of determination crossing her face.

“I’ve got to distract you from all this mess,” Brandy replied, waving her hand airily. She stood, and Sadie after wiping her nose and gathering her things, stood too.

“Let’s go shopping,” Brandy said, a mischievousness lacing her voice.

***

Two hours and twenty shopping bags later, Sadie found herself home, alone, with Brandy’s cheerful car horn still echoing in her ear. She looked around, looked around at everything and sighed.

poem: Meaningless Chats

2008-09-06T14:46:00.000-04:00

MEANINGLESS CHATS

By Erica D.

Wait for the lonely midnights,

Wait for those kind of

Meaningless chats;

You know the ones:

Those chats that tell the truth,

But

Under the light of day

Have no bearing.

You reveal truth

At midnight,

You reveal

The Inner

Self.

Under the bobbing lights

Of firefly, fairy lights.

Unassuming;

Disinterested in the

Affairs of men.

Mouths part,

Eyes sparkles—

Maybe I wouldn’t have told you:

“I like girls with clit-rings.”

“I like riding guys on top.”

“I’m a kink, not a freak; there’s a difference.”

Passing that Black & Mild;

Don’t fuck up the flow.

I've Been All Over, And I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

2008-08-27T11:46:00.007-04:00

I've been doing research all over the internet, trying to find a scientific explanation for zombies and whether or not, scientifically, it could happen. Like, could a dead guy get up and start walking around and kill and eat human flesh and could it occur at such a rapid state as to affect the whole world. I've come to the understanding that unless it is the rage virus, solanum could never happen. That makes me kind of sad.

Doing research on the decay process of the human body and the way the cells break down and the body decomposes, there would probably be no way that a person could die and then get up and start walking around without any type of functional heartbeat and/or body activity what so ever. The human body needs active blood flow in order for the limps to move, for fingers to be able to grab and for legs to lurch forward such as they could. Since, upon death, there is a cessation of all body activity, there would be no way in hell--well, unless demons took over the dead bodies--that dead people could get up and walk around and eat people. Once again, I will reinterate: that makes me sad.

Sad, you may ask. Why?

Well, I am on two different sides of the spectrum when it comes to zombies: on the one hand, they scare the hell out of me because HELLO!!!! Dead People Walking!!!! But on the other hand, it would change the face of the lant and human history forever and ever and ever. A huge disaster and catastrophe such as that would tell everyone that the bullshit (racism, classism, sexism, the other million -isms) don't have any bearing in this strange new world that we'd find ourselves in. So, yeah, a million, million ghouls would be hot on your trail, but people would pull together, help each other, want to ensure the survival of the species at least. Of course there would always be those that would care more about themselves then others, but then there'd also be those people that would feel that ancestral pull of being herd animals. Humans are herd animals. We operate and run best when we are within a group.

People would step up to the plate and take care of each other, would look after each other and make sure that the other were okay.

But, alas, unless the government decides to concoct the rage virus (which, by the way, does not create zombies as it essentially amps up the adrenaline in a person's body until they are just really, really, really angry and beat the hell out of someone, their internal organs turn to mush, they're in pain and then just run out of energy and die...rage virus does not kill the person. hence=no zombies), the world will continue as it is.

That, or Mother Nature gets pissed off and takes back her own.

*sigh*

Relationships, Love Life and All that Jazz

2008-08-16T20:44:00.004-04:00

Oi, what have I done? I mean, I can now say that Astrology is good for somethings, but not good for prediction. Anyway, I'm a Libra, right? And well, okay, I do typify some of the most enduring Libra traits of charm and grace and appeal, but then other times the negative traits come out and they are annoying. I know I shouldn't do things without thinking it through, but then...I do them anyway and then perpetuate a lie because I want to be loved and not hated. Typical Libra response to anything and everything.

So, what have I done?

Ugh.

So, there's this guy named Anthony and before I dated my ex-boyfriend, he and numerous of his friends (and I mean, numerous...sometimes it's good to be a Libra), wanted to get with me. Some of them actually stepped up to the plate and asked me out, others of them stayed on the sidelines like the pussy-bitch-boys that they were. Anthony was one of the boys who'd take me out, but only, of course, as friends. I ultimately chose the asshole and now, he's the asshole ex. Well, trickle on down the line to now, in which Anthony is single and I am single, but I only liked him for a second. I knew well enough that it wasn't going to last for more than a few weeks this sudden infatuation (I do know myself well enough after all) and I knew when it was going to fade (it's mostly because I'm just attracted to the energies of Aries men, and that is truth because the last few dates I've been on were all...tada! Aries Men...I have GOT to get attracted to other z-signs, gawd!). Anyway, it--the infatuation--subsided a bit and I was more than ready to carry-on with my existence, but unfortunately some friends had a get-together and everyone knows what happens on get-togethers and I kissed him.

GAWK!

It wasn't unpleasant, but it didn't send sparks flying like I would've wanted it to. In fact, there wasn't anything except...'Oh, he has soft lips.' It should've gone more like 'OOOOOh, soft lips...yummmm!'

So, now I'm all like. SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT! What have I done? And instead of cutting him off and saying, yeah, I'd prefer to be friends...I perpetuate it because I'm scared to death that he will hate me. And his friends that I am friends with, will hate me as well. And I LIKE these people so...ngrw!! Yes, ngrw!! Because I know that at this moment I am not looking for a relationship with anyone (it might have something to do with the fact that I let this OMFG guy get away a couple months back and my psyche is making me pay for it, but w/e...see previous entry from a few months back -->). I mean, I know now that if I got into a relationship with him that I wouldn't be faithful to him because even now I'm trying to get the hook-up and date other guys and my mind will be far away from him. After all, I'm hoping to try on some Asian lovin' with the serious intent of being in a relationship. Not that Asians are the only ones that I'm open to...White guys, Asian Guys, Pacific Islanders, Indians, etc. When I was a kid I fancied myself marrying either a Japanese guy or a Maori man from New Zealand (and no, I do not have hatred for my own race, but I was a bit more open to the idea of interracial relationships than most kids in an-all-balck community....My first crush was my Korean martial arts instructor T.H. Kim..and even after a good couple of years and a smattering of grey hair, that man still looks da-yum good).

Anyway, I've screwed up and I've seen him naked and I KNOW I'm shallow and a tadbit vain...I KNOW that because this other dude liked me and I stopped liking him because he broke wind in my apartment and, while that is a natural function of the human body, it WAS MY APARTMENT AND GOD NO!!!!!! So, Anthony has warts...on his back and his knee. EWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! There are ways to REMOVE THEM!!!! Ew. So, call me and asshole....I dun care. It's just...unfortunate that I'll have to take him off the market too because I don't want him at all, and you want to know how I realized this. He was talking to a female friend of his and they were leaning together pretty close and I felt nothing...Not a twinge of jealousy or anything, and usually when I like somebody I feel that. I mean, with my ex- this OOGLAY chick who I KNEW had no chance in HELL of getting with him was coming around trying to flirt with him and I felt that twinge of jealousy, so...I KNOW.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm Not An Idiot....REALLY!!!

2008-08-15T15:15:00.002-04:00

I am, for lack of better words, thoroughly annoyed. I believe I made a post some time back about how difficult it is to find any DECENT men in this town. and yep...back to square one again. God...Is it hard to find decent men in this town? Men who will, pray tell, LISTEN to what you have to say. I shall quote a memeber on another site that I am a member of by saying I was raised in the 'Southern Way', which means that I am, for all intents and purposes, a Ga-muthafuckin-peach, a southern belle and that you will treat me as such! I was raised to be respectful of my elders, no matter who they are, to not talk back to those that clearly know better than me, to not cuss in polite company, to always carry myself as a lady first and foremost, to be independent in the sense that if I have no one else to help me out, then to do the hardwork myself and not whine about it, to be able to mend my own clothes, clean my own home, maintain my own money and bills, etc, etc, etc. And every woman should be raised in the 'southern way'. However, it seems that the misconception of me being a majority black female (I am Puerto Rican, White and Native American too) has suddenly become a staple to these damn men that are trying to get with me. All they see is the pretty face and NOT in fact what lies underneath. Case in point, last night aka this morning at 2 - 3 a.m., there's this guy that I am REALLY not interested in, but I'll give him the time of day because I like being admired (okay, call me shallow and I will nod my head and grin at you coyly, while you simultaneously admire my pretty smile...lol) and I like meeting new people. Gotcher! But I try to tell him, hey the quickest way to earn my interest is to talk to me about intellectual subjects. NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, he's all about sex...Sex this...and look at what my tongue can do that...and I'mma take you to my house and rub hot oil on you. Ewww!

First off, I don't even know you! Hell, I can barely remember you name and that's not from me being conceited...I really have a problem remembering names, but faces I ALWAYS remember even if I haven't seen you in five years! But, anyway, I would like to be taken on a first date and get into an intellectual conversation and know where your head is at and not any bullshit about how large your dick is. Hmmm....I've felt it...and I've ridden dick much bigger than yours. But aside from that even is just the fact that I kept telling him this repeatedly and he just WOULD NOT listen! I kept telling him I want to get to know you better, spend time with you without half my clothes off and he's wanting to invite me to his place and cook me breakfast and have sex with me nad I'm just like, CAN I GET TO KNOW YOU FIRST?!!! I already told you I am not a breakfast type person. I have already told you I do not have sex unless I know you well enough. I have already told you, repeatedly, no, no, no, no, no and NO!

Is this the stock of what Atlanta has to offer the womenfolk? Really?

That's it! I'm moving to the Westcoast. Maybe the men out there actually listen to their women.

crawfordjeremy702000, you go to hell, you BATSARD!!!! :P

2008-08-05T11:42:00.004-04:00

Okay, so I am randomly on yahoo!messenger..not even randomly on it so much as it's online and I'm cruising the internet checking my e-mails and all of a sudden this person IMs me, and I'm like...urgh...who the hell are you? But I don't say that I just say hello and and engage in a very strange conversation in which this person asks me whether or not I write fanfiction, and whether or not I write femslash. Yes to the first and no to the second one. Here I'll post the conversation...LOL!

crawfordjeremy70200 (8/5/2008 11:29:03 AM) hello
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:29:08 AM): hello?
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:29:24 AM): do you write fanfiction.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:29:41 AM): sometimes, yes....it's according to which fandom
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:29:57 AM): have you done femslash or not.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:30:17 AM): nope, i usually slash....i haven't done femslash before
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:30:23 AM): oh.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:30:31 AM): yep lol
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:30:52 AM): i was hoping someone would a short nc-17 femslash but no one will.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:31:23 AM): for what fandom?
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:32:05 AM): either the tv series buffy or smallvillle or the film fantastic four rise of the silver surfer or spider-man 3.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:33:24 AM): oh, well..the said thing is that i haven't watched buffy all the much (i was an angel fan), didn't watch smallville and only saw Fantastic Four once....but i think there are femslash stories for buffy and smallville
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:34:46 AM): i just wanted a short fic of like sue storm with frankie ray from fantastic four rise of the silver surfer please.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:35:45 AM): i don't do femslash...now, if you asked me for slash..i'd direct you to a story i'm already working on, but femslash doesn't appeal to me....i already have femparts...what do i want to write about them for...lol
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:36:03 AM): i am begging you.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:36:15 AM): no thanks...
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:36:19 AM): and i am not taking no for answer.
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:36:47 AM): so will you do it.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:37:04 AM): then i guess you'll have to because i do not, will never do in this life or the next, fem slash...thanks...i'll talk to later...bye!
crawfordjeremy702000 (8/5/2008 11:37:30 AM): YOU LYING BATSARD I HOPE YOU FUCKING GO TO HELL.
themuse02 (8/5/2008 11:37:48 AM): !adios!

Okay, how bizarre is that? I think I handled myself pretty well, don't you? It's not that I won't write it (you never know, the feeling may hit me one day in the far, far away and away far, far future to write it), but it doesn't appeal to me. As I stated: I've got femparts, what do I want to write about them for? So, yeah...this person is clearly a freak and a terrible speller at that (it's BASTARD...not BATSARD) and this person (jeremy crawford, just screams lonely, pizza-faced nerd who's an asiaphile and nasty and sweating over his computer terminal, desperately seeking the elusive free porn sites so that he can jack off to his heart's content...asshole) will clearly get NO kind of help what-so-ever in getting his little nc-17 fic if he keeps that up.

And what was he doing, STALKING MY WEBPAGE? Where the hell did he get my information?!??!

How To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse

2008-08-04T16:38:00.001-04:00

What To Do In A Zombie Attack

2008-08-04T16:35:00.001-04:00

Impossible Things Are Happening Everyday

2008-08-04T16:33:00.001-04:00

Today's The Day The Teddy Bears Have Their Picnic

2008-08-04T16:24:00.001-04:00

Why Don't You Go #$%$^ Yourself With A $%$^ And Leave Me The %^&%$# ALONE!!!

2008-08-03T15:33:00.002-04:00

ARGH!!!!!! Happy August, everyone...and I'm irritated, but then again that MUST be the state of affairs that my life takes on at every single turn. I could probably elaborate, but I'm a dunce so it really wouldn't matter what I said (why do I smell frackin' CANDY!!!!!?!!!). Almost got a ticket, but was able to talk my way out of it by being cute, clueless and sweet even though I looked like crap. I think the 'verse has it out for my love life because I fall for unattainable men. Not 'unattainable' in the sense that I don't think I'm good enough for them (I mean, not to be conceited, but I think I look pretty DAMN good (HAWT even)), but 'unattainable' as in meaning they either live too far away or already taken, and I'm just like....

ARGH!!!!!

So, yeah...never mind...I'll just...

Yeah...

ARGH!!!

Now, Who Wants Lemonade?

2008-07-30T11:19:00.002-04:00

How hard is it to actually find a decent guy in this town? I mean, this is Atlanta for crying out loud. An international city that's on the rise in globalization and the international market...supposedly anyway. I've lived here all my life and I'm disappointed completely. Well, okay...maybe I'm not trying hard enough...or being a bit too hard on other people. LOL! I've been known to do that on occassion and maybe I shouldn't be such a 'saint'. Where did that come from by the way? I mean, I don't remember being a saint or saint-like...far from it actually, but I think I'm losing my point.

Ah yes, Atlanta...lack of guys...Okay, there's not a lack...just of decent ones, or ones that can tell you what they feel and not beat around the bush, or think that acting like an ass will make them somehow more desirable or be in a relationship with someone else who is clearly a bitch. But then again...

*sigh* I'm just me and I probably sound like an idiotic youngerster, which could very well be the case. When I talk to people I sound and act more mature than I am, but I feel like when I write I really show my age.

I need to stick with a book idea, and get started and finish.

I hate indecision.

ARGH!!

Because I Worship The Beauty Of Other Races

2008-07-29T17:02:00.003-04:00

I'm posting on my blog people that I think are insanely attractive. Here goes:

Benicio del Toro: I mean, LOOK at him. What's not to love?

Johnny Depp: THE quintessential bad boy...he NEVER goes out of style

Luke Goss: played Prince Nuada...So gotta get me an elf.

Takashi Kaneshiro: Does he even NEED a caption?

Daniel Dae Kim: *Brain dead*

Ekin Cheng: Yowza!

Aaron Kwok. One word: Hawt!

Here are my beauties for now. I'm not done yet though. I've got a few more hotties to post up. LOL!!!

And There Goes The Fall Of The Good People

2008-07-21T13:12:00.001-04:00

I really need to stop being a nice person. My boss needs to stop thinking it's funny to not pay me on time *sigh*

Can You Ever Get Tired Of Helping People?

2008-07-19T22:39:00.002-04:00

I believe I've said this before, but it bares repeating because it's a question that crossed my mind earlier today, but also weeks prior and I glossed over it before and didn't poner it seriously until I was confronted with the thought again today: can you get tired of helping people? Hm. Maybe not How about helping just one person? Is it wrong or mean, I wonder to just want to throw up your hands and say,'HEY! GO ASK SOMEONE ELSE FOR HELP?!' I mostly think it's when it deals with money that I begin to have a problem or slight personal insult too. I have anecdotes for everything, and I think that's the problem people have with me is that I have a logical explanation for all the things I feel or do.

It's just that Shari seems to be having a LOT of problems lately, and I realize that when a friend is having just so many issues, you should be there for them, but when is enough enough, when can you just say, go ask someone else. I've done insanely bigger things for her than I have for any of the other friends I've known for longer and it's been costing me...a lot. I've bailed her out of jail, helped her with her car, helped her pay her deposit for an apartment that she didn't even get and I've paid for her gas on numerous occasions. She's stayed at my home on numerous occasions, eaten my food and used my car for many different things, all at the expense of her driving without a license.

So, okay...does it seem like I've done too much? Am I being a walking punching bag or do I need to keep doing what I am doing even though I feel like I'm being taken advantage of?

I mean, for some reason, she automatically thought it was perfectly okay to ask me whether or not she could use my car to drive her and her boyfriend around for a personal day. Okay, I get it: you and he are trying to patch up your relationship, but why is it that I am the first one you ask? Why is it that your boyfriend's not asking to use one of his homeboy's cars? Or even his mother's car? Why is it that you can't ask your new roommates to help you bring your stuff to their apartment, why do you have to ask me and then have me awake at ten and eleven and twelve o'clock at night with a police escourt?

Do I sound like a bitch? Am I just being one? Or is it because my personality is just the type that says that I have to do things by myself and then expect everyone else to do the same? Does that mean I am a bitch?

I've been told by my brother and my father and...well...other people, that I just need to stop giving a shit about people so much and do things for myself, but helping is so much tied into giving a shit and doing things on my own that I'll attempt to do so much that I'm drained after every activity. So, do I follow my brother's advice and just say, fuck it, sorry, I can't help you? Or do I keep helping?

I know that if my father even knew that someone else was driving my car he'd have a coniption because he's always told me to care about myself more so than others and not do so damned much. But I can't help it because I want to fix everything, but can you ever just get tired of helping other people or just someone? Can you ever just say, you've got other friends to help you too, why do you have to keep pestering me? I don't know. Maybe I am being a bitch, but damned if I don't feel tired as hell just thinking about the whole situation. I want to go to sleep.

*yawn*

Adieu!

These Beef Ribs Put Me In A Sleepy Mood

2008-07-16T20:47:00.001-04:00

*yawn*

Why Wasabi's Is The Best Sushi and Seafood Buffet on The Planet

2008-07-15T23:30:00.002-04:00

You know, I have many petpeeves when I drive and it's not because I'm a speed demon or have an insane amount of roadrage. Okay, that's a lie. I am, in fact, a speed demon, but road rage....really? C'mon. Get outta here. Anyway, I've got a few petpeeves such as...well...when you're driving on an expressway and you're attempting to merge onto traffic and there's a car blocking your way even though the guy or girl is taking the adjoining exit and is going to force you to have to play road acrobatics just to get onto the damn expressway. But my BIGGEST petpeeve is when someone is on a damn cellphone and aren't driving nearly as fast when they are off the cellphone. Driving is all about multitasking, so in my opinion, if you can't drive the same speed while on the cell as you would while not talking on a cell then PUT THE FUCKING PHONE AWAY! No conversation is worth getting in a wreck over or holding up traffic or even just being a rude ass.

