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Spaztic Ramblings

Surviving College: Junior Year

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May 20th, 2013

Derby Therapy

So, no, I haven't been to a professional therapist about my issues. I thought about it... but I just don't feel like talking to a stranger who will just nod and listen, and probably give advice that I've already given myself.


I did start Roller Derby. It's only been a few months, but I feel like there has been a drastic change in my life. I'm in better shape than I ever have been, for one thing. My prom dress is too big now, and I was in pretty good shape senior year of High School. I have biceps. And deltoids. And I'm starting to see where my abs should be! Physically I feel awesome. Well... when I'm not injured anyway.

But that's not even half of what I've gained. I mean, yeah, there are the bruises and scrapes and badges of courage I've gotten from just putting myself out on the floor in the crush of other girls... But I also got a huge group of supporters. Derby has become my second family. The day after my first practice I got about 20-something friend requests. They are the first to like and comment when I've achieved a goal, like losing another 5 pounds and a pant size. They're also the first to show their support when I've had an off day. They know exactly where I'm coming from when I've hit that point when I'm fed up and frustrated after a practice, and they are full of advice. I've gained a whole community of strong women, and the men who love them, who'd back me up in a heartbeat. Try and touch me now douchebag #2.

12 weeks. I just realized. It's only been 12 weeks, and yet I'm already skating with "the big kids." I'm going to be voted in (hopefully) soon as a member of the league. Boots N. Katzen. Or Bootzen Katzen, Boots'n Katzen or however else they decide to spell it that day. I've earned my alter-ego, and that is a big ego boost for me. Sure I'm not the fastest, or nimblest, or hardest hitting (yet) but there are a lot of other smaller achievements along the way. I can do 27 laps in 5 minutes. I know how to give a hit, and take a hit. I can do a turn around toe stop without falling (most of the time). And I can hold my own in a wall.

I can hold my own. That there is another confidence booster. I feel like I even stand up straighter now. I don't look away as much when someone looks me in the eye. I've become more outgoing (derby is a great conversation starter... either people love it, or they don't know anything about it and want to learn). I'm becoming a better advocate for myself. If I don't want to do something, I won't. If I do... I will, and I'll drag someone along with me for the fun of it! I don't give in to despair as easily. On the floor, in plank position, when you've had the worst day ever, is the best place to cry, 'cause no one's gonna know if it's sweat or tears, and by the end, you're too tired to be sad anyway. Making myself go to derby on a bad day is like a casual F*** you to depression. It's great.

I think what I'm trying to say here is... I think I've finally found my backbone. Derby helped me find it. The community helped support it while I built the muscles to support it on my own. Now I have no fear that when I say "No" it will be misunderstood. I am a force to be reckoned with... okay, technically just a gale force, and not a hurricane force, yet, but I'm working on it!

October 5th, 2012

What the hell.

I have been raped. On multiple occasions. By multiple people. And I have done nothing about it. I've even had to continue interaction with one of those people, out of love for one of my best friends. I have to look one of them in the face frequently at work, and he doesn't even have a clue that he did anything wrong. But it's not like I screamed or struggled, like I should have. I just let myself get fucked over, because I didn't know what else to do. I am such a spineless, pathetic excuse for a human life sometimes.

I have only recently really allowed myself the right to be angry with them. I am pissed, but they keep trying to force their ways back into my life. One is hard to avoid... my best friend's boyfriend. That selfish bastard got both of us drunk, and while my best friend was passed out in the bathroom in her own mess, he had sex with me, even though I said "No" every single time he asked. No. No. NO. I know I said it three or four times. The worst part of it is, he had the gall to talk me into blaming myself the next time I talked with him. "Oh, we were both drunk. We made bad decisions." Not "we" jackass. YOU.

You abandoned my best friend, and mentally and physically violated me, leaving me confused, and depressed, and feeling like a dirty whore. It took me a long time to come to the conclusion that yes, you raped me. Because, according to Romney, it wasn't a "legitimate rape." I didn't struggle, or fight. I just drank. And you pushed and pushed and pushed at me, until I felt bad denying you. I didn't want to, but then the next thing I know, there you were over me, and I couldn't say anything. I hate you. I hate you! You're a goddamn fucking asshole, and you don't deserve my friend. Don't touch me.

