Fiction: Legal Theft-- Flying Home

The truth of the matter was that he had absolutely never expected to see her again. Not that he didnt want to see her again, of course, it was simply that he didn't expect to. She was only in the country for a couple of months, then she would return to her own home. This was his home, so he wasn't going anywhere. It was a natural and easily defined expiration date for their relationship. He fully expected for the goodbyes to be sad and full of promises to keep in touch, but eventually they would fade complete out of contact as time went on, until they were just a happy memory of a good fling they had over a summer. What he absolutely did not expect, was two weeks after her departure, he would at the airport, buying his own ticket to her home town. He never expected to get into a cab, ride to the address she'd given him to write to, and when she opened the door, to kiss her like he had never kissed anyone before.
When the kiss ended, she put her hand softly on his chest and pushed him back a step or two. "George. Not that I'm not extremely glad to see you, but what on earth are you doing here?"
"Ellie, we've got to work something out. You were gone for thirteen days and I already can't stand it. The has to be a way." Ellie smiled up at him, but didn't say anything. "I mean, I'll move here if you want me to, but I know that you also love London, so you could move there with me. Or we could work out some sort of visiting schedule if you dont want us to move, but I cannot stay away from you anymore. So, please, please, tell me we can figure something out because I just cannot take this anymore." George finished his little rant, slightly out of breath.
Ellie smiled a little wider, and shook her head slightly. "George, do you want to come inside?"
"Yes please, thank you." Ellie stepped out of the way, and george entered the foyer.
"Tea?" Ellie offered and gestured for George to follow her down the hallway. Once they each had a mug of tea and had taken a seat at the table in the Kitchen, Ellie turned her full attention back to George. "We can't be rash about this."
"Oh, but we can. And we should. And soon. God, Ellie, ive missed you so terribly." George wanted to kiss her again, but he knew that would. It go over well with her, so he stayed in his seat.
Ellie smiled, and took a slow sip of her tea. "Well, as much as I love your enthusiasm, Georgie, we have to think this through. We will both be miserable in a month if we don't make a rational and reasonable decision about this. Or at. The very least--I will be miserable, and if I'm miserable than you know I will be absolutely no fun to be around." George didn't say anything, but took a longer sip of necessary on his tea. "You see, you know I'm right."
George set his mug down on the table and looked at Ellie evenly. "Well, I have just one favor to ask then."
"Oh?"
"Can we forget rationally and reasonableness for just one night and focus on the grand romantic gesture me flying here to declare my love is?"
Ellie placed her mug down, crossed around the table and sat carefully on George's lap. "You know," she kissed him softly, "I think I can. Just for tonight."

Fiction: Legal Theft Project-- Old Friends.

Ilene posted the following notice on every floor of her apartment building when her old college friends came to visit: "The Ladies of the 202 club would like to apologize for any loud noises or otherwise indecent behavior that may occur from their visitation this weekend. If you feel in anyway wronged, please submit your complaints to apartment 21B, and we will rectify the situation as soon as possible."

Morgan, kindly referred to as "The New Roommate" even though she had lived with Ilene for the five years since she had left college, wondered if the signs were strictly necessary the first time the college friends came to visit.  She tried to talk Ilene out of hanging the signs, and then laughed when Ilene headed out to post the signs.  But after that first visit, three fires, one pant-less voyage into a random hall, and two extremely loud and entirely off key renditions of Maroon 5 songs, Morgan apologized for mocking the signs, and helped to hang the signs in all other visits.

Ilene often found herself doing household chores for her neighbors above and below her. She had to buy Mrs. Anderson in 53D a new front door. She's had to pay for a carpet steam clean on three of the five halls of the apartment complex. Almost every time she got together with her college friends, there was property damage.

She wouldn't change it for anything.

 The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.

<3

Thank You For Not

Smoking is disgusting. I know that this shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone, because anyone who has paid any attention to all the warnings knows that there is all kinds of cancers and tar and problems in smoking. But, if you want to poison yourself—Well, I guess have at it. I'll stay away from your home, and you can tar your lungs out to your hearts content.

However—Do not blow smoke in my face. That's really all I want. I understand that on rainy days smokers would like to hang out under covers and the like, but try not to block the door ways to businesses, and do not blow smoke intentionally into people's faces as they come out. Ignoring the cancer, the tar, the bad smell. and all that other stuff—It's just plain rude to get in someone's face like that.

So—Yeah. I may have reported an employee at my local grocery store today. But I genuinely thought I was going to be sick.

<3

Thoughts on the Future...again

So. It's officially been decided that I am going to move back to Good Ol' Virginia Beach when my lease is up in Shelton at the end of May. The current plan is to get my job at Starbucks to transfer down there, to live with my parents, to hopefully pay less a month for rent and bills than I am paying now, and to work on saving up as much as I can. Why saving? Oh, because I plan on doing something very, very stupid with my money when I get a chance. That's not a joke, that is genuinely my life plan. Save up money, and then do something extremely stupid with it.

My current stupid thought is to move to London with nothing but the money that I save. I won't be able to work there without a proper visa, so it might literally be a case of just going and staying as long as I can until I run out of money. In a perfect world, I'd use the time to write the next bestselling novel phenomenon, I'd find a beautiful, kind man with an excellent accent, make loads of money, get married, and never have to worry about anything again. I wish there was a checklist to follow to make that plan happen, but really it's just a case of crossing my fingers, hoping really hard, and trying to build up some good karma before then.