Okay, so what happened today, right? I'm taking my friends and myself to a resturant because none of us have eaten today and we're all starving. I'd had to sit through an hour of traffic already on 285 West for whatever frackin reason, people were rude asses on the expressway while I'm trying to exit, I turned up and around trying to travel the street way to get to my home, my boss pissed me off because I was attempting to get paid early so that I could get to the bank, put money in my account and pay up my insurance and whole hell of a lot of other frackin problems today. Is it any wonder? Just give me a smooth ride. No, this bitch couldn't.

Usually, I let people do what they do and try to do what I do and that be all. I mean, I was tight behind her and she was creeping at like a snail pace. Seriously, to quote Ron White: she moving at the speed of smell, she was going so damn slow. And then my friend sitting in the front seat with me says: Aye, tell this bitch to get off the cellphone!" And immediately my brain was like, Wait. She's holding us up because she wants to discuss beauty secrets with her girlfriends. What the fuck--? So, I lay in on my horn and she decides that once she makes the right turn (same way I'm going) that she wants to stop abruptly and attempt to make me hit her car (if I had have hit it, I would've given the bitch a reason to call the cops), but I don't and she CONTINUES to drive at the speed of smell, so I lay in on the horn and don't let up for a minute (telling my mother later, I told her I pulled a George Gray, as in meaning my father's hellified road rage came out of me).

So, she's looking at me through her side mirrors with a dumb look in her face like, 'No this bitch is not honking her horn at me.' So, I'm shouting in Spanish and German and English telling this puthamadre, scheissbekompf, bitch ass muthafuckah to get the hell out of my way. And she decides that she's going to stop and stick her head out the window of her car and say 'You need to stop and fuck you and quit it and all this other bullshit, while my friend Laura said to me later that the security guard was looking at me and my car puzzled as hell. And I shout at the girl, Get OFF THE GODDAMNED CELLPHONE, BITCH!!!! Laura's in the back saying, 'I don't know these people.' Shari's laughing her ass off and I'm steadily shouting and half-way laughing myself. Finally, the bitch drives off and I get to go where I need to go.

Like I said, I'm usually cool about certain things: I'll let you pass me on the road and cut in front of me and do other things, but talking on a frackin cell phone is my biggest damn petpeeve, like you have no idea how much I hate it when some is on a cellphone and is driving slow and can't just finish up the damn conversation or pull off and talk and then when their done, get back on the road. There are enough stupid drivers on the road willing to do fucked up stunts to get where they have to go, why add dumbfuck cellphone talkers to the mix? Really? Is that what we do now? For real, for real.

URGH...

2008-07-15T16:12:00.000-04:00

Why me oh me oh my?

I want Peach Cobbler

2008-07-14T15:09:00.004-04:00

You know, if you've ever been to one of those cybering chatrooms (yes, OMFG, I said cybering chatrooms and yes, I've been to some...whoayay!) and you meet those people that are looking for love in those chatrooms? I don't know, I was on one the other day for kicks, right? And So, I'm chatting with this guy and he's all being flowery and shit and I'm all like, wtf, man, this a chatroom, get on with it already. And then once he's spent and over, and I'm sitting at my computer laughing to myself, he's all like: I SO enjoyed our chat and hey, let's make a date to do it again, say, tomorrow at such-and-such time? And I'm all like, wtf, man, it's a CHATROOM!!!!!

I just have to say that it's a little retarded. It's a sex chat room, why are you looking for a connection in one of those skeeziest dives on the internet? I dunno. I won't say people are pathetic because hell, that's the pot calling the kettle black.

Can you ever get tired of helping people?

We Seem To Be Getting A Loy Of Rain

2008-07-09T22:32:00.002-04:00

Okay, so...my car....

I WANT MANDY6 BACK!!!!!!!!

Because Samantha is costing ME too much frackin' money. Too much. I mean, what does the universe think? I'm made of frackin' money? Ugh. I wish I had the car though because I'm jonesin' for my Ashley and there's this audition that she could go out to and possibly get involved with and do well with, and even though she feels like she might not do well, I think she should go so I could...I dunno....pump up her self-esteem and what not.

I think the only good thing about getting my car confucked is getting it towed by a really cute looking Bulgarian guy. Gosh, if he didn't have a girlfriend I think I would've gotten that phone number. I am quite confident, but...I don't play with other people's toys so..la tee ta!

However, I do want my own toy to play with. Okay, so toy is the wrong word to use. Bah!!!

SIGH

2008-07-04T21:41:00.002-04:00

I think it's just because I might be a little...I dunno...pathetic.

The firworks are bursting in the air and I've got horrid pictures in my head of things I wish would go away. Or feelings. Either one.

I wish I could build a time machine.

Don't we always?

*sigh*

2008-06-29T16:19:00.001-04:00

Okay, So You're Playing With Me, Right?

2008-06-29T15:35:00.002-04:00

Okay, so now the universe wants to mess with my head. WHY?! What did I do this time? Ugh. And you know what else sucks? I just got my credit score back from TransUnion...My credit sucks bad, and I don't know how it did! I had good credit, and in the last two to three months I've done nothing strenuous on my accounts: I haven't opened a new account, I haven't used my credit card and when I did, I paid it all back promptly. I've paid majority of my bills back on time. What the fuck!!!!

EDIT: Okay, so apparently, it doesn't suck and that damned website was only trying to freak me out so that I could pay them money just to do my credit score. Spoek to my own credit agency; I'm still doing good. The putamadres!!!

Because Sometimes I Get A Little Claustrophobic....

2008-06-25T12:31:00.002-04:00

Okay, so....

Maybe I'm a mean friend. Maybe I just don't give a crap about my friends as much as I claim too, but really...this is ridiculous. I think I'm a nice person. Insanely so, in fact. So why is it that Shari thinks it's PERFECTLY fine to just drop by my house at a random, without sending a smoke signal to let me know that she's coming? She's been doing it for the past week and a half. Alright, I get it, your phone is off and you can't really make any outside calls, but dammit! I am a freaking paranoid person and I REALLY like my own space and I don't like hanging around people all that much because of the fact that it is draining too me. As soon as I'm done hanging with my friends, I go home and I crash. And I mean as soon as.

And I get it, your boyfriend's acting like a bit of an ass, but you've heard my opinion on the situation countless many times to know exactly what I am going to say the minute you come bitching and moaning about the latest thing he's done. He's cheated on you once, if you think he's doing it again, then let the fucker go! Simple as pie, or at least not so simple, but I've definitely turned over a new leaf myself so it's going to become as simple as pie. I know you don't really want to be alone, but some days I do, and it doesn't help that you just pop the fuck over and not even give me even the slightest warning that you may stop by.

Take Saturday for instance. I'm attempting to clean up my house so my little brother can come over and chill with me because I don't get to see him as much as I'd like to and all of a sudden I hear the scrapping of someone's shoes across the concrete of my patio. Okay, let's get one thing out in the open...the picture on my blog that says 'sometimes I worry about zombies' is not so half-assed pic to show how uber-kewl and different I can be or am. No, I really, truely fucking worry about zombies and shit, like no fucking joke! So she's comes walking like this and my mind is automatically in 'OHSHITOHSHITI'VEGOTTOGETTHEFUCKOUTOFDODGE!!!!!' mode, and I whip around scared to death, but it's just her. So instead of chewing her head off, I tell her quite calmly, 'You do know I am going to be getting my little brother, right?'

'I was just coming to see how you were doing,' she replies a little defensively, and then steps into my home as if that were an invitation and settles on my couch as if she owns it. GET THE FUCK OUT!!! I'm about to leave! This isn't fucking visiting hours! SHOO! But she stays and starts asking me questions about like how long am I going to be out? When am I going to be dropping my little brother off? How long is he staying here? What are you going to be doing later? Um...none of your freaking business!

And this is what I was telling her about before, when I said: you're just like those people at AiA, you don't like being alone. She got defensive with me then and told me that she LIKES being alone, that she LIKES her own solitude. And I'm like...NO THE FUCK YOU DON'T. See, me? I LOVE MY OWN SOLITUDE! I can go weeks without human interaction and be fine. You know that old black-and-white twilight zone episode where the guy just goes into the bank vault with his book, the world ends and then he comes back out and is relieved that he finally has some quiet time? Yeah, that's me. I'd be relieved if the world ended and I could get some quiet time. Being a hermit at the end of my life sounds like 'glory', and if I had hundreds of books, all the better.

But back to the whole let's stop by Erica's house unannounced. I don't like that, and the last time she did it--come to think of it was actually, yesterday--I told her: Jeez, call much? And she's like: my phone's off. And I tell her, You can find other ways of contacting me. Pay phone? Someone else's phone? Generally, if you stop by my home unannounced it's for emergencies only, and that's how I'm going to take it: an emergency. I mean, I've spent so much time with her that I've neglected most of my other friends.

Like, she's stayed at my home so many times that none of my other friends have even stayed here for one night, much less than the multiple times she's crashed at my place, and I am a giving person. if you need me I am there, but enough is enough. I need to be around my other peoples. I need to see my other crew. I need to hang out with them and chill with them and ask them: Hey, how the fuck you doin? every once and a while. I've spent more money on her than I have EVER spent on my other friends in the last ten years of knowing them and I have known these four people for ten damn years. I mean, fuck! I need a break!

Look at me. I'm getting tired and drained from writing about her...GAH!!!

James Dobson Is An Idiot...Among Other Things...

2008-06-24T18:32:00.002-04:00

Obama comes under fire...again. Only it's a really stupid reason, and it makes me--once again--ashamed to call myself a believer of the Christian faith, and even I'm not so much as a believer as I just take into consideration that some of the things people hold so damned true may not be. But the one thing I can't stand are Bible-thumping Christians who are probably accusing someone of something so ridiculous just for political gain.

Okay, so we got this Evangelist (and first off can I just say: EVANGELIST?!!! EVANGELIST??!!! I hold the evangelical church with as much regard as the Jehovah's Witness...that is...with none at all) named James Dobson (and I just say that he looks like a white supremist bigot anti-christ wannabe...kind of like the pope), apparently he's a leader of some sort (and I NEVER trust leaders of gigantic churches...ever) and he's accusing Obama of "dragging biblical understanding through the gutter" and "[making] a fruitcake interpretation of the Constitution." I mean, LOOK at this guy's picture -------------------->

He scares the freaking hell out of me!! Now that I have that out of the way. He's a fucking dipshit, asshole, conservative, working for the right-wing Republicans to destroy Obama's image for other conservatives so that Obama can't be president because CLEARLY Obama actually has a shot. Huh. Okay, let's get down on what he was talking about in the article from CNN. "[Dragging] biblical understanding into the gutter" is referring to the points that Obama made in his speech in June 2006 to the Christian group called 'Call to Renewal': "In the speech, Obama suggested that it would be impractical to govern based solely on the word of the Bible, noting that some passages suggest slavery is permissible and eating shellfish is disgraceful.
"Which passages of scripture should guide our public policy?" Obama asked in the speech. "Should we go with Leviticus, which suggests slavery is OK and that eating shellfish is an abomination? Or we could go with Deuteronomy, which suggests stoning your child if he strays from the faith? Or should we just stick to the Sermon on the Mount?
"So before we get carried away, let's read our Bible now," Obama said, to cheers. "Folks haven't been reading their Bible."
He also called Jesus' Sermon on the Mount "a passage that is so radical that it's doubtful that our Defense Department would survive its application""(CNN.com).

And so Dobson's response is of course this: "In the comments to be aired Tuesday, Dobson said Obama should not be referencing antiquated dietary codes and passages from the Old Testament that are no longer relevant to the teachings of the New Testament" (CNN.com).

Okay, so, let me get this straight: there are some passages in the Bible we can TOTALLY overlook, but then there are others we HAVE to adhere to? I don't get it. If we can pick and choose what we have to adhere to and what we don't have to adhere to then we really shouldn't be listening or reading the Bible at all. If we go by this reasoning, of course. You're NOT allowed to eat pork or shellfish. Gays are NOT allowed to marry Gays (well, it doesn't ACTUALLY say that, so maybe they should. . .you're really just accused of having sex with the same sex, sleeping in the bed...well...that's ambiguous...and really, who's going to go into everyone's house to make sure? Like a comedian said: why don't all gay couples wanting to get married claim that one or the other is of the opposite sex? It's not like somebody's going to make you drop your pants in the middle of the congragation), but if we go by this Dobson guy's logic and reasoning we can totally disregard THOSE rules altogether because clearly the Old Testament is no longer relevant. WHY HAVE AN OLD TESTAMENT AT ALL? Let's just get rid of it. Nobody likes those old guys with the huge ass fucktard beards anyway.

And now let's move onto the fruitcakeness. FRUITCAKE...??!!! OF THE CONSTITUTION?!!! Omg, I was thinking the guy was going to break out say something insandely racist like ... slavery wasn't legal in the Bible , but it was legal in the States or something (I know that made no sense, but jeez..this guy irks me SOOOO much). Let's do a quote: "Democracy demands that the religiously motivated translate their concerns into universal rather than religion-specific values," Obama said. "It requires their proposals be subject to argument and amenable to reason."
Dobson said the suggestion is an attempt to lead by the "lowest common denominator of morality."
"Am I required in a democracy to conform my efforts in the political arena to his bloody notion of what is right with regard to the lives of tiny babies?" he asked. "What he's trying to say here is, unless everybody agrees, we have no right to fight for what we believe.
"What the senator is saying there, in essence, is that 'I can't seek to pass legislation, for example, that bans partial-birth abortion, because there are people in the culture who don't see that as a moral issue,' " Dobson said. "And if I can't get everyone to agree with me, than it is undemocratic to try to pass legislation that I find offensive to the Scripture. Now, that is a fruitcake interpretation of the Constitution."

Okay, who the FUCK said anything about dead babies? HUH?! Seriously! I mean, personally, I think that these religious nutcases need to leave the abortion issue alone. Seriously. It's a woman's body and nowhere in there did God spake and commandeth the peoples of the earth: 'Thou shalt not commit abortions for this is an unlawful act and if thee so shall commit this act then thine soul is forfeit under heaven blah blah blah..." They classify it as murder. Bullshit. The damn embryo, batch of cells, whatever doesn't even have a BRAIN much less the ability to know that it's fucking DYING. And once again, who said anything about DEAD BABIES?! Honestly, what if Barack were going to pass a new law concerning homosexual marriage in the ENTIRE country and not just in California? What if he were going to do something about immigration or the fucking war?!! Who said anything about DEAD BABIES?! What if he were going to figure out ways about the 'death with dignity'? Apparently, many in the country are up in arms about that.

I think James Dobson is a fruitcake himself, and anyone who takes his words into consideration are fruitcakes too. He's attacking Obama, first off, for a speech he made back in 2006, dredging up, or attempting to dredge up, criticism of the man because he probably doesn't think a nigger can run this country. He's probably in his home right now, cringing because a nigger is representing one of the most powerful political parties in this country, and even though Hilary was a woman at least she was white, and he could probably handle that better. Because really, you got to ask yourself: why the hell didn't he have these same concerns when Obama was running and hadn't had the nomination in the bag? Why didn't he put his two cents in back in 2006, when Obama running for president was barely even a well thought out idea? What did he do, spend all his time, doing his research on both candidates so that which ever one DID when he could bad mouth to the US citizens who are getting their hopes up for someone with SOME kind of decency?

I can't believe this.

Maybe Obama is making these comments because he believes, or is at least trying to get everyone else to believe that he believes, that we NEED a united front. The Euro dollar is making a mockery of the American economics in Europe. The American image in the international community is seen as elitist and comparable to George Orwell's Big Brother government agendas, or at least it's coming close. We bully the other nations to submit to our will and, if they don't, we subjugate them, punish them and incite political upheavals and then it can't be substantiated because America is so damned good at convering its tracks.

About M'Zombies..and yes, they are MY zombies...

2008-06-23T22:53:00.003-04:00

On the subject of zombies, right? Because I am a totally weird person and to me discussing zombies in detail and for fictional purposes is the best way to get in my pants (> < ! I'm kidding!...or am I?). Anyway, I was watching Romero's newest zombie concoction called Diary of the Dead, and if you're an avid fan like me, you can suspend your belief in reality enough to really enjoy the movie and the scare factor of it. If you can't...well..you suck, and get off my blog.

Anyway, after watching this movie I once again renewed my research in the zombie-phenom (I do this every few years: get hooked on some natural, unnatural or manmade disaster of epic proportions that can, or will, destroy mankind), and as I'm doing the research I encounter answers to how people plan to survive the zombie outbreak that just make me absolutely livid, and I MEAN livid!!!

I'll explain later as I am much too tired for a lengthy explanation, but you best believe that tomorrow...HELL!

Can I Just Say This One Thing?

2008-06-23T22:26:00.002-04:00

Okay, can I just say something and not be called a racist or a reverse-racist or whatever the phrase is nowadays? I just have to ask: why the hell are all the 'reputable' psychics on television always white. Like, I'm watching this show right now where their interviewing and meeting psychic kids who 'claim' they can 'see' and 'feel' things and not a one of these damn kids are Indian or Native American or Asian or anything like that. They are all the typical, middle-class white kid angsting over the same old-same same-old emo subjects. And it's irritating. What about the lower class black child or the middle or upper class black child or the upper, middle or lower class Asian or anyone else? WHY IS IT THAT IT'S ALWAYS WHITE PEOPLE? And, like
I said, I'm not trying to bash, but it's insanely irritating.

I mean, hell! I don't see myself on television and I've seen and heard and done loads of paranormal things. Hell, my mother is particularly gifted herself. Tell her any dream, no matter how weird it is and she can interpret it. She knows things before they happen and even the most intimate details about people before she even shakes their hand. I don't see her on television doing her thing. Why is it that the media always has to overblow white people's accomplishments over the accomplishments of other races?

I was reading this article years ago in Ebony magazine about how these two sisters, barely out of high school, had applied for and had been accepted into one the most competitive and well known colleges in the world; both were 14 and 15 respectively. They were young!!! But instead of their accomplishment being shown world wide or even nationally, they were ignored and some white kid was shown being accepted into college and all that bull, and I was like, but what about these two girls?

HELL, I didn't even know there was a black astrophysicist until a couple of years ago and that blew me away! Why hadn't I ever heard of this guy and his accomplishments? His intelligence rivals that of Stephen Hawkins, but you never see this guy on television except maybe a few times and or a few minutes each on some space documentary.

People of every race need heroes, even if it's of the strange kind and need to stop having to feel some kind of self-hatred because we are bombarded each day of our lives with images, however subtle they may be, of how GREAT and WONDERFUL white people are. Honestly, it's frustrating!

If I Could Just Get A Breather....

2008-06-21T12:29:00.003-04:00

You know, I'm really annoyed. Can I just say that? I mean, maybe I'm just blowing something up that really doesn't need to be blown out of propoertion, but this is annoying. You know that bad thing about being a really nice and insanely giving person is? How easy everyone else can just walk all over you forgetting that you have a life and you have responsibilities and that you just can't drop them for whatever reason. There are a lot of things that my friends just can't seem to get. I am not a walking BANK. I am not a TAXI SERVICE. I am IRRITATED.

Okay, so the reason behind this rant: Ashley wants to come into town to see her friend Necie and celebrate Necie's birthday. My response: an emphatic "NO!" Not because I am attempting to be mean or cruel because at any other time, I would do it without question.