Leave me the fuck alone, already! Stop trying to email, to message, to call. I don't want to be your friend. I'm just too goddamn nice a person to say no to talking to you. You bait me into speaking with you, when I'd rather you go die in a fire. You say you've changed, that you've talked it over with her, and you have "rules" now. Fuck your rules, and fuck you. The minute my friend wises up to you, I'm cutting you from my life completely. I should do it already. Why the hell do I even continue to let you date my BEST FRIEND.

Fuck. I'm a terrible friend.

And then there's you. I knew you were a bad idea the moment you talked to me in the parking lot, but it had been a long, long time since anyone had shown interest in me. "What the hell," I thought, "Why not? It'll be nice to date a local, right?" Ha. Right. "Date." The only times you ever called were when you wanted something from me. "I won't think less of you, honest." "We'll both have fun." "I've got the house to myself"

That last bit should have been a tipoff. You were working so hard to get into my pants because your fucking GIRLFRIEND was out of town. "Oh, we're breaking up, but I can't let her find out about you, because she'll kick me out of the house." I'll fucking kick your ASS, because you're an narcisistic ASSHOLE with an obsession with sex.

Really, the only thing you had going for you was your looks, and you weren't even THAT great. You smoked weed, drank like a fish, and spent almost every moment trying to get something out of me. Well, you succeeded, didn't you? But not because I wanted you to. True, we were fooling around, but you asked, and I said no. But then you flipped me over anyway, and went to it, and it motherfucking hurt like a bitch. I felt miserable for the next two days you bastard!

The worst part is... the worst part... is that I didn't even break it off then. I fucking went back for more, because I was lonely as shit, and you were the only person I knew in town to hang out with. When I finally found my spine again, and told you it was over, couldn't you have just left it at that? No. You had to call me, AT WORK, in my room, and ask to see me after work. No, we can't get back together. No, I do not want a fling with you. NO, I do not want you in my life in any way, shape, or form! FUCK. OFF.

You wanted to know WHY we couldn't get back together. No, I don't care that you finally broke up with your girlfriend and got your own place, that's not the issue. The issue is that you treated me like shit, raped me, and then when you were done with me, you'd ignore me until you wanted me to leave so your "ex" wouldn't find out.

I think I'm as pissed at me as I am at you though. I am so pissed that I was that stupid. I knew every step of the way that I should turn and run. That it was a bad idea. But I didn't listen to me, because I was a lonely, desperate person, and for about 10 seconds, you were nice to me. Well, bucko, now I know I can do better than you, because I have. I've done much better. I almost even like me now.

Despite the fact that you straight up raped me, I've let you off the hook. That's awful generous of me. But if you ever... EVER try to touch me again, I WILL go to the cops, and my friends will back me up. You're lucky that my friend, who helped me find my spine again, has not found out where you live, because she's got a vendetta against people like you. I'm not entirely sure what she'd do to you, but I think I distintly heard "dropkicking a dildo into his ass." While I am not the type to seek revenge myself, I have to admit, the image of you getting a taste of your own medicine was disturbingly satisfying. I hope someday you meet your match, and you pick on just the wrong girl. You've got to learn sometime that no, MEANS NO. Bastard.

I used to be too easy to walk over. I'd like to think that's changed, that in allowing myself to be angry, I'll have found my voice. That I'll be able to stand up for myself. That I'll listen to myself when that inner voice is telling me No. Time will tell. At the very least, I've allowed myself to say "no" when guys ask for my number. I'm not impolite, I'm not being mean, I'm protecting myself. And that's okay. I'm okay. ... I think I'm going to be okay. Please. Let me be okay again. Please.

..Tell me it'll all be okay...

September 15th, 2012


As often happens around my house, the subject of ancestry came up. We had been discussing family names my cousin could use for her son-on-the-way. I mentioned needing to return to Bar Harbor, and my mother said, "You know, we have relatives from there. Back when it used to be called 'Eden,' anyway." I had to think about that for a moment. Most people from a religious background would claim to having relatives from Eden, but I don't think Eden, on Mount Desert Island is exactly where they're talking about.