That, and writing. All the time. As much as I can. Because Practice makes perfect, right?

<3

Well--That Worked Well

So, I decided to re-claim my blog, and then completely forgot to post yesterday. Ah well, I suppose that is very much 'me.' Energy and determination one day, completely out of mind the next. These things happen. These things mostly happen because I'm watching television and forget to consult my to do list. I got sucked back into some DVDs of mine that I'd hadn't watched in ages. Yes, I am going to talk about Gilmore Girls and my thoughts on the characters in the show, so feel free to stop reading now if you don't care about such things, or are afraid of spoilers. I promise not to be offended.

I was watching Season Seven, which is in a way almost it's own different show from the rest of the series. The creator of the show left, taking with her several writers, and her idea of how the show should end. Luke and Lorelai were split up for a whole series of reasons, Logan is in London, and Lorelai is “casually dating” the father of her child. Now, I'm a Java Junkie with the heart of them (That is a Luke/Lorelai shipper) but watching Lorelai and Christopher in these dates here at the beginning of season seven, it makes me sad that they couldn't get together. It would be adorable for Rory's parents to end up together, and Lorelai makes a point that Chris grew up with her, understood where she came from, and really understood her in a lot of ways. Its a shame that I know where the series goes, and I know where Christopher messes up in big ways. Not to mention the mistakes he had made in the past. And—Luke and Lorelai are just so cute I can't bring myself to ship anyone else.

Well, there it is, time to reclaim my blog with opinions on a tv show that has been off the air for (oh goodness) six years now. Cheers.

<3

Oops

So, as you may have noticed—I've been extremely slack on posting here, with the exception of my Legal Theft with Gwen. I've come up with an excuse for that. I've somehow gotten it into my head that what gets posted here has to be something deep and meaningful and in some way really well written before I could even consider uploading it. I've had a nice long think about that and I've come to a simple conclusion.

Fuck that.

(Pardon my language.)

The truth of it all is that this blog is my creation. I can write whatever I want on here. If someone doesn't like it, doesn't find it to be deep and meaningful, then they can not read it. If they think it's not worthy of being on the internet, well, then I can send them to something equally if not more inane then anything I could possibly write up. If the general public doesn't understand, well, too bad, they don't have to read it.

So, this is me dedicating myself to actually posting again. Even if it's inane. Even if it's just me going on about something I read and liked (Warm Bodies). Even if it's me squeeing over a new show I'm enjoying (BBC's Sherlock) . Even if it's the slightly embarrassed admittance of my new Celebrity Crushes (Benedict Cumberbatch). Even if it's just me making a fool of myself. I'm re-claiming my blog to be mine.

<3 

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- American in London

The worst thing about hanging out with his friends was that she tended to lose her own accent.  She'd had slight hearing problems her whole life, so she second-guessed how words were pronounced even on the best of days, but when they hung out with his friends, she was surround by three different English accents, a Scottish accent, two very distinct Irish accents, and a thick Russian accent.  Her mid-Atlantic American accent never stood a chance.

By the end of the night, even if she didn't have a drop of alcohol in her system, her words got a little bit slurred, her mouth not sure how to form the words correctly.  Sometimes, the boys even turned it into a game.  Who could influence her accent the most?  At the end of the night, who could make her sound the most like him?  She didn't mind all that much.  It was friendly, and all in good fun.  Besides, many of them were just impressed by her ability to mimic their accents so closely when she really put her mind to it. 

Besides, it was a small price to pay for the fun nights out.  They were absurd in a way that only a group of old friends could be.  They were that slightly stilted dirty in a way that only a group of old friends could be with a new significant other present and had received a wave of warnings to not scare her off.  They were chalk full of good blackmail worthy stories, and an excellent resource when trying to come up with a good present or surprise.  So what if she ended up sounding like some strange combination of Scotty and Chekov with a little bit of Harry Potter thrown in at the end of the night?  It was a good excuse to watch some good ol' American TV before bed.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project--Late Night Trip to IHOP

"You have sixty seconds to explain how this is not the best idea I've ever had.”  Julie bounced from foot to foot, making her ponytail swing from side to side.  Sophia found it hard not to be hypnotized from it.  But she gave herself a little shake and started with the short list of excuses.

“I've got a test on Monday."

"You mean the test you've been prepared for for weeks, and literally have your notes memorized for?  Doesn't count."

"That level of sugar and carbs is not healthy."
"You study two different forms of martial arts, and you go to the gym five times a week. You can afford to be a little unhealthy now and again. Doesn't count."

"It's a waste of money."

“My treat.  Doesn't count."

Sophia had run out of reasons, and Julie knew it.  Julie hummed the last few notes of the Final Jeopardy tune, punctuating each note with another little hop.  She made a very loud buzzer sound, and grinned.  "Time's Up!  Let's go.  You have exactly forty two seconds to put on real shoes, or I'm dragging you out in your slippers!  Let's go!"  Sophia sighed, smiled, and looked for her sneakers.  Julie was counting aloud, and she knew very well that when she hit forty-two, she would make good on that threat. 

The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3

Confessions of an Extreme Introvert

One of my apartment mates, who is far more outgoing than I've ever been, has made very good friends with the people who live above and below us. She goes over to eat meals and watch movies with them relatively frequently.  I've always been invited, but rarely go. One day just after the big snow storm, I was invited to go eat breakfast, and bribed with bacon and a meal I wouldn't have to cook, I relented. One neighbor asked me why I didn't join them more often, to which I replied "I'm not very good at being social."  He sort of laughed and told me that it wasn't that hard. My reply: "You'd be surprised."

