Saturday, December 24, 2011

HUNGRY

He waited until it was clearly passed dark to walk through the neighborhood.  The houses were large, extravagant and sad.   The police had yet to chase him out, but he knew they would drive up on him any moment and cart him off to jail.
The police only protected the families with money, the families who could afford the fancy houses and the new shiny vehicles.  The money made them arrogant and stingy.  The money made them evil people. He had not met any of them, but he knew.  They had money, they were evil.

He knew this.  Not only because of the opulence they spewed, but because no one with that kind of income had any idea what it was like to starve.  They didn't know humanity like he did.
This night one of the evil woman came out to put a letter in the mail box.   He was curious how she would react at his disheveled appearance, his dirty face, and his stink.
Madaline Stine was not an easily frightened kind.  When he walked up to her she merrily smiled and said, "Hello."


He sneered, and tried to smile.  The woman stopped before she turned to walk away.  "I went to school with you."   She started to approach him, and he backed away as if her touch would be poisonous.
"You're David Dartmoth."   She looked offended to him.   She looked as if she had just smelled his odor and was ready to gag... At least to David she did.

Madaline stopped smiling, "I'm sorry David, is there anything I can do?"   She tried to seem polite and apologetic.  She tried to seem kind, but he knew she was evil.   Even in high school she was one of them.  And she always tried to seem nice in school too.
David turned, spit, and walked away.   She might call the police, and he started to run. 

The next night as David approached to garbage can to Madaline's house he found a recycling bin next to it looking empty.   He mumbled to himself, "they don't care about the planet, they just want to look responsible."   He kicked the tub and out of it tumbled three unopened bottles of water, a full pump bottle of soap, and three Tupperware dishes full of delicious looking food.
He wanted to scream.   These people just throw stuff away, and think it's ok because it's a recycling bin.  Why would they do that!  Why would they waste so much when there were so many hungry and desperate people!   They all deserved a horrible death.  They deserved to have all of their fortune torn from their hands!
David shoved the things into his torn ripped back pack and ran off to find a good place to wash up and eat. It was December and the air was cold with a filling imminence of snow.   

When David began to eat after washing his face and cleaning up his privates, which were in terrible need of it, he almost thought the roasted potatoes and creamy beef were recently cooked.
 He hit up a different neighborhood the next week, finding nothing nearly as spectacularly wasteful as what
Madaline had thrown away.
He went back, and went to her house first.   In the bin were fresh fruits,  a nail trimming kit, a huge pack of socks, and baby wipes.   He pulled out the lighter he had found two nights before.   It would be easy to start the garage on fire.  It would be easy to show them how their things did not make their life any better then his.  He could smash their windows, and poop on their front porch.....   The apple was so sweet and juicy.  It crunched in his teeth and melted between his teeth.
 " Maybe tomorrow night," he thought.  He left to find a shelter from the bitter wind.

Christmas lights had gone up on all the houses.   Madaline's twinkled and glowed plainly next to the house whose lights lit up the entire street. 
He walked up to the bin, shivering but enjoying the three pair of socks keeping the holes in his moccasins from biting his toes.    There was a blanket, a hat, gloves, and huge Tupperware with an enormous amount of turkey, stuffing and cranberry pudding.  There was a discarded present with bow and card laying under the food.
Madaline watched from the garage window.   When she seen him put all the things in his bag, she decided to walk out and talk.

David froze.  He was in the middle of zipping up his bag.   She just walked toward him.  This evil thing that had thrown all this away, this thing that lived with so much, and taunted him with the amount she could toss into a landfill where only crows could feast.

 He waited for her to approach....  Before she could speak he grabbed her neck.   She struggled and flailed.  "Why do you do this!"  David whispered harshly into her ear.   "You're wasteful and awful!" 
He could not hear over the gargling in her throat.  Her body went suddenly limp as he shook her.  He dropped the body, grabbed up the present and ran.   He ran for a long time. 
Snow started to fall, his stomach growled and his back pack became so heavy.
David found a good tree to sit under.  He laid the blanket over the cold ground.
David ate, he washed his face with the last bit of soap and went to rip the present open.  She was evil, they all were, and he should kill them all.  It would be a service to the world.
He started to tare the corner and noticed the card.
Inside it read, "to David,   feel free to come in for dinner or a shower, or whatever you need.  Madaline."
David tossed it aside and ran.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Emotional day

Today was tough.  My kid had to go under anestisia to get his dental work done....Gonna cost me a boatload, but he has 4 shiny metal teeth to chew with, and all his fillings done.  He probably won't remember any of it, so I'm thinking it was harder on me and his grandma.  He whimpered so much trying to wake up, and trust me trying to hold on to a 63lb 4 foot tall , 4 year old while he tries to rip out the I.V. is not easy.   He slept for a good hour too while I tried to hold him on my lap.  
He will be brushing his teeth at least 3 times a day from now on, and I'm going to get his fluoride vitamin drops next week. 
   Anyhoo, then I start watching another stupid love movie and of course I get mad.   All of these romatic movies star a beautiful woman, mostly thin georgeous women.  And even if they try and ugly someone up for a movie, they are still a too flawless to be in the catagory of 'normal'.  
   It's very depressing.  Come on.... beauty is part of nature's little trick to keep genetics strong, and like it or not the human race is still governed by nature.  We may aspire to be less judgemental of looks, and more of character, but it's instinct.   The decent guy, nice and without serious flaws, even with the best of heart, is going to be attracted to the more beautiful girl before the invisible one. 
   So there's the rub.   Besides the fact that most indecent, corrupt guys goes for the invisible girl because she's easier to manipulate and abuse, we get screwed out of the good guys, because they are attracted to the pretty ones.   Now I know that there are confident girls who are (for lack of a better word) ugly or invisible.  But they are rare, and the pretty ones already have a head start because they are treated as pretty from the start. That is how the world works.
  The other option is to be slutty to get a guy, and lets face it.... it works for most guys.  The little brain has more power then the big one for most.   And more then the heart from some I've met. And those are not the kind of guys you want girls.  Not the best kind to spend a life with.  

