Moi

Moi

I love the scent or oranges,
impending rain on a spring day,
and fresh baked cookies.
It always brings me back home.

I'm irrational,
sentimental,
and keep cards from my childhood.

I've fallen asleep to "A Warm Place" every night since I was sixteen, and "A Drowning,"
can bring me to my knees at the drop of a hat.

The feeling of rose petals on my lips makes me melt,
but I hide it well,
and I will never admit how bad my heels hurt.

I am uncontrollable,
disagreeable and completely
unpredictable...

and I offer no apologies for any of it.

My DAMN THE MAN!!

Ok... so, 97.5 The Blaze!! Big Rog is currently holding the controls hostage, refusing to play the "Rockin' Hits" management has decided the radio station is going to promote going forward. The DJ's are on board... and Big Rog is going to play whatever the hell he wants. Ya know what I have to say about that?

HELL YEAH!!!

How many people stand up for what they want? Especially against the employer... THE MAN who prints your paychecks? Not many of us do, but you know we all want to! This man, just one person, trying to make his own kind of difference, and it's amazing. Yes, like he said, he's not curing cancer or anything... but I think this moment speaks for itself.

Here is a link to one of the videos

http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=164874046881199&id=149891625052085#!/video/video.php?v=10150093909851410&comments

One by one the other employees are filing in behind him... and the support is amazing! The "Blaze Van" has been altered as well, and is currently driving around to gather your support!

http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=164874046881199&id=149891625052085#!/video/video.php?v=475136059221&comments

Sign the van to support the effort, it's currently driving around the city. Big Rog will let you know where it is!

Here's their FB page:

http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=164874046881199&id=149891625052085#!/pages/975-The-Blaze/149891625052085

Post your support for Big Rog... or go down to the station. I mean, really... whether this is your station or not... You gotta love a man standing up for the right thing.

GO BIG ROG... I'm behind you!

My Holiday Complaint

Twas' the night before Christmas, and all through the house, not a fashionista was stirring.... Really, what it comes down to is that holidays in general... and Christmas especially are so unbelievably tacky! Even the color wheel is completely ignored, (and possibly quite offended) when decorating or dressing festively. Christmas colors, traditionally, are red and green. Can you think of a less visually appeasing color combination? The only time I've seen these two colors in perfect harmony are on Freddy Kreuger's tattered sweater... and just like that color combination, it only belongs in a horror movie.

I'm going to go ahead and glide right passed the obvious problem of "ugly Christmas sweaters'' because I feel that goes without saying and move right onto decor. In recent years there has been an obvious effort on the part of retailers to be a little more classy in that department.... but let's face it; our options are unkempt Santa-Clauses (red suit with white fur trim? ummm... no), colorful snowmen, overdone manger scenes (complete with fake snow), colorful trains and nutcrackers.... before you even get to the tree you are already in SENSORY OVERLOAD.

So, in my Martha Stewartness.... here are a few suggestions to help you avoid turning your home into Santa's workshop from a bad Christmas movie.

1. Stay away from multi-colored string lights. I have seen a few large bulb assortments that look alright on the outside of your house, but for the most part, these just make your home look like an over-seasoned Dorito chip. Not appealing.

2. If you're going to put out Santa figurines/snowmen/angels/nutcrackers, try to choose ones made with fabrics and stylings that are not corny or cheap.

2. STAY AWAY FROM TINSEL....

3. Real trees are amazing, but a pain in the ass. Try a nice pre-lit fake tree if you're not feeling up to getting a real one and get a pine scented candle. Actually, any scented candles that promote the holiday season will feel homey. Scented candles that mimic baked goods are always good for this occasion.

4. A wreath can be nice.... try to stay away from ones with a lot of shiny ornaments on them, or ugly plaid/or other cheap bows.

5. Stay away from fake snow... including on trees. Not only is it a mess, but you're not fooling anyone.

6. The tree. Again, I suggest staying away from multi-colored lights here. Also.... stay away from messy individual ornaments. Pick a theme and stick with it. Usually a good color theme with 2-4 colors is nice. Various shapes are okay, but try to stick with it. Rogue elements will stick out like a sore thumb and always finish it off with a neutral tree skirt.

7. In general, with any decorations you choose, consider the rest of your home, and how this will fit with it. You don't want your house looking uncomfortably ridiculous for an entire month, right?

Anywho... have fun decorating...for the season, try to stay away from tacky!

Downpour

A single drop denoted
as the collective falls from the clouds
to form puddles on the ground
reflecting a starless sky,
appearing to be nothing,
empty...
waiting for what's left unsaid.
To let it out, in a downpour,
flood the streets
crystal rivers or muddy waters-
Remains to be seen
but the question remains...
Can you swim?

