Writing: I hope this isn't as good as it gets

I participated again in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges. For some reason, this week's writing was a difficult task.  I was having one of those writing moments where every word was like pulling teeth and I would go back over it four or five times, but still found myself unsatisfied with the end result.  I loved the prompt and had all these ideas, but I couldn't focus properly this week.  I tried, though, and pushed through, no matter what, and that's definitely something.  This week I challenged the awesome MyPlaidPants (the response is here) and my challenge - it just doesn't get any better - came from Barb Black.

---

Conversations with my mother should be outlawed. The woman had an uncanny knack for taking an already-frustrating situation and making me feel ten times worse about it. Her pep talks ended with me wanting to slit my wrists because she didn’t get it and I became even more convinced that I was a freak of nature. Maybe someday I would appreciate her efforts to bond and be there for me, but today wasn’t that day. I was too busy trying to make sense of our most recent conversation.

“Laney, when life gives you lemons, you make lemonade,” my mother said, leaning in close to me as though she was imparting some great wisdom instead of throwing random clichés at me until one stuck.

“Right. Okay,” I said. I wasn’t sure how that helped me with my current situation, but it was best to smile and nod where my mother was concerned.

“You worry too much. You’re sixteen! High school is the best time of your life! You need to enjoy it!”

I stared at my mother blankly because really, what could I say to something like that? If it was true, my future was obviously doomed – filled with contracting the plague and driving a Volvo – because I couldn’t wait for high school to be done.

“Seriously, sweetheart, it just doesn’t get any better,” she replied. She brushed her hands through my hair and added, “You’re such a pretty girl. Why do you always hide behind this mop of hair? Why don’t you wear make-up?”

“Mom,” I groaned. “You really need to work on your pep talks.”

She shook her head and said, “Just think about it.”

I nodded and plastered a small smile onto my face until she left my room. Once the door shut behind her, I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it. My day had already been crappy enough, what with humiliating myself in the cafeteria and realizing that I might have creepy-weird-lovey-dovey-feelings for my best friend, but I was even more depressed at the idea of having reached the pinnacle of my existence. Was my mother right or insane? Did she really think life didn’t get any better than Calculus tests, stupid jocks, and cheesy dances where said stupid jocks got drunk and felt up anyone with a pulse?

The familiar sounds of Lady Gaga filled my ears. I dropped the pillow and reached for my cellphone without thinking about it. “Life sucks and then you die. How can I help you?”

“This bodes well,” Mike said.

I sat up on my bed and glanced around the room as though someone was there to help me through this, but I was alone.  I knew I was being ridiculous.  I had a million conversations over the years with Mike and even when we fought, I was never at a loss for words.  But I was scared.  I had known Mike since pre-school and if I wasn’t careful he would figure out why I was avoiding him. I would have to move to Russia and I didn’t look good in fur hats. I took a deep breath and silently repeated that I was not in love with my best friend. I tried to make my voice sound cheery, “What’s up?”

“What is going on with you? First, you face plant in the middle of the cafeteria and run off like a lunatic—”

“—I wasn’t looking where I was going and an idiot football player tackled me and my skirt went up and everyone was staring,” I said in one quick breath. It was another reason to hate school uniforms. It was never pleasant for girls when they fell down or a strong breeze hit.

“So you thought you’d make it better by running off?”

“Shut up. I’m already humiliated enough.”

“That still doesn’t explain why you would avoid me.”

“I wasn’t avoiding you, dooface.”

“I know you heard me calling to you after school, but you ran off before I could catch up.”

“I didn’t hear you,” I said. I was totally lying, but there was no need to go into that at the moment. There was no reason for both of us to feel weird.

Mike sighed, the kind where I knew that he knew I was lying, but he wasn’t going to push. He was always good like that. My mother used to say his mellow personality was a good match for my histrionic one. He said, ““I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine, but I can’t talk right now. I’m pondering my existence.”

“Again?”

“My mother wanted to talk,“ I replied. When Mike laughed, I said, “It’s not funny. She told me that this was as good as it gets. High school is the ultimate and everything else is crap.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“I sincerely hope not.”

“It sounds like your mother is projecting her nostalgia for her lost youth onto you.”

“That’s the problem with nostalgia. It makes you forget the bad and then you ruin your daughter’s evening,” I said, letting out the breath that had been stuffed into my chest since my “talk” with my mother.

“Always bites you in the ass.”

I laughed and my stomach churned slightly and, ugh, when the hell did this happen to me? I wasn’t this girl and I definitely wasn’t this girl when it came to Mike. He was my best friend, not some momentary high school fling. I shook my head, silently berating myself and trying to get a grip, and said, “Thanks Mike.”

“You’re still a spazz.”

“Takes one to know one.”

I didn’t have to be in the same room to know he was rolling his eyes at me. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just stuck on repeat play in my head - it doesn’t get any better than high school. Ew,” I replied with a shudder. “High school should never be the highlight of anyone’s life. That’s like looking back on your life and be excited about waiting in line at the grocery store.”

“It’s not all bad.”

“I’d like to think that there’s much more to the world than ugly plaid uniforms and homework.”

“Taxes and mortgages?”

“More like traveling the world.”

“Don’t forget the kids and nine-to-five job.”

“I prefer marrying a rock star and saving the planet,” I replied. I tried to swallow down the fear and unease I was feeling, but I was never good at hiding things from Mike. I continued, “Do you ever freak out when you realize we’re right on the cusp of a whole new time in our lives? It felt like it took forever to get to high school and some days it feels like it will never end, but lately, I dunno, it’s all moving way too fast. Everything's changing and I can’t keep up.”