Short story-Romantic movies only work for the beautiful.    Even beauty and the beast has a pretty female in the lead role.   Doesn't matter how ugly the dude, the girl better be pretty.   And if she ain't pretty they are mighty slim pickings because all the decent men have been snatched up by the beautiful, the slutty, or the prolific confident ones (or for that matter a combination of prolific beauties who don't mind humping a wall to get a man).   


This is why romatic movies are dumb and depressing.   Really?  why not trying to make a romance about a blind man falling in love with the woman who isn't flawless or chocked full of good bits to make up for the bad job the make-up artists do trying to make her ugly.   

Another idea....  Jackie Chan trains me like in Karate Kid, and we fall madly in love and get married.   Eh....Hollywood won't listen to me, but I can dream.

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Lonely--part 2

Apparently I lost the other part 2  so here it goes.

Nattalie grabbed the phone ready for yet another person to identify their self as one of her kind, but instead heard the barely English dialect of a telemarketer.  "We would like to offer you a..."
Nattalie hung up.
    After unpacking some more of her clothes in the upstairs master bedroom, and finishing off a jar of peanut butter, Nattalie checked the time and headed over to Aunt Bee's to see if there was a bed in her garage.  It would be nice to sleep in a bed again. 
    Before her feet touched the first crooked step of the large front porch,  Aunt Bee opened the front door, the same radiant smile sending waves of wrinkles out along her cheeks.   Nattalie felt warmer just being in her presence.   They walked into the living room and straight through to the kitchen.  The house had an almost identical layout, but was filled with glass, plastic and wooden carvings of panda bears.  There was bamboo wallpaper, a Panda adorned fireplace,  a Kamono decorated with the fluffly black and white bears framed above the dining table.   The stairs were on the opposite side of the front door, but for that and the Pandas, the house was identical on the inside. 
    Bee pointed at the large plate of no-bake chocolate cookies on the counter.  "Feel free to gobble those up, It must be expensive to fill that belly."   Nattalie couldn't possibly feel any more at home.
      The chocolate oats melted in her mouth.  Before she could take a drink of the black tea sitting next to the empty plate, Bee started laughing.  "It sure is nice having someone around to share my world with."
    Nattalie nodded gulping the hot tea.   "Even my parents never really knew."   Bee motioned for the chairs, like a therapist sitting a client down for a talk.    Sensing the discomfort in Nattalie upon this thought, Bee waggad an old bent finger at her.  "Now, don't you think of this like that, I have just as much to share.  I haven't had but one other person in my life that has ever even heard me whisper at my circumstance, and he died a very long time ago bearing my secret."
     Nattalie felt ashamed of herself.  How could she be so selfish, this woman must have been through some of the same hell, if not more so.   "Was he your husband Bee?"
     Bee nodded sadly and pointed to the panda frame holding his picture.   Bee could sense the next question.  "The panda's serve me in a couple of ways."   She pulled out a charm on a delicate golden chain that sat in the pocket of her dress.  "They remind me that being a singular creature is beautiful,  and most importantly...."   She motioned to the decorations all over the house.  "Who would think this crazy old panda lover was really a mind reader!"
   Nattalie realized what the old woman had done.... Lived all these years with her secret, in one place with one life.   How she wished she could find a way. 
   "You will dear."   Aunt Bee patted her hand.  "Now let me see how I can help."  She threaded her old fingers into Nattalies.  "Don't squeeze honey, you'll break me instantly." 
  Nattalie did her best to keep her hand stone and still.     She could almost feel a tickle running through the hairs on her knuckles, and then an itching up her wrist.    "It won't take long dear, hold your hand still."
  
  Nattalie felt the itch turn into a cold shutter running down her back.  She wondered if Bee knew how this felt to the people she read.    It wasn't unpleasant, but for Nattalie pain was a whole different set of functions that had to be stimulated in horrific ways in order to respond. 
   Bee let go and slipped her fingers out.  "You are one fine panda."    She frowned a bit, and put her hand on the table as if it needed to rest.   "The first time I tried to read someone, I almost killed that old farmer."  Bee pointed to her tea cup with her other hand,  "Could you get me some more?"
   Nattalie picked up the dainty china very carefully and carried it into the tea pot on the stove.  "Bee," she paused realizing she had picked up the burning hot teapot without a mitt.  "Aunt Bee, do you think you can see a way to help me?"
   Bee yawned sleepily.  "I need some time to think on it dear one, but I have a few good ideas."  Bee yawned again.  She mummbled, "it took so much out of me Barty..."    Before Nattalie could tie the tea bag onto the handle of the cup, Bee was asleep at the table.     
   As carefully as she could, Nattalie picked the frail body up and carried her over to the large black and white sofa.  Bee shivered slightly when she backed away.   The large green fleece on the chair covered the tiny body nicely and Nattalie let herself out the back door. 

      

time to write

I am going to work on my strong girl story, haven't really come up with a name yet.   So check it out, leave me comments, I love comments.   ( Lonely--part 1 ) Bad or good, at least it is a response.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

amnesia

I edited the first two parts of Rollalong Hill, Just wanted to stick that in rate away, seeing as how most of my website hits were from that story for some reason.
Ok, so I asked a friend once, if he knew what it was like to look around , just for a split second, and have absolutely no idea where he was, who he was, or what anything was around him.... His answer made it sound like a ludicrous question.
 Am I so odd that this never happens to other people?   Even for a tiny second, do other people once in a while lose all connection to the world around them?
Sure it might be something serious, (my hypocondriact mind tells me), but then again I have this feeling it's normal for a lot of people.  I think maybe it's just not worth mentioning, or happens so briefly it doesn't occur to matter. 
Anyhooo.... 72 hours without a cigarette.... still battling with my head about it.  My mind says, "just have one, you don't get to decide how life's going to kill you anyways"  the the other part of me says, "it stinks, it's shortening your life, and your kid will always be happy you quit."     
   Up to bed.   Must get some sleep before the early bird starts yelling "Breakfast!  Breakfast mommy?"