Releasssse

Nothing original here. Just thought I would share some of the most amazing lyrics ever written. Enjoy, or turn back here. I find them inspirational and amazing.

Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
By the time I caught up to freedom I was out of breath
Grandma asked me what I'm running for
I guess I'm out for the same thing the sun is sunning for
What mothers birth their youngens for
And some say Jesus coming for
For all I know the earth is spinning slow
Suns at half mast 'cause masses ain't aglow
On bended knee, prostrate before an altered tree
I've made the forest suit me
Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter versus spirit
A metal ladder
A wooden cross
A plastic bottle of water
A mandala encased in glass
A spirit encased in flesh
Sound from shaped hollows
The thickest of mucus released from heightened passion
A man that cries in his sleep
A truth that has gone out of fashion
A mode of expression
A paint splattered wall
A carton of cigarettes
A bouquet of corpses
A dying forest
A nurtured garden
A privatized prison
A candle with a broken wick
A puddle that reflects the sun
A piece of paper with my name on it
I'm surrounded
I surrender
All
All that I am I have been
All I have been has been a long time coming
I am becoming all that I am
The spittle that surrounds the mouth-piece of the flute
Unheard, yet felt
A gathered wetness
A quiet moisture
Sound trapped in a bubble
Released into wind
Wind fellows and land merchants
We are history's detergent
Water soluble, light particles, articles of cleansing breath
Articles amending death
These words are not tools of communication
They are shards of metal
Dropped from eight story windows
They are waterfalls and gas leaks
Aged thoughts rolled in tobacco leaf
The tools of a trade
Barbers barred, barred of barters
Catch phrases and misunderstandings
But they are not what I feel when I am alone
Surrounded by everything and nothing
And there isn't a word or phrase to be caught
A verse to be recited
A man to de-fill my being in those moments
I am blankness, the contained center of an "O"
The pyramidic containment of an "A"
I stand in the middle of all that I have learned
All that I have memorized
All that I've known by heart
Unable to reach any of it
There is no sadness
There is no bliss
It is a forgotten memory
A memorable escape route that only is found by not looking
There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness
But then, who else can speak of thoughtlessness with such confidence
Who else has learned to sling these ancient ideas
like dead rats held by their tails
so as not to infect this newly oiled skin
I can think of nothing heavier than an airplane
I can think of no greater conglomerate of steel and metal
I can think of nothing less likely to fly
There are no wings more weighted
I too have felt a heaviness
The stare of man guessing at my being
Yes I am homeless
A homeless man making offerings to the after-future
Sculpting rubber tree forests out of worn tires and shoe soles
A nation unified in exhale
A cloud of smoke
A native pipe ceremony
All the gathered cigarette butts piled in heaps
Snow covered mountains
Lipsticks smeared and shriveled
Offerings to an afterworld
Tattoo guns and plastic wrappers
Broken zippers and dead eyed dolls
It's all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees
It matters not what this paper be made of
Give me notebooks made of human flesh
Dried on steel hooks and nooses
Make uses of use, uses of us
It's all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
I have seeded a forest of myself
Little books from tall trees
On bended knee
Prostrate before an altered tree
I've made the forest suit me
Tables and chairs
Papers and prayers
Matter vs. spirit

--Saul Williams

My Eternal Disappointment

I am a member of the Mormon Church. I haven't been active, and would honestly declare myself an Athiest by today's standards, but I was baptized and am a member of record with this "religious organization."

As I've grown up, and learned to think on my own, form my own opinions, and learned to tell fact from fiction and opinion... I've decided that this belief structure is not for me. I'm not saying that Mormons are bad, or anything like that... I've met many wonderful people in my life that would identify themselves as Mormon, and are very active in the church. The great people I've met in this organization will forever be held dear to me, and the things they have done for myself and family will never be forgotten.

In the past couple of years I've reached my ultimate breaking point with the higher ranks of this "church." The other day, a very important man attached to this organization said some terribly hurtful things that I just cannot, and will not stand for.... and this coming on the heels of them inserting themselves into governmental procedures of another state? I do not wish to have my name attached to any such organization that would stand for, or support this kind of behavior. They have their right to speech and religion.... I have mine. I really have to say, shame on you. You preach love and understanding, but under that is cruel, misinformed hatred. I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed.

Here is a link to a few blogs and statements reflective of the quotes from this man's hurtful talk:

http://www.hrc.org/14955.htm
Here is a link to an open letter to the church that you can sign:

https://secure3.convio.net/hrc/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=945

So, I will be resigning from the Church of Ladder-day Saints, along with my children as they may be considered to be 'members of record.' I know there are a lot of people equally as upset by this as I am, and feel the same. If you would like to be removed the link below will tell you how to do so, and what to anticipate during the removal process. Not asking anyone do the same of course, but if you are interested, here is a link to the information:

http://www.exmormon.org/remove.htm

My More Serious Note

So, any and all of my friends that read this should know that I am in 100% support of equal rights for all Americans. With that, is equal rights for the Gay and Lesbian community, although some would say otherwise.