“You’re losing it.”

“Slightly. I blame my guidance counselor and his it’s-time-to-make-the-most-important-decision-of-your-life spiel I got yesterday about choosing colleges to apply to.”

“How about we get you through junior year without injury before freaking out about college applications?”

“I guess.”

“And not everything has to change, Elaina,” he said.

Mike was lucky I couldn’t reach into the phone and hug him because I might not ever let go. Even if I wasn’t in love with him – stupid feelings I didn’t understand – I loved him. He always knew how to talk me down and make me feel better. I hoped I did the same for him.

I said, “Thanks for checking on me.”

“It’s what I do.”

“And thanks for reeling me back in. I was coming unhinged.”

He snorted. “That’s one word for it. Are we still on for tomorrow night?”

“Not even death by humiliation or panic attacks interrupt our cheesy movie night,” I replied.

“Try not to take out any football players between now and then.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow at school, klutz.”

“Seriously. So funny,” I replied.

“Night Elaina.”

“Night Mike,” I replied. I dropped my phone on the nightstand and collapsed on my bed. I shut my eyes and smiled. I couldn’t explain it logically. I was no closer to understanding what was going on with me and everything in my life was changing as adulthood quickly approached, but I felt optimistic about the future. No matter what happened, whether this was as good as life got or not, I had a friend who could make me laugh and that had to be worth something.

Another wishcast...

Happy Wishcasting Wednesday, my friends!  It's always one of the highlights of my week - I always enjoy the pondering and wishing and sharing it all with a bunch of creative cohorts.

This week Jamie asks:

What do you wish for this summer?

courtesy of we heart it

I wish to continue my journey toward bettering my life.  I wish to laugh and smile and cry without censor.  I wish to dance around my room and enjoy the longer days and write and live and learn.  I wish to stop focusing so much on the future that I don't enjoy theses lovely days for what they are.

wherein a stranger appears...

Another week of the Indie Ink Writing Challenges.  This week's prompt really inspired me.  I pulled out the character I used a few weeks ago for this challenge because it seemed to fit.  And it got my mind spinning with all sorts of ideas, which I always appreciate.  This week I challenged Disease (his response is here) and my challenge - A stranger approaches you on the street and says, "I had to do it; I had no choice.  Help me!" - came from the wonderful Kerri.

---

If there was one thing I was keenly aware of, it was how quickly things could go horribly wrong. A quiet evening could quickly give way to fighting and blood-curdling screams. Never pretty.

My brother said that it was just me, that I had an uncanny knack for attracting trouble. Part of it comes with the territory of my life and abilities, but I’m also convinced that I’ve been punished for some cosmic injustice I caused in a past life. It was the only way to explain the invisible beam that acted as radar for demented weirdos everywhere.

Like tonight. I headed out the back door of work with a spring in my step and a song stuck in my head. I was in an unusually good mood, which should’ve been the first hint of things to come, and my mind wasn’t really focused on the area, but replaying the earlier conversation I had with Lucian. Despite my best efforts, he was really starting to grow on me. If I had been paying attention, I would’ve smelled the trouble in the crisp autumn air. Instead, I was caught off guard when a twenty-something woman appeared around the corner and rushed toward me.

 

 

Her hands balled up into the collar of my coat and she said, “I had to do it; I had no choice.”

 

 

“Are you okay? ” I replied. Not my finest moment, but I never claimed to be Sherlock Holmes.

 

 

“I had to do it. Please help me,” she replied. I looked her over. Something had definitely gone down. Her face was puffy, her cheeks streaked with mascara, and her hair looked like it had done battle with an electric socket. There were scratches on her hands, which were currently tightened into fists that she knocked into her sides.

 

 

I glanced around the area to see if whoever had done this to her was bringing up the rear and ushered her into the back room of the bar. I said, “Are you hurt? I mean, besides the obvious. Should I call the police?” I tried not to wince as I said it. I wasn’t a big fan of the boys in the blue – part of the whole spending your life on the run thing – but I wasn’t sure there was much of an option. I wasn't exactly equipped to handle run-of-the-mill domestic squabbles or robberies-gone-wrong.

“I need help. He’s hurt. I had to do it. He told me I would, but I didn’t…please, we need to find him.”

I placed my hand on her shoulder gently like I was petting a feral animal. I was never very good at offering assurances, usually leaving that sort of thing to my brother. When she didn’t move away, I forced a small smile and said, “I’ll help you, but I need to know what’s going on.”

“I’m going to sound crazy.”

She looked crazy and likely was crazy, but I didn’t want to tell her that. I tried to make my voice as warm and fuzzy as I could muster given the circumstances and said, “It’s okay.”

“It’s Dylan, my boyfriend. He tried to warn me that something could happen, but I thought he was kidding,” she paused as her eyes flittered around the stock room before focusing on me. Her face relaxed for a second, as though everything was suddenly okay, but then her eyes scrunched up like was about to cry again.   She said, “You need to come with me.”

She started to pull me back out the door, but I stepped out of her grasp. “Wait a second. I need to know what we’re walking into.”

“There isn’t any time. He could be hurt. He said you could help.”

“Me? How does Dylan know me?” I asked.

She bit down on her lip, and didn’t say anything for what felt like forever. “It was before. He told me that there were people like him at Traveler’s Bar, that they could help me.”

"Like him?  I'm not sure I understand," I replied.  Warning bells started to go off in my head and I suddenly felt stupid and exposed.  "And I'm not sure you want any drunk customers assisting you, so maybe we should call the cops."