It just bugs me that she asks me on Thursday, not considering that when I usually bring her home I plan for it, first off. That when she comes, it's an imposition because I AM NOT and extrovert unless need be and I don't like sharing my space (not because I'm spoilt) but because shit gets dirty and misplaced and touched and I HATE it because it's like itchy bugs all over my skin, and then she complains about not being able to do things, asks me to spend MY MONEY on unnecessary food stuffs when I have food that I have bought specifically so I won't spend my cash except on bills and what not, wants me to take her around the city for fun, and when she does eat my food, I have to go out a buy more food because I'm paranoid and scared of my refridge being empty (okay, so I'm OCD about alot of things, but it's a valid mental disorder....I just like an order to my universe...I mean, I'm partially freaking out now because of the fact that I don't have enough money now to go get groceries because I have to pay the last of my bills).

Anyway, she doesn't understand that it takes MONEY to have her here, and since its Necie's birthday it's going to take MORE money because of the fact that I have to drive to Macon, Ga. THen I have to drive back to Atlanta, Ga. Then I have to drive her and Necie around if they want to go somewhere. Then I have to drive Necie back to her home and then back to mine because of course Ashley is going to stay with me because she can't stand being around her family. THEN when the time comes, I have to drive Ashley back to Macon, Ga and then drive back to Atlanta, Ga. Factor in food costs and whatever other monies I'll be spending on (because I ALWAYS do), that's a shitload of money that I don't have. Therefore, I cannot make the trip.

So then she texts me today to ask me: 'My mom wants to know how much money you need for gas?' I'd say a good two hundred bucks because I have an SUV-type car and while its 6 cylinder engine is good on gas, it still eats up my money to fill it up. About 30 - 40 bucks, and that's only if it's a quarter tank full. If I make a trip to Macon, the tank is about half to a third empty. That's still money. PLUS no one considers the wear and tear that will have on my vehicle. I left my father's house on bad terms because I couldn't stand living there anymore. They don't seem to get that if that car breaks down, I will NOT have the money to get it fixed.

I want my car to run as long as possible, and if that means that Ashley has to miss out on Necie's birthday then tough. I always think about other people; I need to think about me. Besides, if Necie wants her here so bad then she NEEDS to figure out a way to get her up here herself.

2008-06-17T23:38:00.000-04:00

The rest is still unwritten...

I Know That It's Over......

2008-06-16T19:37:00.003-04:00

Okay, so I'm watching some episodes of Roswell. You know, that teen-angsty show a couple of years back about alien teens and the confucked lives they lived with the humans that they dragged into their adventure, and I was thinking...even though Max Evans, one of the alien teens, had that whole dark, mysterious stalker vibe going, he's the type of guy...hate to say it....that I could probably go for. Or maybe Michael Guerin (another alien teen). It's just something about that whole bad ass, pushing you away, but loving so deep it hurts kind of guy that just makes me melt.

Anyway, this whole watching of the Roswell episodes, of course, follows on the heels of my cousin's wedding (wonderful affair by the way; both bride and groom looked absolutely fabulous in their garments and raiments <3!), and it all just gets me to thinking about that whole true love spiel and how I'll probably never find one. I mean, my cousin and my new cousin-in-law knew each other since they were nine-years-old and James (my cousin-in-law) knew from the moment that he saw my cousin Marcia walking down the street kicking her legs on her way home that he was going to marry her one day.

I love the fact that through the years they've remained together, beit through relationships or as friends, and that they have two beautiful baby girls, but dammit! Not to rain on their parade: WTF?!!!! Where's my happy ending? Where's my true love? I've always wanted one, I've always dreamed of having one and I....just don't have one at all. Maybe it's because I'm scared or stupid or I'm looking too hard, but this is just...GTSHTBSHYNSATGSHYSJDHBTGFAHNHSGXAS!!!! There are no words to describe it.

And then I asked my Dad why is it that I seem to be attracting fucktard Arieses all the time and he said where's your Venus? And I said Venus is in Scorpio in my Third House (Astrology tech talk, if you didn't guess). And he tells me: well, you've got a lot of planets in Scorpio, and especially your Venus. There you go.

WHAT?!!!! How the hell is that supposed to help me? It just tells me I'm too damn intense with how I love, and that I probably won't be suited for relatonships that are just geared towards light-heartedness and fun. I want too much of a deep connection, an all-or-nothing union. That's....rather depressing really.

To quote, Maria DeLuka: 'You're hopeless.'

Open Season...the gaity does not cease...

2008-06-15T23:03:00.001-04:00

Once there was a magical elf

Who lived in a rainbow tree

He lived downstairs

From a flatulent dwarf

Who was constantly having to pee

One day the elf could take no more

So he went and banged

On the rude dwarf's door

And what do you know

They suddenly both were married

Because I Don't Think It Needs A Title

2008-06-15T22:35:00.002-04:00

It's just not something I can do on good conscience, and usually I know people would probably say look out for yourself and your own interests and screw what someone or anyone else thinks, but I know it's too late already AND I just couldn't deprive or take someone else's happiness away from them. Not again because...I did it once and the universe taught me a very harsh (in my opinion) lesson of what happen when you do bad things. They come back to bite you insanely harshly on the ass. I'm not getting hurt again. I refuse.

So, I'll remain unhappy. Again. Because this world hates me so damn much.

Because I Heard It On 'Open Season'...

2008-06-15T22:28:00.002-04:00

If you go out in the woods today

You're sure of a big surprise.

If you go out in the woods today

You'd better go in disguise.

For every bear that ever there was

Will gather there for a certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Picnic time for teddy bears,

The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today.

Watch them , catch them unawares,

And see them picnic on their holiday.

See them gaily gather 'bout.

They love to play and shout.

They never have any cares.

At six o'clock their mommies and daddies

Will take them home to bed

Because they're tired little bears.

If you go out in the woods today.

You'd better not go alone.

It's lovely out in the woods today,

But safer to stay at home.

For every bear that ever there was

Will gather there for certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Every teddy bear, that's been good

Is sure of a treat today

There's lots of wonderful things to eat

And wonderful games to play

Beneath the tree, where nobody sees

They'll hide and seek as long as they please

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

John W. Bratton and James B. Kennedy

music by Bing Crosby

Keep Telling Yourself That....

2008-06-11T14:52:00.001-04:00

If that helps you sleep at night, keep lying to yourself.

Believe what you want.

Believe it all and keep lying to yourself about everything you believe in.

Make excuses and never do...anything...that will ever matter.

So, if that helps you sleep at night, keep telling yourself that what you did was the right thing. The good thing, instead of the thing that would've made you happy. Even for a little while.

Maury Sets Us Back Four Hundred Years..

2008-06-11T11:16:00.003-04:00

Watching Maury, I'm starting to get why African-Americans, or Black-Americans of African descent, as a whole seem to suffer from a negative stereotyping and stigma in the media and on the international scale. And we do it to ourselves. We allow ourselves to present to the world an uneducated, loud, obnoxious and rude picture of ourselves, instead of showing people that we ARE in fact intelligent. And the virus seems to be spreading. And, yes, I called it a virus because I speak, talk, write and act professional however a LOT of my people don't seem to want to. I don't wear clothes that clearly mark me as some video-vixen-wanna-be nor do I keep up with the latest fads that sweep through my people every time one of their favorite rappers or singers deem it the 'hot, new thing'.

MAny times as a child I've been of accused of acting white, talking white, and essentially just not being Black at all. I'm light-skinned to a degree and while I've never had too much negativity surrounding that fact, I have been told by my own family members that the older generations would like me more because of the fact that I am lighter than my own mother. My father has been accused of being half-white (and while that's not too much of a stretch from the truth--my father is of mixed descent--it still irks me to no end).

I see how the media portrays us, and it irritates me that there is no other stereotype to balance that out. With white people, you've got two stereotypes: the red neck, uneducated, racist hick and then you've got the beautiful, model, stock broker, businessman. You see either one portrayed on the media. Black people: you usually only get the obnoxious negro.

Now, that's not to say that there aren't positive role models for blacks, but then they come under fire for not being black enough. And it's a never ending, vicious cycle.

From Here To Eternity - Imhotep/Nefertiri - PG-13

2008-06-10T16:47:00.006-04:00

Title: From Here To Eternity

Author: Dragonfly Queen

Disclaimer: If I owned The Mummy or The Mummy Returns, Imhotep would not have shown up in the movie at all. He'd have been at my house. Giving me a private...um...magic lesson?

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Nefertiri, Imhotep, Seti and others will pop up along the way

Warnings: I've probably done a grave disservice to Anuck-Su-Namun...if so, please forgive my muse...she can be a right bastard sometimes

Summary: In the last moments of life, Imhotep casts a spell...and Evie remembers...

Author's Note: This is just a little something that I wrote years ago after I'd watched the Mummy and the Mummy Returns, and fell-in-love with Imho- erhm...Nefertiri/Imhotep in a relationship. And well, I couldn't pass it up. I had never gotten around to finishing the story, but after looking it over I decided to start on it again.

The rocks were crashing around them as the ancient, golden pyramid of Ahm Shere was, for lack of a better word, dying, and drawing all the magic of Anubis back in to hell where it belonged.
Evie was satisfied with two thoughts: her husband and son were safe. Then the happiness of the thoughts were crushed as she realized, if they didn't get out of this doomed place before long, then they'd all die. She pulled her husband, Rick, from the reaches of the hellish demons and they fell onto a wall, Rick's strong arms wrapped around her. She met Imohtep's eyes for the briefest second in remorse for his love's betrayal. A brief second that she would never forget for the rest of her life.

Evie suddenly felt Imhotep's intrusion upon her mind as his thoughts and her thoughts became one. She nearly bit her lip. Were seconds really passing? Was this all happening as the world ended around them? His thoughts suddenly came to her, with the hungry, gentle flavor of his entire being, his whole personality forced into that one dying projection, "Nefertiri, my Pharoah's daughter."

”That's not fair, Ankhnut!" she cried using a name she hadn't called him in nearly three thousand years. His mouth twitched, but his mind's voice shouted with anger,"And this is!"

"You chose her, not me!" she informed him dispassionately. There was a slight smirk on his face.

"Yes, I chose her, but it was you who I was promised to," he told her gently." I knew you those years ago when you brought me back from Hamunaptra. Even when my mind was bent, I knew you."

"You called me Ancksunamun," she informed him ruefully."Get out of my head and go."

"Are you forgetting, you are mine, Nefertiri?" he asked her gently.

"No, you can't," she apprised him, almost as a slight plea. She knew what he was saying, knew that he was right. The memories of her past self confirmed it, but she would not admit it. "I'm married now, and I have son."

"In this life only," he informed her, with a touch of emotion to his voice. "But you will remember a time, when we were children and the Nile waters brushed our feet. When I was a boy striving to be a priest and you were Pharoah's black-eyed daughter, who could see the stars, and Ancksunamun was just a child among us. Remember, Pharoah's Daughter. Remember, Nefertiri, of that time, our time...”

Evie listened to his voice as it carried her back to an ancient time, back to when the sands had reigned the desert, when things had been simplier and yet, harder. When she was a princess and Daughter to the Pharoah of all Egypt, and the world was ruled by myth. Where she was just a girl and Imhotep, just a boy...

II.

Place: Thebes, outlying towns of Ancient Egypt's capital
Time: Reign of Pharaoh, King Seti III

"You will be the pupil of a priest and greatest in Pharaoh’s entire kingdom," these words, uttered by Ankhnut's father, heralded his son's future. When Sebeket, a mere carpenter and farmer, had heard that his son had great potential and the spirit of Anubis inside of him, he rejoiced until he felt that the very desert winds and rushing waters of the Nile sang with his voice's echo. His son was blessed among the gods, he held the very spirit of Anubis inside of him, and if his potential was as great as the magistrate's soothsayer had thought, then he could even take the place of Pharaoh’s own priest, Anukaten. Ankhnut thought his father's dreams were well enough, but he had his own dreams for this power, his own ambitions.

Ankhnut stood in front of the small pond just outside of his father's farmland, the stalks of father's harvest hiding him from the intrusion of others. He stared down at the reflection of himself, the self he was to present to the Pharaoh in two days. He was a tall boy, almost as tall as his father, with skin the color of the sands and features that mirrored neither his mother nor his father.

He was a striking youth, with deep-set eyes and strong nose and mouth and a soft jaw. His eyes held the look of conquest, had always held the look of conquest. He was broad shouldered from his work on the farm, but had seemed to retain a soft bodied appearance. His father had told him that he would never have the hard-toned body of his brother, Ammit, of which Ankhnut was glad for. Ammit never seemed to think for himself, and if becoming like Ammit meant loosing his mind, then he'd just forget it. Ankhnut took a handful of dirt and threw it into the pond. A gentle breeze blew by, stirring the waters, and Ankhnut watched as small, flowing currents formed and began to take shape. He watched in fascination as the picture became more distinct. It was the head and hair of a woman, he was sure, but couldn't quite make out her features. And just before he could get a clear view of what she looked like, the picture vanished with the splashing of his brother's feet in the water.

Ankhnut looked up in anger at Ammit as the ox of a man, splashed over to him and grinned.

"What is it that you want, Ammit?" Ankhnut asked using the cool tone he knew unnerved his brother. This time Ammit didn't show it, he just grinned wider.

"Seems you're not so blessed after all," his brother replied cryptically. Ankhnut frowned and asked," What do you mean? Ammit? What are you saying?"

"The soothsayer has many dark things to say about your future," he replied. Ankhnut’s frown got deeper as he ran around the lake, through the fields and toward the home of his father. Just outside of the house stood the magistrate's guards and his mounts, waiting in silence. Ankhnut went into the house and toward the back room, where his father normally waited on guests, where he heard the voices coming from.

There was a loud and forceful one, his father's. An old voice, the magistrate's, and one that was as soft as the desert winds, that had to be the soothsayer he was sure. He went into the room, his mother at a far corner watching, regarding all with a ferocious, defiant glare. Ankhnut knew she was very protective of her children, and the room had her distinct and rebellious flavor to it. He saw the soothsayer, a man clothed in the traditional garments of a seer. Ankhnut studied him before speaking up. He was a small, shriveled man, weather beaten and old. The years had not been kind to him. Ankhnut could see the ravages of a long past disease all over him in the form of scars. He grinned. This man was weak compared to him. Weak. The soothsayer suddenly turned to him and the fear that was inside of him racked him with a fit of shivers and a convulsion of coughs. Ankhnut bore down on him with his power until a voice, surprisingly, exploded in his mind and cried, “My lord! Please release me!"

But Ankhnut would not.

He almost laughed from this new found power. Instead he replied, “What have you told my father? What have you said of me?"

"That you are a child of darkness," the man cried inside of his head and outside, so that all could hear." Anubis has covered you in his evil and that is what you are destined for!"

"I am destined for greatness!" Ankhnut shouted with conviction. “Even you have preached thus, soothsayer!"

"Yes," the old man lamented. “Yes! You will have your greatness. But at the cost of all of Egypt!"

Ankhnut glared at him in puzzlement, bored with his cryptic messages. Was he destined for greatness or not? And if he understood the man's message correctly, would he destroy all of Egypt to get it? No. He would never go down as Egypt's shame. This man was wrong, gods curse him. He was wrong. Ankhnut fled the house and ran out into the dying light of the sun, as Ra set over the horizon. He watched the sky turn strange colors, and stayed outside even as Nut covered Egypt in her starlit blackness. He would not be the destroyer of Egypt. Ankhnut shuddered at the thought. Such a thing was blasphemous, unheard of. He could not possibly possess that much power to annihilate an entire empire. Ankhnut looked at his hands in the dark. Not these hands. Not the hands of a child. No. He could not destroy Egypt.

The land was his home.

His only home.

Ankhnut looked up at the pinpoints in the darkness of the sky, believing that they were just balls of star fire. His life was not preached in the sky. He stood up suddenly and shouted, “I AM ANKHNUT! DO YOU HEAR ME? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND? I AM DESTINED FOR GREATNESS! I AM POWERFUL AMONG MY PEOPLE! I AM ANKHNUT, DAMN YOU!"

There was a faint shuffling behind him as Ankhnut turned and saw the solemn face of his father, Sebeket. He stared at the old man's open arms strangely before running into them and being drawn into a warm embrace. It was the first time his father had shown him love or affection. He was normally cool and collected, feelings were shown to his wife and only in the night, when children and daylight was gone. Ankhnut burrowed into his father's chest, enjoying the warmth.

Sebeket spoke softly," You are my son, Ankhnut. My second child. I knew you were destined for something better than this-"he waved his hand about to encompass the entire farmland-"and I have waited for so long to see you meet that destiny and become part of it."

"So, then I shall become a priest?" Ankhnut asked quietly. His look was hopeful. Sebeket gave a weak laugh.

"Only the journey is written, Ani," he informed him wisely. “Not the destination. When we go to see the Pharaoh’s priest, you must outshine the other boys. You must prove your right to be there and make known your skills. Life outside is harder. You will have no family to lean on, just your wits. Which, thank Ra, you have. I send you out, Ankhnut, not only as my son, but as the Priest of all Egypt."

Ankhnut grinned as he and his father walked into the house, together, the silence about them comfortable and serene.

III.

Ankhnut woke to the sound of sandals clicking gently on the mortar floor of his bedroom. He woke and turned over on his side, seeing a hulking shape block out the light of the moon through his window.

"Who-" he was abruptly cut off by a smack across his jaw. Ankhnut nearly gave a cry of pain, but was silenced by another blow to his temple and being thrown roughly to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. He was gasping for air when he was roughly hoisted into the air, and out of the darkness came the face of his brother, grotesquely twisted in anger and hate. Ankhnut, by some strange perception, knew his brother was jealous of his younger sibling's sudden fame and that Ankhnut was in for the worst beating of his life. When his brother's hard, but uncoordinated, punches rained down on him, it was all he could do, but cover himself up and hope nothing would be broken when Ammit was done.

"You are a menace to Egypt," Ammit whispered fiercely. “A menace that cannot be allowed to live. Gods damn you! Osiris take your soul to the Underworld and may you rot in hell's darkest reaches."

"You may harm this body!" Ankhnut cried in pain," but you can never harm this soul!"

There were shouts coming from all over the house at Ankhnut's sudden cry. Servants rushing here and there to make sure others were fine, and Sebeket's angry voice coming down the halls toward his room. It was all the distraction Ankhnut needed. With the spirit of the god, Anubis, inside of him, he used the power to throw his brother away from him and send him crashing violently into the opposite wall. Tortures that he could not fathom rang true in his mind as his father stumbled in and voiced a hoarse shout of astonishment.

"Ankhnut!" he yelled running to his youngest son and taking the boy firmly by the shoulders. Torchlight flooded into the room. "Release him! By Amun-Ra and the god, Horus, release your brother!"

Ankhnut complied and let Ammit fall to the floor, a mewling, crying heap. His mother ran to her eldest son, yelling," You are not a son of mine! You are a demon, Ankhnut. A child of hell!"

He met his mother's fearful eyes and nearly winced. His own mother...betraying him. She more than anyone knew that he possessed the power of Anubis inside of him, the very powers of Osiris were within his grasp. His own mother rebuked him, when he could make her the wealthiest woman in all of Thebes. Her wealth could rival that of Pharaoh. He bit his lip and turned to his father. Sebeket was staring blankly at the wall where Ammit had been. He gave a slight sigh and looked down at Ankhnut's anxious face. Then he turned on Ammit.

"What did you think you were doing, you son of an ass!" he shouted angrily." If your brother is damaged in anyway, you will get beaten for this."

"I was doing Egypt a favor," Ammit replied quietly.

"By killing your family's pride!" Sebeket exploded. "You will be thrashed for this! Murder you wish to commit! Murder!"