The "Don't ask Don't Tell" (DADT) policy, brought into law in 1993 prohibits gay and lesbian individuals from serving openly in the military. If anyone knows that they are gay, they will be discharged from the military, regardless of years of service, stature or what they may have done for our country. This law, is enforced MOSTLY on the basis of gay profiling.... commanding officers have admitted in some cases to searching through emails, personal belongings, and contacting soldier's friends and families based on the assumption that a soldier may be gay or bi-sexual.

This year alone, over 400 gay soldiers have been discharged from the military under this policy, which is COMPLETELY unconstitutional, and (in my opinion) completely immoral and.... let's be honest... just plain FUCKED UP.

This is not to say that I would support and of my friends and family in joining the military, I don't believe in it.... that's another blog all together. However, I am saying that for those that serve to honor our country, and defend our freedom based on what they believe in... deserve the right to do so, regardless of their sexual orientation.

In closing, please call your Senators before Tuesday, and voice your support of repealing the DADT policy. Here in Utah, our Senators are Bob Bennet and Orrin Hatch. I have called BOTH offices and asked that my senators repeal this policy. If you do not know your senator, you can call the national switchboard, and they will transfer you accordingly. In order to do so, you can dial 202-224-3121.


Please support the repeal of this law. Call your Senator. Have a voice. Hate breeds hate. Stop the cycle.

My Loving Husband

I am so lucky to have the most wonderful man to live beside, and fall asleep next to. He is wonderful, understanding, handsome, a loving and WONDERFUL father, and the love of my life. He sent me the cutest little love letter today. I don't want to share the whole thing, but it did include this little quote that I just wanted to share.

If I could reach up and hold a star for every time you've made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand. - Anonymous

I feel the same way babe. LOVE YOU!

Under it All

A pretty package
black leather and lace
tied neatly with a satin bow
contents: fragile

pull the ends gently
peel back the layers
exposing scars
that will never fade

remove the demure lace with care
revealing small red letters;
caution: contents extremely hot
handle with care to avoid burns

Pull the lid back gently
un-bind the tape
pull back the wings
and you will find me.

Yeah, I Dunno Either

Felt the overwhelming compulsion to write, but had nothing to say. Here ya go:

She touches her two fingers to her lips softly. Closing her eyes, she allows them to rest there a moment before pursing her lips laying a gentle kiss on them and pressing them softly against his lips while he slept. Retracting her arms beneath the safe surface, she snuggled into the comforter softly. The cool soft sateen pillow case against her cheek, cradled her softly as she attempted to float into the warm night, un-baited by small white circles contained by a child proof lid.

My Favorite Asshole

So, this is mostly an inside joke that only people from my online war game would understand... but this is one of my closest friends from that game. He tends to say the meanest things at the most perfect moment, or had phrases he would use often as retorts....so I started collecting them. Unfortunately, he has decided to leave the game, and I'm terribly sad, especially because my list must end. So, as a going away gift I thought I would use my favorites with anyone that cares. Enjoy:

Desisms

<23:58>[Des]: just wait ash when ur getting attacked ill make sure we will take our good ole time to help u out then

<1:19>[Des]: for the ones who have the troops and sit back and watch see what happens when we sit back and watch ur city get destroyed

<6:7>[Des]: dont worry ill find ur drink u be the first one out

<15:28>[Des]: well start talking

<2:18>From [Des] : its a challegne to me to be the best and to kill everyone

<23:47>[Des]: ok when you really need food bad im not here

<3:27>[Des]: great then im doing something right then

<23:48>[Des]: lets see what would you do without me ok ill recall and let you guys kill millions of your own scouts then

<21:59>[Des]: haven't you figured that out yet

From [Des] : i need resources and food and what better way then to attack vendetta's that are close to us

[Des]: declare first ask question later

<11:47>[Des]: well better be quick or ill beat you to it

My God Damn, Mother Fucking, Piece of Shit Point

The English language is comprised of about 30,000 words.....give or take a few ;) Now.... most words are considered important for communication, some are rarely if ever used, and some are considered slang... Then you have inappropriate words, and "swear words." What is a swear word? Who decided that out of all the words in the English language, these ones were THE MOST inappropriate? Also, with that....somewhere along the line we managed to draw a line to some swear words that were worse than others.

FUCK... for instance, and all variations of FUCK, seem to have raised themselves to the top of the list of inappropriate ways to express ones thoughts and opinions. Here is a list, of what I see to be swear words in their list, from most inappropriate, on down the line.