Before I go on anymore, I want to make it very clear that in this post I am only talking about myself. Anytime you try to split billions of people into only two categories, there are going to be variations in those categories, and some pretty extreme variations are possible when you're talking about literally half the world.  Some people might understand where I'm coming from, feeling similarly-- and others are going to think I'm absolutely insane. Either way--

Here's the truth of it all.  Every single social interaction I have drains me some.  Every single one. Even if it's a simple hello with a stranger on the street. Even if it's a three second conversation with my best friend. The trick, I've learned, is to just make sure not to let people see that it's draining.  For the most part, people don't like to think that they are being a burden.

Most of the time, they aren't.  I willing allow myself to be drained to do things with friends and family and other events that I believe will improve my life. I push myself to interact with people because it is very hard to get by in life without talking to anyone at any time.  I push myself to be around a hundred strangers for once in a life time events like seeing groups who barely ever go on tour, and standing next to the red carpet during movie premieres. (Although for that last one I was forced to abandon my spot near the railing before anyone good came around, because I just couldn't take it anymore.) But it takes a lot, a whole lot just to follow a day to day routine. With people I love and trust, it could take a day or two to drain me completely. With people I don't know, don't trust, and/or dislike, it can take as little as an hour.

When I'm running on empty, I go through three very distinct stages; Quiet, Loud, and Bad. Quiet comes first, and is actually a stage I enter relatively frequently. As you might assume, I get quiet. I don't participate as much, and I will even physically curl in on myself, crossing my arms, and tucking my chin down so I don't have to look people in the eyes.  If I am sitting down, I'll pull my legs to my chest.  It's around then that people start to ask me if I'm alright.  A headache makes for a good excuse for my silence, and a way to remove myself from the situation.  It's a good first stage and makes for a strong warning for what is about to come.  That's Loud.  I get angry, and then I get loud.  This is usually accompanied by yelling and slamming, whether that is things on a table or my bedroom door.  I'm not a fan of this phase, and I am most certainly not proud of it.  It has led to me yelling at teachers, bosses, and even worse, best friends and family members.  When I was younger, my mom had a name for this stage, though I don’t know if she realized it.  She named me "Addy" as in attitude, and would say things like "Tell Addy to go to her room and she can come back out when she's Rebekah again." But even still, Loud tends to get me sent away or causes people to leave me alone.  I almost never get to Bad.

Bad, much like Quiet and Loud, is named for what it is.  I don't like who I am when I get to Bad, which has only happened three times in my memory.  I do things I'm not proud of. I react in ways I shouldn't, and I think thoughts that are not good for anyone. You'll forgive me for not elaborating, I hope, because it's hard to think about and even harder to explain. 

I guess the point that I'm trying to make is: Yes, it can be very hard to be social.  There are people, or at least me, out there who find it very difficult to do something as simple as sit down and have a conversation over a meal, and they aren't necessarily able to explain exactly why it is so difficult for them. Keep in mind that they are keeping watch over their own energy stores, and when they want to flee, please don't keep them trapped, not if you can help it.  No one likes to get close to Bad.

<3

Traveling

I want to travel. More than anything else, I want to travel. If I suddenly got a hundred billion dollars, the first thing I would do would be to go everywhere that I've always wanted to go. I'd would later realize that it was in bad form to spend a hundred billion dollars traveling around without putting any of it into savings--or paying off those student loan things--but still.

 I want to go everywhere. And that's not an exaggeration. I want to cover as much ground as is physically possible. I want to see as much of this world as it is humanly possible for me to do so. I considered adding a list here that would be my "places to visit" list, but I just kept going and going and I would probably end up listing most of the major cities and countries on the earth.  And that might just take up more time and space than I'm willing to give tonight.

Needless to say--anyone willing to take me anywhere I've never been before, is my new best friend.

<3

Superheroes

Like many small children, I grew up with a fascination with superheroes. I watched an awful lot of cartoons, read a good handful of comic books, and more than once tied a sheet around my neck as a cape. I followed many a hero, but always held a special place in my heart for Superman. Briefly, I was disappointed to have both my parents and was not adopted because superheroes never got to keep both of their parents unless they were adopted. That was something I got over very quickly.  I was also disappointed that I wasn't the child of a billionaire that would allow me to develop a secret base with tons of cool toys to play with.   That is something I still haven't quite gotten over.

I wonder what would happen if superheroes suddenly appeared. How would we react if someone managed to defy science, physical capabilities, and the technology of the day, and run around ready to take care of the bad guys in the world?  I'm pretty sure that we'd try to kill him/her/it. Maybe that's cynical, but it's what I think is the most likely. I kind of wish it weren't true.   Maybe if the superhero worked with the police, we'd be okay with it-- I don't know.  I imagine we'd all be scared of it. After all, Superheroes and cops almost never get along.  So yeah, I'm pretty sure that we'd kill it dead as soon as we could. Shame.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go watch Tony Stark be snarky.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft -- Childish Magic

"She has Merlin Sickness," Sally's mother said with a level of seriousness that her father never really understood.  Sally nodded serenely.

"Sounds serious." He raised an eyebrow, "Is it serious?"

"Oh, very serious."  Mother turned to Sally. "May I tell your father the nature of your disease?"