"You will lay no hands on him," his mother replied angrily.

"Quiet, woman," he retorted. He turned back to Ammit. "Your brother is my pride. He will be priest to the Pharaoh of all of Egypt. Go. I wish to see your face no more."

The servants, Ammit and Ankhnut's mother left, returning to their bedrooms. The torchlight faded with the exception of Sebeket's. He stood beside his son in the darkness, their cave of warm torchlight creating a hole in the shadow. The silence about them was interrupted by Sebeket's sigh.

He seemed to do that a lot nowadays.

"Good night, Priest," his father said distractedly. “We’ll fix you up tomorrow."

The older man left Ankhnut in the darkness frowning. The boy limped back to bed and slept a very fitful, dream-filled sleep.

A day later, with very little incident between (Ankhnut, thank Osiris and Anubis, had been left unharmed), they arrived at the shining palace of King Seti III as Ra's bright rays descended upon the sands of Egypt, and set the city a fire. The statues of the various gods, gleamed as if in battle-studded armor, their animalistic faces bared in such intense ferocity that Ankhnut wanted to shy away from their greatness. Towers rose up around the market place, laid out at the palace's feet, and domes the color of Ra's holy sun, his vehicle to travel across the skies, sparkled with bright, blinding gleam. The first of bazaar shopkeepers and peddlers emerged, calling out their goods for the day. Ankhnut looked over the side of his father's cart as it rumbled across the cobbled stones. He watched as governesses strolled in with their many servants, picking out the fresh fruits before the desert heat settled over all of Egypt, driving everyone inside.

His stomach shifted queasily, but he smoldered the feelings of nervousness and anxiety.

Those were uncharacteristic of a priest, much less one in the spirit of Anubis. He looked past the faces of his family members, Ammit fuming at being forced to come and his mother scared that he might use his power in the center of all the people assembling for goods and for the acceptance of boys in training for priesthood, and instead towards the direction of the Nile. It was said that if you went to the highest point of the Pharaoh’s palace you could see where the Nile fed into an even larger body of water. He hoped he could see that one day. Maybe when he became Egypt's High Priest he could go there as much as he wanted. Ankhnut settled back into the cart and watched as dawn light covered the sky in a brilliant display of colors. He grinned. A beautiful dawn, heralded a beautiful day.

IV.

The selecting began at midday, when the desert's heat poured over Egypt. When people were few in the bazaars except for the hundreds or so servants that ran errands for their masters or walked the dogs and put food out for the cats, there was a endlessly long line of whole families, fathers and mothers and sons, sisters and brothers, all coming to show off the male children, all supposedly born with the spirit of Anubis inside of them. There were noblemen, even slaves, assembled and waiting for their turn. Ankhnut watched in fascination as some families and their male children were carried off and beaten by the Pharaoh’s Med-jai and the Temple guards. To his assumption, for falsehood. His assumptions were correct when even a nobleman was made fool of in front of everyone. The people laughed as he rode swiftly away with his crying boy. Ankhnut grinned. Today, all were being treated equally and given a fair chance.

He laid down in the cart. He felt as the cart moved forward, every so often, but that was all. The heat of Ra became even more oppressive as the afternoon wore on. Kesmet, his father mule, bawled loudly in protest, and Ankhnut felt himself getting sleepier and sleepier as boredom set in.

"You will be gone from us, demon-child," he heard Ammit say. "And then the High-Priest will rightly see to your evil."

Ankhnut fixed his brother with a cold, condemning eye that told him if he didn't keep quiet, there was more at stake for him, then his younger brother getting angry. That shut Ammit up. Ankhnut went back to his drowsiness, floating in and out of sleep and wakefulness. He dreamed he was floating in a lake of spilled blood. It covered him and turned him red all over. It was gurgling and swirling, churning and rising to cover his head. He snapped awake quickly and sat up.

It was the end of the afternoon and the start of evening. He heard some relieved sighs around him as palace servants lined the walkway of the people with brightly lit torch-lamps. They blazed warmly as the chill air began to set in. Finally, it was their turn. Pharaoh Seti III sat high upon his throne, a proud and imposing figure, with features only a regal member of the gods mortal bloodline should have. He looked, if he stood, to be a tall man, taller than most in Egypt. And why not? He was after all, the morning and the evening star, with his dark, course beard cut into the traditionality of the Pharaohs and the crown of the Upper and Lower Nile resting atop his head. The Pharaoh’s High Priest, Anukaten, was another matter. He was nothing like his king, who held the very air around him captive with his superiority, the High Priest was a gnarled man, with gaunt eyes and hollowed features. He looked pathetic and frail. Ankhnut studied his eyes. His appearance was only an illusion, though. Behind the grizzly look, was a man of quick intelligence and judgment. No the gods had not been kind to him in body, but great Thoth!

They'd been kind to him in mind and spirit!

Ankhnut and his father stepped forward, anxiety coming back to the boy with a vengeance. He refused to bite his lip or shudder. He stood before both powerful men, who could end his life in a blink of an eye, and showed no fear.

"Your name?” asked the scribe with practiced patience, but Ankhnut could see-no, feel-the man's annoyance and boredom. Sebeket told them all the things required, then waited a few feet away as Ankhnut was brought before the Pharaoh and High Priest.

"Arrogant," the Pharaoh said dismissively. He was about to wave his hand to send the boy away. Ankhnut's heart sank. How was he to be a priest now? At the fleck of a wrist the Pharaoh had decided his fate. He had the right to be arrogant, if that was the way the Pharaoh wanted it. He'd had the spirit of Anubis inside of him since he was born and had worked the wonders of Osiris's magick since he learned to walk and breath. He wanted to scream, to protest, to-

"Wait! O' great and wise Pharaoh, ruler over all of Egypt, blessed among mortals and great Morning and Evening Star. Please. Wait," Anukaten said suddenly.

The Pharaoh paused and waited in annoyance. Anukaten beckoned Ankhnut forward. He looked over the boy's body quizzically. He lifted the boy's wrists in his frail hands, moving them from side to side, and up and down. He bent low and checked Ankhnut's legs and ankles. Grunting, he stood upright. Ankhnut grinded his molars into one another. This inspection was pointless. He was perfectly healthy. What was this man after? A mark of disease of some sort?

"Weak ankles and wrists," he speculated loudly. Then, suddenly, his hands moved with a speed Ankhnut never knew a man could possess, pushing the boy. His feet stayed planted firmly in the ground as if he were a tree that grew there, never loosing his balance. Anukaten grinned, a grotesque twisting of lips unaccustomed to such a feat. He nodded and turned to the Pharaoh.

Seti nodded and said," Take the boy to the rooms with the others."

Ankhnut turned to his family and to his father. Sebeket looked solemn, but his eyes betrayed him. He said, “Go on, Ankhnut. Go and live your destiny."

The boy nodded, took one last, long look at his father, noting the tired features, the laugh lines around his face and eyes, and the fire of hopes and dreams full-filled in them. How was it possible that he relived the events of his short life in those few seconds? His subsequent birth and acceptance into the world, all wrapped up in a precious few moments, trapped in a suspended time. And the only thing that stood out the most were those eyes. The eyes of a man who had seen much sorrow and waited so very long to see all his dreams come true. Was his second son his dream? Was Ankhnut his hope?

'I will be your hope, Father. I will not give up,'' Ankhnut thought to himself. Then turned and was led a way by the Pharaoh’s Med-jai.

Princess Nefertiri watched, curiously, from her bedroom window, as boys of all ages and walks of life assembled in the courtyard below. The silence about them was uncanny, as Anukaten matched through their ranks and inspected them. She never really liked the old Priest, nor the looks he gave her when she passed him in the halls as she spoke with Chefren on the ways of the 'old arts.'

"Merenre," she asked the High Priestess of the Temple of Isis in Memphis, and her lady-in-waiting, “What is the point of all those boys? Why does Anukaten need so many?"

She turned to the older woman as Merenre cleaned the room of her princess. The High Priestess was a plump woman and plain, almost as if some farm woman were plucked from their position and placed into that befitting a governess. But behind that disarming, grandmotherly expression at times, was the quick decisive intelligence attributed to all women of her esteem and power. She was cunning as a jackal and as bittersweet as a mandrake root. The Queen, Aalu-Ptahm II, was at her deathbed when she requested that her childhood keeper, the High Priestess, immediately come from Memphis and oversee her daughter's upbringing.

She was all Nefertiri knew as a mother-figure, her father was too busy being Pharaoh over Egypt to worry about trivial things, such as what his daughter would eat and when she would perform the duties bestowed her as princess.

"You ask too many questions, Lotus-Blossom," Merenre replied idly, her work finally done. She went to stand beside Nefertiri, as the young girl looked out and studied the groups of boys once more. They were all the same.

The farm boys were stocky and rugged, hands already rough with work. The nobility, an elegant bunch, with upturned noses and prim features, those of whom she was sure her father would have her dine with once and awhile to see who her suitor could be. There was no one that caught her eye in particular, until she looked down the third row, and at the very last boy. He was tall, perhaps a bit taller than her. He was broad about the shoulders, and yet soft. He seemed like a boy who carried the weight of the whole world upon him and yet cared little for it. His arrogance seemed to seep through his skin, and the loin cloth he was required to wear seemed unbefitting of him. It was black and silver, and sewn along its sash were the symbols of Osiris and Anubis, and the other gods of embalming, death and mummification.

As if voicing her princess's thoughts, Merenre said, “Look at that one. He seems made for the priesthood, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," she replied warily. She felt the High Priestess's eyes drilling holes in her back. She should be used to Merenre's scrutiny by now. But, more-often-than-not she found it more annoying than anything. Kamilla told her that she was getting to that age where boys would start to matter, and that Merenre was just being over- protective. Nefertiri grinded her teeth into each other and refused to fidget. As if sensing her anxiety, the old Priest looked up towards her window. He fixed her with his cold look, but his eyes-always those damn eyes! He wanted something from her, something she just could not place with the immaturity of her years, but something she knew she'd dread. He turned away as Merenre returned to the window.

Perhaps, it was plain caution, that Anukaten stayed away from her when Merenre was about, wouldn't dare look at the princess. Or, perhaps, it was because the female Priestesshoods of Egyptian society were so secret that men feared the unknown, and that even the old Priest feared it as well. She wasn't sure. Merenre kept her silence, though. She knew of the looks Anukaten gave her lady. Whether for sheer protectiveness or that Seti trusted his Priest, but would have him beaten and burned for staring at Nefertiri the way he did, Merenre kept her silence.

"Come, Star-gazer," Merenre said suddenly, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. "Come, you keep Chefren and Anck-su-namun waiting with your dawdling."

The older woman hurried the princess out of her bedroom door and out towards the training grounds where, Chefren, her teacher taught her the old arts. Anck-su-namun was another girl who lived within the palace walls and was often called the Promised One by the other priestesses that accompanied Merenre in her duties over the princess. Nefertiri did not yet understand the terms of marriage, nor knew that someone could belong to some one else, even at such a young age; save her mother, Aalu Ptahm II had mutually belonged to her father, and him to her, in love and spirit.

Nefertiri brushed the thoughts away as she, Merenre, and joined by the other Priestesses moved down an open hallway, near to where the boys stood in ranks. They all fell to their knees as she passed, and she turned to look at them. Their heads were shaven bald, as required by the Priesthood. It was almost a funny sight. A dozen-dozen shaven heads all aglow in the warm torchlight of the palace, but she kept her countenance, until she was captured by two of the most incredible droplets of liquid water.

They were the strange boy's eyes, the one she'd been thinking of earlier. Her mouth opened slightly as she watched him follow her moving procession. She felt drawn into those eyes, as if cast into a night on top of a night on top of a night. She wanted to get lost in that darkness. Realizing in some way, that this boy indeed carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Suddenly a wave of defiance rose in her stomach, but not for herself. She felt it for him, it was her own defiance for him that made he believe his burden should not be so heavy. After all, he was no Pharaoh, no noble.

She wanted to reach out and say to him," Dear One, I will protect you. Don't worry."

And then, suddenly, the dizzying blackness was gone. Gone too soon.

Nefertiri was a bit disappointed. She let it show on her face, the other Priestesses, younger, some around her age, but infinitely older by their knowledge, giggled openly at her face. She masked it immediately when she got to the training grounds. There practiced Anck-su-namun. She was beating the sand out of a manikin warrior Chefren made to teach them attacks and defenses against enemies. Nefertiri had never liked Anck-su-namun, and it was not about the girl being a better fighter than she. It was something deeper, something she could not place.

Anck-su-namun bowed low, which Nefertiri refrained from kicking the girl on her face. Partly because she knew that would only start a fight and she would lose, and also because it was unseemly for a princess.

"Nefertiri," said the other girl.

"Anck-su-namun," Nefertiri replied warily.

It was definitely something deeper than dislike. But she could not explore her feelings any deeper, for at that moment, Chefren stalked out of his hiding place and had under the crooks of his arms, two golden masks. One was long and narrowed, with almond shaped slits at the eye sockets. The other was a bit smaller and not so narrow, the eye sockets a bit wider and larger. That was the one Chefren gave her, and to Anck-su-namun, the narrow one. Nefertiri gave a slight groan, which was met by Chefren's sharp look. Today was a sparring day. She'd totally forgotten, and last night she'd meant to practice some of the steps her teacher had taught her a few days ago. Instead, she'd stayed up listening to Kamilla, one of the Priestesses, tell her about the lives of heroes in Nubia.

Nefertiri watched as Chefren, a tall, burlish man with thick, muscled features and a hard, defiant, no-nonsense air about him, gave Anck-su-namun some pointers on defense. That was what the girl was lacking in, and where Nefertiri excelled. Chefren always gave pointers, always pointed out weaknesses and strong points, so that both opponents could be even. He came to her and informed her of Anck-su-namun's weaknesses, and advice on her attacking. But she was only half-listening, instead her eyes were focused on the darkly hooded eyes of her opponent. Anck-su-namun gave her a coy, secretive smile that made the princess wonder exactly what Chefren had told her. Nefertiri went over the list of her weaknesses, but could find none that were too harmless or dangerous. She looked over toward Merenre and the other priestesses. There was a look of sheer dislike in the older woman's eyes as she looked upon Anck-su-namun. Nefertiri was given an ounce of satisfaction at what she and her lady-in-waiting shared in common, as she caught onto the last of Chefren's conversation,"...Anukaten and the boys will be along. He wants them to get a generality of the palace's layout. I've invited them to see the match."

"What!" Nefertiri exploded in surprise. "They'll...b-be...WATCHING!"

"Yes," Chefren replied warily. He turned away from her as the princess fumed. Out of sheer curiosity, Nefertiri looked over to the group of priestesses. Merenre was silent, of course. Only when Chefren was around would she keep her two cents out of everything. Merenre had a thing for Chefren and perhaps, vise versa, or at least that was what the other priestesses said. At that moment, Merenre was placid and still, no protest escaping her throat.

"Are you ready, princess?” came Ank-su-namun's voice, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. The princess turned to the other girl and noticed that she had put on her training wear-a simple two-piece: a loin cloth and a loose buxom covering.

Nefertiri went to change. When she came back, wearing the same suit as Anck-su-namun, the boys and Anukaten were just arriving. She and Anck-su-namun both bowed deeply to the old Priest, exchanging looks. She may not have liked her, but Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun agreed on their dislike of Anukaten. The princess was not the only one who received the old Priest's unwelcome attention.

The boys assembled around the training ground, lounging on the palace pillars and columns, watching. Nefertiri tried to ignore them, but the fact that she was wearing next to nothing at all made her nervous. That, coupled with the fact that she was receiving a few more of those dreadful looks from Anukaten. They were hungry looks, as if he were a starved jackal. The princess shuddered on the inside. She checked the weapons Chefren had supplied: two kursari-gamas.

It was a strange looking thing: a long, strong chain and at the end of it, a triton-like blade. She touched the tip of the light weight and, yet, deadly weapon, hearing the distinct, slick metallic ring. She looked up as a gentle desert wind stirred her dark, black locks of hair, and met the dark eyes of the strange boy. He stood directly in front of her, his arms crossed and proud. His eyes swept over her appraisingly. Nefertiri blushed and bowed her head. She risked a glance and saw that he was still staring.

'Oh, this is ridiculous,' she thought indignantly in her head.

She grinned mischievously and stalked right up to the boy. He was taken aback. She liked that.
"You! What's your name?" she asked in her best princess voice. The boys around him shifted uncomfortably.

"I am a priest, and I have no name, but that of Anubis's and Osiris's servant," he replied, regaining his composure.

She turned to one end of the training grounds and pointed. "You will stand over there. If my weapon drops you will retrieve it for me and give it back. Understood?"
"I am a servant of Anubis," he replied quietly.

"You have not reached the status of priest, boy," she spat indignantly. Was he trying to unnerve her? He fixed her with a blank stare. "Until you do, you are the servant of the morning and the evening star, the Pharaoh, and in turn serve me." She pronounced the next words slowly." Now, do as I say."

"Yes, Daughter of the morning and the evening star," he replied passively.

Nefertiri grinned and walked back onto the fighting area as Anck-su-namun stretched. She followed the girl's example and did likewise. Now, if only she could look that good getting beaten up by Anck-su-namun.

VI.

Ankhnut watched curiously as the Princess stretched on the training ground, wondering exactly what they were preparing for. The entire old Priest told them was that they'd be walking about the palace and would get to see the Princess. He continued to watch as the two girls stood and gathered their weapons, a strange blade on a chain. He sighed and cocked his head to the side. Why would the Princess pick him out of all the boys standing there? Was it that she wanted to make fun of him? Ankhnut pushed that thought aside. No. She didn't want to make fun of him, he could almost feel that. But, then, what was her agenda?

The girls' teacher, a burly, thick-muscled man, stood between the two as they glared menacingly at each other and struck a fighting stance. There was an underlying hatred between those two, he knew, not just by their looks, but...something else. His blood raced faster in his veins as the man clapped once and the girls turned to face the crowd. Ankhnut met the Princess's eyes under her mask. They were the strangest liquid amber he'd ever seen, almost shifting like the sands or the pond just outside of his father's land. He suddenly began to wonder if her's was the face that he would have seen in the pond's swirling waters.

The man said something and immediately the girls sprang at each other wielding their strange weapons. They moved with the grace of cats and in the rhythm of a dance. Back and forth, springing, swinging their weapons to either attack or defend. Ankhnut licking his lips, watched as the Princess lost her weapon. It clanked to the ground as she did three back flips and held out her hand.

Ankhnut went for it before he could think. He grabbed the blade and put it in her hand. For a brief moment their hands met and he could feel the excitement rushing through her body almost as if her's and his were one. He met her curious eyes, then she was gone, back to dealing with the other girl. Ankhnut went back to his place and watched. Twice was the Princess's weapon thrown and twice he retrieved it for her. At the end of the match, the two girls were sweating and angry. He could almost picture them hissing at each other, like two opposing cats of Bast.

As Anukaten was summoning them away, he was stopped by the Princess's voice. She took off her mask and said, "Thank you, servant of Osiris and Anubis."

"I thought I was the servant of the morning and the evening star," he replied wryly.
"Perhaps, perhaps," the girl replied.

Ankhnut bowed deeply and then turned to leave. He risked a glance back and saw that she was still staring.

VII.

"So, the poor farm boy woos the lovely princess Nefertiri," came the mocking voice of Sechmet, as the noble's son moved about the room he shared with about twelve other boys. His group of friends, all nobles and the few privileged to be acknowledged, laughed. Ankhnut ignored them and continued to put his things away in the drawers beneath his bed.