FUCK
SHIT
DAMN
ASS
BITCH
and, if taken in vein.... GOD

These...are the main six. There are also words for genitalia that I am going to go ahead and leave out.... because I can understand how calling someone a "dickhead" might be offensive, because it is actually calling someone a penis, lol. Now, of course there are several variations of the above listed four...asshole....shithead... and so on and so forth. All of the variations are also considered bad words.

Some argue that they have some old deep rooted meaning in the dawns of written word that might inspire an adverse reaction to them. If this is the case, then why are the substitutes for these words acceptable? They mean the exact, same thing, and are even meant to mimic these words in common language, and somehow those are acceptable?

FUCK= FRICK, FUDGE
SHIT= CRAP, SHOOT
DAMN= DARN, DANG
ASS= BUTT (aka BUTT HOLE, BUTTHEAD)
BITCH= BRAT
GOD= GOSH

So.... basically we could take the sentence: "My God Damn, Mother Fucking, Piece of Shit Point," and make it completely socially acceptable to the norm by changing around a few things. Let me demonstrate, using the diagram above.... *clears throat* "My Gosh Darn, Mother Frickin', Piece of Crap Point."

Really? Says the same thing..... different words... same meaning. Why is the above sentence taboo, while the following is completely fine? Food for thought. Annoys the fuckin' shit out of me though... ;)

My Adventures into Psychosis

Exhibit C:

So last week I was sent on an....involuntary mental vacation. They kept calling it a vacation, but my idea of a "mental vacation" would include me, in the Marriot... swimsuit in one hand and a mimosa in the other..... not a 2 inch foam mattress, no shampoo, no shoes, in a room with a camera.

Now, the events that led up to this moment are really rather....moot, to say the least... the point is I was stuck in a very small enclosure in which I couldn't smoke, the food was....not even food, and everyone else was ten times crazier than me. Needless to say this was a little bit of an ego stroke realizing I was the most sane person in the room for a change!

Anyway... it was the most productive experience that I hated every single second of. I met some really interesting people, took a break from my stresses and got a much needed fresh perspective on things. I retain the idea that this could have been achieved another way.... i.e. said vacation above. Either way, that cigarette I smoked when I got out was almost symbolic. I FINALLY walked out the locked double doors, ripped the nicotine patch off my shoulder, and threw it to the ground with a vengeance. I lit that cigarette and gently took the first drag. To me... that moment is really a metaphor for what I gained... what I left behind and I have to look forward to.

Quelude You

A fullness now emptied
papers and prayers
scattered to the wind
visible for all to see.

An emptiness is soothed
drowned with official signatures
controlled substances
still visible for all to see.

A soothing face turned to the sun
full of "never were"s
broken hearts
"and all that could have been's

A sun representing a hope
to be filled again
with rights...normality
all my heart should desire

So why then
does this hope
feel like I'm trying to swallow
the fire of a thousand, nay a million
could have, should have, and may have been's...

My Adventures into Psychosis

Exhibit B:

I find myself pondering the possibility of an early-life crisis? I am sitting here at my computer OBSESSING about how I want tattoos and more piercings and ridiculous hair styles.... wanting them more than anything else, like an addict to their crack pipe. What the fuck is this?

My rational mind grips to the idea that this is my natural reaction to the complete overwhelming nature of my responsibilities, but the more I rationalize it I find my angsty side arguing with my rational side.... it's very noisy in my brain at the moment.

I'm pretty much going to get my tats, do my hair and embrace my irresponsible self. She was way more fun anyway ;)

My Adventures into Psychosis

Exhibit A:

So, everyone knows that I am currently in the middle of a full blown nervous breakdown (sorry to disappoint if this is new news to you). I'm in fairly intense therapy and have discovered a multitude of anxiety related disorders in the process. Apparently I'm slightly defective, to say the least.

Now... that being said it seems as though every step I take to feel better, I take two or three giant leaps back.

Today, I woke up a little late, feeling slightly icky (to say the least) so I brewed up a bit of coffee. I drank a couple cups and felt crappy enough I decided to climb back in bed when my little one took a nap.

My dream included all my friends coming over for a fancy BBQ. I realized I needed to go to the store and pick up a few things. To make a long story short I remember the dream as vividly as though I actually lived the moments in my dreams. To make a long story short, I was looking for artichokes in Dan's and had a complete panic attack when I couldn't find them. My quick paced heart woke me instantly, and I am STILL in full panic mode at the moment... reading through my facebook getting pissed off at everyone's status updates, feeling prepared to burst into tears at any moment.... probably doesn't help that I am out of medication....