Or is it? Granted, this town has it's faults. Summer traffic, for one. But there is an inexplicable draw to Bar Harbor. People from all around the world end up here, taking the time to check out the tourist hot spots, go whale watching, and most of all, check out Acadia National Park. I think there is something amazing about a mostly undisturbed patch of wilderness in this day and age, and that's one reason I'm thankful I live in Maine. I live in one of the few places where forests and farmland are bountiful. Where I can walk down the road, and not bump elbows or shoulders with 15 other people. Despite Bar Harbor's predilection to being a tourist trap, most of the rest of the island is a haven.

Even the weather steers clear of us sometimes. On the island sometimes we get only 2-3 inches, when just across the bridge they got half a foot. I find myself wondering if there isn't something supernatural to it after all? What if this really was Eden, and we've forgotten about it? Certainly there are many places on the island that advertise their beauties, the gardens, the parks, the tucked-away cabins. And there is a marked co-existence of man and animal. I've stopped and talked with deer in my backyard.

But if I were to choose one place as the epicenter of this draw, it would be one of the most unpresuming patches of earth I have seen. It's not one of the famous gardens on the island. It's not even beautifully manicured and maintained. It's one tiny lawn, barely contained by it's chainlink fence, color overflowing it's bounds. In every moment of the growing season, something is coloring their yard. Now, late in summer, you can barely see the house behind the sunflowers, not that there's much to see.

The house and yard themselves are not much to look at, but they're alive with joy and brightness. In the winter, I walk by with anticipation, eyeing the clutter of soil, containers, flamingos, and assorted objects usually covered in floral life. I know in the spring this will be one of the first places to show growth. I honestly don't know how they fit all the flora that springs up every year. Crocuses, tulips, daffodils, morning glories, clematus, black-eyed susans, sunflowers, daisies, and things I have no name for. Wave after wave of life.

If I were an omnipotent, omniscient being, I would choose this place for my day of rest. Who would suspect a deity to reside in a broken down house, with a tiny yard? Who would really stop to notice the little piece of Eden in the middle of a bustling town? I've never actually seen someone enter or exit this building. Once or twice, I've seen cars parked nearby, and as I admired the garden, their owners would give me a knowing look or a smile. Sometimes I peek in towards the window, hoping to get a glimpse at the person who's green thumb rivals my dad's. But then I think that knowing would spoil half the fun.

It's unlikely that this garden is Eden, except in that it might have been a part of the town that once was, but it's still a bit of paradise to me. It may not have tropical plants, fresh fruits, or an angel with a flaming sword, but who ever said paradise was like that anyway? One of my favorite features of this yard is a ladder. Placed against the one tree in the yard, it leads up to a bent branch. I can't imagine a better bit of heaven than sitting in that tree with a good book, surrounded by loveliness.

December 8th, 2010

... and besides

... If Einstein believed in God, so can I. So there.

Stigmas and Stigmatas

So, a lot of the time, when a person decides to become a minister, or pastor, or whatever, they say that they have been "called." Like God picks up a telephone and says, "Hey John, could you maybe pick up a couple sermons this November? Yeah, that'd be great, thanks." Or Jesus sends texts "D00d, you gnna preech dis Snday r whut?"

Lately, as much as I want to put myself as far away from that sentiment as possible, I've been feeling like I'm getting "the call." In fact, if he could just pick up the phone, it would be ringing off the hook, while I just let it go through to the answering machine. Even if God got an unlisted number, the Holy glow coming from the phone would give him away.

It hasn't exactly been subtle. One of the members of our church started saying, "WHEN you go to seminary, I'll give you my stoles." At the time, I laughed it off uncomfortably, wallowing in self and faith doubt. But he planted the idea in my head. And it fit nicely into the delusions of grandeur I had as a child, of giving speeches that convinced people to stop fighting, and start helping one another. But I brushed it off. I've never been good at anything, why would I be good at that.

Then, I hit college. College is not a good place to grow your faith unless you go to a religious based school. Most of my friends there weren't religious at all, and the ones who were, were waning in their belief. I began to want respect and love from this group, and that involved holding intelligent conversations, at least, every once in a while when we weren't watching MST3K or youtube. I drifted farther from my roots, from my church. I only went to sing in the choir, and to say hello to the people I knew there.