"But the poor ox will not get the princess," declared the voice of the older boy, “For, at this very moment, my father is writing a letter to the Pharaoh, requesting that I wed her."

Ankhnut turned and gave him an incredulous look. Then he began to laugh, he couldn't help it. Hearing that Sechmet would even consider himself worthy of marrying a woman, much less the Princess, was hysterical. The sixteen year-old boy, besting Ankhnut by four years, fumed.

"You think you're worthy of her," Ankhnut replied. “And that she would even consider marrying the likes of you. Ha!"

"You pompous ox!" Sechmet cried and launched himself at the younger boy.

Ankhnut knew he was, by far, stronger than the other boy, and could dispose of him in the blink of an eye, but before he could even move a muscle, Ausar, another boy, wrestled Sechmet to the ground. The noble gave a surprised cry as Ausar hissed," Your nobility does you no good here, understand? You're just like the rest of us! So, put your pettiness aside, or else your father will receive you home snapped in two."

Sechmet nodded weakly as Ausar let him up. The other boy, barely coming up to Sechmet's shoulder, and barely even his size, went back to his own bed. Ankhnut grinned slightly and went to see the boy. As he passed Sechmet, the noble whispered," This isn't over. By Horus, this isn't over."

Ankhnut ignored him and stood beside Ausar. The boy glanced up at him, but that was all he did to acknowledge his presence.

"Thank you, Ausar," Ankhnut told him. Then hardened his voice saying, “But next time, stay out of my way."

Ausar looked up at him in surprise. Ankhnut felt the spirit of Anubis arise in him at that moment and he used the power to enforce his words. He could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone. His father sent him from home to become a priest worthy of Pharaoh’s honor, and that was what he was going to do. He didn't want help, didn't need it and refused to have it. Ankhnut stalked away and went to his own bed. He could feel Ausar's eyes on him and chose to ignore it. At that moment, Anukaten entered the room. The old Priest stared at each boy appraisingly and when his eyes landed on Ankhnut, they lingered there.

"You shall present yourselves before Pharaoh and the nobility of Egypt," he informed them, his voice hoarse and rasping like old, dry parchment. "Bathe and be ready, for you shall be a show to them and when they tell you to do something, then you shall do so. For some of you it is the last time you shall see your families, for a long, long time. Go, now, quickly."

The boys were off, lead down to the hallways from their rooms by the priests of Anukaten. They were just outside of the palace grounds when, finally, they reached the bathe houses. It was steamy and hot and the water was warm, like a desert breeze. The boys removed their loin cloths and got into the water. Ankhnut waded towards a far corner, to be away from the splashing frenzy of the other playful boys. He wasn't in the mood. He was around water, and while he had great control over the sands while in the spirit of Anubis, using the power of the water gods was something else.

Ankhnut concentrated on creating a small bubble. It was simple enough; he'd done it many times at home. As always the bubble rose out of the water and kept its form floating in front of him until he took his concentration off of it. He wasn't aware he had an audience until every boy was silent watching the young boy as he formed other shapes with the water. Then all of a sudden, Ausar joined in. He created vague animal sharps from the water and curled them around Ankhnut's creations. There was a hushed awe from the gathered as both boys weaved magick.

The very construction of the pyramids was re-created for them, and the building of the Sphinx. A statue of Anubis then Horus floated in and out of existence as Ausar and Ankhnut wove their own power around each other's. For a moment, Ankhnut felt whole, with Ausar's own spirit intertwining with his. He could almost taste the flavor of the boy's style and could feel how much of the spirit of Anubis and Osiris he possessed.

He was strong, but no where near as powerful as Ankhnut.

'You protect me, I'll protect you?' came Ausar's question. 'You be my friend, I'll be your's?'

The boy was a loner, almost as alone as Ankhnut. He was brought to the palace, not by his real family, but by a couple that thought they could get money for him. His real family had abandoned him when he was young, at that time, the control of his power was weak and hell would break loose whenever he got upset. Even now, he didn't have a full control over them. Ankhnut considered his offer. The boy could most certainly fight, that would be a good asset against Sechmet and his goonies. Ankhnut, though not a priest, had made plans to have a protégé at some point. He could have one now. And, Ausar's powers almost begged to be controlled.
'Indeed,' Ankhnut answered. ‘Yes.'

Ausar grinned as Anukaten came into the bathe house, his priests setting down stools and on those, white raiment of the palace servants.

VIII.

Nefertiti sat patiently at her father's table surrounded by the sons of the nobility of Egypt. She was thoroughly disgusted. Anything would've been better than sitting through this torture. The conversations with these boys were of the worst sort, mostly politics and war. If she wanted to hear that, she'd turn to her father. Most of the nobility’s children were just like adults; and that was the last thing she needed.

She longed to be outside, feeling the rough harshness of the desert winds rake across her face and tousle her hair. Or up in her room listening to a tale of magic and intrigue from Kamilla. Nefertiri grinded her molars into one another and accepted another round of wine from the servants.

She sighed.

"Enjoying yourself, daughter of the morning and the evening star?" a voice whispered from behind.

Nefertiri jumped and whirled in her seat, her eyes meeting two very deep pools of blackness.

The princess smiled.

"Not really," she whispered back to her friend. The boy nodded.

"When I give you the signal," he informed her conspiratorially," Follow me."

Princess Nefertiri frowned but nodded. The boy went off to serve other nobles and their families. She watched his body as it moved across the stone floors, adorned in the white smocks of the servants, graceful and proud like a feline, watching for any strange sign he might give. Slowly, anxiety crept into her stomach. Was that boy actually suggesting that she skip out on this whole affair? How exactly was he going to pull it off? She looked for him again, all over the room for him frowning, her stomach doing circus performances. He'd disappeared.

And then, very suddenly, the tiniest whisper upon a wind that swept in from the desert.

Nefertiri turned to the direction of the wind and saw a ghostly figure beckoning to her from the open door way. Her eyes widened considerably in amazement. Was that- was that the priest boy!

Nefertiri turned to her father, but he seemed not to notice the sudden cool draft that blew in from the door's open arches. He didn't seem to notice her at all. Nefertiri bit her lip and looked to the strange boy. He was farther away now, beckoning. The princess gritted her teeth, stood slowly cautiously and turned to leave. No one seemed to notice, no one seemed to care. She almost gave a cry of joy, but instead kept it at bay and continued to walk slowly outside of the room, passed the chairs of unsuspecting nobles, out of the door's arches and into the open air. Finally, Nefertiri gave a jubilant shout and ran to catch up with the mysterious priest boy.

****

They stood on the highest reach of the pharaoh’s palace, the stars of Nut's belly twinkling above them in cold distant glory. A strange moon hung in the sky, tinged just so with a misty blue. Desert winds swept across the sand below and rushed up suddenly, at the flick of Ankhnut's hand, tussling the princess's hair. She took along deep breath before fully turning to her companion and studying him. His shaven head glossed in the dim torchlight and the corners of his mouth were upturned in a vague, distant smile. She frowned. She didn't even know his name. And, then, suddenly all coherent thought was driven from her as his very dark eyes turned to her and gazed at her just as curious.

"How did you..." Nefertiri let her voice trail off as she wondered if it were appropriate to ask a priest about his spells and magical workings. Then she brushed the feeling off. Because of her upbringing, and the blood from her mother that ran in her veins, she had more of a right than anyone. "How did you do that? How is it possible that no one has come for me yet?"

He shrugged and turned back to the stars. Finally, he answered, “I made an illusion."

"An illusion!" she gasped. "How powerful are you?"

He laughed, a sweet sound that carried in the air. “Are you always so...tactless?"

"Tactless!” she exclaimed. “TACTLESS! How dare you speak in such a way to royalty! You are bold!"

"And you are careless,” he replied in such an easy tone. He glanced at her and she stood there fuming at him. "Look, I didn't take you from that celebration to speak to you in all "Yes your highness" and "If it pleases you your highness." You looked bored.” He shrugged and turned away from her. “But I suppose I made an error in judgment."

"No," she struggled to contain her anger, finding that she really didn't want to stay angry at this particular boy. His bluntness surprised her. How could he be so bold as if to talk to her as any regular citizen of Egypt. She was daughter of a mortal god. But, in a way, it was also refreshing. Someone else, aside from Merenre and Kamilla was daring to treat her...normal. "I'm glad you wasted your gift on me. I suppose I should be grateful. Thank you."

His grin seemed to melt away all her anger. His dark eyes twinkled and he boldly took her hand, leading her to a better view of the sky. He pointed.

"Look."

And she did, and what she saw was breathtaking. It was true then, what they said, at the highest point of the palace you COULD see the Nile flowing into a larger body of water. It was so faraway, and it glimmered in the moon light like a mass of stars flung to earth. The sands glowed pale blue and purple, and a desert wind stirred the still dunes.

"Amazing, priest," Nefertiri breathed.

He smiled at her for a moment, then said, “My name is Ankhnut."

She blushed, wondered fleetingly if that was the right thing for a princess to do, then said, “Yes, of course. I should've asked."

"And you?" he asked quietly and the princess frowned.

"Why ask for my name? All of Egypt knows it."

His grin spread slowly across his face. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. Tell me, princess, what is you name?"

She blushed again. "I-I am Nefertiri Ptahm III."

He smiled slightly. "Nefertiri...Nefertiri."

A wash of strange feelings brushed over her in waves and the princess felt a strange emotion bubble up from her stomach. Him saying her name made shivers run up and down her spine. It wasn't the name itself, just how he said it, without reverence, but instead as if it were some strange and powerful word, as if each syllable could invoke such great forces of nature. He grinned at her again as a desert wind stirred.

"Ankhnut," she said quietly, and his dark gaze drifted over to her. It roved over her face for a moment before meeting her gaze. He nodded expectant. "Can you...Can you get me a piece of the sky?"

He looked taken aback by her strange request. She added quickly, “It’s just that Merenre always boasts of the power of the sisterhoods, indeed of my mother's own, unique, bloodline and well...I've always wanted a piece of the sky."

He smiled at her and took her hand in his. She met his dark gaze as it twinkled in the night.

He nodded and said, "My princess, I will give you whatever is in my power to give you." He sighed. "Yes, I will get you a piece of the sky."

She grinned like a satisfied cat and threw her arms around him. Ankhnut was caught off guard by the sudden embrace, curling his arms around her slender form. They were crushed together for what seemed like eternity, before the princess pulled blushingly away. He frowned and mentally wondered what repercussions that act would have on his future, indeed his survival if pharaoh ever found out. Then he met her dark eyes, and those thoughts were driven swiftly away. He suddenly wanted that lithe, pulsing body in his arms again.

He reached out to touch her, but the sudden blast of faraway horns stopped him and he realized, that very soon , he would have to return the real princess to her father's side and get rid of the illusion. Personally, he couldn't fathom how he'd done it anyway. One minute he panicked on how he was going to pull off getting her out of the room with all those guards, and in the next the world around him tinged with magick and he'd wielded it. He'd knew that he was starting to play with fire, and that he'd better tone down a bit before he got burned...and badly. He turned to her now, her face awash with moonlight. She was beautiful, a voice in his mind said, he continued to stare not fully understanding what the word meant. Indeed, his intelligence far surpassed many adults, but he was still young.

Still naive.

"We should go now, Ankhnut," she whispered, and he shivered as strange emotions rose up from the depths of his soul. He wondered at those strange feelings, but nodded at her words.

And together, they descended the steps to return to the celebration, but not before the princess intertwined her hand with his.

And It All Falls Down...

2008-06-10T13:44:00.002-04:00

You know, some of the book ideas that I have in my head might not be readily or welcomingly well recieved. Atleast, not in America...or the United States, because I can't account for Canada and the tastes of the Canadians (although, I wouldn't mind marrying one o.0) Anyway, what I mean to say is that there's an idea that's been knocking around in my head for a while, but I don't think people would take a shining to it because of its questionable nature.

Point of fact, I would be calling the Bible a liar.

Okay...not so much as a liar, just that what's in there wouldn't be the actual truth of things. Take for instance the first line that hit me while I was in the shower some time ago: 'In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth and all that was in it. Six days it took him, six days, and then on the seventh, he rested. And never woke up.' Now, it's a good clincher, but I could see the proverbial Christian audience immediately taking offense and saying: 'ZOMG!!! Wut r u teeching our childz?' And then there'll be some Spanish Inquisition the likes of which JK Rowling never dreamed of.

Hypothetically, the book could sell, right? It would just be a twist and turn on the whole Bible and all of its...*gaspeth*...stories. I mean, certain things that happened in the Bible would still--for all intents and purposes--still have happened in my book's universe, they just wouldn't have been by God's hand because well...God would have still been sleeping and all the angels would hae just been following this MASTER PLAN that God, had laid out for existence.

Either way, it's just an idea.

*goes back to writing serious projects*

I've Been Crawling Through The Dark Looking For The Answers

2008-06-10T00:17:00.002-04:00

I think I'm too nice for my own good. I've probably said this somewhere in a different post, but it kind of bears repeating because a thought had occurred to me and it often stems from my friend Ashley, and sometimes it stems from my friend Katie and even my friend Shari, in which it seems to be perfectly fine to impose their lives on mine and me being too gracious to just say: 'No, I'm sorry. I can't deal with that or you right now, I've got my own shit.' Take for instance my apartment. It's MY apartment with my name on the lease and ME paying all the bills and anything else that suddenly pops up to surprise me or bite me on the ass. Not anyone else and I'm not asking for anyone else to do anything for this place either. I took on the responsibility and am dealing with it. Reveling in it, really. But it just burns me a little bit (okay, not a little bit...alot) that whenever Ashley comes over to my apartment to stay for a bit that if MY couch/bed has been tampered with she automatically gets 'critical' (*cough* hostile *cough*) and asks: 'Aye yo, shawty, who's been sleeping on my bed?'

It doesn't occur to me of course until later that she seems to get that way a lot about the furniture I purchase and the apartment that I am paying for. Such as when I first got this place she says: 'So, what does our apartment look like?' Not OUR apartment, you numb nut, MY apartment. It burned me then, but I didn't say anything because I was too happy to have a place of my own to care (and I'm still kind of like: Whoa, muthfuckahs! I got an apartment!!!).

But she makes comments like that and then gets a little hostile if she finds out Shari stays at my place (and since when did my home become some kind of commune for everyone else?) and asks me: 'She doesn't sleep on my couch does she?' It's MY couch and why I haven't just gone on ahead and said,'Hey, Ashley, fuck off. It's MY couch, therefore if I WANT some else to sleep on it, I CAN and you're not PAYING for it so you can't DECIDE who stays WHERE.' But if I said it exactly like that I might get the cold shoulder and everyone knows how us 'Libras' hate being hated.

And then onto Shari: why is it that you HAVE to stay at my place all the godawful time? It's not like I don't like friends or even having them, but when nearly every other night of the week you are staying at my place, that's a problem. I like my solitude and space and I don't need to have to conversate with people (unless I'm fucking you, but that's a different story) all the time. I'm not THAT sociable, and it burns me when I tell her this she gets hostile with me (granted, I compared her to the cats that got to her school, but really she IS just like them: she can't be by herself and claims to like her solitude, but keeps txting me asking me 'what r u doin?' Um....'working'....'oh...k' D'oh!!!!!!) It's not like I mind it (okay, I do) because I'm just not used to the whole friends-wanting-to-hang-with-you bit. I didn't have many friends growing up and those that I did have unstood my NEED for solitude because thay had a NEED as much as I do.

It's just that it irks me that it's so easy for these people to impose on me, but I try not to impose on them, and I figure I should say something or else I'll end up exploding on them and damamging my friendship, but even if I do say something, they'll (and I) will eventually go back to the same old habits as if I hadn't said anything at all.

*sigh*

That's why I just disappear for days on end.

Sometimes, I just can't handle all the pressure to be the chameleon everyone else wants me to be.

Johnny/Surfer slash, PG-13

2008-06-09T18:31:00.009-04:00

Title: Don't Look Down (1/1?)
Author: Dragonfly Queen
Disclaimer: If I owned Fantastic Four, it might go a little something like this...But alas....
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Johnny Storm/Silver Surfer
Warnings: Slash
Summary: He's falling and he doesn't know if he can stop.

Touched.

Sensation.

Feeling.

Hand clasped around his neck. Squeeze, but not so much. Not enough for him to not be able to drag in desperate gasps of air. Flames burning around him. Warmth from the inside, burning him without.

Silver skin. Silver eyes.

Boring into him. Boring into his soul.

Flying higher and higher into the atmosphere. He doesn't dare look down.

"Can we talk?"

No answer. No response. Just air whooshing passed him, faster than life or light. Sun cresting the earth's rim. Stars shining in the darkness of space.

Cold radiating from liquid, metal skin. Quenching his fire.

Defeat.

"okay..." He goes limp. That silver hand spasms around his throat, squeezes minutely. He feels a whisper of power rush through him. Small, not enough to change the fact that his fires have gone out, that the vast chill of Earth's upper atmosphere has seeped through his uniform down to his very bones. "You win."

He's falling and he doesn't know if he can stop.

************

Norrin Radd watches, gaze betraying none of the emotions roiling underneath, as the inhabitant of this tiny green-blue world falls back to the welcoming embrace of his mother planet.

The air is colder up here.

He can see the sun of this world as it crests the rim of the planet. He can see the stars.

He breathes.

Feels a longing in his blood, in his bones, down to his very core.

It has been a long time since he has felt this. A stirring in the pit of his stomach. Emotions whirring to the fore front of his mind, clamboring to heard above the other.

It only took a split second. Mere seconds to grab the firestarter, to disrupt his powers.

To make a connection with the power cosmic that existed within the firestarter's body, sang within his blood. He saw...inside. Deep inside, to the heart of the impetuous flame, where it danced and laughed with joy for the burning.

It warmed the chill of space within him, the cold of stars that had been a constant companion since he left behind his world. Since he left behind Shalla-Bal. Since he left behind Norrin Radd and wearily travelled the deep.

And it gave him pause. Mere seconds. Mere moments and the weariness gathered within him, threatened to overtake. Threatened to undue him.

Norrin Radd breathed. In and out. In and out.

He doesn't dare look down, doesn't look to see if the firestarter has lived or died. He doesn't dare. He turns his board towards the blackness of space. Kneels.

"My lord, your Herald summons you."

It's Times Like These You Give And Give Again...

2008-06-09T14:00:00.003-04:00

Okay, so I'm re-watching episodes of Roswell. You know the old television series back in 1999, with Brenden Behr, Kathrine Heigl and Colin Hanks, and those others like William Sadler (can I just say that for some reason I find him oddly appealing) and Nick Weschler (he's cute too in that boyish, cocky kind of Sports' model kind of way). I was just checking it out and taking notes because I realized that I can't write a book series (or want to or attempt to) without having an idea of what to do with each book. You know, there's an overall story arc: evil power rises from age old sleep, threatens humanity (oh noes!!!) and teenage heroines must save the day while dealing with life's not-so-extraordinary circumstances. But each individual story has to have a plot underneath it and there is just so much that I want to that I know I'm going to have to kick some things out. SOMEthings.

GAH!!!