"He already knows," she grinned, "But I suppose he could forget soon."  Sally skipped around to the back of the couch, and disappeared behind it.

Her father watched where she had disappeared for a second, and then turned to his wife. "Kate. Our daughter is insane, isn't she?"

"Most likely. Do you want to hear about Merlin Sickness or not?"

He sank down onto the couch and put his arm around her shoulder. "Sure. I might as well figure out what my eight year old has contracted."

"Well, according to some versions of Arthurian Legend, Merlin was born an old man, and aged backwards through time. So hellos were bittersweet partings, and goodbyes were joyful connections.  She asked me about it, so we googled some stuff about it. The title Merlin Sickness came from TV Tropes. And Sally has determined that's what she's got."  Kate smiled at her husband as he blinked at her, trying to understand that.  He turned and looked over the back of the couch to where Sally was laying, staring up at the ceiling through a picture frame rectangle made from her thumbs and pointer fingers. 

"How long do we think this will last?"

"Mm, who knows?" Kate turned to look over the back of the couch as well, "She does really seem to like these legends, but she does always go back to Harry Potter in the end-- So I say a day or two until she's a witch again."

"Right."  Kate and Billy turned back to look at the room as a whole. They sat in silence for a moment before Billy laughed, "Arthurian Legend? Who gave her that?"

"You're the one who told her she could read anything on the bottom three shelves."

"Yes, but you're the one who insisted on teaching her to read in the first place. I was perfectly willing to just sell her off into indentured servitude to pay off some debts, but you were all like 'Billy! I want my only child to be ed-jum-mi-cated.'"

"I have never pronounced it like that in my entire life." She hit her husband gently on the stomach.  Billy laughed and leaned in to kiss his wife.  When he pulled back, Sally was standing in front of the couch, and unsharpened pencil pointed at his face.

"Petrificus Totalus!" Sally cried.

"Merlin Sickness over?" Billy asked.

"Daddy! That's the full body bind! You can't talk until I do the counter spell."

Billy turned to his wife, "You taught her to read."

"Merlin sickness over, baby?" Kate repeated.

"Yup. Harry asked Dumbledore to help me out. He's a nice guy like that."

"Harry? Or Dumbledore?"

Sally though that over for a moment, tapping on her chin with her pencil/wand before grinning, "Both!"

"Gotcha. Well, let's go practice those clean up Daddy's study spells before we un-paralyze him, huh?"

Kate and Sally skipped off to the back of the house, and Billy stretched out along the couch.  Well, as long as he was paralyzed, he might as well take a nap.  Besides, who knew what his daughter would be when he woke up.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft -- Waiting at the Airport

It had been a year to the day since he last saw her, which was about a thousand days too long. He knew that as soon as she was offered the year internship abroad that she had to take it.  He also knew that since he only worked hourly at a book store, and that since her internship was only paid in room and board and work experience that it was very unlikely that either of them would have the disposable income to fly across the pond to see each other. He knew that it was going to be tough, and it was going to be long.  But he'd done it, he'd pulled through, and now she was whisking her way through the air, coming closer and closer to him with every passing moment.

It wouldn't be so bad if he was traveling to her.  He liked it when he was traveling to her. Because there were plans to be made and things to be packed and the constant worry in the back of his mind that he'd forgotten something important. And of course the constant vigilance for stupid drivers and/or terrorist plots and/or pickpockets and/or the old woman who wants to spend the entire plane/train ride telling him about all her grandchildren in extreme detail. Those things kept him busy, and would help keep him a little bit distracted. 

But when he was waiting for her--it was torture.  He'd already cleaned the house thoroughly, including changing the sheets, even though he knew she wasn't going to believe him and would change them again anyway. He'd decided to surprise her, and gotten the stuff she put in storage to be "out of his way" back into the house and into their old positions.  He'd mowed the lawn and weeded the garden, and then because he was on a roll, he mowed and weeded for the neighbors as well. He'd changed his clothes four times, trying to remember exactly which button up shirt she had said was her favorite, and then to prevent himself from doing anything else, gotten in the car and drove to the airport.

He now sat near the baggage claim because they wouldn't let him go any further--a full three and half hours before her flight was scheduled to arrive. If a year was a thousand days too long, then three hours was at least a year too long.  He knew one thing for a fact, after all of this--if she decided to leave the country again, he would most certainly be going with her.

The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3

Bad Moods

Contrary to popular belief, I don’t like to be in a bad mood. I’ve never been a fan of being angry or of being grumpy. The worse kind of bad mood is the bad mood where nothing can be done about it.  Like, there are bad moods when you’re hungry, or bad moods when something doesn’t seem fair—but you can eat something, or use your anger to motivate you to make things right.  But when you’re just in a bad mood with no real reason, there is no real way to fix it.  You can try to disguise the bad mood, cover it up with things you enjoy and people you like, but the second there is a moment of silence, the bad mood is still lingering there—ready to remind you that something sucks.  The only thing to do is to wait it out, hope that it goes away sooner than later, and to keep yourself busy.  And if you’re really lucky, you’ll have some good friends who are willing to listen to you be unhappy for no reason—and they make you feel a little bit better.

<3 

The Name Game

So, almost two weeks ago, Emily U/B challenged us to pick our favorite boys and girls names for each letter of the alphabet.  I started my list on that day.  I’ve just now finished it, and that’s only because I’ve forced myself to buckle down and decide. I’m not very good at deciding on favorites, but I’ve managed to do it here.  I do, however, reserve the right to change my mind about any of these at any given moment. There are just so many good names out there.