I didn't want to admit to people that I was still going to church. Rational people just don't believe these days. Religion seems to come with the stigmata of zealotry or deludedness, or just plain insanity. I am not insane. I am mostly rational. I'd like to think I'm pretty intelligent most of the time too. So why now, do I feel myself being pulled back into the church, and why, more than ever, do I want to lead it? I hardly believe some of it myself.

I find some of the "Jesus is the one and only savior and you must ask him to take your sins," stuff hard to swallow. Jesus said some good things, things that changed the way people looked at the world, but the mysticism surrounding him is a bit much to take. So even though I go to the "United Church of Christ" I start to wonder if I'm even christian at all. I believe he may have lived, but I begin to doubt whether he was "the one and only savior of everybody ever, you must believe in him or go to the flamey place."

But God... God is a different story. God as an entity all knowing and all seeing is kind of hard to wrap my head around sometimes. But still I hope, and sometimes, in the dark, believe, that there is something out there, bigger than all of us. Something that keeps watch over us, guides us, even without the use of flaming shrubbery. How much influence he she or it has over our lives I still haven't decided. After all, I've avoided "the call" thus far haven't I? Wouldn't the "real" God, the God of fire and brimstone given me a more direct shove instead of gentle but persistent and slightly annoying nudges? Sometimes I'm even afraid to think that, lest my computer screen flare with holy light and I get an email from the Mighty One him/herself.

Anyway... the reason this comes up, is because recently, there was a bit of a crisis at my church. The acting minister was pretty much "laid off," because she wasn't quite a good enough fit for us. Anyway, after that, we needed people to fill in until we could get an official interim minister. I don't know why (okay, I guess I do) but I volunteered. I read the scripture verses that week, and stayed up too late writing. I re-wrote three times, and wouldn't even let my mom read what I had written. I had no clue how I would be received.

The comments poured in after the service, but it didn't sink in until my mom, with tears in her eyes, wrapped her arms around my neck, and said, "You knocked it out of the ballpark." So now I have a taste for it. For influencing people. For making them sit up and listen, and then think. The delusions of grandeur are nipping at my heels again. They want me to go through with this and change peoples lives.

But then self and faith doubt cut in. "You can't lead people on faith journeys, when you don't have faith yourself." "You're not good enough to be a minister. You're too selfish. Too self serving. Admit it, you only want this because it would make you feel important." ... and it would too. In nothing else in my life have I ever wanted to be a leader. I'd rather be just another team player than a captain, a service clerk rather than a manager. So why this? Why now?

It's taking a lot to write this, because of the fear of being judged. For some reason, despite what little faith I have, I do not want to be labeled "religious." It's that stigma again. It seems that in intellectual circles, faith is often looked down upon. "Placation for the masses."

Well... so what if it is? So what if it's all a bunch of hogwash? If it helps people treat other people decently. Or at least think twice about doing something wrong, if it helps do a little good in the world, why look down on it? I may not be "religious" but I believe in helping others. I believe that there may still be some human decency left in the world if we have the sense to nurture it. I believe that people need something to hope for. I believe, in a world that's full of hate crimes, something needs to be done to spread a little love.

And it may be silly, and it may be naieve, and it may be impossible or hopeless to believe all that, but I do. I've got to. If that makes me "religious" so be it. I guess I'll live with that. I don't think I'll be jumping into the ministry all too soon, but I'm coming to terms with my relentless optimism in a glass half full of pessimists. As long as I don't suddenly sprout wings or stigmata, that's how it's going to be.

September 14th, 2010

So, I have decided to skip to the ending. So much for the intermediary exposition. I will, however, share my introduction to my two fav. characters.

Father Hibiscus's lips flapped loosely over cavernous gums. The regulars in the congregation wisely sat at least three rows back, out of range of the fountain of sputum flying forth from his mouth. The few visitors were unlucky, and soggy Easter bonnets began to droop unfashionably. The other Father Hibiscus, lovingly referred to as "Junior" by the congregation, stood next to his father (he had come to the priesthood late, after his wife's death), waiting for the unintelligible sermon to wind down, so he could have his chance to speak during the prayer. Some days he only got about five minutes to speak, other times his father would simply walk to the pulpit, and sneeze five times, and leave. Junior made the best of whatever he got.