"You said you would help me," she replied. 

This was why I avoided the Good Samaritan crap.  I felt slightly guilty for wasting what could be precious minutes if Dylan really was hurt, but self preservation had been instilled in me since I could walk and something about this didn't make sense.

"We really need to take this inside.  It's warm and we can clean you up while you tell me what happened," I said.  I moved toward the door that connected to the kitchen and further away from the girl.  

"But we're wasting time!"

I didn't want to completely write this girl off if she was telling the truth, but something wasn't right.  Energy was pulsing through me like my body was about to go into fight-or-flight mode and my mind was in overdrive. If she was in such dire need of help, why hadn’t she gone inside the bar instead of skulking in alleyways on the offchance someone would appear? 

The more I thought about it, the more the nervous energy gave way to a prickle of fear as I realized I might have walked right into an Agency trap.  My brother would be so pissed off if something happened because I had gotten sloppy. 

“I think we should go inside. My boss, Ray, can contact the police," I said.  After all, there was a chance I was being paranoid, and I didn't want that on my conscience.

“No, that won’t work.”

She reached for me again and this time there was a gleam in her eye that was definitely not worry or panic. I had just enough time to I side-step her grasp and spin on my heels.  She didn't seem to expect it and almost careened into the kitchen door.  She muttered under her breath and when she turned around to face me, the marred face was gone, replaced with a glittering porcelain complexion with no blemishes and black empty eyes.

Shit.  So much for paranoia.

I tried to maneuver around her to the kitchen door, but she was blocking my way. If I could get into the main area of the bar, I would be okay. The laws forbid the Agency from entering safe havens, which explained why she hadn’t tried to go inside. She couldn’t.

“Cady, you’re a hard girl to track down.”

I rolled my eyes. “Why do you guys always have to use clichés? It makes my head hurt.”

“I’ll make your insides hurt if you don’t come with me.”

“Seriously? Does that work on anyone?”

Her fists unclenched to reveal long, yellow fingernails. “Too bad they want you alive.”

There was no way I was giving her a chance to cut me open and I knew my best bet was to act quickly.  I slipped my hand into the back pocket of my messenger bag and threw my knife. It struck her in the shoulder, which provided me with an opportunity to knock her to the ground with a kick. As she fell to the ground with a grunt, I pulled my knife out and turned it around in my palm. I could feel the blade cutting my hand, but I didn’t care as I tightened my hands and hit her in the face with the handle. 

I shook my head and said, “This is why I always win. You guys talk too much.”

I opened the door and hurried through the kitchen, garnering looks from my co-workers, and made my way to the bar. The place was already packed and a mix of music and conversation reverberated against the walls. I walked up to Ray, the owner and my boss, who was talking about the Yankees with a patron, and said, “We’ve got an intruder.”

His head snapped away from the patron and he closed the distance between us. He picked up my hand carefully and asked, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll live, but you know what this means, right?”

Ray shook his head. “You’re a real pain in my ass, Cady. Things were so much quieter before you came along.”

“And not nearly as fun. Can you handle things back there while I call my brother? If they know where I work, there’s a chance they know where we’re living now.”

“Use the phone in my office. Close the door and don’t let anyone in except for me,” Ray said as we weaved back through the bar. He pushed me into a small dingy room that served as his office and added, “Do you have a weapon?”

“Never leave home without it.”

“Good.”

“I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Remind me of that when you tell me how someone got the drop on you,” he called back to me as he made his way to the kitchen. There was a good chance, she was gone, but if she was still there, Ray would handle it. He had his own special abilities and no one, not even the Agency, messed with guys like Ray. I was just glad he was on my side.

I glanced around the area before I shut the door to Ray’s office. I slouched down into a chair and picked up the phone from the wobbly table from the bar that served as Ray’s desk. I took a few restorative breathes and attempted to make sense of the events that had just unfolded. I had come so close to walking right into a trap and I couldn’t help but wonder how long they had known where I was. The Agency was getting bolder while I had become complacent. Life had being going well for the past year – no major incidents or Agency sightings – and both my brother and I had relaxed into a routine. It was a mistake and things had to change.

---

If you're interested, I also wrote an Indie Ink Challenge response that featured Cady here.

It's a delightful day...

Happy Wishcasting Wednesday!  If you're new to the concept, Wishcasting is "...a safe haven for wishes, a fertile field in which to plant wish seeds and have them witnessed and tended lovingly. It’s a place where magic begins."

Today Jamie asks:

What delights do you wish for?

courtesy of we heart it

Usually an answer to wishcast pops right into my head, but today it's been much harder to think about.  This is probably a sign that I don't allow myself enough joy and happiness, which seems likely and something I want to change.  So I guess for me, a portion of today's wish is to allow myself delight, to notice when something makes me happy and enjoy the moment and do it again and again and again.
 
I wish to delight in my friends, and my kitties.  I wish to laugh and dance and try not to worry so much every second of every day about how I'm perceived or living up to some sort of "potential."  I wish to relish the quiet moments rather than filling them up with white noise.
 
And mostly, I wish to delight in myself and how far I've come on my journey.

trees get lonely too

I'm really enjoying taking part in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges. I'll admit that this week was definitely a challenge - in the best sort of way - and forced me outside my comfort zone.  It's part of why I enjoy Indie Ink's weekly challenges.  This week I challenged Alison of Pretty Girls Don't Eat (her awesome response is here) and my challenge - write from the point of view of the last tree standing in a forest - came from the wonderful Kat of Sassy Irish Lass.