Also, I think I have a tendency to do things before I actually think about them. Take for instance this Board that I came up with for RPing in a semi-fantasy world in which New York City and its surrounding bouroughs have become this huge megalopolis called Wicked, NY. It's got your typical fixings of vampires, succubi, incubi, Fae, witches and shifters (werewolves, etc) and I made a "plot" for it. Here goes:

You meet her in a hotel bar.
It’s a rundown sort of place, on the seedier side of town, one of those places where the hotel patrons smell of abandoned back alleys and underground sewage; one where the bartenders sell the cheapest booze and scantily clad waitresses make their from table to table, using their feminine wiles more so than good services to reel in big tips.
It’s the kind of place where every man has to watch their back, watch their wallet even more so, and on the rowdier nights, a place where a fight breaks out at the slightest provocation. You should’ve known better than to be sucked in by anyone who frequents this place, but then again…common sense has never been a trait that had been praised with hard regard in your family
Music plays in the background, some old rock mix that’s still hip enough with the kids today to still be on the charts. It’s almost peaceful tonight, not very many people, although there are still pockets of noise resistant to the silence that wants to permeate. This should have been your second clue, but…common sense, remember?
Honestly? Who could have known what lay ahead? You’d only come in here to get a drink, after all. Life for you is a slow, unchanging march towards death; what’s a few drinks really? And as you guzzle down more, commiserating on how you’re probably going to be doing this every night, for the next couple of years of your sorry life until it becomes routine, she saddles up next to you at the bar with a face as pale as milk crystal, eyes as dark as onyx gemstones and lips that look like two ripe, plump cherries mashed together, surprising you out of your misery.
What the hell--?
She’s not a regular, and you can tell…just by the way she winks at the bartender, orders the same drink you’re having and pins you with her black-eyed stare until you feel like a rat on display. She’s like a predator as she leans forward, whispers a scandalous joke in your ear and throws her head back in laughter. You can only stare dumbly, captured as you are. This doesn’t usually happen, and you’re wondering if she’s a TV show host on one of those reality shows where they trick some dumb shmuck into thinking their the fucking king-of-the-castle. Strangers just don’t walk up to you in a bar. They don’t just engage you in a conversation. You don’t get mesmerized by them.
That’s just not the way things are done. Not anymore.
Couple of years ago. Maybe. Before the Cataclysm. Before the world’s superpowers got tired of silly, oil wars in the Middle East. Before the world’s leaders decided that they were sick of playing with soldiers’ lives and wanted to play with the world on a massive scale. Before everything went ‘boom’ and bombs exploded in the sky and people lost their lives and life had changed for everyone, irrevocably, forever.
Nine years later, and you just didn’t flirt with some random stranger in a bar.
But she did. She’s flirting with you, and you’re trying not let this bother you. Trying not to let this get you at all. But she does, and it is, especially when she whispers in your ear again, telling you to meet her in the alleyway behind the hotel bar.
You know this is a bad idea, everything is screaming at you: THIS IS A BAD IDEA. But you swallow that voice along with the last dregs of your drink, slap down a five dollar bill and leave, entering the cool night air, looking up at a sky of stars that suddenly seem very strange to your booze-clouded brain. Nine years ago, you probably would not have been out here, but the Cataclysm changed everyone—even you—and you kind of just learned to stop caring anymore. People claimed nowadays that strange things happened in the night, and even stranger people haunted the darkness. Or, maybe not people…
Things….
But those are only rumors. You’ve never seen anything. And, since the Cataclysm, you’ve been out at night a whole helluva lot. If there was anything, wouldn’t you have seen it?
You make your way behind the hotel, straight out to the alley that you’ve probably puked in a few times on your way home after a nice round of drinks. You peer into the darkness, trying not to gag on the smell of stale piss and cigarette smoke; the combination makes your eyes water. You blink, trying to find her, and step one foot at a time into the darkness. It’s then that your instinct kicks in, that inner knowing that human beings are born with, that helped their ancestors, the cavemen, survive: something’s not right…
The screech comes from above, startling you, and you whirl in both shock and fear, and duck in time as a giant, solid shadow swoops over your head. You can hear where claws raked the air. Wait…Claws?!
Your heart’s hammering now, and you breaths coming out shallow and strained. Where the hell’s the woman? What the hell was that?
You hear another screech. You turn to look. Whatever the hell it is is coming back at you, impossibly large and scary as hell. Holy shit! You’re frozen in place, not knowing what the hell to do and the big thing slams into, knocking the breath from your chest and slamming into the pavement and concrete. Your mind is in a whirl, you’re struggling to breath and all you can think is: what the hell did I get myself into?
It won’t occur to you until much, much later, when you’re half dead and this big, shadowy thing materializes into the pale woman in the bar and slits—literally—slits open your wrist vein with her [I]teeth[/I] that maybe, just maybe those crazy [b]things[/b] that people’d been telling you about, THOSE THINGS, maybe, actually exist….
Welcome to Wicked, New York…

(PS: Can I just say I REALLY wish blogspot would use formatting when copying and pasting stuff...JEEZ!!)

I'll write more later. Now...

Back to work!

Well I Believe The World Is Burning To The Ground

2008-06-06T14:21:00.002-04:00

Despite the wonderful weather, I feel positively dreadful. Although, I think the time of year that I most prefer is the beginning of Spring (just at that transition from winter to the Re-birth) and Fall, just when Summer is starting to die and Old Age is setting in. Either way, I usually feel good when the sun is out, but it's insanely muggy and it makes me sluggish.

I visited the Grandparents today.

Didn't have much to say.

They didn't either, and ants were crawling all over their nice pretty flowers. Or, rather, Granny's flowers; people always seem to forget that Charlie Barnes is lying right next to her. Either way, it doesn't matter. I don't even know if they're still in there or already doing their own thing in their next life. Whatever.

I wanted to get drunk last night, but as I am ALWAYS the designated driver, that just wasn't happening. At all. And I think my old high school pal, Mykal, thinks I have problems...which I do...but he thinks I have some dysfunction where I have to drink to solve them. Alas, if only that were the case. If I am disturbed by my problems before I drink, then they are ten times worse after the consumption of alcohol. I do not profess to wanting to be a blubbering idiot. No thank you.

Project Snag-a-man went up in flames last night.

The Checkered Parrot sucks for its inability to not let personal vendettas interfere with business. Ah well, the American P - I mean - Club Cocktail is open for business and it's okay, with its usually crowd. Whatever. Rules on the dancefloor: apparently, guys can not ass shake for girls, but girls can ass shake all they want. Sexist much? Whatever.

Apparently, the people that I hang with at AiA do not like my friend, Ashley. Didn't energies, I suppose. Their type of fun is not their type of fun.

I have being in-between.

I hate existence right now. Excuse me while I go blow its brainz out.

Si Se Puede!!!!

2008-06-04T15:43:00.000-04:00

OMFG!!! We're almost THERE!!!!!

I Should Stop Visiting The Denial River...It Floods Too Much...

2008-06-04T11:18:00.002-04:00

Okay, so..um...new rule: I will not drink and write...at all. It's just not healthy in the long run to do something so silly, and that frackin' blog? Silly as hell. Anyway, so, yeah, I am doing self-analyses on myself and basically trying to know...well....myself. I think I'm still suffering from residual drunkenness, but it will wear away the longer I'm at this job and at this computer and trying to focus on Legal Stuff and Mumbo-Jumbo (apparently I did the trial notebook of one of the client's correctly because my boss isn't telling me to re-do it...One point for meee!!!).

Anyway, I'm just wanting to get a book out and published. But that's a given.

I'll write something more substantial maybe later...and post a picture too!

Damn my need for to be a peacemaker....

2008-06-04T01:27:00.002-04:00

I'm drunk. Or, something like it...And I don' think this is a proper post to have for a person that might become a new writer or witll want to become a nerw writer to have because people then will have to read this and know that their tfavortie writer is a drunk person who writes when thyer drunk. But I'm not drunk.

Okay, I must admit that I want that guy at the Checkered PArrot, and I will say that I don't think I'll get him even if I really want to get him because I don't think I will because he is probably not going to like me at all. And the stupid thing is that I was suposed to give up on Greg tonight nbut ' I don'nt say anything to him and just flirted even thoughjt I wnated to tell him that I don'r like him but then he said somethine about kidnapping and I was like: Well, shit....

I don't know ahjt to do about him. And I just wansted to callt that other guy all night to night and just talk to him and say, "HI!"

I don't know.

I'm obssessed I think =but only beause I have a Venus in Soprio and that means that I am intenste in love , but I don't tihnk thay anyone will br as in-love with in love as I am or in-love with a person like I will or do.

I want that guy.

What do i do?

AGRH!!!

I Have A Propensity...

2008-06-02T22:50:00.002-04:00

to write some pretty depressing stuff when I get into one of my moods. So, I was browsing my computer and stumbled onto some old stuff I wrote during the time that I was breaking up with my ex-boyfriend, whose name shall never be mentioned or discussed in this blog save as one of those polite: 'Oh, it was just a LEARNING experience!!', and usually when I get depressed I just go straight into the macabre even if it's not my intention to do any of the things I write about. However, I tend to write some pretty damned heart breaking stuff. Anyway, take a look:

WILL YOU WAIT FOR ME?
by E.D. Gray12/20/07
Disclaimer: No this is not a suicide note, this just comes from listening to Killswitch Engage late at night around 3a.m. in the morning, knowing that I should take my happy ass to sleep, but don’t. Although, I figure, if I were to write a suicide note, this would be it. But it’s…not. Not right now, anyway. I just had to get this off my chest and out of my head, and I think this thing is just too fucking heartbreaking and depressing in its own stupidly hopeful way. It was spawned from the unholy union of recent conversations, recent events and KSE. Remind me never to listen to these people this late at night ever again. Thanks.

I remember talking to her on late nights, a while go, way back when life was simple in so far as to say I was young and I was invincible and not one cold or cut or bruise could make me believe otherwise; I was a conqueror among my fellows, I was alive and nothing could snuff it out. Nothing at all because there was everything to live for. I could breathe, and you know, so could she. She could breathe, she could hope, and even though she was a pessimist at times, there was still an optimist lurking under the cowl of frowns and scowls and the occasional depressed jab.
Maybe that was the first clue, and I should’ve known then…
I should’ve known….
She always had this saying that she’d say whenever she just couldn’t make up her mind about something: if she had to chose between not buying a new pair of shoes and buying one, she’d ponder the consequences of purchasing them later and turn to me and say flippantly with a smile, “Gotta go for broke, babe.” She said to me once that it was a terrible saying, and that she wanted me to help her come up with a new one, something that wouldn’t get her into trouble “one of these days.”
And maybe that was my second clue, and I should’ve guessed then…
But, even with the pessimism and the self-critical thoughts, there was life there. There was this hunger to see and know and do everything. She had a plan that she wasn’t going to go anywhere until she fifty, but then she always said crazy things and after a while I just stopped paying attention, just stopped listening because there was no point. Or, at least, I thought there wasn’t a point.
Sometimes I think that if I’d just paid attention in those last months…
And you know, a lot of women have a goddess complex, you know? A lot of them think of themselves with a holier-than-thou complex, and yeah, she’d think that kind of stuff too, but she’d sometimes say that one day she’d become a goddess and she’d save everyone. This, of course, used to be accompanied with her pessimistic moods and really, after a while, I just couldn’t be bothered with them. I couldn’t spare the minutes, or want to, to deal with her mood swings. She honestly made me think she was manic depressive sometimes, the way she would shift.
That was my third clue, and maybe if I’d have paid attention to that one...
After all, they say these things come in threes.
She’d tell me that there was a little humanitarian in her, and that she wanted to gather up all the pain and all anger and all the hurt and all the anguish that existed in the world, that she wanted to gather it all up and take it into herself and relieve everyone else of all the evils that hurt them. She’d see things and she’d always want to save them, take care of them and sometimes I wondered why she’d want to do that, why she’d put herself out there like that. Why?
I don’t know. Maybe I was a selfish asshole. Maybe I lost the ability to care for people like that, or maybe I just was never born with that genetic marker that caused people to want to drop everything, hop on a plane and fly to Africa to help all the poor starving people in impoverished villages. I didn’t cry about those things. I didn’t let them get to me. I was invincible, remember?
But her…
Things always got her. Even the smallest things, she could never understand: someone cut her off in traffic and her temper exploded and she’d angrily wonder why people would risk someone else’s life on the road just so that they could get to a CVS when it wouldn’t close until eleven o’clock at night? She’d get angry at small things, be hurt about tiny things, as if the entire world would end just because of the smallest infraction. I could never understand that much…stress…that a person would bring upon themselves.
Like I said, I don’t know.
She’d tell me sometimes that she just…couldn’t handle the stresses of the real world, so she’d always try to see people with these thick, thick rose tinted glasses. She wanted to believe, she told me, that everyone was good on the inside. Even with the things that happened in her past, she still wanted to believe that everyone was inherently good. And on her incredibly pessimistic days, she’d take anything that she’d done, anything that she had said to someone, no matter how justified, she’d somehow turn it so that she had hurt someone irrevocably, that she had caused someone pain. I remember I had done something hurtful to her, and she still made it seem as if she had hurt me by daring to correct me or scold me or ask me why I had done it.
With all these clues, I shouldn’t have been as blind as I had been.
I should have seen, but…
I was invincible, and to me, things were forever, people were forever. Even if I had seen death in my life, it had never touched me in such a way that…well, I’d never been hurt so bad that I was reminded of my own mortality. Never. Not until…
But I had never thought she’d…
I knew she had attempted it; she’d told me herself, but she’d been so calm when she’d admitted it to me, as if it were a past memory that had absolutely no bearing on the present at all, no connection to present circumstances. I knew she had been sad, and for a very long time, but I never…
She was strong, I had always come to believe that. Even when she cried, she still tried not to, she still tried to put herself and her emotions on two different continents so that neither could touch the other. Maybe that was my last clue, and maybe clues actually come in fours…
She said she was going to become a goddess…
She said that when she became one, she was going to take away all the hurts in the world…
She said…
They told me the morning after, what had happened, and my eyes sting even remembering…
I just don’t want to remember, but I have to…
Her mother called my house and spoke to my mom, and I was sleeping, dreaming actually, and it was a pleasant dream, and she was there. We were seated on rocks near the sandy shore of a beach. The sand was white, the sea this kind of emerald, deep blue type color that you only get with those expertly taken photos of island paradises. The sun was shining, like a lemon drop in the sky, as she would say, and it was all so quiet and so pristine, you just knew it had to be unreal, but that was okay. That was okay because I hadn’t been wakened yet, and it was just a dream, and it was quite all right.
She sat, in this flowing dress, white like the most purest of saltwater pearls, a sharp contrast to her brown skin, but that was alright because she wore it perfectly. Her hair was down and it was curled under just the way I liked it to be. On her back were these gossamer wings, that were so delicate and so iridescent, and the light hit her in such a way that everything about her was surreal, like her skin glowed, and the dress glowed and her hair glowed and her eyes, when they turned to me, were shinning like amber, trapped in her irises. Her smile was gentle as she reached over and caressed my cheek, threaded her hand through my hair in the way that I liked the most, and when I leaned my head into her touch, she only smiled wider, chuckled a little bit and whispered, “You are so much like a cat, babe.” And her voice sounded like…it sounded…ethereal is all I can say to describe it. And I only looked up at her, smiled and continued to rub her hand with my head in the way that always made her laugh. And she did and it was better than real life. It was like bells and filled with so much, just so much joy, exuberance, freedom, like I had never heard it sound before.
She let me continue my play for what seemed like an eternity on the beach, the waves rushing forward and backwards towards the shore and then away from it, the sun shining above us, and her shimmering, watching me, smiling at me. I looked up at her again, tried to smile, but frowned instead because her smile, it was different from the lighthearted one it had been earlier.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, and she shrugged in her way that I knew meant she wanted to say something, but wasn’t sure if she should. I smiled reassuringly. “Just say it.”
She turned away. Looked out towards the flow and ebb of the ocean tides, and shrugged again.
“I’ll have to go soon,” she replied. Her voice was sad. I smiled broadly, gently took her chin between my fingers and turned her to look at me. Her gaze was as sad as her voice had been.
“Don’t worry about it, hun,” I replied easily, wanting her to smile for me. But she didn’t. Her gaze softened slightly, eyes peering into mine with a look that almost felt like it were piercing into my soul, delving into the very heart of my darkness. It was disconcerting. “I’ll just see you later.”
Her sad smile covered her face again. “Remember when I told you…I was going to become a goddess?”
I nodded, not following. Maybe she was going to go off on one of her tangents. Those sometimes made her feel better, and I hoped this one would too. But fate, as I’ve come to learn, is not so kind.
“I…It’s time,” she replied. I frowned. She continued. “I’m going to stop the hurting, babe. I’m going to make it so that nobody ever hurts again. I’m going to stop all the murderers and all the killers and all the bad things that make people want to hurt each other. I’m…I’m going to make love real. I’m going to make it so that it exists.”
I shook my head. “I don’t…I don’t follow, babe, but….okay. If you say so.”
Her sad smile came back as she stood, balancing herself on the rock and pulling away from my grasp. I frowned, tried to rise with her, but she waved me to remain seated.
“Where I go,” and she turned, facing the sea, “you can’t follow. Nobody can follow. I’m going to become a goddess, hun. I’m going to save the world.”
And for some reason, this incredible emptiness gripped me. An incredible fear over came me and cold shivers ran up and down my body.
“Babe?”
She didn’t answer me.
She stepped down from the rocks, her footing her sure, her steps confident.
“Babe?”
I tried to stand, but something…I couldn’t move. What the hell--? I looked and saw her, her feet landing on the sand with a soft ‘pooft’ sound, her dress rustling about her legs like the gentle flutter of owl wings.
“Babe? Wait! What’s going on? What--? Where are you going?”
She didn’t turn, she didn’t look back, she only stepped forward along the sand, headed down the beach, toward the water.
“Wait! Babe, wait! Where are you going? Just…Fuck! Come back! Babe, please! Come back!”
She continued, unrelenting, unfaltering, ever forward. Ever forward. And she wouldn’t stop for me, she wouldn’t come back when I called to her, when I begged her, when tears were falling down my face in a way they hadn’t fallen in years, and desperation filled my every being. I couldn’t move. It was as if gravity had gone turncoat on me and kept me rooted to the spot, rooted to the rocks as if I were one of the packed, hardened earth.
“Don’t go for broke!” I shouted desperately. “Don’t go for broke!! We’ll come up with a new slogan! You and me, babe! Just! Don’t go!”
It was when she was at the edge of the beach, water rushing up her legs, licking her thighs that she turned back to me, smile still in place, body still shining in the sunlight. She raised a hand to me, fingers spread wide and waved. Her mouth opened and I heard her voice, still soft, still ethereal, over the driving surf, “Too late, hun. Too late. I’m going to save the world. I’m going to save the world.”
Then she disappeared, swallowed by the sea.
And I woke up, sweating and feeling an emotional pain that was almost physical. A shadow stood over me. I looked up and saw the teary-eyed face of my mother, her eyes red from numerous tears shed.
“What happened?” I asked, dread suddenly filling me.
My mom told me the news, voice cracking in a way I had never heard it. My mom told me and…all I remember was feeling this overwhelming sense of shock and numbness. Numbness because no, no, no, she couldn’t be…
She wouldn’t do that…
She promised she would never do that. That she wouldn’t…
And she….
She…
That dream was my warning, or maybe…
Maybe it was my goodbye. It was my goodbye, and if I’d only paid attention to the signs when I saw them, when they were presented to me, I never would have had to experience…
She never would have…
My girlfriend died. Killed herself.
She died on January 15, 2008.
Just after the New Year.
She died at 2:52 a.m. from massive blood loss. Slit wrists, and a serene look on her face I was told later.
My girlfriend died.
And I guess, maybe….
God, I hope, I hope she’s out there. I hope she got her wish. I hope, somewhere, in some place, a man is about to kill a child and my girlfriend descends on him, invisible, but still very much so there, and whispers in the man’s ear, a quiet voice of consciousness, and the man, god, I hope, I hope the man reconsiders, and he lets the child go, and leaves everyone be, and he turns away from his evil ways. I hope to a God I never put much faith in that she’s making changes, that she’s become a goddess, that she’s sitting beside that God I don’t believe in, I hope she’s sitting next to him, and she’s whispering in his ear and I hope he’s listening and I hope he’s taking back all the evil that exists. I hope that he’s listening to her because she gave and gave and gave, and I hope he sees how much she gave, and how much she still wants to give. I hope he listens and pulls back all the cruelty and all the pain and anguish, for her sake. I hope, oh god, I hope, I just hope…
I hope she created love.
Because in the end, that’s all that’s left to give.
And maybe, maybe that’s enough.