Okay. Now here's the finale!!

Jenny was starting to breathe heavily. She was doing her best to stomp their sorry thoraxes back to hell, but she couldn't keep up with the wave upon wave that decended upon the barn. The construction of a giant web fortress above her head was making headway despite her efforts. She pulled the trigger again. Click. She hunted along her ammo belt. Nothing but the cigar left.

"Well, you sorry suckers, it seems you're close to success," she shouted at the spiders alliteratively. She turned her eyes skyward, "Sorry Father, I tried."

She stomped a few more and decided it was time to turn on the opera music, and smoke as the fat lady sang. She pulled out her old battered Zippo lighter, and flicked it open. As the smoke drifted skyward, she puffed and panted, and the spiders above her froze. They began to shriek. Jenny looked around in amazement as spider after spider vaporized. She danced with renewed vigor and soon, not a single spider was to be seen.

She regarded the cigar with reverence. "Holy smokes."

She surveyed the area around her with satisfaction. No demon arachnids would be around to haunt her anymore.

Something struggled under the straw. Jenny began to leave, unaware.

"Shit! My sneakers!"

As she clomped by to retrieve her old sneakers, the very last spider met it's end.


July 8th, 2010

Conversation with Death

Everything around me slowly faded, and at last I found myself facing Death. He wore the stereotypical black robes, carried a scythe, and had deep blue flames deep in the pits of skeletal eye sockets.

I stepped out of my body. "Woah," I said. I paused, processing the wavery, distant quality to my voice. "Woah, you're death like Terry Pratchett described!"

"I AM." He said. "NICE- AHEM - nice guy that Terry Pratchett."

I examined my foggy toes and fingers. "So now what? Do I go to some kind of afterlife or something?" I perked up. "Do I finally get to go and see my kitties again?"

Death looked as regretful as a bleached skull could. "I am afraid not."

"Then what's going to happen to me?" I said, "Am I stuck here, in between? Am I supposed to haunt someone? Will I just disappear?"

Death tapped a finger on his chin with a soft click. "No, no, and no."

I frowned and shook my head. "Then what's going to happen to me?"

Death grinned in a way that wasn't quite comforting. "You're going back!"

I stumbled back against my still cooling body. I bent over and tried to catch my breath as best as a newly disembodied spirit could.

"Going back? Going BACK?" I was at a lost for words. After a momentary struggle, one word finally surfaced. "Why?"

Death put one hand on his hipbone and stared at me. "Well, frankly, because you did it all wrong!" he said.

"I did it all wrong?"

"Well, yes!" he said, "I mean, just look how you ended up!"

I looked back at the body I was leaning on, suspended in my overstuffed closet. My index finger gave one final twitch and I winced. This was never where I planned to be, but I wasn't about to go back now. I took a deep breath and straightened up.

"I had my reasons."

"The wrong reasons! Besides, you went about the whole thing the wrong way."

"The whole thing?" I said, "You mean, MY WHOLE LIFE?"

"Well, maybe not your WHOLE life. You were quite happy and resilient as a child. I had a visit with you once or twice in your youth if you recall."

"I remember having cancer and being accident prone, if that's what you mean. I don't remember actually seeing you though," I said, "Why didn't you just take me then?"

"The same reason you couldn't see me," he said, "because I was never quite close enough. We were trying to teach someone else a lesson at the time."

"Someone else?" I stared through my opaque toes, then risked a glance at death. "My mom?"

Death nodded. "You were always her lesson that she could always lean on someone for anything she needed."

I scoffed and stared at my knees this time. "I feel like that's all I learned." I said, "How to lean on other people. I never stopped leaning on her!" I kicked at my dangling body to no effect. "I hated feeling like a burden."

"There you go again, going about the whole thing the wrong way." He said, tossing up his arms.

"What? What'd I do now?"

"For one thing, you should never consider yourself a burden. You are always a gift to someone, even if it's as small as making someone's day with a smile. You were a very special gift to your mother."