---

It’s true what they say – be careful what you wish for. There was a time when every tree in our forest was clustered together. Branches would jam into one another, roots would collide in the soil and every tree would fight for dominance by growing as tall as possible to suck up all the sunlight it could.  We were mighty and ruled the ground and the sky.

Collective living is hard.  In the eyes of the forest, a tree isn't as strong or wise as those around it if it can't dig deep into the ground and soar high into the sky.  And the day-to-day grind over hundreds of years can drive even the most patient Red Wood Tree to yearn for legs and freedom.  It wasn’t that I didn’t care for my fellow trees, but sometimes even a tree wants to escape the sameness of its routine. 

Peace and quiet.  I didn't mean it like this.


Now I have peace and quiet in bundles.  Well, the quiet, anyway.  Hard to feel any peace knowing what I do about the way nature is being treated. 

I’m the only one left now. The others have been destroyed in forest fires, lost to nature, or the worst, cut down by greedy humans. There was a time when a select few of us would be sacrificed, but humans appreciated the loss it caused and never took more than they needed. We coexisted and thrived together.

Things have changed. Humans are different now. Every creature that passes by me knows this.  There are whispers in the wind and anger in the rain and snow that pelt the ground in frustration.   Nothing is safe or sacred and there is never enough to please them.


There are some that still care. I once saw a girl chain herself to one of my brethren and refuse to let the saws pass. Well, she tried. In the end, she was written off as crazy and carried off, while the tree was cut down and used for mother-nature-only-knows-what.


The sun hits me from every angle. The wind whips around me, rustling the branches and freeing the last of the leaves. Winter is fast approaching. I’ll sleep and try to hold onto hope as another ring grows around my trunk. I’ll mourn for my fallen friends and remember those times when people tried to climb to the tops of the tallest of us and their satisfied sighs of success as they took in the views and felt the world the way we do.


I’m not a wise enough tree to know what will be harder – to still be here, alone, come spring or to feel my own roots pulled from the ground as I join the others in a paper mill – but I’ll be here as long as I’m allowed. I’ll provide protection and homes for creatures and plants. I’ll entrench my roots even further into the ground and spread my branches out and up.

And I’ll wait.

---

It's time to truly begin...

Today was a hard but productive therapy session.  I made an interesting realization during the session.  It was one of those moments when I'm trying to explain something to my therapist and the wording I use surprised even me.  It makes me feel like all of this digging into feelings and such has been worthwhile and I'm feeling hopeful.

It's also Wishcasting Wednesday, which is always so on-point with the universe and a wonderful way to share dreams and wishes with a group of great people.

Today Jamie asks:

What do you wish to begin?

courtesy of we heart it

I am so afraid of leaving people behind and transforming my life for the better out of fear that I stand there paralyzed.  It's how I've lived most of my life thus far.  I doubt every choice I make.  I convince myself I don't deserve happiness or to put myself first - it's selfish and I'm bad, bad, bad.  I get it stuck in my head that I have no willpower, I'm lazy, and every other horrible thing I can think of to only further keep myself from trying things.  And then I hate myself for not moving forward.  it's an ugly, vicious circle.

About a week ago, my sister said something to me about how, yes, my mother was horrible and a bad parent in many ways, but she's gone now.  Do I let her keep infecting my life in negative ways or do I do something about it?  And she's right.  I'm still giving my mother all the power.  I'm still putting myself last, behind someone who is no longer living for god's sake, and it leaves me sad and missing out on my own journey.

Today I wish to begin my own journey without being hampered by my mother's voice in my ear and without allowing my own gremlin to control every choice I make.  I've made great strides.  I'm smart and capable and I do have willpower.  There is a lot of good things about me and I need to focus on those and enjoy small victories as I work toward the life I want.  I wish to begin moving along the road of transformation - weight, work, and creativity.   I wish to begin to notice my achievements, however small they seem because I sure do notice the equally small failures. 

Mostly, I wish to begin.  To simply do and stop waiting for some unidentifiable thing.

my cat's perfect day

I had so much fun last week that I signed up for the Indie Ink Writing Challenges again. This week I challenged My Plaid Pants and my challenge - Describe your perfect day in your better life - came from BinaryFootPrint.

I had planned to make this one nonfiction, but I came home this evening, feeling crappy, to find my cat, Dexter, conked out on my bed and I was slightly jealous of his life.  I wondered what his "better life" would be and this is what came out. I'm sure that I'm offending cats everywhere with this piece.

dexter is not impressed

Better life?  Maybe that's something other cats need, like the ones in shelters or featured in those weird commercials that always make my human cry and needlessly cuddle me (hello, I'm not in need of love.  I'm in need of new toys and food of my liking), but my life is pretty good.  I've got a roof over my head when water pours down from the sky, food and toys (there are never enough toys), and a water fountain to slurp my water out of all day.  This is especially fun when I'm feeling vindictive and want to make my litter as messy as possible.  To others like me out there - not only does water keep you hydrated and able to live up to your best kitty potential, but it can really gross out the ladies.  I've often heard, "You sicken me, Dexter.  You're a monster."

Indeed.

I'll humor you for a minute with the idea of this better life and my perfect day.  Purr-fect.  Hee.  Get it?  I'm hysterical.  And some people think cats don't have a sense of humor!  Okay, fair enough.  Some of us don't.  I've met a few felines in my day that are pretty hostile.  You guys call it "feral" but it's just mean.  There is no need to hiss at me from outside while I sit on a nice fluffy  bed and preen on my porch.  It's not my fault that I was such a catch.