A - Adam, Allison

B - Benjamin, Brynn

C - Carter, Cassandra

D - Daniel, Debra

E - Eoin, Elizabeth

F - Fredrick, Faye

G - Gregory, Gemma

H - Henry, Haley

I - Isaac, Isabel

J - James, Jillian

K - Kenneth, Kimberly

L - Liam, Lisbeth

M - Michael, Margaret

N - Nathan, Noelle

O - Oscar, Olivia

P - Paul, Patricia

Q - Quincy, Quinn

R - Robert, Ryann

S - Samuel, Sasha

T - Thomas, Thea

U - Ulrich, Ursula

V - Victor, Veronica

W - William, Willow

X - Xavier, Xandra

Y - Yale, Yvonne

Z - Zachary, Zia

So, there you go.  I’d be fascinated to hear everyone’s opinions and their own choices for favorite names. It’s hard but it is fun.

<3

If You Could Master Any Skill, What Would It Be?

If I could master any skill, it would easily be the ability to learn languages easily.  I’ve always been fascinated by other languages—well, really all languages. I’m fascinated enough by the nuances of the English language that I dedicated four years to studying them.  But I’ve always wanted to be bilingual, or tri-lingual, or any other lingual.

The only reason that I don’t know another language right now is because it takes time. I know that sounds like a petty excuse to not learn, but it’s not that I give up on learning, it’s that I change my mind.  I’m so indecisive, that I change my mind a hundred different times in the time it would take to learn a language, and I’m not very good at sitting still and picking one.  In just  the past year, I’ve looked up those self-teaching language software programs for Spanish, French, German, Welsh, Farsi, Scottish Gaelic, and Irish Gaelic. I’ve also flirted with the idea of returning to Latin which I studied in school ages ago, or convincing my ex-roommate to teach me Ancient Greek.  If it were up to me, I would learn all of these languages, and more as other languages inevitably strike my fancy.

The truth though? I couldn’t even master Pig Latin or Ubbi Dubbi as a child, and those are just variations of a language I already speak. I don’t have much hope for completely foreign languages.  Will that stop me? No, not really.  But I don’t have high expectations.

<3

The Most Amazing Room

A week or so ago, a prompt was presented about the perfect room, the most amazing room you could imagine. I sat down to try and write out my perfect room, and I couldn't.  It's a lot harder than I imagined trying to figure out exactly what I would want in a room.  I know for a fact it would have a desk, a comfortable chair, and probably a place to lay down and take a nap.  It would have books, but also a state of the art entertainment center including flat screen, top of the line sound system, an all-region DVD player, and every video game console I could even begin to wonder about.  I thought it might be a huge room, but then I thought that I like smaller spaces better, so maybe it'd be a small room, but then I'd want room to run around like an idiot, so maybe it better be bigger, or even multiple stories with stairs, but then slides might be fun, and wouldn't it be nice to have a fireman's pole to play on, and definitely one of those ladders that slide around on book shelves but then again would I want my bookcases to be so tall because I am short-- Yes, I went on like that for a very long time, trying to decide what would be perfect.

In the end, I realized someone had already created my perfect room.  J K Rowling came up with the idea and stuck it into the walls of Hogwarts. Really, what I want, is my very own Room of Requirement.  Whatever I need, whatever I want, it could be there with a thought.  And as my needs and desires change, I could head to that room and find it a completely different place, perfectly suited for what my mind wanted then. Wouldn't that be wonderful?

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft-- Calling Him Out

"You've already mapped out our whole relationship, haven't you?" Richard looked up from his notes and found Chrissy smiling at him. She was a friend of a friend kind of person, someone he'd known for a couple months now.

"I'm sorry?" He asked, not because he hadn't heard her, but because he needed time to come up with a response.

"You've realized that we get along. You've seen how we've been flirting.  You've sized me up in your head. You've determined what a happy honeymoon period we would have, and then you've theorized about hypothetical flaws in my personality that would drive you crazy, or what traits of your personality would drive me mad.  You've pictured a big break up for us, and ultimately decided 'What's the point?'  Am I hitting close to the mark here?" She said it all in a gentle, only slightly teasing way.

His silence and slightly guilty smile confirmed that she had hit a bulls eye.  She smiled just a little bit wider, and in spite of himself, he gave her a genuine smile back.  "Don't worry.  I may have done the same."  She sat down on the couch next to him, and patted him on the knee. "So, let's hear it.  What was my fatal flaw that ultimately lead to our relationships demise?"

"Uh, not yours, actually, but mine.  I was unwilling to be lenient on a cleaning system I had developed over the years.  When we moved in together, you just kept making small mistakes.  I started repeating the system in the way one might try to teach a child, to which you snapped and yelled "You're not my Mother" which lead to a bigger over all argument, which lead to you storming out leaving me once again alone and miserable."  He wasn't entirely sure why he was telling her all this, but he did feel comfortable doing so.

"Oh, very nice.  For the record, I will get mad if you treat me like a child, but also for the record, I only have to be taught something twice before I've got it committed to memory."

"Let's hear your version then,"  Richard reached out and patted Chrissy on the knee in a mimic, "What was it that lead to your version of our relationship's demise?"