Monday, August 1, 2011

sheww

Ok so rollalong hill part 2 wasn't nearly as bad as part 1.   I must not have tried to edit the first one.  Hopefully the other parts go this well because I have to go to bed!!!   Stupid time.... always putting restrictions on my ability to accomplish things.  Stupid sleep too.  If I could survive a day with less sleep I'd be happier. As it is the normal 7 hours isn't enough.

All well.  Really really time for bed.

poooo

I'm finally working on rollalong hill... Damn my grammar sucks.   But I suppose a lot of writers do stream of thought stuff, and then have to edit it a lot... otherwise why does it take years to finish a book? 
On the homefront, my paperwork finally came through and I have sole custody of my son. He starts school soon, and I know he'll grow mentally in leaps and bounds with the right stimulation.   Perhaps that's why teachers actually go to college to learn how to teach, I'm glad my kid's got a teacher with a masters.  Good luck! 
Na, my kids easy, as soon as he figure's out communication I better start saving up for Harvard... and if not Harvard, well any college because he is not getting stuck in a factory working himself to the bone for nothing. 

Anyhoo.... let me see if I can get this part 2 of rollalong edited.

Saturday, July 16, 2011

famous blogs?

 I get it. I do.  Wait in the Van, is one of my favorite blogs.  how do these people become famous?  I guess I just don't know how to appeal to a mass amount of people.   So goes it for those of us who are odd.  I'm not talking emo, or goth odd which seems popular these days.  (If I would have had freedom as a kid I totally would have been a goth).  Anyhoo, drinking and blogging don't mix.   So to keep things safe, I'm going to throw random things out there and hope too much doesn't stick.

As for SSA, I've thought about sending partial payments in, but who's to say they don't seize my bank account and then I end up one of those forclosure people who lose everything because the government has my account.  A debt I may add that is less then my student loans, but has none of the legal restrictions that keeps it from ruining your life.

As for my short stories,  I never get the time to edit them and I've hashed the flaws over and over, and just can't seem to get time to fix rollalong hill.

As for graceful, I definately am more graceful with a few drinks in me.  I thought it might just be beer brain working, but I honestly put a pair of yoga pants on without almost falling.  That's graceful for me sober, so ya somehow alcohol makes putting pants on easier.  Is that some sort of brain disorder?

Speaking of brain disorders, I've been researching narcolepsy and sleep disorders on the internet, and it looks like I have classic and common signs of a sleep disorder which causes you to hit REM sleep way too fast and too easilly.   I'm wondering if it would be worth it to have it documented so that my tardys at work can be dismissed before I hit the write up limit.

Swear to goodness I wake up to the alarm and want to lay back down to finish out the dream so badly logic doesn't sit in until it's too late and I have to rush out of the house to make it to work. And I really do hit dream state as soon as I lay back down, so hitting snooze does make sense in that wierd half awake state.

Ok,  I'm running out of stuff..... I think I want to lay down and enjoy the nothingness beer brain that is encapsulating me at the moment.   It's nice not to have your brain wired and firing when you want to go to sleep.  

Got my kid a Phineas and Ferb backpack today.   He wanted to carry my purse around the store, and so buying him his backpack for school was an excellent way to divert him from the purse, and get school supplies too!

Being a single mom is hard.... Being a single mom who really is responsible for everything is harder.  Don't cry to me if you have an estranged spouse that takes your kid every other weekend.  Don't cry to me if you have grandparents that can take your kid for some days to visit, and certainly don't cry to me if you have an ex that actually trys to pay child support.  No matter how people will try to say, "oh but the mothers don't spend it on the kids",  they don't understand that every bit of money going into food, electricity, housing, daycare, cloths, medical affairs..... has to come from somewhere.   My kid isn't living like he's poor, cause mama doesn't need a brand new pair of jeans, she can get them from goodwill.  

Anyhoo!  this is why people shouldn't blog when they drink.  Always a bad idea.  Always.  Too bad I don't care at the moment.   WOOHOO!  Time to find out what that giant mushroom house has for rooms.  Me and Richard were in it the other morning when I was late for work, And I just wanted to find out how many rooms it had, and what the walls taste like....  Such is the dream world, and glad to be a part of it.  Here I go!  NIGH-night.   Sad thing is this is probably more interesting then my other blogs, but I really don't drink so it probably won't happen again soon.   Just saying, don't want to get the reader's hopes up.
Goodnight all!!!

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

bedtime

I don't have much time tonight, just wanted to share a few thoughts.

I was looking in these mail order catalogs today wondering if the people that buy stuff from them ... well if they know how lucky they are that they can pick stuff out of a book that they want and just buy it.

There is a co-worker that puts stars by the things she wants, and I always wonder if she buys the stuff.  Then I wonder what it's like to live with two incomes, and to be able to do stuff like that.   Not that I'm jealous per say, just I wonder if it fills the need?   When I look at catalogs, or even magazines, I think, sure if I ever pay off these debts, I might be able to do something cool like that... redecorate a whole room with indie style wallpaper and clashing bright colors.... Build my wall of drawers.... buy a car.... buy nice new cloths and not just the ones on a walmart sales rack.... but if I could, would it make things better?   Would having those things make me feel richer?  Or maybe just look richer....  I can't deny a debt free life would be awsome because I wouldn't have to worry about bills and could save money so my son wouldn't have to incur things like college loans or credit card debts to sustain himself in college, but since I'm not winning the lotto anytime soon and money has to go toward what it has to go toward.. you know food, shelter, heat, electricity car insurance, monkey treats for the monkey... monkey cloths for the monkey who won't stop growing,  vetrinary bills for my monkey...  I guess making what I have, outshine this materialistic world is the best lesson I could buy my son.