Nevertheless... this is my awesome venture into insanity for the day. Just want to take a moment to give a big "fuck you" to all those who unknowingly, and unintentionally pissed me off today... for no reason.... ;)

Broken

Broken.
torn and scattered,
between whispers
amongst friends

The good witch and the bad
pulling at an ear
struggling and wincing,
pulling myself away.

ten fingers spelling words
inconsistencies,
Another example of how there
isn't enough glue in the world
to put all the pieces back together

My Very Good Advice

"I give myself very good advice,
But I very seldom follow it,

That explains the trouble that I'm always in,

Be patient, is very good advice,
But the waiting makes me curious,

And I'd love the change,
Should something strange begin,

Well I went along my merry way,
And I never stopped to reason,
I should have know there'd be a price to pay,

Someday...someday,

I give myself very good advice,
But I very seldom follow it,

Will I ever learn to do the things I should?
Will I ever learn to do the things I should?"

-Alice in Wonderland

My "Anywhere but Here"

So, this isn't really very blog worthy...just thought I would share what my perfect day would've been today.

Park City.
Brunch at Squatters.
Stroll down Main street (and paying the banksy and chocolate shop a visit).
Spa, including massage, and getting my hair and nails done (black tips, of course)
Fancy Italian dinner.
biggest effin bubble bath you have EVER seen in a giant jetted tub, "How to Destroy Angels" on repeat
complete with a pitcher of mimosa by my side.

Instead I have the sorest back ever, two screaming kids, ugly pj's
and my hair looks like a freak.

In need of a major mini vacay. Help me God!

Deux

Each breath shorter than the last
followed by empty bellows
lost in the ether.
Your fingers run the length of my spine
and find their way to their home,
deep in the petals,
that mark the difference between you and I.
Moisture on my neck
a hesitation builds inside me
only to release in the moment it should so choose.
My fingers reach and coil
and grasp for flesh to appease
the hunger in all "dix."
My lips separate softly
my furrowed brow
my glistening skin
by candlelight is defined
do you see me now?

My Application for Death

OK....all this death is out of control. I know people die on a daily basis, but people I know personally, and famous people I enjoyed have kinda topped the chart in the last 365. I propose an application for dying. Here is my rough draft.

______________________________________________________

Name:

Age:

Sex:

Immediate family still surviving:




Do you have any chronic conditions leading to death?





Do you plan to OD? If yes, on what?




Do I know you personally? (If yes, skip to section B)



Are you a famous musician or actor?



If an actor, were you in any life changing, culture defining roles; a cult classic; or on SNL? (If yes, skip to section B)



If a musician, were you part of REM, ICP, or Kings of Leon? (If yes, stop application here, you're free to go, peacefully if you so choose.)



If you answered no to the previous question, were you part of a cultural defining musical group? (if yes, please skip to section B)


Thank you for your answers. You will receive a response as to the status of your application within 1 business day.

Section B

Due to the answers you provided, your application for death has been denied. You can reapply in 365 calendar days. Thank you.
___________________________________________________________________

My Worst Enemy

Ya know what really pisses me of? Heroin. Amidst all the things I have experimented with in my life, I was always adamant that I would stay away from this one in particular, because unlike the propaganda against weed, the propaganda against heroin is actually true.

Annually, our nation spends in the ballpark of 42 million dollars on the war on weed....a "drug" that isn't really ruining anything. How much do we spend on heroin? Anyone? Bueller....Bueller....? I can't even find a number. I looked everywhere, like a good little researcher but came up empty handed. I did come up with one number though....100,000,000. That's the estimated number of people that die each year from heroin (according to wiki answers). Guess how many people died from weed? Yep, zero.

Like I said earlier, I have tried a lot of things, found some addictions, cleaned myself up, kept some old favorites around for fun....but have always stayed away from heroin. All my circles of friends have kept this cancer out of our circle...until someone comes along with a pocket full of "something to do." As adamant as I've been about keeping this drug away from myself, it always finds a way to weasel it's way into my life, and hurt the people I care about. Whether or not they die from it is irrelevant....either way, it is taking their lives away, however slowly.

I have friends that have lost what semblance of life they have left, spent time in prison, been deported out of the country, lost their children, and then friends that have actually died from this disease, and ya know what? I'm fuckin' done. I am throwing my hands up, putting my foot down, and promising that I will do whatever I can to keep this disgusting, soul-suck away from the people I love.

No matter how hard I've tried to limit it's affect on my life....it has affected me IMMENSELY. Getting that phone call, or watching someones life fade away slowly is the worst thing I've had to do as a friend. Putting that needle in your vein, makes you as good as gone....you may not die from it, but your life can be fucked forever. Are you really prepared for that?

And Ryan....we may not have been the best of friends, but it's too bad it ended that way for ya. You'll be missed.