I crooked an eyebrow at him and crossed my arms. He crossed his arms in return.

"You WERE a gift!. With you around, she didn't have to worry about you off on your own. She liked being able to care for you again, if not in the same way. It's in her nature to want to care for people. Why else would she have become a teacher?"

"... I guess.."

"And you provided her with a constant companion through the toughest teaching year she's ever faced. All the while you were leaning on her, she was also leaning on you."

I was silent for a moment. I tried to let it sink in. I still felt like I must have been a bit of a burden, but I didn't feel as bad about it.

"Meanwhile," he said, "You both have someone to lean on that you're constantly forgetting about."

I took a moment to consider. "I do have a rather large family..." I said.

Death grinned. "You do, but they're not who I'm talking about.

"Huh." I said. I paced a bit. "Friends?"




"Church goers?"

"Getting warmer, but still nope."

It finally dawned on me. "Wait a minute," I said, "Are you talking about God?"

Death grinned wider, blue eyes flashing, "Precisely!"

I gaped at him. "So there is one? A god, I mean."

"Yes, he does exist, though she is different things to different people."

I shook my head. "Wait, you just said both he AND she. Which is it?"

"It means He or She is whatever people need him to be. Sometimes even a Them." He tipped his head in recollection. "We did have some good times in Greece."

I just stared at him. "Huh?"

"Right. Ok. So, some people need to believe that God sent Jesus to save them, so they feel like they have some security in death. That they are safe from any further pain, and, most importantly, that they will be forgiven all their wrongs."

"... OK."

"Some people need to believe that She is Gaia, so they can feel connected to the rest of the world. They want to feel a part of something greater."

I felt almost as if I was catching on. "Okay," I said, "Dome people might believe in multiple gods when they want everything to have it's own special caretaker. So they have someone specific to praty to when they're in need. Not just God, but specifically the god of the sun or the goddess of the harvest."

"Exactly," he said, "and what they all have in common is a moral code, and a sense of guidance. What you get depends on what you need at the time." He regarded me seriously. "So what is it you need God to be for you?"

I stepped back, and contemplated the multitude of options, while Death picked at a loose thread on his robe.

"I... I don't know," I said, "I wanted to believe there was something greater than myself, watching out for me, guiding me." I picked my head up and stared at Death, "I wanted a purpose. I wanted to find my niche. I needed guidance, but I was lost. I tried to trust that something out there would guide me to where I needed to be, but I just got more lost, and upset, and frightened."

"Sometimes getting lost is the way we find ourselves."

I glared at Death, tears threatening to overspill my eyes, "Right. I got lost, and I got pushed every which way, and this-" I gestured to my limp form, "Is where I ended up."

Death sighed. "You just kept looking at everything the wrong way. Whenever you were pushed, you went the opposite direction. You were always grieving about what you didn't have, instead of celebrating what you did."

"And what did I have?" I said, "A mountain of debt? A broken heart? A dead end job?"

"You have a loving mother."

"Who was always pushing me to 'get a job, get a job, you don't want to stay with me forever do you?' As if I didn't already feel useless enough."

"And did you listen to her? Did you go where she pushed you?"

I shifted from foot to foot, and felt my lower lip slide outwards against my will. "...No."

Death raised a skeletal brow.

I stomped a foot. "But I didn't wan just ANY job! I wanted something I could enjoy! Something that I could do happily for the rest of my life, not just another fill in miserable job to pay the bills."

"How do you know that's what they all would be?"

"Cause all that's left around this town is low paying mindless work!"

"How do you know you wouldn't enjoy some part of it? How do you know it wouldn't lead to something better?"

"I uh... I guess I didn't."

"Exactly. Beides, if you'd actually looked instead of being afraid of failure," I glared and he ignored, "-you might have found something you would enjoy. What do you enjoy doing anyway?"

I shook my head. "I dunno... Reading, writing, drawing, helping others..."

"Sounds like maybe a teacher, or a minister. They write and help people all the time." I rolled my eyes, "Or a writer or editor. Or an inspirational speaker. Or-"

"I get the point." I said, "I had options."

"Good," he said with a smile, "You're ready to go back then?"