But still.... I just wonder what it feels like to need new pants, and to go to a really nice store and buy the perfect fit.   I wonder what it's like to need your car fixed and take it to a shop to get it fixed... I wonder what it is like to have extra money and not have to feel guilty about spending it on something fun rather then something necessary...I wonder what it's like for people that just fix thier kitchen, or put new floors in, what's it like to walk into a store, pick something you like and just buy it, no guilt, no trepedation, no fear that your doing something bad. I wonder what its like to have more.   Some day.  But for now, I'm good and if I didn't want more, I wouldn't work so hard to pay the debts.  

All well.  Time for bed.  Work work work...  at least I get to say I save the world for a living. 

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

this too shall pass

So the blues have passed yet again.  A three day weekend really helped push it along.  Sometimes the depression is like a really persistant bill collector.  It threatens to tear you down, destroy you lively hood, and you hang up but it keeps calling back.   Sometimes if you hang up enough on them it doesn't get rid of them. But then it disappears for a while.   Some bills are harder to pay off then others. But it seems this one is satisfied for now.  
Still working, still taking care of my child, still hating love stories. I'm not destined for it.   All I see is chemical connections firing and rewiring what should be simple lust.   People don't stay in love.  They don't live happily ever after, and I'm not going to find the person who's willing to put up with me forever.  >;P
So onward and upward.  Someday I'll accomplish something really cool.  Don't hold your breath.  I am easily distracted.  And just as selfish as every other human on this planet.

Monday, May 23, 2011

sheepishly sheep

bah.


The bad days are getting far and few between.   Some are harder then others for sure.  Days like today I'm asking myself, why did I come back to sanity again?  Besides the stress of trying to be financially responsible, work and all that jazz, the world can now damage me.   I can't remember much about those years, but I know that the world couldn't hurt me without my consent, or at least it seemed like it.  I did the damage and the world couldn't stop me.   It ( the world )  couldn't hurt me more then I hurt myself.  Now all that self destruction haunts me.  Failed relationships, debts, a closet of long sleeve shirts to keep away those who would instantly judge me.
My son definately grounds me, but that isn't his job.  He's not responsible for wether or not I'm a good mom.  More stress.   I know the day will fade away when I wake up for work, and I'll feel better soon.  I was just thinking that there might be others out there that feel the same way, struggle with the same things. Perhaps this is perfectly normal.
I was denied being a placement home for my cousin's baby because of my 'mental health history'.  And she had to throw in 'criminal history'.  A DUI when I was 17-18.   I understand they were trying to good by the little guy, but damn that's a harsh blow.   Couldn't they have denied me based on finances, or lack of space or time?  On paper they made me look like a complete loser.  The world strikes again.

On top of this, parenthood on certain days is extremely harder then I thought it was going to be.  I'm still waiting for the school to call back so my son can be placed in a 'special ed' preschool.  I was really hoping they could give me some answers.   He's an amazing kid, but there are days he is defiant every step of the way.  God bless his strong willed little heart, but I was not expecting so much defiance so early in his life. What am I doing wrong?  How do I fix it?  The world strikes again.

I come home, I try to do right by my son, but I'm exhausted mentally and sometimes physically.  Which isn't too bad, until I have a hard day.   I want to go do something, get away from it for just a little bit, but then the guilt kicks in.   Maybe my son is so defiant because he can sense I'm fustrated.  Maybe I need to just stop being fustrated and tierd for him.  But how?  If I leave to do something, am I damaging him by going to the store by myself?  Or going out for a walk?  Will he think I'm abandoning him if I go away too much? 
So I don't.  I struggle through, because that's what I'm supposed to do.

I just wish there was a way to google it and find the answers I need.   And he's out of bed again.  I got 20 minutes to myself, and now I have to go to sleep so I can go to work and not fall asleep on the forklift.  That's always a bad thing.   Battery is going dead.....  The world strikes again. 
God takes care of his sparrows.  Could I get a lift?     Tomorrow will be better.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

who knows

I got a hold of SSA.  Twice.  The first lady put me on hold for 5 minutes after I lost my temper and said, "how the hell am I supposed to pay it then?"  When she says "your not on benefits anymore we can't set up a payment plan."  The second lady was nicer, but I could still feel her hatred through the tone in her voice.  Maybe it's paranoia, but every time I encounter one of these people I get the distinct feeling they want nothing to do with me and want me gone as soon as possible.   Anyways.  They have informed me I will be on a payment plan for 20$ a month.  Wether or not that actually happens is still to be seen.  If I get the bill in the mail, then hurray.  If I don't, then I'll have to go down to the SSA office and try again.   Like I said, they can do whatever they want, and I just don't trust them to do as they say anymore.  Hopefully the last lady I talked to was being honest and not feeding me bullshit.

It would help if I controlled my emotions. How the hell did the words get into italics?
Something about getting involved in the system (disability, or mental health) just gets me into a panic mode.
Hopefully this is all said and done, I can make my payments and have nothing more to do with it. 
Anyhoo...  I'll have to work on my strong lady story again soon.   I'm figuring the old lady has to die at some point, but I haven't figured out if she's going to be a good guy or a bad guy in the story.  I mean the story is called 'loneliness' after all.
And does anyone know how to get the key search words for the blog to change?  or is that something you can't change?

Sunday, May 15, 2011

anonymous

I'm thinking I will create a blog were people can leave comments anonymously.  They can just post there innate, intimate, paranoid, freakish or just oridinary thoughts for someone to see.   Sometimes that's all we desire as a human is to think someones listening, and I wouldn't mind having something like that.  Maybe. Just thinking it would be a nice idea.

stupid love stories.

enough said.
Really, that's all I have to say about it.
It's fake, except if your a beautiful person, meeting beautiful people.
But, like I said.  That's all I want to say on the subject.

Friday, May 6, 2011

lonely--part 1

When the fire department failed to determine the identity of the remains found in the Highbrook neighborhood blaze, Nattalie knew that she was finally free.