My Dear Jon

Dear Christina Aguilara,

You're just not the new hot thing anymore. It's not you, it's America....we just don't love you. Grasping at straws is certainly not going to help you. In reality, the only thing you ever did that was worth while was the "Dirty" video, which was really only cool....because it was busted as all hell. I am not the first person to blog about your obvious failure, and I probably won't be the last. You aren't going to be Lady GaGa, and certainly will never be Madonna. I understand being inspired....but just straight up reproducing someone else's work.....not winning you any points. Your new video...a very provocative rip off




Hmmm....not reminiscent at all of the story line of.....




and certainly didn't take the rest from this one....




and bits and pieces from this one...




It's totally okay to take inspiration....but in the future I would probably advise you not to blatantly rip off two of the greatest pop divas EVER. You're just not enough for it.

Love Always,

Moi'

Destitution

I go through circles, and circles,
and infinite cycles
only to come across a void
demanding seven pounds to pass.
I heave and pull,
plucking destitution from my eyes
as it pours through my veins
leaving my mouth dry and gasping for air.
It slowly runs it's fingers up my spine
to become a tightness in my throat.
It's sweet breath dances on my neck
as it malevolently whispers in my ear,
"everything comes full circle."

This is a poetry piece, and an Avant Garde original. Please do not copy or restate.

Just thought it deserved to be said

Babble babble bitch bitch
Rebel rebel party party
Sex sex sex and don't forget the "violence"
Blah blah blah got your lovey-dovey sad-and-lonely
Stick your STUPID SLOGAN in:
Everybody sing along.

The Doctors Office

I actually had to write a descriptive narrative for one of my classes. She said I could do a little story telling with it too, so this is what came out. I really liked it. The one thing I think though, is that all the descriptions and everything would be completely different if the girl in the story was....say.....ten years older or so? I dunno. Very interesting. Might add some new pieces to this.


The Doctor's Office

I grabbed the cool silver doorknob and turned it slowly clockwise until it stopped. I let out a slow sigh before pushing the heavy cherry wood door open and meekly stepping inside, letting it close behind me. The office had a corner waiting room with tall windows that reached the bright white ceiling, so in mid-afternoon on a calm spring day the sun filled it to the brim casting a warm glow on the faces of the women sitting in the tattered purple office chairs, the kind linked in long rows so you have to share the armrest with the person next to you. I could tell at first glance they would be entirely uncomfortable. I hoped the wait was not long.

I saw the young women working behind the counter. The two working the phones had matching scrubs that appeared to have been dyed in Pepto-Bismol, while the nurses scurrying quickly behind them with manila folders in hand all seemed to have chosen different cartoon characters; tweedy bird, snoopy, and two with Garfield.

I made my way around the ornate round glass table with a vase far too oversized for it set atop filled with what I could only assume were expensive silk irises because they looked so real I could almost smell them. I set my purse on the counter softly and waited for one of the pink ladies to finish their phone call. The one on the right hung up the phone and stepped the left, “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I have a four o’clock with Dr. Lamb.”

“Four o’clock,” she said picking up her clip-board and dragging her finger down the lined paper. The sound of her finger dragging down the page seemed so loud it echoed through my ears like nails on a chalkboard. “Ok, yes. First prenatal visit…” she said, almost in the form of a question before looking up to me. I looked at her a moment and nodded.

“Okay,” she began clearly trying to get herself back on track, “I will need you to fill this out.”

I took the clipboard and cheap office-style pen from her and hurried to the seat I had so dreaded before. I chose one in the corner, out of the way and began filling out the answers to my Spanish Inquisition. I could nearly feel the unmistakable smell of “Dr.'s office” dance through the air in a full assault on my nostrils; litocane, antiseptic, and some generic form of Cintas set in the corner to offset the medical scent.

I filled out the first blue paper with ease…name in the top box, followed by my emergency contact in the bottom box. The second page was yellow, explaining my HIPPA rights, which I’ve read a million times. The third page was pink. Again, patient name, then followed by the questions I have been dreading most. ‘Babies father’s name:’ I will just leave that blank for now. ‘Patient age:’ I ran my finger down the hard edge of the overused clip-board before writing ‘sixteen’ in blue ink. I hurried through the remaining questions before pushing myself to a stand using the hard rubber armrests. I could feel my feet dragging across the cheap blue carpet as I forced myself back to the counter. Both of the counter girls were waiting for me, watching me walk up with their quaint smiles and friendly demeanor.

“I’ll take that,” said the pink lady as I handed her my clipboard. “Dr. Lamb will see you now,” she whispered and pointed to the door to the right of the desk.
“Thanks,” I replied, and made my way quickly towards the door.

My Easter OOOPS!

Today was Easter. Although I am not of a Christian faith I choose to celebrate it anyway. My kids love it, and it's just a lot of fun. Plus, the candy is delicious! The "Easter Bunny" hid the kids baskets and eggs. My little angel seemed to remember this from last year because she spotted most the eggs as if she had a sniper site attached to her little face.