"Not yours, but mine," She echoed, "I get into these moods, some days, where I don't want to be in a good mood and I don't want to be cheered up.  People can comfort me, if they want, but any active attempt to make me happy will be met with bitterness and rage. I've yet to meet anyone who could tolerate these moods for long, and in my head, you're no different.  Eventually, you get fed up and leave, and I have a proper reason to mope for days at a time."

"Hmm." He stroked his chin dramatically, and Chrissy laughed. "Well, I certainly understand those moods, I've been stuck by them.  I don't know how I would respond to being on the opposite side of that coin."

"So, shall we put our theories to the test?" She asked, jumping back up to her feet.

"What do you mean?"

"Are you going to ask me out for real? Or will this all remain purely hypothetical?"

He was quite for a moment, trying to decide what the right answer here was supposed to be.  Was she having him on, or did she genuinely want him to ask her out?

Finally, he decided to throw caution to the wind. "So, do you think it'd be alright if I took you out for dinner sometime this weekend?"

"I'd like that. You've got my number, give me a call."  She smiled and gave him a wink, before turning on her heel and skipping out of the room.

He smiled and looked back down at his notes before shaking his head and wondering aloud to himself, "What in the world have I gotten myself into?"

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- The Daycare Report

"I have forty-two minutes."  Bradley sank down into the chair opposite Angel, who handed him a slice of pepperoni pizza, a box of fries, and a soda.  “Assuming another eighteen minute drive and five minutes to get back to my desk, which gives us nineteen minutes, so go.”  Bradley took a big bite of his pizza and smiled across the table at his wife.

“You’re ridiculous.”  She laughed.

“And you’re wasting time,” Bradley spoke around his pizza.

“Fine. I talked to Marta this morning.  Apparently Adam has started walking.  Marta is beside herself.”

“I’d imagine so. Marta was thrilled when Adam figured out how to touch his own face, walking must make her lose her mind.”

“Yes, well, Stevie is less than thrilled though, because now Adam can reach a whole new level of things that Marta is making him go around and child proof.”

“And that precisely is why I child proofed absolutely everything in one run. I don’t want to do it again.”

“Also, Izzy is smarter than Adam, so we don’t have to do quite as much work as Stevie.”

It went on like that for the nineteen minutes.  Angel gave Bradley all the details from their friends in the daycare social circle.  Bradley ate them all up.  As they stood up to leave, he wrapped his arm around his wife’s shoulders and kissed her on the head.  “I hate the days that I have to work.”

“And I hate the days I have to work,” Angel smiled back, “But I think we’ll both appreciate them when Izzy heads off to school, and we can help her pay.”

“Logic.”  Bradley gave his wife a proper kiss as they came to the front of the parking garage, and then stepped away, heading to his own car.  “Tell Adam congratulations for me.  And Stevie, good luck.”

“Can do.”  Angel waited and watched as he got into his car, and waved as he drove away. Then she got into her own car and headed back towards the house with all the other mothers and toddlers.  She loved it when it was her day to not work.

The first line of this story was legally stolen from my dear friend Gwen. See what she did with the line I gave her today, and see what she originally wrote for this starting line tomorrow over at http://apprenticenevermaster.wordpress.com/.   <3

Time Travel

You know I’ve been watching too much Doctor Who when I decide for myself that “Time Travel” would make a good prompt for a blog post.  But, I have been watching too much Doctor Who, so I suppose here we are.

I do wish that time travel existed. Not to change anything, though.  I feel like so many people talk about time travel in the context of wanting to go back in time to prevent XYZ from happening, or to make this decision or that decision different.  I don't want to change anything--I just want to observe, to know for a fact what happened when, maybe to relive a moment just to see how it actually happened instead of the warped memory I formed by living it.  Maybe I'd go back to see exactly what happened in an event that people claim different timelines or chain of events.  Maybe I'd go forward, just to see how it all ended.  To know for a fact about what's coming.

I've already admitted I'm not good with the unknown.  I'd rather know everything.  To me, if time travel could or does actually exist, then I would use it as a tool to know as much as I really could.

And yeah, I hope in that silly little part of my brain that still believes magic exists that The Doctor exists too, and that he's running around with his companions and saving all of our lives at any given moment without us having a single clue that it's happening. And if he does look like David Tennant, well, that'd be quite alright with me too.

<3

Names

I've got a weird fascination with names.  I know it sounds strange, but I believe that names have power in them.  Not to the point of ancient mythology know a person’s name and you can control and bind them kind of power, but a calmer, quieter power that is quite impossible to actually explain properly.  Because of that, I avoid using people's names. I don't necessarily do it on purpose, but I've noticed that it happens.  In conversation, I'll use general descriptors, or vague hand gestures and let other participants fill in the names for me.  I think I say "What's his face" or "What's her face" more than I use all real names combined.  Or when I do have to refer to people by name, it's generally some bastardized form of a nickname.  One that isn't actually their name or a name they go by, because for some reason that helps minimize the damage. A friend named Gwendolyn becomes "Doly." A friend named Robert becomes "Bobert." And people just roll with it.

To be perfectly honest, I'm not sure why I get away with making up nicknames that people didn't ask for, want, or need.  Maybe it's because I'm so incredibly charming.  More likely, people just understand that I am strange, and roll with my weird little name game because I'm not likely to stop anytime soon. 

Perhaps that's why I am so comfortable with the variety of nicknames that people come up with for me.  When I was asked today what version of my name I wanted put on a name tag, I genuinely didn't care which was written down.  When no one else would decide for me, I just went for the nickname that was the most all-encompassing, and assumed that people would continue to call me whatever they were already calling me.  Because people can call me whatever they want, even late to dinner (because nine times out of ten, I am late to dinner).  I don't really care.