Where was I?   Thoughts tend to come and go really fast in my head.  Not like dog fast, where I'm distracted by the simplest things, but still - sometimes a bird has been known to fascinate me for hours.  I'm not proud of it, but there you go.

I guess that would be the first thing in my better world and perfect day to be addressed.  I would eliminate birds and their powers.  Birds would still exist - they're tasty - but they would no longer have their  freaky mind control powers over me.   I would stop wasting precious hours of my life staring out a window and meowing ferociously for them to stop building their silly nests outside my house.  Do they listen?  No, they're rude and my owners won't let me go teach them a lesson.

Speaking of owners...my humans think I need to see this "pet doctor" who pokes me with sharp needles and cold thermometers and then wonders why I am angry.  This will stop immediately for I have lion and tiger blood (for real, not like Charlie Sheen) in my ancestry.  There are no doctors in the African wild; therefore, no more doctors or vets or sterile rooms for me.

These are things that I expect in this better life that I'm being promised.  They should be obvious, but I never know with humans.  They think they're helpful when really they baffle me.

Aside from these obvious things, below is how my purr-fect day (it does NOT get old) will play out:

6am: wake up, sing my lovely songs and am met with great praise instead of mean words from my humans and doors slamming in my face.  The vibrato of my voice will drive my owners to get up and feed me right away.  And no more of this organic dry food, but a real meal.  I'm thinking turkey.  Lots of turkey.

6:30am: Having stuffed myself on turkey, I go to my private litter box (no more sharing for me) and do some light exercise by playing with some of my favorite balls.

7am:  Gather my toy mice up for meeting on how things are in Dexter land.  I'm a firm, but kind ruler.

7:30am:  Curl up in the sun room and sleep.  No longer distracted by birds, it's a restful slumber.

Throughout most of day:  sleep, eat, play...sometimes torment my fellow cats just to remind them that I'm the best.

5:20pm:  Greet my human at the front door.  Not because I miss her so much as like to remind her that I exist and need food.   No longer will I have to endure silly cuddles at her whim just to endear myself to her in hopes of a special treat of wet food.  No, I automatically get my wet food.  I'm a huge fan of the Turkey & Cheese variety.  I love preservatives and protein!

5:30pm:  After eating quickly, I practice my ninja kitty moves by getting into things I'm not supposed to and amazing humans with my great jumping and balancing skills.  And they don't yell at me because it's my perfect day.

6pm:  I do a parameter check of my home.  Just because I'm a kind ruler doesn't mean I like other creatures on my property.  And i will find out where that dog barking is coming from and that dog will rue the day!

6:15pm:  I make the stupid Labrador across the street rue the day and remove its vocal chords.  It's not abuse because I'm a cat and the drooling idiot deserved it.

6:20pm:  It's time to nap.  This way I can be wide awake when humans want to sleep and ruin their night if I'm feeling so inclined.  Sometimes, I like them and will let them get their rest, but it's my day, and hey, I'm gonna enjoy it.

9pm:  Meow, meow, meow...I'm totally auditioning for American Idol next season.  Too bad I hate going in the car and most humans and I'm not exactly "heartthrob" material, but that Taylor Hicks guy won before, so I think I've got a chance.  Worse comes to worse, I show off my white belly.  It always gets me oohs and ahhs around the house.

11pm:  Oh hell, it's been a day.  I'm tired.  And my human is pretty good at rubbing my head just right.  I think I'm gonna turn in.

Sure, to some people it doesn't seem like this amazing day, but it's really all I need.  That's why my autobiography, Ruling in a Time of Turkey and Toys, is only two pages.  It's not long, but it's two important pages that prove cats are the most amazing species to ever exist.  And I guess in my perfect day, the rest of the world and its inhabitants (every creature!)  finally realize my...our perfection - like those Egyptians did back in the day.  We were revered properly.

it's another wishcast

It's Wishcasting Wednesday!  I'm a bit late to the game today as work was crazy and allergies continue to try to murder me...I'm trying to push past the discomfort, but sometimes, it's really hard.

To all wishcasters:  Like a few weeks ago, I'm going to attempt to check in with each of you tomorrow, but please know that I'm sending all my hope/good vibes/wishing mojo to you guys - as you wish for yourselves, so I truly wish for you also.

This week Jamie asks:

What is your money wish?

 courtesy of we heart it

For about the last four months, my sister and I have become hardcore couponers.  Not to the insane level of people on Extreme Couponing (I see no need to buy things that I will never use simply because I can), but it's addictive and great to see the costs of your groceries going down.  Also, I've reached out to various organic companies and they've sent me coupons, which makes my life a bit easier and food not quite so expensive.

Now I need to branch out.  The past few years I've been really good about spending on most frivolous things and I'm slowly curbing my grocery bills.  That leaves ordering out.  My problem is that I hate cooking.  It's only made worse after a long day at work and with the weather being so hot lately...it's a waste of money, usually not a healthy food choice, and the time it takes order/wait could make food.  For me, I need to make that leap and understand that part.  That while it might seem easier to order something, in that time, I could've cooked something small - cheap and healthier.

I wish to remember these things whenever I'm about to just shrug dinner off.  I also wish to see an increase in my salary in the near future.  Money is really tight and a little wiggle room would be wonderful.

Indie Ink Challenge: vengeance or justice or whatever

I had so much fun last week that I signed up for the Indie Ink Writing Challenges again.  This week I challenged Flaming NYX (whose response is here) and my challenge - Write about a time in your life when you were wronged and justice was not served (can be fiction or nonfiction) - came from Dafeenah.  This is a fictional character and her world that I've been slowly building as I try to figure out exactly what's going on with her and her story to tell.  Figured I could use it for this week's prompt.