Her extreme strength had caused tremendous amounts of trouble for her, and on that night, it actually served a purpose.  She stormed through the brick walls, flames burning her flesh and her lungs,  to reach the young boy that was trapped in his room.   She left him in sight of the firemen before she ran choking back through the alleyway to get through her basement door and into safety.  Nattalie knew she couldn't go running to the emergency room without having to explain the burns. Her immediate hope was that this was one of those exceptional times her body decided to heal beyond the human condition.   Most of the burns damaged the skin into numbness, but as fate liked to congeal all her good things into a mass of bad. The largest patches of melted flesh were wrentching with every twitch, every movement, every breath and sigh. 

Luckily her body only suffered long enough for her to nearly die of hunger and thirst.  She had tiny bits of sleep and no ibuprophen left by the second day.  She flopped between trying desperately to sit in her large recliner without moving, and screaming in frustrated pain.   As soon as she could see in her reflection no sign of serious injury,  Nattalie started to pack all of her essential items.  Silently she disappeared. After seeing the report that a mysterious woman had broken through the wall of a house to save an unidentified male child, she knew that there was no way to salvage her situation safely.

If no one knew about her, and her ability to defy physics and gravity itself, she was not threatened.  Her lonely pathetic life was intact.  Sad, but intact.  
In Michigan, there were plenty of places to rent with her meager savings she had stowed away. In Ohio a neighbor had seen her pick up the back of the car to reach the dropped chap stick.  In New York, a man had tried to mug an old beggar, and she had accidently thrown the scum a little too far.   In North Carolina a tree swept into a small flood plain and had to be held at bay while a boat full of rescue workers struggled to cross to a small presipice.  Each time her identity had remained a mystery, and hopefully her stories would never be linked, and no one would ever really try and find out who she was.  Otherwise her passport would be the next step.

The girl who had died in the fire was remembered silently by her family,  and her new home established in a county 120 miles away.  She rented a home close to a cemetary, and started to look for new work. 

Nattalie found the historic house charming and gigantic.  Although it didn't have much of a yard, about 3 feet of grass to be more accurate, the price was right.  Crime in the area kept anyone but the desparate or the insanely stubborn from staying there too long.   She liked that the windows all came with full thick, dark drapes.  She didn't have to worry about moving around the furniture.  She didn't have to worry about too many people seeing her or trying to become friends.  The less other's knew of her, the easier it was to disappear.

Now she had thought of becoming a vigilante,  most times her strength had done a great amount of good for others, but she knew that with technology the way it was, she would be identified sooner or later and her random acts became nationalized.  She just wanted to be a person and constantly wondered how it was the general population lived.
************************************************************************
   She managed to get a volunteer shift at the Cemetary doing lawn work in the first week.  She had yet to find a job, and with her recent escape from fame on the other side of the state she had hoped a temp agency would not be necessary.  Temp agencies do identity checks, and although she doubted anyone had filed a missing person's on her, it was not a risk she wanted to take until it was completely necessary.   With only 2000 dollars cash left, it would only take 2 months to run through it.
Her typical grocery bill was that of a size four family.  The only side effect she had from the ferocious strength was an appetite to match.  One cupboard was completely devoted to peanut butter.   Another one was full of ground wheat flour.  Her bread machine had saved her life on many occasions, and although the diet could get nauseating, she found that no matter how dull the bread started to taste, it was affordable and nuroushed her needs.
While browsing Craigs list for odd jobs, a knock came from the front door.  She had thought she picked a neighborhood that would ignore her, but fate did like to mess with her idea's of how things work.  Getting up from her cold wood floors, Nattalie walked up to the small windows at the top of the door to look out.  A sprite old woman peered up at her smiling.   Long tendrils of super curly black locks snuck out from around her ears while it looked she attempted to straighten the rest up into a bun.  Silver specked the mass of it and her bright marroon lips showed traces of a long eventful life.
"Hello young lady! I'm Beatrix, but you call me Auntie Bee!"  She had started greeting Nattalie before the door had begun to open.
   "I'm Nattalie."  She had discovered the shorter she could make these little hello's, the faster neighbors would go away.  She began to say, "I really can't take visitors at the moment."  but Auntie Bee poked her head around the corner and walked straight in.
  "I can never understand how these historical houses get so little love."  Bee pointed to the restored Oak banister and rails, "Oh they fixed them... such a shame they rent this out."
Nattalie wanted to feel offended but was finding it hard to resist human contact after running for so long.
   "And don't worry about the mess with all those secrets, Good Ol' Bee has her own and would never tell anyone about you!"
There was a second Nattalie could hear the glass handle on her front door cracking before she cautiously responed.  "I'm sorry I don't understand Ma'am."
   "Oh don't you even try young lady.  You are not the only one who can do 'special' things."  She smiled and set her wrinkled ashy hand on Nattalie's.    Nattalie couldn't help but release it and flop onto the staircase next to her to sit down.
  "You know what I am?"
  Auntie Bee laughed. "You're a human being!"
Nattalie felt dizzy.   Maybe she was dreaming all this.  "oh..."
"You are also like me.  You have a secret that other human beings do not.  I'm thinking your strength is not only in your body, but in that heart you hide from everyone."
  "How?"  Nattalie felt the one sided conversation would end anytime now and she would realize she had never made it out of the fire.  She would wake up out of a coma in some hospital and be told that it's been years and she had been dreaming for the last 15 years of her life.
   "Well, I can connect people to their intentions by looking at them, and usually the story reveals itself when the person has so much hiding inside them that it bursts into me."   Bee looked around the empty house and nodded. " I have some spare furniture in my garage that the old tenant left behind.  You're welcome to come get it tonight if you'd like."   Bee held up her wobbly arms and pointed to her bicep.  "My strength doesn't lay in these old bones, so you'll have to go through the back yards and carry it yourself."