Well, except for Becky. Don't ever call me Becky.

<3

Starting a Story

The start of a story is always the hardest part for me.  I can have a hundred different ideas, but when it comes to actually putting that first line on the page, I get intimidated.  I have been known to just start at the blank page, thinking over and over again about how I should write that first line.   It’s the beginning, it’s the introduction to the story, and it will set the entire tone for the piece.  It’s a big deal.

And yeah, I know that nothing is set in stone anymore.  That I can always go back and change that first line a hundred different times until I settle on exactly what I want it to say.  But nevertheless, it’s still difficult to put that first line down on paper.

A fellow writer sympathized with my hatred of writing the first line.  In my typically over dramatic fashion, I told her that the paper was mocking me, laughing at me as I failed to put pen to paper.  She gave me a very simple solution.   Across the top of the page I wrote “Take that you smug piece of carbon by-product.”   That got me laughing.  The page wasn’t blank anymore.  After another four minutes—I finally got the first line down, and started writing.

That first line was changed four or five different times before I even got finished with the first draft, but I had gotten it down, and that was the important part.  It’s what I try to remember when the pages start mocking me again.

<3

Some Thoughts on Freedom

Freedom is a very tricky word.  According to the handy-dandy dictionary on my phone, freedom has five different definitions.  The one most fascinating to me is the third, which reads “The power to determine action without any form of restraint.”  That is a freedom that I long for, would absolutely hate to have, and wonder if even truly exists.

I’d love to make any decision to act without personal restraint, emotional or physical.  Just way my options and I’d be off, doing whatever it was that I decided to do in that moment. However, I know that if I had such freedom, that would mean very likely that I had no obligation to work, to friends, or to my family.  Since I currently have several obligations to work, friends, and family, it would mean that something very tragic had happened to all three.  I have absolutely no desire to have something tragic happen to my job, my friends, or my family.

That’s what makes me wonder if the “The power to determine action without any form of restraint” actually exists.  Maybe it’s just an extremely limited and self-centered view of humanity to assume this, but I’ve got to imagine that everyone has an obligation to someone or something, whether it be external sources like a job and other people in their lives, or an internal source like their own moral code, or their own hopes for the future. They aren’t necessarily negative restraints, but they are restraints, aren’t they?

<3

Fiction -- Kroger at 3 AM

Sometimes, she hated her father.  Not truly hated, but that kind of hating that only someone who truly loves them can achieve.  Today, she hated him for four simple words.  "Let's have another baby." So he knocked up her mother, and then got himself reassigned to something top secret several thousand miles away, for at least six months.  Now, Charlotte was driving to the grocery store at three in the morning because her very tearful and bedridden eight months pregnant mother really wanted some Little Debbie cakes and it just couldn't wait until morning. 

Still mostly in her pajamas, with her pea coat buttoned up to the top, and her hair in a messy bun, Charlotte grabbed a single box of every type Little Debbie she could find, and headed towards the one still manned register at this hour.  Andrew saw her coming and stifled a laugh.  At another time, Charlotte would find this funny, but not at three in the morning.  He knew for a fact that Charlotte didn't find anything funny at three in the morning.

"You're going to make someone a fine husband someday," Andrew couldn't help himself with that little one. Charlotte made a sort of noncommittal grunt, and put her head down on the little platform for signing receipts.  She looked perfectly content fall asleep right there, and Andrew thought she might if he didn't keep her talking.  "So, when's the baby due?"

"Twenty six days." Charlotte responded without lifting her head off the ledge.

"And I'm guessing he's going to receive hell if he's even a minute late."

"Oh, you don't even know.” Charlotte finally stood up, "Now, I understand I wasn't the most traditional of children, but I'm twenty one now.  What made them decide to have another child now? Where is the logic in that?"

Andrew chuckled. "Charlotte, I know your parents.  I'm going to bet that logic had very little to do with it."

Charlotte sighed, "Yeah. You're probably right,"

Andrew stuck her treats in two bags and handed them to her over the little ledge. "I will miss seeing you when the kid is born.  You're the highlight of the night shift."

"Well, thanks, Andrew, but I think we're just going to have to find other ways to see each other. Thanks." Charlotte waved with the bag of treats, then turned on her heel and headed away.  Andrew tried to swallow down the little bubble of hope that rose in his chest at that small comment.  He had another three hours of boring nothingness before he could return to his own bed.

Quotes

For a variety of reasons, I collect quotes. Quotes from real people, quotes from books, quotes from movies, quotes from graffiti, anything that I find fascinating, interesting, funny or beautiful, I make a note of it, either mentally, or physically writing it down.  Over the years, I’ve developed quite a collection.

My College had a tradition of making senior robes, robes that were decorated in sometimes quite ridiculous ways, but designed to represent the wearer in their own unique ways.  I put a few key things on my robe to represent me—The Nickname ‘Moony’ and the phrase Mischief Managed from Harry Potter, The phrase “From this Place Go Build a Better World” from a stone at Geneva Point Center where I’ve attended Winni CFO since I was a baby, and a picture of a book, a laptop, and a remote control to display just how I spend my free time.