---

I was awoken with a hard shove and my brother hovering over me as he grinned down at me and said, "Morning Cady."

"Oh my god.  Are you a farmer?" I groaned, throwing my blanket over my head.  

The hint was lost on Sean, who laughed as he pulled my blanket away and said, "It's nearly eight and you've got things to do."

"I'm not doing anything.  I'm going to curl up in a ball and wait for the humiliation of last night to pass."

"So, I'll see you again in ten years?"

I glared at him as I sat up and pulled my knees to my chest.  "Maybe if you'd let me-"

"-You know the rules, kiddo.  You don't use your abilities to harm innocent people."  Before I could protest and explain exactly how not innocent Lucian Devane was, my brother held up his hand and said, "Breakfast and then school work."

"You're on my list."

"Considering how long that list is after all these years, I'm not too worried," he said with a pat on the head.  Yeah, if he couldn't kick my ass in less time than it would take for me to even make a move, I would totally kill him.  

I stood up, stretched out, and pulled the shade of my room open.  The sunlight filtered into the room from the alley between my building and another and as I opened the window, glancing in both directions and looking for anyone suspicious wandering around on the streets, the city's familiar noises inundated me.  There was something comforting in the sounds of the city - I felt safe.  Well, as safe as someone like I could, considering the trendy thing as of late was attempts on my life.

I picked up my phone, deleted the texts from Lucian without looking, and made my way down the short hall to what passed for our kitchen, living room, and library.  I licked my lips as I inhaled the smell of bacon and hurried to the table.  My brother could be a hard ass about trying to maintain some semblance of normal in our life.  Usually, it drove me nuts.  We weren't normal - or I wasn't and he was guilty by association - and I saw no need to pretend.  It wasn't like I was going to live a long life with a husband and the two-point-five kiddies . 

But, even though I would swallow a bullet before admitting it, I looked forward to the fact that my brother and I usually ate at least one meal together.  We could be in the middle of a debacle of epic proportions, but we would find time to just sit, eat, and talk.  He told me it kept us from forgetting why we were doing all of this.  And while I rarely bought into the yay-world Kool-Aide, I liked spending a few quiet moments with my brother where the topic of discussion wasn't the end of the world or our impending demise.

I shoved a piece of bacon into my mouth, grimaced and nearly spit it out, "Is this fake bacon?"

"Tofurkey bacon strips."

"I used to love you," I said, plopping down into my chair dramatically.

"It's better for you."

"Dude, you woke me up after the worst night of my life--"

"--that's a bit of an exaggeration considering I've witnessed much worse."

I picked up another strip of vegetarian devil food and pointed it in my brother's direction.  I said, "That's different.  It doesn't count when you're not sure you'll survive the night - you let things slide."

"I thought it was sweet."

"That's because you're a sap."

"Cady, Lucian likes you.  There is nothing wrong with that."

"He sang a song to me in front of a crowded bar.  A really bad song.  A Barry Manilow song."

"You inspire greatness," Sean replied with a laugh.

I glared at him and said, "Maybe if we were like, fifty, that might be sweet, but I'm seventeen.  I don't want a guy to serenade me with an easy listening, cheesy ballad and definitely not in a room full of people.   I have a reputation to uphold."

"A legend in your own mind."

"Seriously, you are on my list."

Sean  shook his head and stared at me until I met his gaze before he replied, "I know you don't trust people easily and with good reason, but Lucian seems harmless and it might be good for you to socialize with someone your own age."

"He wears pleather pants and furry coats.  If that's not a sign of evil, I don't know what is."

"Do yourself a favor.  Let this go and put the guy out of his misery.  He looked devastated when you ignored him for the remainder of the evening."

"That could've been solved if you let me punch him in the face."

"No."

"Maybe a one-way ticket to ancient Roman times?"

"You don't use..."

"...use my abilities on the innocent, blah, blah, blah.  I maintain that Lucian is not innocent.  He offended me."

"Cady."

"Go ahead and tell me that I'm ridiculous, but you weren't the one who had a billion eyes fixated on her as some dooface in bedazzled sunglasses sang her 'Can't Smile Without You.'  It wasn't even in tune."

My brother dropped his napkin on the table, folded his arms, and gave me the look that said I was being a brat and needed to shape up.  Looks like that never boded well, usually ending with me in the gym for hours on end as he grilled me on my fighting moves.  "What the hell are we doing all this for if you're never gonna let yourself have a life?"

"Not this again.  I don't have enough caffeine in my system for this talk.  I didn't know you were so Team Lucian."

"I don't give a crap about Lucian.  This is about you and how you create situations where nothing pleases you and no one can get in.  It's your way of protecting yourself, and I get it, but I don't like it."

I rolled my eyes and huffed hard enough to blow the bangs up on my forehead.  "I want justice."

"For bad karaoke?"

"My life in general, but I guess Lucian's sad attempts at singing are a good place to start.  You know I can't go back in there, right?  Like ever again?"

"Too bad you work there."

"Clyde will never let me hear the end of this."

Sean stood up and kissed the top of my head.  "You'll survive.  You always do."

"Can I at least egg Lucian's car?"

"No."

"Spit in his drinks?"

"Gross."

"Make him watch a day's worth of MTV reality TV shows?"

Sean laughed.  "Sure.  Vengeance will be yours."

"Okay then.  I guess I can muster up the good will to forgive Lucian.  I'll text him later and as long as there is no more singing, I'll tolerate his existence."

"That's very magnanimous of you.  Now finish up your breakfast and try to stay out of trouble while I work today."