Nattalie just shook her head and began giggling.  "Auntie Bee huh?"   She smiled her first real smile since she had arrived.  "I always assumed I was alone."
  The old woman headed for the door.  "I need to head home for a bit and take a rest Nattalie,  your story has made me very tierd."  Nattalie had yet to speak of anything then being alone.  "I can tell you'll be over to talk soon, so I'll go take a little nap for us."
  Auntie Bee paused long enough in the doorway to point to the small red brick house on the left.   "That's me, so come on over and knock real loud,  but try not to break my door, it's very old. "
Nattalie wanted to ask when but the phone rang from the bare dining room.  Auntie Bee shouted, "See you later!" as she shut the door behind her.


ok, part one looks good, now I need to find part 2 in this mess of entries.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

mean people

Lately I have been quite dumbfounded by mean people.  Although I have caught myself laughing at other peoples expense (initiated by a mean person), I always feel bad about it.  So what is it that makes these people tick? Why is it so important to bash someone else?  Or to criticize what they have no experience to comment on?  There are people who intentionally pick fights so that they can have physical battles, and those who pick emotional battles.  
I don't have an education that would back up any of my theories, but it seems to me that having been human and been a part of the species, that I could make fairly accurate guesses.

First assumption:  Either they're laughing because bully humor makes them nervous, or they are laughing because they think it's genuinely funny that another human being could be so humiliated and degraded at the same time. Or, yet another option, the absurdity of it is just to sadistic to resist.  Like Wiley coyote falling over the cliff and then getting smushed by a bolder and the mountain it fell from. 

Second assumption: People are cruel because it eases their own suffering by giving them someone to target all their anger onto-- Or... they are the kind that gets pleasure from the power they feel by making another being feel terrible.   Notice how bully's and assholes never pick on someone who refuses to give them any reaction or sufficient award for their behavior.  

Third assumption:  Not all mean people are bad people.  Some of them actually deserve pity.  If all they can get pleasure and happiness from is being cruel... can you imagine the loneliness and suffering there is being completely alone?   Some of them were never taught or learned how being kind to others can be just as rewarding.  Or they were taught that kindness leads to terrible consequences... all that psychobabble crap.

Fourth assumption: Mean people are not intelligent enough to figure out a different way to communicate effectively they don't like you in a polite way.  

Fifth assumption:  There is no honor, respect or joy in being mean.  So they must have low self esteem to demean themselves in that way.

Sixth assumption:  If these types have any desire to change, or do things differently they must first admit to the flaws in their actions (which is an extremely difficult task for someone who is addicted to this behavior)  It's not like changing a personal behavior, something that is only involved in self, it's a global behavior that affects how they think and act around everyone in their world.

Eh... I'm exhausting  this idea.  Point is, no matter how they got to be mean people, I'll still never understand how they can stand living in a world where the only interactions are stabs, jabs and pokes at people who had nothing to do with creating who they've become.  

I'll try and find something more fun to talk about next time.  Just wanted to vent that one.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Happy to be here.

There are times in life when you find something that feels completely right, so the good and honest and descent thing to do, that all the hardships comming with that descision are just not an issue.   You know that not doing it would make you feel regret for the rest of your life. The joy I would miss out on.  Not that I haven't thought about all the hard stuff, but the good stuff surpasses it by far.   If only all the major life changing descisions were this easy.   I can't really blog about what it is I'm talking about yet.  I don't want to jinx it.  Soon though.

I look around now and realize, this is my house... I've bought a house.   I have a real job, with benefits.  I have a family.  I get to be the sibling that's helping out.   Seven years ago I was doing everything in my power to destroy my life, and now I have everything I thought I'd never have.  (other then the husband, not to upset about that one.) 
So what's next?  I don't think school is something I want.  Maybe later when it won't be taking away from my quality time with my son.  I really don't like school. And I'm happy with where I am.  My job is like my second home.  There are some members of that work household that make things way harder then they should be. 
"do you really have to sweep the floor with the kabota for three minutes!"  and "Seriously just put that in the hopper!"  But every thing can't be perfect.  And honestly knowing that I can react normally with complete emotional compitency even about the stuff that would make a regular joe walk out the door makes me feel confident that I'm healthy.
  I've thought about thanking Dr. Oriellana with a letter or a card or something, but I just never seem to get to it.  It really helped those years back to have a doctor that actually let me have some power over what meds were being perscribed, and who actually listened and payed attention.  So if anyone is looking for a good psychiatrist in the Grand Rapids area, I highly recommend him.   Now I haven't been on meds in almost 4 years, but the step to getting better was paved by a doctor who cared when I said, "that med makes me feel horrible."  Eh, I'm just dragging on trying to think of things to talk about.    So, off I go.  My life is great, and I'm happy to be here.

Friday, April 1, 2011

pfft

Ok, what shall I write... I've had tons of ideas, but they flitter away as soon as a distraction comes along. 
I was going to write about how .... crap, I forgot already.
It's ok, I suck at this blogging thing anyways.  I had followers for a while, then they disappeared. I have a feeling it was a bad link in some search engine and they were all accidental views.  Sad but true. 
I imagine this blogging works better for people who have something universally entertaining to say, and actually have time to put it online.  There's not much universal for me to say.   Not in a way that makes it worth reading, because there are people out there who can say it better, funnier, smarter then I can. 

Kinda like... poop stinks.  There, now it's universal, but not interesting, cause you all know that.  I've heard of poop not stinking because of some weird enzyme in the bowels, but I'm not going to research it just to have something worth saying.  
I think I've given up on my short stories again for a while.  I could write about recycling.  It's actually what I do for a living, and apparently there are a LOT of people that have no idea how it works.  Maybe I'll try that next time.   For now I'll just say,  call your local recycling plant before you decide to throw something in there that might not be accepted.  Sure they'll throw it away for you if it isn't (arrrg!), but they may just be able to tell you where you CAN recycle it.  And some stuff is actually dangerous to they employees.  Old used needles shoved into a milk jug should NEVER be sent to a recycling plant.  Mecury thermometers either!  And for goodness sakes, if it is filthy dirty and covered in yuck, I don't want to touch it (don't make me!).
Eh, no one will read this anyways... I'm going to go pout while my kid kills overlord for the tenth time in the last ten minutes.

Wednesday, March 16, 2011

I miss my blog!