Dedication: To everyone. To the whole world. Let’s make love real. Let’s make it so that it really exists.

© 2008 Erica Denise Gray

BTW: I really wish this blog would do automatic formatting *grumbles*

Because City Of Heroes Is So Bad-Ass

2008-06-02T21:54:00.004-04:00

Just what am I doing? No...seriously...what am I doing?

God, oh what tangled webs we weave....

I just don't know what to do with myself!

Hark! There Are Invaders!!!!!!

2008-06-02T19:09:00.002-04:00

So, okay...I'm DOOMED...

I feel alternatively a smidgen of fear and anxiousness and then...desire. What's a frackin girl to do? I wish Thursday would hurry the hell up and get here so that I can get rid of this curiosity once and for all.

I need to dump Greg.

I've got to get my life in order.

I need to stop going to sleep dreaming about this guy.

I read my Cards. I don't think they like me any more.

I'm being a bit selfish about this whole thing though. I'm keeping Greg, but only because I want to make sure that there's nothing...or something...with that guy. Pishaw!!! I don't even know the man's name, but I just...want...to...SEE.

It's hopeless, but I? have to know. My blood boils. My stomach is uneasy, but it's all because I just...have...this...feeling...that...I'm...going to make an ass of myself.

I should stop being selfish. Dear God....

I'm drowning....

AARGH!!!!!

Because This Is What I Am AND Sometimes That Stinks

2008-05-31T21:46:00.001-04:00

Somtimes, I hate being a Libra....because of our infintesimal need to constantly come out as the 'good guy' in any situatuion so that, even if we really want something, we're too busy wondering what everyone else will think to truly grab what our hearts desire. Gee-yuh.

LIBRA
Libra is the only inanimate sign of the zodiac, all the others representing either humans or animals. Many modern astrologers regard it as the most desirable of zodiacal types because it represents the zenith of the year, the high point of the seasons, when the harvest of all the hard work of the spring is reaped. There is a mellowness and sense of relaxation in the air as mankind enjoys the last of the summer sun and the fruits of his toil. Librans too are among the most civilized of the twelve zodiacal characters and are often good looking. They have elegance, charm and good taste, are naturally kind, very gentle, and lovers of beauty, harmony (both in music and social living) and the pleasures that these bring.
They have good critical faculty and are able to stand back and look impartially at matters which call for an impartial judgment to be made on them. But they do not tolerate argument from anyone who challenges their opinions, for once they have reached a conclusion, its truth seems to them self-evident; and among their faults is an impatience of criticism and a greed for approval. But their characters are on the whole balanced, diplomatic and even tempered.
Librans are sensitive to the needs of others and have the gift, sometimes to an almost psychic extent, of understanding the emotional needs of their companions and meeting them with their own innate optimism - they are the kind of people of whom it is said, "They always make you feel better for having been with them." They are very social human beings. They loathe cruelty, viciousness and vulgarity and detest conflict between people, so they do their best to cooperate and compromise with everyone around them, and their ideal for their own circle and for society as a whole is unity.
Their cast of mind is artistic rather than intellectual, though they are usually too moderate and well balanced to be avant garde in any artistic endeavor. They have good perception and observation and their critical ability, with which they are able to view their own efforts as well as those of others, gives their work integrity.
In their personal relationships they show understanding of the other person's point of view, trying to resolve any differences by compromise, and are often willing to allow claims against themselves to be settled to their own disadvantage rather than spoil a relationship. They like the opposite sex to the extent of promiscuity sometimes, and may indulge in romanticism bordering on sentimentality.
Their marriages, however, stand a good chance of success because they are frequently the union of "true minds". The Libran's continuing kindness toward his or her partner mollifies any hurt the latter may feel if the two have had a tiff. Nor can the Libran's spouse often complain that he or she is not understood, for the Libran is usually the most empathetic of all the zodiacal types and the most ready to tolerate the beloved's failings.
The negative Libran character may show frivolity, flirtatiousness and shallowness. It can be changeable and indecisive, impatient of routine, colorlessly conventional and timid, easygoing to the point of inertia, seldom angry when circumstances demand a show of annoyance at least; and yet Librans can shock everyone around them with sudden storms of rage. Their love of pleasure may lead them into extravagance; Libran men can degenerate into reckless gamblers, and Libran women extravagant, jealous and careless about money sometimes squander their wealth and talents in their overenthusiasm for causes which they espouse. Both sexes can become great gossipers. A characteristic of the type is an insatiable curiosity that tempts them to enquire into every social scandal in their circle.
In their work the description "lazy Libra" which is sometimes given is actually more alliterative than true. Librans can be surprisingly energetic, though it is true that they dislike coarse, dirty work. Although some are modestly content, others are extremely ambitious. With their dislike of extremes they make good diplomats but perhaps poor party politicians, for they are moderate in their opinions and able to see other points of view. They can succeed as administrators, lawyers (they have a strong sense of justice, which cynics might say could handicap them in a legal career), antique dealers, civil servants and bankers, for they are trustworthy in handling other people's money. Some Librans are gifted in fashion designing or in devising new cosmetics; others may find success as artists, composers, critics, writers, interior decorators, welfare workers or valuers, and they have an ability in the management of all sorts of public entertainment. Some work philanthropically for humanity with great self-disciple and significant results. Libran financiers sometimes make good speculators, for they have the optimism and ability to recover from financial crashes.

And Down Falls The Hearts Of Man...

2008-05-31T12:07:00.002-04:00

I'm just. . . Huh. I hope for. . . something. . . Maybe. . . I don't know. . . Don't fuck it up. Maybe he won't be there. Maybe he will. One can only hope. Damn, one can only hope. I just really wish I could shut off my brain so that I wouldn't turn things from something innocent to something more. And damn if the stars aren't silent in their places. Fuck!

Because I'm Being All Posting-Of-The-Lyricals..I <3 this song!!!

2008-05-30T15:20:00.002-04:00

Artist: Corey Crowder lyrics
Album: Starting All Over
Year: 2006
Title: Starting All Over

Stale as the air that we breathe
There are lines being crossed
That no one can see
Are we just climbing or are we just waiting to fall

Starting all over, can we handle that?
We both know that we are the same...
The roads we don't know them,
We've got no one else to blame.

This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right

So save a place there for me.
I'll be back when I can find time to leave
Is this the ending?
Is this the way that we're made?

Starting all over, can we handle that?
We both know that we are the same...
The roads we don't know them,
We've got no one else to blame.

This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.

Starting all over, can we handle that?
We both know that we are the same...
The roads we don't know them,
We've got no one else to blame.

This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.

This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right.
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning...
This isn't turning out right

There's Something To Be Said About Standing Your Ground

2008-05-30T15:08:00.002-04:00

Okay, so...

I'm not going to have sex with Greg. Bit of a resounding d'oh in my head, but honestly...that other guy is on my mind a lot, and well...I've done the whole sex-when-not-in-a-relationship and it's a hollow affair, let me tell ya! I've done the one-night-stand thing too and while it's fun, I know myself well-enough to know that if that's all there is...then I get bored rather easily. Me and an old pal from High School did the whole one-night-stand thing and, while he was DAMN GOOD, I got bored afterwards and just started shutting down.

I want a relationship. R.E.L.A.T.I.O.N.S.H.I.P. I want to know that there's going to be something behind the actual act than just a 'Hey, I like you. You like me. Let's boogie.' Um...no. I want the connection and mayhap if I had seen Greg first he might have had a shot.

Let's face it: I always dwell on and obsess over things that might be a lost cause. Really! I just can't let go of things sometimes and while on others, say a business tycoon, that trait would be more helpful than detrimental, it's quite the opposite for me. I try to curb it though and it's getting better; I just have to put my foot down in my own mind and not just outside with other people.

I expect things. Mayhap that's my problem, but...I'm not going to get used again. Not by anyone and, if he can't understand the reasons (which he already knew, but damn if Arieses can't keep their mind focused for more than 2 seconds on anything), then we'll just have to say sayonada and throw up some deuces. I just...refuse to...do any of this without a foundation. If I don't have that than I'm lost, and I refuse to let my foundation go. I've worked too hard to make it stable these past few months to let some stubborn jerk tear it all down.

So, I'm standing my ground.

Hell, he wanted to sleep with me without even taking me on a first date!

*righteous indignation*

Hell no!!!

When One Domino Falls, They All Come Tumbling Down...

2008-05-30T03:49:00.002-04:00

Okay, so I meant to post yesterday, but I have STUFF to do and I don't actually get the chance. However, as the sun has not risen, I shall consider this still yesterday even though the clock is going to read today. So, the real concern for today is: I don't really like this guy named Greg--I won't say loathe or anything--it's more like, you're a cool cat, but there's this other guy and he's...something, and you're just the safety rope I grabbed onto when I didn't think I could have this other guy. I mean, do I truly deserve what I want? I don't know.

And then Greg wants to sleep with me while simultaneously telling me that 'Sure, we'll get to know each other.'

How to tell him: I want to know about a person before I do that, even if all it will be is just friendship or benefits or something. I can hold off on the sex department even if I haven't had it in years. To me, the carnal act is a lot less appealing than the actual getting to know you process. It'a just something about knowing all of someone else's secrets, with their soul laid bare to me, that makes me feel all the more like a physical connection is unnecessary. What do I need your body for when I have your soul?

And then...

There's the other guy and I just...don't know.

It's not like I've ever spoken to him. Every time he comes around I clam up like a dummy and can't speak for fear of sounding stupid. I swear if I did a sellf-diagnosis it's probably because I'm scared over my ex and my relationship with him because that was my first real relationship and I had felt that instant jolt of attraction for him too and then...well, he left me for his best friend. That bitch...

*grumbles*

And then this other chick snagged him before I could build up the courage and I've learned my lesson: DO NOT...under any circumstances...PLAY WITH SOMEONE ELSE'S TOYS!

And so, he is her's, unless...well, FATE is kind. Then again: I'll just let Fate do what it does and let the chips fall wherever they may...

*nudges Fate meaningfully*

Now...

About Greg...

*sigh*

The Andromeda Strain...

2008-05-27T22:22:00.005-04:00

So, like, I'm watching the movie 'Andromeda Strain' and it really just makes me want to read the book because while I bet they did as best a job as they could considering it's a two part television premiere, I feel like the book would probably flesh it out more (Then again, there's just something about Daniel Dae Kim looking all flustered and disheveled that just makes me go: mmmmmm....). Of course, you could probably say the same for every movie adaptation of any wellknown book. If I were the author, I'd say: Hey, I'm getting paid more. Then again, the whole copyright thing irritates me. If a person says they don't want their book made into a movie why is it that studios still by the rights to the book to be able to do it anyway? Do they actually have that right or am I just misinterpreting copyright law just so I can have something to fight for?

I don't know.

Anyway, I was just talking to myself as I am wont to do and I figured I post a smidgen of the stories I'm working on, just because this blog is...well...supposed to be a chronicle of me being a beginning author and all. I just wanna write!!! *twitches*

HERE'S A SAMPLE:

PROLOGUE - FAIRIES ARE AMONG US
Her heartbeat resounded in her ears like the rolling of coming thunder. Her blood turned to liquid fire in her veins. All of her senses were unnaturally honed to the world around her as her razor sharp gaze scanned the darkness, trying to pick apart shadow from shadow. This is what it must feel like to be hunted, she thought, wryly. Her ears were straining, her muscles were taut with the effort to keep perfectly still, perfectly watchful, wary of even the smallest and most innocuous sounds that leapt out at her from the gloom.

She didn’t know where the others were, separated from them quite suddenly, neither of them prepared for the attack that had come. She could only spare a glancing thought to them though, hoping that they were alright and sending up prayers to any powers that listened that she make it out of this alright herself. I swear I’ll buy everyone strawberry milkshakes if we’re just able to get out of this alive, she swore to herself as she stayed low to the ground and crept forward on all fours, still straining to listen and hear. At least the weird screaming had stopped.

It had started the moment she’d been separated from everyone else, a wild keening noise like an animal was being tortured alive. It had sent a shiver up and down her spine, rising and falling in tempo and volume until it was all she could do, but sing a little nursery rhyme to herself and keep moving: Moon, O Moon, in the empty sky, Why do you swing so low? Pretty moon with the silver ring, and the long bright beams where the fairies cling, where do you always go…
She could certainly use a bit of light now, even a sliver of it to help her see into the darkness better. Her hands slid over the ground, her knees scrapping against something that felt like concrete, but she wasn’t sure of that. She just had to keep moving, keep her mind focused on the forward and back motion of her legs, propelling her straight and true. It was all she could do to keep her fear in check, and she could feel it like twisting vines, curling through her system, trying to swamp her mind in panic. No, no, I have to just keep moving. That’s what he told me, she thought, beating back the fear. Just keep going. I should see some light soon. I should see…something.

AND THE OTHER SMIDGEN::

This one is kind of based on personal experience, even if it didn't quite happen this way. LOL!!! *shakes head*

CHAPTER ONE - WHICH WAY TO MURDER
The only sound the pigeons heard that morning was a loud screech and a crash as a cordless phone went flying across the room, smashing into the wall and splitting into two pieces, its coils and innards scattered across the floor where it landed. The pigeons cocked their heads, fluttered their wings and settled back into their places, but the morning could not return to its relative peacefulness for Keira Reynolds. Oh no. She glared at the phone as its dial tone droned before puttering off into a pathetic static-y sound before dying altogether. Her breathing was hard, her jaw set and her gaze livid.

How dare he—?!

Keira glared at the phone harder.

How dare he—?!

She wanted to scream, but aside from the screech she uttered nothing else would emerge. Nothing and she was a little disappointed in herself. After all, her boyfriend has just broken up with her. You’d think she’d be a little more livid than she was now. She just didn’t know. Two halves were warring within her: one side wanted to punch a wall, a pillow, a person and through a tantrum, where as the other half of her…just wanted to curl up into a ball in cry. Both sides were equally strong and equally tempting and submitting to either one was a tough, tough call.

So…

Instead…

She screeched indignantly and threw the phone. It was the best option for both sides, she supposed, and all she could do now was stand there in her PJs and bunny slippers glaring at a phone that she was going to have to replace. Great. A break up AND money out of her pocket to boot. Keira sighed in frustration.

She should’ve seen it coming. It wasn’t like there weren’t signs over the past couple of MONTHS that spoke and said: Danger, Will Robinson! Danger! But she was an optimist and she liked seeing the good in everyone. So, forget the fact that her boyfriend of TWO YEARS had been staying out later and later at his college working on his ‘project’ with friends. And forget that he stopped having real conversations with her about the things that mattered. Forget that she was trying her hardest to make him happy and all he could do was think about himself and his selfishness. Forget it all!

She’d overlooked everything because well…Let’s face it: that’s just the way she was, and it shouldn’t have come to her as such a shock that he would do this to her. It really shouldn’t, but it did and she wasn’t sure whether she should be hurt, angry or a heavy dose of both. Just last night she’d gone to sleep with, once again, the possibility that maybe things could work out, that maybe if she just pushed herself a little harder, she might come out on top and have him by her side.

Keira huffed, gripped her head in more frustration, sighed harder and landed with an unceremonious thump on her bed. She stared up at her ceiling, the painted angels floating within their artistic sphere; she could’ve sworn some of them were laughing at her. She glared at them too for good measure.

She just couldn’t understand how he could do this to her. Wasn’t she a good girlfriend? Hadn’t she been doting, considerate and kind? Hadn’t she been a model girlfriend the likes of which most men would kill for? This just could not be happening. Where did she go wrong? What in the last two years had she done?

She was cursed.

It had to be that.

Or something…

Definitely cursed.

Keira rolled on her back, shaking her head.

“And this morning started out so promising…”

And it was true. The morning had started out so promising. She’d woken to the rays of a bright, yellow Atlanta sun, shining in through her window, the sounds of a city shaking off sleep and preparing itself for the ordeal of another day. She’d gotten up, stretched in her morning routine to get the blood flow circulating. Her cat, Mr. McCavity, had sat up in his small bed near her wardrobe, with alert, sharp green eyes to watch her as she walked across her room, even in the first dregs of waking, her walk determined, and followed her with his gaze as she went to the bathroom that was connected to her bedroom, brushed her teeth and came out again, more wide-eyed and awake than she had been previously.

That was when the phone rang.

“Morning, Kei,” came her now ex-boyfriend’s phone resignedly over the phone. Keira frowned immediately, the bright and chipper greeting that she was going to utter, frozen on her lips. She swallowed.

“Morning, Rick,” she’d said cautiously, wondering why his sounded so down and out. She could almost picture him, and especially with that tone of voice (he always seemed to sound exactly the way he looked with any emotion): dark, curly hair framing his face, brown eyes downcast like a beaten puppy, lips turned down in that way of his that made her want to shake him sometimes and say, ‘Perk up!’

“What’s wrong?” she continued, but just as she’d gotten the words out, a sudden wash of feeling overtook her, a barrage of emotions that swallowed up her previous feelings of goodness about the day, and filled her with a foreboding sense of impending doom—

Didn’t want to… / Left me no choice… / Too many secrets… /Can’t do this anymore…

“Can’t do what—?” And she had to stop herself from speaking as Rick paused in a telling way that made her wince, even though he couldn’t see it.

“See? That!” he cried suddenly over the phone. Keira winced again.

“What?” she said, trying to feign innocence. “Rick, what’s going on?”

“You. Me. Us,” he replied. “I just…You’re a great girl, Keira. Really…It’s just that I…”

And that’s when Keira’s heart stopped and the flood of emotions that swept through her were more than just the feelings of impending doom. Doom had already come and darkened her morning, and now shock and disbelief were joining it, making the sunlight not nearly as bright as it had been and the bird song not nearly as sweet.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Keira asked. “Is that what you’re doing?”

There was a sigh on the other line and the sound of rustling clothing. Now, Rick was picking at his clothes, doing the whole beaten puppy act in full swing.

“You are, aren’t you?” Keira growled. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she knew point blank that that guilt wasn’t coming from her.

“I just…”Rick’s words faltered. He tried again: “You’re a great girl, Keira. You really are and I think you make a great girlfriend…”

“Just not for you.” Keira gripped the phone tightly, her knuckles turning ghostly white. Her jaw clenched and released, clenched and released and she could feel a hot emotion burning at the base of her stomach. “So cut the crap, Rick. Is it over? For you and me? Is it over?”