I nodded and watched my brother gather his wallet and coat and head to the door.  He did a quick sweep of the hallway before turning back to me and motioning to the locks, like I didn't know the drill after all these years.  I nodded again, otherwise we'd be there all day, and he shot me a quick wave before shutting the door behind him. 

I grabbed another piece of not-quite-bacon and walked the short distance to lock up the door, my mind wandering to thoughts of Lucian, his insane wardrobe and bad singing.  I wanted to hate him for it.   A part of me did - I was not a girl who liked to stand out in a crowd - but this sick girly part of me was almost fond of him for his inane bravery.  It wasn't every guy that was willing to humiliate himself for a girl he barely knew.  

He was still going to pay.  

And it gave me an excuse to watch the 16 and Pregnant marathon without having to worry about my own broken psyche.  Win-win, really.

Wishcasting on health

My day began with a root canal.  Never the way one wants to begin the day, but at least the pain in my tooth is gone (one hopes - mouth is still numb so jury is out).  It's a lovely day, I'm in a good space with my writing this week, and the temporary assistant I trained last week is doing a great job, which takes some burden off me.

The best?  It's wishcasting wednesday.  If you're unfamiliar, it's "...a safe haven for wishes, a fertile field in which to plant wish seeds and have them witnessed and tended lovingly. It’s a place where magic begins."

This week Jamie asks us:

What do you wish for your health?

courtesy of we heart it

I don't think this one is any surprise to anyone who reads my journal.  It's my ongoing journey/battle/whatever-you-call-it with my weight and getting to a place where I'm healthy and happy.  I wish to lose weight, get in shape, and take the steps I need to in order to insure my health as best as I can.  I have two parents who died fairly young - my father died of cancer when I was little and my mother had a heart attack two years ago.  So far, I've lost 75lbs, removed soda from my diet for 91 days (and counting!  I almost succumbed this weekend, but decided the feeling of not having it was worth more than the craving), and have been slowly getting back on track with tracking my calories.

What I need to do now is step it up and add exercise back into my routine.  It's about restructuring my time and priorities.  I really want this, but I've realized that I have to put the work in for it to actually pay off.  That means, setting aside an hour at least four days a week for working out.  It's worth it.  I just have to get myself motivated.

I wish to find the motivation to push me forward on my continued journey to lose weight and get healthy.  I want to remember to reward the small steps in the right direction (which is why I know exactly how many days I've avoided any soda!) and not be so hard on myself when I fall down.  I need to believe that I can do it and that I deserve to do it.  I wish for my mind to catch up with what my body wants from me.



Happy Wishcasting

It's Wishcasting Wednesday.  It's been a crazy day - work has gotten insane within one week - and I'm exhausted, but I wanted to make sure to do my weekly wishcasting.  I'll state ahead of time to all my fellow wishcasters:  as you wish for yourself, so I truly wish for you also.  I'll try to read each post individually, but it probably won't be until tomorrow - just an extra day of good vibes coming your way.

Today Jamie asks:

What dreams are you wishing for?

I'm wishing to find time to write more.  To stop feeling guilty when I choose time alone to write over hanging out with people - my friends and family understand, but I still feel like I'm being horrible if I want to write.  I want to stop censoring myself before I even begin out of fear of it not being good enough.  I wish to simply free myself to write, whatever comes to mind, simply let it flow and make the time for it.

Is This How the World Ends?

This is my first week participating in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges.  I challenged Wendryn and my challenge - the day you became unable to read or write - came from Katri.  The prompt was hard and interesting at the same time and it forced me to go outside my comfort zone. 

---

Nothing like this had ever happened before, at least not in any history that had been recorded. Maybe eons ago, a tribe of people woke up and their drawings on cave walls looked like gibberish, but as far as the world was concerned, this anomaly was never-seen-before-obviously-the-end-of-times-or-probably-just-dumb-luck. It wasn’t every day that the collective human race woke up one morning unable to read or write. Didn’t matter the language or your how smart you were – reading and writing was like advanced Physics for a liberal arts major.


“They’re saying it’s got to be a solar flare and everything should be fine in forty-eight hours,” one friend offered.

“I heard it’s permanent,” another said.

“Do you think we’ll forget how to talk next?” someone asked.

No one had a clue what was happening. The world was suddenly thrown into the type of chaos that was never accounted for in those History Channel apocalypse specials. It seemed that our teachers were right all those years they harped on us about learning how to read and write – it was important. After all, if you couldn’t read that “dead end” sign as you barreled down the road, you were screwed.

I flipped through the various television stations, intermittently stopping on the latest “breaking news” broadcast regarding “the Illiteracy Plague” running amuck around the world. It seemed the general consensus at the moment was that no one had any idea what was happening. Scientists couldn’t figure out a reason why an entire species would randomly wake up like this and they offered up hypotheses that ranged from massive-spread strokes to alien weapon. I couldn’t really blame them for the ridiculous. None of this made sense.

Last night I had been able to read. Last night, I had written in my journal before turning off the light and going to sleep. Routine acts that I took for granted until this morning when I couldn’t do either of those things. I tried. I ignored what my roommate told me and the news was broadcasting. I thought that I would be different. I was always the class bookworm and, after years of being used as derogatory term, it made me special.  It meant that I was immune.