Oh, and I miss you guys too... too bad none of you leave comments for me...
I was going to write more this morning, but got caught reading my last one and finding a ton of spelling/grammerical errors. 
I'm in my house.  I absolutly love it.  Working hard, too much overtime. 
Oh! and guess what.  My loan was already sold, and you know who bought it!?
The same damn bank I just bought the house from!
All well. 
It's mine now.
I'm a homeowner!
Shit, gotta run.  Still gotta stop and get gas on my way to work.  Don't hate me for neglecting you!

Saturday, February 19, 2011

REO home

So I'm buying a REO home, which basically means it was forclosed on, and the bank owns it.  For those out there with little patience and even less ability to put up with beuracracy...These homes take forever to actually purchase and you have to jump through hoops to get it done.
Now just to be fair, and to give props to the awsome mortgage company I'm using Mario Flores and his crew Robin and Cheryl at VanDyk Mortgage have been amazing helping me and keeping me from freaking out. Believe me there were times I was ready to freak out and run away.  But I truelly loved this house and knew that it was an amazing deal despite it's flaws.  I'm blessed with some good people in my life. 
And my realtor, although at times I doubted him, (mainly because I was totally new to this experience) was also a total rock star making this happen. (Ken Ferrier at port city properties)
On the seller's side, I don't fault the realtor at all.  He did his best with what the bank gave him, which was a lot of red tape and delays.  If I had more money to give I would make sure all these people had a bonus from this sale... But I wouldn't be buying a REO if I had more money either. 
Now the bank on the other hand...  If someone out there is thinking about buying one of these REO properties just know that the bank is not in a rush... They don't hurry, and they go through a LOT of b.s. before they allow anything to go forward.    So just be warned that buying one of these properties can take an excruciating long time.  I guess from what I hear 3 months isn't that long to wait, but when all I was waiting for was paperwork every time there was a delay, it seemed like forever.  And keep in mind that whatever realtor has the property is not at fault for what the bank does or doesn't do. 

I guess I shouldn't bash anything until I sign the paperwork... But they can't squeeze blood out of a turnip, and selling a house they listed for 48,000  they really shouldn't expect to.   But then again... We'll see. I don't sign until tuesday.  Let's hope my uhaul only has to stay rented for 3 days.    

Oh and what I should have said first.  I thank God for all my blessings.  This experience has made me appreciate having a home, wether it be rented or owned, someone else's or my own.  It's something I should have kept in mind this whole process and it would have been a whole lot less stressful.  Thank you for that lesson God, because it almost slipped by me and I wouldn't have learned the most important thing about it all.

Saturday, February 12, 2011

quantity vs. quality

Ok, so I know the mathematical formula has to be out there somewhere, because I've seen first hand that it has to be provable because it's true....
This is what I need, and anyone that can give it to me will be the greatest ever.  I'd do it myself, but my kid pretty much restricts me from doing anything that takes more then 2 minutes of concentration. 
This is what I need...
Proof that pushing quantity in such masses that the human machine is no longer capable of production, will NOT increase productivity but actually reduce it below it's maximum potential.
Kind of like if you put too much crap on a conveyor belt, at some point the belt will actually be damaged, and may even stop because it is unable to carry the weight....  The maximum potential is not only recked, but production is hindered and at some point stopped.

Seems like this would just be common knowledge...  Humans are like biological machines,  Sure there are those rare exceptions that can meet and exceed maximum potential no matter what, but they don't work with me, so they don't count.  Hell those kind probably only make up 1% of the entire American work force.   As I was saying...  It seems like it would be common knowledge, if you shove a days worth of production into a machine to be processed by the humans in the shop, you will not only damage equipment, but hinder productivity and cease to be a componet which is useful.  But I'm just a stupid girl.   
Ok, write in those formulas!  It's got to be out there, and if it isn't... well damn, prove it and get the nobel prize.     Quantity exceeds the max limit of Capable quota, Production is reduced and becomes lesser.   Not sure how to put that in more mathematical terms... give me time.   If you do it before I do.... But if I get time to do it first...
Not that anyone will listen.  If ten people can produce 100  x items at maximum speed of 30a(speed)*15b(item produced per measurement of speed)     And a(speed) is reduced as b(quanity items to be produced) is increased..... then   ya know...  your max gets lower... Now if we have another factor that says  c(human/machine efficiency)   Is reduced as the quantity or speed exceed the limit... so
x= (30a*15b*c)   where c is 100% at highest maximum potential.   and decreases in proportion to a and b...
But I guess what really has to be proved is the statement that human/machine efficiency is reduced as speed and endurance/ability are exceeded beyond normal working ability....

Bah!  Time to put kid (a) in bed (b)  and get some sleep (c).      a+b=c   yea!  Nigh-night beautiful people!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

ya, I'm terrible

Ok, I realize fully that I am not near as exciting as some of the amazing people I've read, (wait in the van) and Peter Struessal (Hatred every day).  But as much as I would like to make walking out to the mailbox interesting, I just can't.

When you've seen a real institutional lunatic walking around in a tin foil hat with his pants dangling at his ankles, it makes it hard to relate having a panicky moment retrieving the mail to being insane.  But I guess ignorance is bliss, and makes for a much more interesting writing.  

The other reason I'm terrible at this... I hate faking it.  And like it or not as human beings it is instilled in us at birth to fake it.  I believe there are individuals out there that are totally authentic, but they are so rare, and so singular that in a sea of those pretending to be authentic, it's impossible to tell who they are.


I try to be authentic, but a lifelong brainwashing by society has pretty much destroyed my chances, that and my low self esteem and lack of confidence.  But ask me to throw something.... Now that I can do.  It's probably just that stupid high school nostalgia, but given the time and practice I know I could throw with Olympians.  Anything else though?   I'm just faking it.   At least when there are other people involved.  Some day when I have no fear of some long lost paperwork held in the mental health system that can bring my life crashing down around me, maybe then I could try just being what I want to. Until then I have a family to take care of and that's more important than any self indulgent splurge in my own desires. 