And then, in almost all of the remaining empty space, I wrote in quotes. I wrote 187 quotes on my robe, alternating colors between red, blue, and yellow, because those are Superman’s colors of course.  Early tonight, I shut my eyes and pointed at the quotes at random. I came up with the following:

“Youth cannot know how age thinks and feels. But old men are guilty if they forget what it was to be young.”

“I swear on my momma I will blow a hole through your bedroom and Spiderman out of the side of this building.”

“You can get just so much from a good thing

You can linger too long in your dreams

Say goodbye to the "Oldies But Goodies"

Cause the good ole days weren't always good

And tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems.”

The first is a quote from Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, said by Dumbledore. The second is Leverage—Hardison in the episode titled “The Three Card Monte Job.”  The last is a section from the Billy Joel song “Keeping the Faith.”  Since those are the three I picked, they are the ones I’m actively thinking about, and that makes them my favorite quotes of the collection.  Ask me to do the same thing tomorrow, and I’ll think I was an idiot tonight, because clearly the three quotes I chose tomorrow are my favorite quotes.  I’ve never been very good at settling on a favorite.  They’re all good, and they all mean something.  That something will change from person to person, and from time to time, but Something is enough for me.

<3 

Re-Watching

The best thing about living in this age is that I can re-watch my favorite shows with relative ease.  It is so much fun to dive back into shows that I loved ages ago, or even last season but I already forgot how good it was.   It doesn’t matter if I’m re-watching shows that have been off the air for over seven years, or a show that will be back on my screen in just over a month—It is a good way to spend time going back and re-watching all the episodes you loved, and sometimes just groaning through the less than polished episodes that made it to screen. 

The re-watch of the week is Psych.    Psych is one of those very special shows that I actually watch the pilot episode as it aired. Normally, I get involved with shows after the fact. I watch so much television that if I sat down to watch every show that I thought it might be fascinating, I would never have time to watch anything but first episodes.   But Psych had commercials with Dead Zone, which I loved.  James Roday was funny, and my mom thought the commercials looked good, so we sat down and watch the pilot as it aired.   That was seven years ago.  I have sunk a lot of time into this show in those seven years, including about four and a half seasons worth of watching in the past two weeks.  For anyone who hasn’t watched it.  Look it up.

Yes, this was a really stupid blog post. I wrote it as I was watching an episode of Psych. (Three Episodes, actually, I’m easily distracted and there were some great guest stars.)  Feel free to ignore all this.  I’m just a little insane.

<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- Pacing.

“I don’t know how you do that. I would get so sick, so quickly.”  Maggie looked up from her book to see Peter sitting on the couch.  She had been so wrapped up in her book that she hadn’t even noticed that he had come in. In fact, she hadn’t even noticed he’d gotten to her house.  Well, in her defense, it was a really good book.

“Have you been—“

“About an hour, but I was back in Logan’s room so I’ve only been out here for about ten minutes. Don’t worry about it.” Maggie nodded, and crossed around to the front of the couch, sinking down into the cushion at Peter's side. "So, why do you do it?"

"why do I do what?"

"Pace like that. You're always pacing.  You’re studying, you pace.  You’re playing DS, you're pacing. You're reading for fun, you’re pacing. You’re watching Netflix on your iPad, you're pacing--"

"I get it.  I pace a lot." Maggie punched Peter lightly on the arm.  "I don't know.  I get restless. I'm not in anyone's way, and it keeps me happy. I get so wrapped up in the stories of whatever I'm doing, and I just have to move."

"Even studying?  You get wrapped up in the thrilling story of textbook writing?  Margaret my dear, you might be insane."

"No, the pacing while studying might be a 'Don’t fall asleep' kind of thing.  Also, I'm sure I could ask Logan to come up with some biological explanation for getting blood flowing improving memory retention or something like that. Sounds like something she could justify, right?"

"I'm pretty sure Logan could justify anything given proper time and motivation."  Peter watched as Maggie tapped her foot softly against the floor.  He watched on silence for a minute and a half before he finally sighed, "You want to go back to your pacing, don't you?"

"It's just that they're in the middle of a really big battle and I think that--"

"Go," he laughed.  I'll talk to you later." Maggie was up and pacing before he even had time to finish the sentence.
<3

Fiction: Legal Theft Project -- Mother and Son

When Eric was eight, he skinned his knee, jumping down from the tree in his backyard.  He would recount the event as his first “brush with death” as he fell out of a tree that was twenty, maybe even thirty, feet tall, and he had climbed all the way to the top. His mother would kindly remind Eric that he was only on a branch about three feet off the ground, and he didn’t fall, but made the deliberate choice to jump. When Eric argued that it was deliberate, his mother calmly recounted that right before he “fell” he yelled “Watch me Mommy, I’m going to jump!” After that, Eric was forced to pout and wonder aloud why his mother always had to ruin his fun, and in front of his girlfriend too.

Her response was always the same.  "Because that's a mother's job.  Now eat your peas.". It was especially fun when they weren't actually eating peas, because Eric would get even more flustered.

Not that Sarah, the longtime girlfriend, had ever believed the thirty foot tree story, but she loved when Eric and his mother got into the frequently reoccurring "Tree Fight." There was something so lovely about a twenty eight year old man acting like a sixteen year old boy out of love for his mother.  There was a tradition in it that Sarah found wonderful, and the fact that Eric played along with it--well, it just made it that much better. It was a silly thought, but she hoped that someday, she would be able to ruin her own son's fun, and in front of his girlfriend.  And if that kid loved her half as much as Eric loved his mother, well, then she'd be doing all right.