I did have one little interesting surprise, however. So, my husband and I decided to get my son a pricey Pokemon game he has been lusting after and give it as a gift to him, from the two of us. In the true spirit of Easter, I decided to hide it. I had carefully placed it in a gift bag and hung it from the back of the bathroom door from the knob. I told him it could be anywhere in the house and to go find it. I should have mentioned to him that my room was off limits. The only hint I gave him was to look for something bright green, as this was the color of the gift bag.

After about three minutes has passed he comes bolting down the stairs proudly holding my rather fancy, and rather phallic, bright blue "personal massager."

"This is bright blue, so this has to be it, right!" he said thrusting it into the air.

"NO!" I said to him with my eyes the size of frying pans, "go put that back where you found it," i told him as calmly as I could. He ran it back upstairs and my husband and I looked at each other and bursted into uproarious laughter. I hollered back up the stairs to him, "it's not in my room!"

I really hope he doesn't retain this memory as he gets older, or he is going to be scarred for life.

A Mormon Funeral

'This isn't how he would've wanted it,' I thought to myself as I finished following the words across the hymn book page. The smell of a musty hymn book that spends it's days in a box on the back of a pew is unmistakable. The organist finishes playing "He Walks Beside Me," with their mechanical key strokes, and lack of passion.

I put the book back in the box before looking to my mother who is drying her eyes with another pre-packaged tissue from her over sized purse, which began a sinking feeling in my chest. I sat back on the faded orange cushion of the bench to take in the beautiful array of floral sprays and casket flowers. White roses and hydrangeas, with his favorite shade of yellow. I wasn't close enough to take in the scents first hand but the entire room is filled with the unforgettable aroma of 'funeral.' I remember the first funeral I've ever been to, like everyone else, and I am sure I will never forget it.

The picture of him in his police uniform, was of course placed on the large easel to the right of the casket. Even in this run of the mill photo you could see the pride and passion in his eyes. Brian always had the passion in his eyes for anything he did. My favorite picture, however, that my mom let me choose is sitting beside it on a much smaller easel, black with ivy. It depicts him and I on the old rusted porch swing, with cake in hand celebrating his acceptance to the force. I chose this one, because it is the way I always want to remember my big brother. I think it was the happiest day of his life.

I have sat on that same swing many mornings since that day, cup of coffee in hand, imagining what my nieces and nephews will look like...what I might buy them and what kind of aunt I would be. I guess that will, now, be just a distant and fading memory. I looked to the row in front of me, to his girlfriend Libby, sobbing constantly in the arms of her father who is gently brushing back her hair with his fingers as many fathers do for their little girls. I imagine she is feeling more like a little girl now than she has in years. Vulnerable, and lost. I am not the only person who has lost my other half today.

The overall feeling in the room was sorrow, deep and dry. I listen to speaker after speaker who would pretend they knew him well. The Bishop gave a talk about the first time he met Brian, but left out that he hasn't seen him since he was sixteen, when Brian made the choice that he didn't want to spend every Sunday for the rest of his life serving his "faith." The Bishop also left out that the last time he saw him, Brian was throwing a book in his face denouncing this church and all that follow it, and yet here we are...in this room of brick and mortar, "House of the Lord." The last place Brian would want to spend his final moments on this earth.

As the service dwindled to a close and the organist began to play the exit music we herded out not unlike a cattle drive and were guided to the gymnasium. The most impersonal room in this building. Row after row of casseroles in all shapes and sizes lined long white tables framing the walls of the room.

"You need to eat something Charity," my mother mumbled under her breath to me, "You haven't eaten in days.

"I'm not hungry," I told her with a nervousness to my voice. My mother picked up a plate and forced it into my hands along with a plastic fork and napkin. Plastic silverware is so informal. Twenty-two years of life just lost, and the best you can do is plastic silverware? I pass by each dish, most of them unrecognizable to me. Half are topped with fried onions and the other half crushed corn flakes. All, I'm sure, included cream of mushroom soup. The Mormon staple to any food. I did take a small serving of funeral potatoes, They're the only thing here that slightly resembles food.

I pass the line of crock pots, which no doubt include several different kinds of meatballs marinated in different flavorless sauces. I passed to the other table which included the desserts. Red Jello, and four different platters of green jello, in different shapes and sizes filled with different kinds of fruits. Some were covered in whipped cream. I paused for a moment and gave a real hard look at one of the dishes. Pineapple chunks, it is filled with pineapple chunks. At two dollars a box I am taking a heart felt look, in my most vulnerable moment, at ten dollars worth of dessert. The relief society must be left-brained.

I walked over and took a seat beside my mother who was sitting with brother something or another.

"You didn't get any Jello?" she asked with bewilderment on her face. The biggest thing on her mind is whether or not I got Jello? I wish Dad were still here.