Ahh parenthood.  Getting the chance to do it right the next time.  Hope I do right by ya kid!  There is nothing more important in this world to me then helping you be the happiest, greatest man on the planet!  And there is nothing I would rather do, because I would be lifeless without you.
I love you more then the moon and the stars
more then the fresh spring grass,
more then the first winter snow
I love you more then the fall leaves crackling and crunching under my naked feet
I love you more then a hot cup of coffee after a cold day at work

I love you more then sleep.
Here's hoping I figure out how to keep my kid authentic, because I have no idea how to do it.
In the box, out of the box, just as long as it's what you want to do kiddo!



Sunday, January 30, 2011

comments

I had the comment filter set on 'bloggers only'  this whole time!!!!   Dang it!!! that's why people couldn't comment.  I'm sorry beautiful people! Please come back and talk to me!

Holmes on homes HGTV for poor people

So I just finished writing the Holmes on Homes website.  I love watching the show, and I admire and respect everything that guy does for his Canadian homeowners.  Why can't we have something like that in America?
Anyways, here is my one gripe, and granted it should no way reflect on how much I LOVE what they do for people.  Perhaps I'm just jealous, but here it is:

Are all the people he helps in the upper class income range? (who else has 50 grand to blow on bad contractors?)

I've just recently been able to get a house loan and through my house hunting have found that here in America or at least in Muskegon county, there are  no houses in my price range that aren't going to need money pored into them.   60 k seems like it could buy a decent house, but only if your going for a tiny one in a high crime zone.   So what do people like me do?   We buy a house, hope it passes appraisal and that we can fix anything that we find once we move in.  What are my other options?  Wait and keep paying exorbitant rent for something that will never be mine...  Sure I'll never have to fix things, but then again there are major issues with the house I'm in and if they decided to kick me out to fix it, they would be well within their rights to do so.

I just wish Holmes could do some episodes to expose what people like me are stuck with too, and not just the people who have money to throw at bad contractors when they already had 300k + to throw at a home.  More power to the wealthy, they've earned it and can spend it how they want, but where do people like me fit into this, "do it right the first time" if we don't have even 59$ to throw at one piece of Sheetrock?


Thursday, January 27, 2011

story idea

Ok, so with my paranoia driving most of my creative thinking, I came up with an idea for a story.   What if my kid is 4 ft tall, 50 lbs, and super strong because they found a way to manipulate the genetics and create a super human?  They decided I would be a good test subject since all they could see on record was my past mental issues and assumed I would lose it again and they could snatch him away easily.  When they realized they wouldn't be able to drive me mad again with thier subversions, they try and steal him away with other alternatives, (haven't thought that far ahead yet)  and blah blah blah.

I think it would make a good story.   The mother fighting for her kid type thing with some of that superhero stuff and conspiracy stuff.    Haven't thought it all the way through yet, but I think it might be fun to write a short story with it.    I mean how far are they really from being able to do genetic manipulation and create "better" humans?  They've already discovered genes that cause super strength, super recovery, and stuff that makes one person able to withstand or do more than another. 

And you guys really have to see my kid to believe it.  Seriously by the growth chart he's the size of the average 6 year old.  I just need to get him a set of wieghts, and he can lift the couch up for me when I vaccuum!




Sunday, January 23, 2011

animal lovers

Ok, So I get that there is a need for charity toward animals.  I get so angry though when I see this ASPCA commercial that depicts dogs and cats in an animal shelter like they are kids....  Once again, I appreciate that animals sometimes deserve or need help, but we have so many kids out there with no homes, abused and neglected, and I see no commercials to help them, or a phone number to give donations to America's kids.                       So why do animals get so much media coverage for help, why is there an ASPCA that helps animals, and yet our CPS is so underfunded, so overrun, and so wrapped up in red tape that children are constantly in the news getting neglected to death?  And those are the only ones we hear about.                                           When will we start caring about the human devastation all around us?  And when did being mean and cruel to another human being become a hobby on the internet?  Who are these anonymous people that go into public forums and bash the easiest target?  Hell, most of them don't even do it anonymously.    I don't think cruelty and bullying is getting less in the schools or in the world.  I think it's just evolved.  

Eh, those are my rants for the night.   And I want to see the next Airbender movie.  I didn't watch that many of the nickelodeon episodes, but I really liked the movie and I want to see the rest of the stories.  It should be against showbiz law to start a trilogy that you don't have the means or ability to finish. (cough cough *golden compass*) 

Hopefully I'll get things settled down soon, got lots of stuff going on, a house, work, lack of energy, and I'll be able to write some more stories, or at least fix up Rollalong hill some more.   I'm still encouraging any feedback-negative or positive to improve it, so write those comments. 






Tuesday, January 4, 2011

New year

I keep meaning to write a new short story, but just can't seem to get some alone time with the computer lately. My kid has officially broken the clickers on the touch/mouse pad.  I think peanut butter just doesn't meld well with computer components.

I got my house, it just has to pass appraisal, and I have to get my taxes done for a down payment, (unless I can pull 2 grand out of my butt in the next 25 days) .  It isn't impossible to just chug away the paychecks, but I would have to neglect some important bills to do it.  I think I'll just wait for taxes.

So I need to go to sleep, but I have this nagging crawly in my head.  It keeps me thinking that I've forgotten to do something very important on the internet.  I think that is how people who are addicted to internet feel all the time.  It's just annoying to me at the moment.  I want to go to sleep, so I think I will go get a tall glass of milk and close my eyes.  


The dog's already asleep.  The kid was rocked to sleep. And the cat has been tossed out.  I've decided not to wait until he wakes me at 3 am to let him out.  The cat can go out now.   Anyone want to adopt him let me know.  I like the cat, he's great, but I just have never been a cat person, and I can't bring myself to take him to a pound.  Cats hardly ever get adopted out and I would feel horrible.  After all he really is a friendly loveable thing, even when he doesn't want something from me.

Eh, time for bed.  Here's hoping that I'll get time to edit 'rollalong hill' some more.  People are reading it, but I know it could be edited to be better.