There was another resigned sigh over the line, and Keira could no longer stand Rick’s beating around the bush. She growled: “Fine. Then it’s over.”

Another wave of guilt and slight breeze of…was that relief?

“I guess so.”

“You bastard!” The hot wave of emotion rushed through her at those angrily shouted words and she screeched then, loud into the phone before hurling it across the room. The sound of broken machinery had been satisfying, but only for a minute, and Keira stared at the phone as a look of disappointment crossed her features.

“Damn him,” she muttered and let her face fall into her bedspread. “Damn him. Damn him. Damn him.”

Okay…

So it really shouldn’t have been such a surprise. After all, it wasn’t like she couldn’t tell his intentions when he called. She could…She could feel them even if he hadn’t been speaking the way he had that just screamed to her that something was up. She’d always been able to do things like that, and more often then not she wished she couldn’t. She’d blocked herself from him though, and maybe that was part of the reason. She didn’t want to see or know or hear anything of what was going on with him on the inside. She figured she was doing him a favor.

May be she should have done herself more of a favor.

The off-beat ring of her cell phone playing a snippet of Cyndi Lauper’s ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’ brought her temporary out of commiseration and she glared at the offending piece of technology. At least, it wasn’t Rick. Although…He had joked once or twice about wanting to have that as his ring tone. Keira growled and sat up, as the cell phone began another round of ‘They just wannuh…They just wannuuuh…Girls just wanna have fu-un. Oh, girls just wanna have fuuuuun!’ She grabbed it and pressed the call accept button and grumbled: “Hello?”

“Okay, spill,” came Lena’s voice over the phone. Keira pulled away from the phone in surprise. “Hey! I’m talking to you, Keira Anise! Spill!”

“Spill what?” Keira replied, bringing the phone back to her ear and trying to feign the innocent tone that so obviously didn’t work on Rick.

“Don’t you play dumb with me,” Lena growled on the other end in impatience. “You were broadcasting all over the ether waves. I felt you. Andi felt you. And Erin especially. So…spill.”

“There’s nothing to…” Keira’s voice trailed off. She didn’t know why she was reluctant to tell Lena what happened; she’d known the other woman since they were little kids in junior high. And it wasn’t like they weren’t going to find out anyway; Rick’s friends were friends of her friends. Word would get out soon enough.

She sighed.

“Me and Rick…Well, we broke up.”

“WHAT?!” Lena screeched and Keira had to jerk the phone away from her ear in an attempt to save her eardrums. “YOU BROKE UP?!”

“Lena, calm down!” Keira pleaded. “It’s not that…”

“Wasn’t he the one talking about marriage and crap?” Lena continued her angry tirade. “Wasn’t he the one talking about moving in with you and what color your furniture should be? What the hell?!”

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These...

2008-05-27T15:01:00.004-04:00

Is it so bad to have a dream? And I don't mean the ones with Fairies and Dragons, even though those have their merits and make for some pretty good fun during the REM hours of sleep. But I mean, a rea life dream...Kind of like the happily ever after kind? And, I'm not one of those happy souls--or deluded souls, rather--that believes that happy endings end at 'I do' and 'I do'. MArriage is work too, and I work for a Family Law Attorney, and there ain't no happy endings after 'I do' and 'I do'. I asked my brother about it on Sunday. I asked: Do you think we'll ever get divorces if we get married?

This is of course because my parents got a divorce when I was very young and I always wondered if that would be me in the next twenty years. Am I going to marry someone only to realize they were a big waste of time? I only got one life (or multiple lives if you're inclined to believe in reincarnation, but I won't remember it either way) and I don't want to waste it on possibilities that just don't pan out. I don't want my only contributio to this world to be 'I had a couple of kids, yay!' Not to say that being a parent isn't it's own rewards, but I just...don't want that to be the only thing.

Here's my dream:

I want to have a husband and three children, two girls and one boy. I want to live in a coastal New England town where everybody knows everybody, and my husband is an architect who flies overseas sometimes, does fantastic work and always comes home to his family (and doesn't cheat on me at all, even though the temptation can be great). I want two dogs: one an Alaskan husky and the other whichever fate decides to gift me with. I want a parakeet, three cats and a gofer. I want to be a writer whose books have been on the New York Times' Bestsellers' list multiple times and at least for sixty weeks and with millions of copies sold.

I want a house that looks like an old styled manor, with 22 acres worth of land, a giant lake and a giant willow tree that's about three hundred years old, and at night the whole place sparkles with fireflies like fairies live there.

Now, that's just a really far-fetched dream, I suppose, but...

It'd be cool if it happened, yes?

Her Children Are As Numerous As The Fish In The Sea

2008-05-26T01:16:00.003-04:00

Sometimes it hurts.

I don't know how to describe it. Just a feeling inside, like I'm about to burst with some kind of emotion that just washes through me and causes me to sit up and want to scream, but I'm frozen staring at the screen of my television, wondering where I'm going wrong with my life.

I know I'm only 21, soon to be 22 and that life for me isn't over and that I have so many years to live, but I don't know that. Tomorrow, I could hop in my car and it's bye-bye for good. How do I know I have those days or years for me? How do I know that there's anything waiting for me at the end? I could be born only to die at some premature time.

I'm stupid, and an idiot and if I had to do a self-diagnosis, I'd say I was scared.

I prayed to Papa Legba to send a message to Oshun and Yemaya, Mami Wata both: Please. Please. Please. I light my candles and pray to you because these gods came before and they were worshipped in the days of old and may be they have sway over the human hearts still.

I don't know. I want to hope for things and I'm not sure if I even have the right. I feel so old, even though I'm so young and the old ones will probably say that being so young that's why I feel so old: I've got the luxury because my bones don't creak and my memory is sound (sometimes). But I feel like I've had my happiness and it's just...it's fading and I'm not going to be happy anymore.

Well, I'm capable of happiness...

I just don't know how to find the kind I want.

So, I ask again:

Mami Wata...

Please?

America's Next Top Model comes under fire....

2008-05-24T12:49:00.004-04:00

In an article about America's Next Top Model, a blogger from wordpress.com criticized the show's lead host, Tyra Banks, for 'hating black women and gay, black men' by using her show as a stage to further marginalize either minority groups by showing gay men as the comedic relief and by being overly critical of the black models on the show. You can find his article here: http://orvillelloyddouglas.wordpress.com/2007/12/05/americas-next-top-model-conforms-to-homophobic-racist-and-sexist-stereotypes/ .

However, I completely disagreed and this is what I had to say:

Warning: the comment is a LOOONG one.

May 24, 2008 @ 12.45pm:
To: orvillelloyddouglas.wordpress.com
From: Erica D.

You know I only came here because I saw that gorgeous picture of Tyra and I was watching America's Next Top Model at the time and was interested in finding pics of the famed woman, and then I read your article... I notice that you're not responding to any of the other comments that people have made about your article, but that's okay because I'm going to throw my own two cents in because I felt the need to comment. I understand where you're coming from when it comes to the negative stereotyping that the media makes of Black Women and the GAY community in general (because it's not entirely about the BLACK GAY MAN at all, but the GAY community with blacks being a segment within it). However, you quoted W.E.B Du Bois and spout off his wisdom in reference to the public and private way that blacks act around open society and behind closed doors around their peers and it seems that you are contradicting yourself by accusing Tyra of hating Black people because she doesn't act or look a specific way in mainstream. But let's remember shall we: MAINSTREAM is the public sphere, the public arena, and if what you say of Mr Du Bois is correct then she is acting in the way that is most befitting of the MAINSTREAM. Now, when she's at home amongst friends, then she will act accodring to the private sphere of her home.

Let us all just realize one particular aspect about the United States' culture (because you are obviously NOT from the US, but are American as one Canadian friend pointed out to me becaue you live on the American continent), only a few decades ago segregation was LAW in this country and only a few short centuries ago slavery was also LAW. The people who remember those times, while dying off, are still around and some are still in power and some teach their child a type of closeted bigotry, we as a race CANNOT expect change to just suddenly fall into our laps as if the past never existed at all. There are still kinks to work out and the majority that still has sway and power in the US is white America. So, until we are able to get a few Black presidents under out belts or create a brainwashing device to change everyone's minds, change is going to happen slowly and Tyra Banks and any other Black Woman in power in the media is going to have to conform in some way. I personally feel that the modelling industry is FAKE and contains more drama than choosing the queen at a high school prom, but that's the fashion industry and Black Woman have to be more cut throat about it than their white counterparts. So, if they must conform, then they must. At least they are out there, showing that there ARE black faces even if they aren't the ones that black people want to see or represent the culture. I, myself, as a black woman growing up took great joy in even seeing Naomi Campbell and Tyra Banks and Gabrielle Union (while not a model) in the media and other black faces as well. It gave me hope that if I ever wanted to pursue these careers, while it would be hard work and alot of pain, I could at least make it somewhere. So, while you may not like the 'Eurocentric' look Tyra has, at least she's OUT there and providing a different stereotype for the media to play off on instead of the angry, overly sexualized ghetto stereotype of 'I Love New York' or 'the Flavor of Love' girls. Tell me how those women are helping the media percieve ME as an average WOMAN instead of some loud-mouthed, obnoxious, rude person.

As for the gay men: as one of the previous posters commented, isn't it better that the gay culture is getting some exposure. While it may not be the best exposure, you are forgetting that this is the FASHION industry and most of the men in the FASHION industry, if they are not the designers and even those are dubious in sexuality, are GAY and usually effeminate. And Jay Manuel doesn't seem to act like the comedic relief at ALL. Now, Miss Jay....yes, he acts...a bit comedic, but I have friends who are gay and lesbian of all races and act worse. He's tame in comparison to what I've personally experienced (trust me, when you go to a party with lesbian lolitas in various types of lolita culture and styles...whew!). Now, Mr Jay may make YOU think he's the stereotypical gay man, but I don't see any of the more 'malefic' acting gay men pushing for themselves into the media and if they do, they don't tell any one about it because they don't want to be boxed in and forced to play specific roles. The acting world and fashion world are cut throat businesses where backstabbing is the norm and if someone finds out a specific aspect about your rpivate life, it WILL be used aginst you so that some else can get ahead and if you're BLACK or an other minority, you're doubly screwed.

So, before you bag on Tyra or, even, Oprah, you need to understand the sphere that you are taling about. I do because as a child I wanted to break into that industry and learned how hard it could be for a minority of color. I have always been told that I sound white, act white and even dress that way too. I was told by an aunt that one of her great aunt's would have loved me merely because I was of a lighter skin color than my own mother. My younger brother has yellow skin and green eyes, does that make him any less black? Because I want him to pronounce words with out the vernacular that is associated with and plagues the black culture, does that make either one of us less black? Danielle, one of the ANTM's models and the one who WON, had to learn to conform to an juggernaut of an industry and quite frankly, being black listening to her talk was painful to my ears too.

Well, I've spoken my piece. Thank you for reading if you do.

It's just so annoying how bass ackward and PC this country is, and how other people portray or think of the United States and then how the United States is a total contradiction of itself. I was just reading another article about how ANTM has come under fire for some of their 'racy' fashion shoots and other photoshoots, and it irritates me that parents get angry because of the photoshoots, but the words 'ass' and 'bitch' and other words that I know I would have gotten popped for or disciplined as a child for saying and then put on punishment for a month are uttered as easily as 'hey, would you like some water?' So, I think the people who run those organizations shouldn't just come down hard on ANTM or other shows like it, but on ALL shows if they're going to be such bitches about it (yea, I said it ^_^). I see some shows on Cartoon Network that make me go, WTF?! and made me ban my little brother from even watching the channel at specific times because of the questionable material I see, and I broke out some tapes and VHSes of old television shows that I used to watch as a child that were 'kid-friendly'. So, please organizations like MAAD are just as fucking pathetic and hypocritical as the rest of this country.

Honestly! And then the hype about specific books altering children's minds so that they do bad things? That's just bad parenting. Like my little brother's mother....she's so uber-christian that she gives power to an object that doesn't have any power what so ever.

Last year I bought my little brother a book about dragons because he likes dinosaurs and dragons look a helluvalot like dinosaurs in his mind. He was only nine at the time and really didn't care because they were gigantic lizards. You should've seen how excited the munchkin got over the book and he read it immediately that day. I let him take it home when his mother came and got him so that he could enjoy it over there, but then I get a call the next day that she's going to 'mail' the book back and wants me to take the damned book back because she felt that it was 'satanic' and 'evil' and would say Isaiah to the 'dark side'. OMFG! This is not Star Wars, you dumb twit! It's a book that I clearly explained to him before I even let him have it. I quizzed him on dragons, talked to him about them being 'fictional', told him that if he had any questions for me to 'ASK' me, had him relay it back to me all the info I gave him and then asked him to tell me what it meant in his own words, and I did it all in a joking manner so that he wouldn't feel uncomfortable or like he was in trouble. And HEY, he's not Darth Vader reincarnated.

So I took the book back, but he'd already done some of the acitivities so I couldn't exchange it and I told her that so she reimbursed me the cash. The book actually cost some 12 bucks and some change, but I rattled off 13.oo because she was going to write me a check and honestly a whole number, right? She acts like she's vindicated because the number it cost was 13. She's a dumb twit, really. So I kept the book, got the cash and I am secretly, covertly undermining everything that her stupid, bigoted christian brain cooks up for my little brother to learn. I take him outside and let him know that nature exists and is alive and that whoever the creator(s) of the universe are/is, they/he/she/it don't want you cooped up in some stuffy building with other backstabbers and not learning from the true divinity which is nature itself. And no I'm not pagan or wiccan or a witch (and yes, I sperate wiccan and witch because wiccans are too flowery for their own good), but I study everything because I'm curious about all paths or if there is even a path to follow.

*wiggles fingers*

Because I'm the bad element in society. I'm that weirdo girl with the confuckeded-colorful hair that prances around school with dragonfly wings and hangs out with all the outcasts and fags, who's not afraid to see things for what they are and dig deeper for answers to the questions of life that I have, who isn't afraid to piss you off with the observations I make and the subversive character I have.

Yes, yes. Fear me.

*loud, cackling laughter as the scary music plays to its final finish*

Men Are Just Dreams We Use To Lie To Ourselves

2008-05-24T07:52:00.002-04:00

I had hoped to write a much more uplifting post then yesterday, however, life doesn't seemt to be so kind; I really just think it's the weather.

So I'm sitting here watching Buffy. I should be writing my books, and even as I watch the absolute campiness of this particluar scene in which Angel and Buffy are probably going to make love for the first time (DANGER, WILL ROBINSON!) and the two of them are professing their undying love (Dear God, please shoot me). And there you go, Angel turns to Angelus....Ha! Ha!--I feel that life would be amazingly wonderful if said campiness exists like that. Exactly like that, with the vampires and the werewolves and them demons and superpowered females--and well, not all of the super powered females being...well..white.

Because in this world...I need something, you know, fantastic....

Why is it that magick cn't exist in this world as it does in the worlds of fiction and just be instantaneous. I don't know if it truly exists or if it's just some kind of idea people made up to just...take control of something.

I wish it did.

Anyway, I'd rather keep this blog up-lifting so nyarggle.

Good Day and Good Day and Good Day....

2008-05-23T14:40:00.000-04:00

The first of many, I hope. I'm opening a new blog that narrates the perils of growing up as the dragonfly queen. Well, not really, but in my world of fairly odd things and weirder happenings I need to be the queen of something.

I'm a writer and a dreamer and I am seriously hoping that by the end of this year I will have been able to get the first dregs of three books written. Yes, indeedly, three! Slow going so far, it's just that terrible fear of writing.

I warn you, some of these entries will be sad. Some of them will be joyous. Some will push you to the very edge of annoyance and aggravation. It's all part of my charm and my master plan.

So sit back and enjoy.

Now...

Where's that light switch?

Memoirs Of A Dragonfly Queen

I'mTerrified, okay? Sue me...

Dashboard Confessionals...

I Want to Feel How I Want to Feel Forever

The Dreaded Day Has Passed...Hooray!!

KESSI vs. KYLANDA

Kessi esta FUEGO...Kyle/Jessi alles der Weg....*cheers*

A Total Rant On Something Pointless. sigh.

Blessings in disguise....?

I Fear What Aphrodite Has Become...

Back-dated Entry: Happy New Years! Now, let's get down to business...

I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU THAT HURTS

Which Way To Murder

I Have To Pour It Out Somewhere

What the Fuck is Up with Straight People Sometimes?

Both Sides Now...I've begun a love affair with Joni Mitchell and it's going to last a lifetime

Fucking Politcal Correctness...I WANT CANDY

The Current Political Process, Or How Much More Racist Can This Country Possibly Get...

ORGANIZATION STRATEGY ONE...Commenced

My Brain Feels Like Mush....

The Downfall of Positive And Negative Stereotypes

story: Broken Heart's Club

poem: Meaningless Chats

I've Been All Over, And I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For

Relationships, Love Life and All that Jazz

ARGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm Not An Idiot....REALLY!!!

crawfordjeremy702000, you go to hell, you BATSARD!!!! :P

How To Survive A Zombie Apocalypse

What To Do In A Zombie Attack

Impossible Things Are Happening Everyday

Today's The Day The Teddy Bears Have Their Picnic

Why Don't You Go #$%$^ Yourself With A $%$^ And Leave Me The %^&%$# ALONE!!!

Now, Who Wants Lemonade?

Because I Worship The Beauty Of Other Races

And There Goes The Fall Of The Good People

Can You Ever Get Tired Of Helping People?

These Beef Ribs Put Me In A Sleepy Mood

Why Wasabi's Is The Best Sushi and Seafood Buffet on The Planet

URGH...

I want Peach Cobbler

We Seem To Be Getting A Loy Of Rain

*SIGH*

Okay, So You're Playing With Me, Right?

Because Sometimes I Get A Little Claustrophobic....

James Dobson Is An Idiot...Among Other Things...

About M'Zombies..and yes, they are MY zombies...

Can I Just Say This One Thing?

If I Could Just Get A Breather....

I Know That It's Over......

Open Season...the gaity does not cease...

Because I Don't Think It Needs A Title

Because I Heard It On 'Open Season'...

Keep Telling Yourself That....

Maury Sets Us Back Four Hundred Years..

From Here To Eternity - Imhotep/Nefertiri - PG-13

And It All Falls Down...

I've Been Crawling Through The Dark Looking For The Answers

Johnny/Surfer slash, PG-13

It's Times Like These You Give And Give Again...

Well I Believe The World Is Burning To The Ground

Si Se Puede!!!!

I Should Stop Visiting The Denial River...It Floods Too Much...

Damn my need for to be a peacemaker....

I Have A Propensity...

Because City Of Heroes Is So Bad-Ass

Hark! There Are Invaders!!!!!!

Because This Is What I Am AND Sometimes That Stinks

And Down Falls The Hearts Of Man...

Because I'm Being All Posting-Of-The-Lyricals..I <3 this song!!!

There's Something To Be Said About Standing Your Ground

When One Domino Falls, They All Come Tumbling Down...

The Andromeda Strain...

Sweet Dreams Are Made Of These...

Her Children Are As Numerous As The Fish In The Sea

America's Next Top Model comes under fire....

Men Are Just Dreams We Use To Lie To Ourselves

Good Day and Good Day and Good Day....

Kessi esta FUEGO...Kyle/Jessi alles der Weg....cheers

SIGH