Except I wasn't.  I was yet another victim of the Illiteracy Plague.  I opened one of my favorite books and while I remembered the sentences, the words were unfamiliar. I couldn’t pick out words or sound them out and the pages jumbled together in a big mess of ink. I tried to write down a thought as it flittered through my head, but as much as I tried, a wall had gone up in my brain that I couldn’t get around. I knew what I wanted to say, remembered being able to do it, but had no idea how to get it back. I wanted my abilities back. I wondered if this was how some people lived every day and felt guilty for the assumptions I made about these people I didn’t know. I panicked and tried to bargain with God – just let me be able to read again and I’ll go to church every week. I became angry that no one seemed to know why this was happening or for how long and then it faded away to a dull sort of indifference.

I stared at the bookcases lining the walls and pictured never being able to read the words again or to get lost in imaginary worlds and cheer on fictional characters. It probably wouldn’t be the end of the world – despite how much we whine, we’re a pretty tough species – and humans would adapt, but things would always feel inadequate. I clung to the hope that it was temporary as some people were suggesting as I made mental lists of how much would change. How would I do my job? How would things get done? How would I learn new things? How, how, how?

This new world, temporary or not, was foreign and terrifying. I grieved for the comfort of what I knew as I turned the television off and shut my eyes. It will be okay. Everything will be okay. Life will be okay.

Except I wasn’t sure I believed that. Not yet, anyway.

time for another wishcast...

This morning I found out that my co-worker has to go out immediately on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy so the temporary assistant game begins sooner than expected (she wasn't planning to come back after she has her baby).  I'll miss her at the office, but as I told her this morning when I talked to her, the most important thing is her and her baby and not to even worry about this place.

I'm mentally preparing myself for the game of hope-they-like-this-one-maybe-hire-that-one that goes on.  I've been through this twice before and it always takes my boss about a year (yes, a flipping year) to hire someone and it's not fair to me or the new hire (as I'm so drained by the time the person is hired, I'm not able to train her/him as well as I should).  Here's to hoping for a quick turnaround. 

Bright side:  it's wishcasting wednesday and I get to share my dreams and wishes with all of my lovelies!

Today Jamie asks:

What do you wish to take a stand for?

courtesy of We Heart It

I feel like it's horribly self-involved to immediately think of myself.   I already stand up for causes I hold dear - women's issues, environment, gay rights - and try to stay involved as much as possible.  that is a part of how I was raised.  Civics and standing up for what you believe and doing something about it have been ingrained in me since I was little.  Championing causes and volunteering and trying to better my community and world were things both my parents did and I followed their examples.  I'm sure there is always room for improvement on my part - volunteer more!  live a greener life! - but I think I've got this area of things going well.

Taking a stand for myself?  Doing things that will make me better?  Removing people from my life that our toxic?  I'm not good at standing up for myself.  Instead, it's like I wear a neon flashing sign "doormat!"  I wish to work on that.  I wish to stand up to my own inner gremlin voices that tell me I don't deserve good things or all the ways I'm horrible.  I wish to stand up to people who treat me poorly as I don't deserve it.  I wish to stop avoiding doing things that could move me to a better future and version of me because of hurtful words from other people and some silly notion that it's selfish.

After all, how can I help make the world a better place when I'm living in a pit of despair of my own making?

(I'll be making the rounds and try to get to as many blogs as possible today, but just know:  as you wish for yourselves, so I truly wish for all of you!)

celebrations and new goals...

I have not had a drop of soda in seventy-six days.  76!  That's huge for me.  I had such a terrible addiction to Coke and Cherry 7-Up.  It was insane and unhealthy and there was no real reason for it because I'm one of those people who actually likes water.  But I'm like a  junkie in need of a fix with soda - moderation doesn't work.  I had managed to give up soda for six months at one point, until one day I thought, "it's been long enough, a small diet coke won't hurt me."  It was like a deluge opened and I would have excuse after excuse for not stopping again.  It's a weird addiction to have, but I'm learning that the reasons I want soda are muddled in a mess of things and it's best to avoid it if I can. 

76 days!

I want to take this victory and use it to go into other areas of my life.  It's all about small steps, making small changes, and it's also all about making sure I'm proud of my accomplishments. 

---

In other news, I am using the WordPress journal I set up awhile ago to join in on a writing adventure with a great group.  It's the Serpentine Road and I know it will be great for unleashing my creativity.  I'm so focused on numbers lately that it's causing me to freeze up.  And it makes me dread writing - I hate feeling like that.  I'm also hoping to do more random writing in this blog as well.  I'm not sure where my block is coming from - life, fear, me - but I'm ready to plow through it.

knowledge is power

Happy Wishcasting Wednesday!  It's been a busy week and I had a tough therapy session last week (I know this is good in the long run, but I walk out just exhausted in every way).

This week Jamie asks:

What do you wish to know?

courtesy of we heart it

I wish to know myself better.  The past few years have been a journey filled with ups and downs and random zig-zags.  I've felt victorious and strong and a few minutes later completely annhilated.  I've started the process of getting to know myself with therapy, something I probably should have done long ago, but didn't know how to go about while my mother was alive.  My family was Irish Catholic, filled with drinking and repressing pain away, definitely not talking about it.  And happiness?  Well, if you were lucky, but not guaranteed without a lot of suffering. 

Of course, the emotions and questions never went away, just festered...and I'm full of old memories and bad feelings and emotions I was never brave enough, or capable of dealing with before the past few years.

I've learned a lot about myself already.  I've begun to realize that I was the child in a situation without a parent who was rational or capable of being what I needed.  Now, I just want to get to know this person that other people seem to think I am - someone who is smart, funny, and kind.  I never see that in myself.  I want to be able to truly know what I'm feeling and why I'm making the choices I am...I want to stop sabotaging myself out of fear of knowing who I am.