"Go back?" I eyed my body suspiciously, "You don't think it's a bit... late for that?"


I jerked my thumb over my shoulder. He leaned out to the side to look.

"Oh. That." Death said. "Not to worry." HE picked up my watch and held it out to me. The second hand wasn't moving.

"It's broken?" I said.

"No, I'm just killing time for a while." He chuckled at his own joke.

I stared. "I thought killing time was wasting it. Letting it go by."

"Well, when you kill the power, it stops, right?" he said. I gave him my blankest look. "Point is, I stopped time for a while, and I will start it again right... now!"

My mom bustled into the room, and dropped a pile of clothes onto my unmade bed.

"Mom?" I said. She couldn't hear me.

She turned to leave, but paused when she saw the closet door open a crack. She opened it the rest of the way and shrieked at what she saw. She shifted back and forth as if unsure about what to do, then ran out the door. She returned, phone clamped to her ear with her shoulder. In her right hand were her special, "only for scrapbooking" extra sharp scissors. She cut me down while speaking frantically with the dispacher. I watched in silence as she laid me down on the floor, and tried to begin CPR with wet cheeks.

I listened to the sirens as they approached, Death looking as grim as a reaper was supposed to. I watched as the paramedics got to work with all efficiency. They prepped the paddles, and gave me the first jolt.

I gasped in alarm as a large chunk of my ghostly chest disappeared. I whirled to Death, "What's happening?"

He smiled. "You're going back!"

Another jolt and my legs were missing. I looked all around me as if to find something to hold on to. "Will I remember any of this?"

"Oh," he said, examining his fingerbones, "Some part of you will."

I gaped at him as my arms started to fade. They paramedics had started the respirator. I gave Death one final look. "What will happen when I die again?" I asked. "For good, I mean. For real."

He just grinned his skeletal grin. He waggled his bony fingers, winked, and said, "See you later alligator."

And then I was gone.

Or rather ... back.

July 2nd, 2010

The Backwoods Critic


"The Last Airbender" - * (one star)
Ooooh boy. Yikes. I was terribly disappointed. Despite having seen it for free, I wanted my money back. It was horrible! The dialogue was atrocious, but the delivery was worse! I wanted to strangle Ang! Gah! I did a lot of *facepalm* throughout the whole movie. The only redeeming things to me were: The fire nation's battleships were pretty Schveeet, The mini-firelord-kid-guy (I don't remember the name) was passably cool, if a little mopey, and I liked the giant floating fuzzy thing. Other than that I was gnashing my teeth at every third line in the movie. I'd like to hear what some of the fans of the series have to say on the subject though. Maybe a familiarity with the characters and storyline would help. Then again, maybe the proverbial murdering of the spirit of the characters was off-putting.

"Prince of Persia" ** 1/2

"Meh." That's pretty much what I have to say about this movie. The wall running and stuff was pretty cool, but other than that, I was pretty much MST3K-ing it in my head the whole time. I was laughing at my own jokes, and I was passably entertained, so... woo! It was nothing like the game though, and that was a little disappointing.


"Dead Until Dark" ****

I was surprised how much I liked this book. I found myself laughing out loud at a few things. Also, WHOLY COW! STEPHANIE MEYER IS TOTALLY AN IDEA STEALER! That whole "should I go with the vampire who could totally kill me, but is totally hot, or the Were-person guy who has my best interests at heart and has liked me since forever but I didn't know it" thing, is totally from Charlaine Harris. Only she does it better, cause THE VAMPIRES DON'T SPARKLE! They are actually quite scary, except maybe for Bubba. My critique of Charlaine though, is that she doesn't play up some of the dramatic emotional moments the way she could have. The main character, Sookie's, grandmother gets killed, and that didn't really make me want to cry. She pretty much had her character flee the scene, and she ends up getting over it in like, a month. Her cat's death made me want to cry more. She really comes into her own, writing wise, at the end. I am sorely tempted to seek out her second book, and that's always a good sign when it comes to books for me.

"Love in the time of Dragons" *

I was really disappointed. The back cover blurb was really misleading. I thought it was a separate series, but apparently it's not. It's connected to these other books, and so a lot of it is really confusing. The ending really sucked. It didn't wrap anything up at all. It pretty much left it at "Oh well, I guess we're at war with everyone or something." I guess it's supposed to make me want to pick up the next book and see what happened, but, nope. Really disappointing. I have another book by the same author, Kate MacAlister, called "Steamed" (supposedly a steampunk romance) (it was just too intriguing) but now I don't know if I want to even try reading it if I suspect it will be equally disappointing. Meh.

... I guess that's it.


June 17th, 2010

It is official...

Everything about my life sucks.

I lost the job that, while difficult, provided some sense of fulfillment and a reasonable paycheck. I am now working at the local grocery store at $7.00 an hour, for only about 10 hours a week. I am not going to be able to keep making my loan payments at this rate... I'll have to scale them down somehow, and that means I'll be paying for longer. Augh.

I am still living at home. While I would really like to be elsewhere, under my own steam, it hardly seems accomplishable at this rate. It's kind of a terrible sinkhole. I'd like to get a better job. To do that, I'd have to move elsewhere, even if it's just to southern Maine, instead of out of state. To do that, I'd have to have the means to get an apartment and drive or fly to wherever I want to go. To do that, I'd have to have a better job. >.<

All of my friends are miles away. My closest friend is 45 minutes and a good portion of my gas tank away. Everyone else is 4 hours or more. Since I've lost my job at the school, I am also subsequently losing most of the ties I had there too.

I haven't been able to creatively write for months. I would love to finish my book and just get it done and get it out there, but all I've been able to do is wish I could write. I can't even look at the notebook I've been trying to write in. For a long time, it was because I was so exhausted after school... that was my excuse. Then it was because I had two jobs and no time. Now I only have one job, and not even everyday. What's my excuse now?

And, to top it all off... The one person I have really been good at keeping in touch with from Clark, the person I was fourteen days away from being a year and a half in a relationship, decided he was going to go to culinary school in New Zeland. He was accepted, and he has told me he plans to go by January at the latest. And subsequently decided that we should probably "downgrade to friends." I can understand that, but it still hurts.

And people wonder why I've been such a pessimist lately...

May 2nd, 2010

1) Moving to Alaska. Not entirely sure why. I want to prove myself against the elements I guess. I keep seeing this commercial about his town in Alaska, and I'm intrigued. Maybe I could teach up there, or find something completely different. Who knows. Mostly, I just want a change of place. I've also been considering moving out to the Southwest, and that's pretty much the opposite of Alaska. I just need to get out of here.

2) Finding someone to apprentice to, to learn to decorate cakes. Not just average cakes, mind you, but those extremely awesome cool cakes like they make on Ace of Cakes and Cake Boss. Maybe I'm just watching too much TV. But it would be kind of fun to create things like that for a living.

3) Going to Seminary. Yes. I said it, I'm considering going to school to learn to be a preacher/parson/minister/whatever you want to call it. I don't know what started it, but the idea's been stuck in my mind for quite a while. Now, I'm still not very strong with my own faith, but I feel like I could make a difference. I want to start a movement of active ministry. Instead of just sitting in a pew and feeling good about yourself for being a good church-goer, I want to get people out into the community to do community service instead of just sitting around. I don't know. I heard clips of Martin Luther King Jr. and it just reminded me how powerful a good speaker can be. That's how Lincoln got elected too. As a small child I dreamed of making speeches that would make the whole world stop fighting. I guess that dream is still there.

4) Culinary school. Again, the whole idea of creating things for a living. I like to bake... so maybe I'd be better as just a baker instead of a chef.

5) Service animal trainer. I blame the presentation at school on service animals. I love animals, and what better excuse to surround myself with them, than training them to be service animals. I'd love to breed and train German Shepherds. Or, I could train service Cats! I don't know.

I guess, the sum of all this is that I feel the desperate need to make a big change in my life, and I just don't know how. I need to get out of here. I've gained weight since I've been home, and I don't like it. I've spent more time just loafing and watching TV and I don't like it. I've had less time to write, and I don't like it. I've been pushed into getting two jobs, and I don't like it.

I need to find my own life... but it hid itself really well. I'll figure something out eventually.
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