I ran my fork through the potatoes trying to pick a few bites out before pushing the remainder around on the plate to create the illusion that I had eaten more before downing the rest of my drink. Fruit punch mixed with sprite. Yet another left-brained concoction.

The room was filled with people eating and mourning, chatting with their reverent six inch whispers, but I cannot pick out any conversations specifically. I got up from my cold hard folding chair and carried my plate to the trash can, before deciding I didn't want to mourn along side the faceless bodies I didn't even know. I walked through the swinging door running into a woman I had never seen before in her best Sunday dress. She lightly puts her hand on my shoulder before saying, "I'm so sorry to hear about your brother."

I tried not to be rude but couldn't help myself from pulling back a little. "Thanks," I said as I gently moved around her and back into the steeple where my brother's casket was being prepped for the Paul Bearers to carry it to the hearse. The two random men in suits must have realized I wanted a moment alone because they quietly carried the two arrangements from either side of the casket out the door and closed it behind them.

I sat on the bench slowly and again slumped back in my seat with a sigh. I could feel a tightness in my throat before my eyes began welling with tears. "Well, Brian. What am I supposed to do. You were my best friend, my everything." I felt my voice raising as I stood and placed a hand on his casket, before letting out a loud cry and dropping to my knees. This is the first time I had let myself feel it, the overwhelming feeling that he is really gone. I felt it wash over me, sicken me, and completely succumbed to it. I gasped for air as sob after sob escaped my lips and the tears fell from my cheeks to the colorless value brand carpeting. Just as I felt myself begin to calm I heard the doors beginning to open and I quickly pulled myself to my feet, drying my eyes. I stopped at the picture of my brother and I, running my fingers down the picture before deciding I was taking it with me.

I walked back out to the foyer and opened the two sets of glass doors to go outside. The sun felt hot on my face and the wind felt warm and soft, like a single arm embracing me, telling me everything would be alright...something I have yet to experience. I walked down the two concrete stairs, slipped off my shoes and pushed myself onto the moist grass in front of the church. I rolled over quickly to see endless sky for miles, and in this moment I realized I'm all I've got, and everything was is defined in this moment. Blue skies for miles.

My Middle Finger

DISCLAIMER- IF YOU ARE VERY DEVOUT IN YOUR FAITH, YOU MIGHT WANNA SKIP THIS ONE.

Ok, let me start out by saying that I understand the "Bible Belt" is called that for a reason. I am guilty of complaining about religious influence in my own state (Utah) as well. When you live in a state that is ran by the book, and by the book I mean the Bible, it can make living your life within your rights completely impossible. Anyone living outside the majorities preconceived notion of how life should be will make you an outcast. The stigmas brought on by living in places like this is astounding, and aside from the times we are in...people still seem to passing down hatred to their children.

A friend sent me an article today, link below:

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/us_lesbian_prom_date

To sum it up for you, a lesbian was planning to attend prom with her girlfriend, and one or the other was going to wear a tuxedo. Sounds like a plan to me! So....this school is in Mississippi, and I will give you exactly one guess how the school and district responded to this...... HELL NO. At some point the ACLU got involved, informing both the school and district of the rights of the students and that they couldn't deny them to their right to attend the prom. How does the district respond to this? A well balanced mind would say, "Alright, they are within their rights, we will let them attend." However, this is not what took place. Instead the district decided to cancel the prom completely. To sweeten the pot, the Mayor AGREED with the district's decision.

I have one question.....What the fuck is wrong with you people? Who would go to such great lengths to ruin one of the most important milestones for many seniors, especially based on the choices of a single couple. So, now the district is basically saying that one bad apple ruins the bunch and is teaching the entire school that it should blame this poor lesbian couple for missing out on their most special night. Bravo.

I am completely in favor of freedom of religion. I think that people should believe whatever is right for them. If you believe a magical pink horse shat the world out in a day, good for you. However, taking it to the extreme of forcing it on people's way of life disgusts me, thoroughly. When it breeds hatred, death, war, and terrorism..... you are taking it too far.

In summation, believe whatever is right for you, but do NOT force those beliefs on another person or try to limit their lives in any way. For people who have such strong morals, you uber-faithfuls sure do the wrong thing a lot. Hate breeds hate. Stop the cycle.

Ten Wicked Short Stories in a Bar: UPDATE

Okay, so just an FYI this is being published into a book as we speak. If you would like to purchase one please follow this link:

http://www.blurb.com/bookstore/detail/1222374

Other than that, please be advised that the all of the stories will be removed from this blog, with the exception of Part 1.

Thanks,

Avant Garde

My Momentary Lapse of Reason

So, I was scrolling down my Facebook updates today when I came across a page a friend of mine had become a fan of. I don't usually become a fan of many things on Facebook due to the ultimate spam attacks they tend to launch on my news feed, but I felt compelled to click the link because I was thoroughly intrigued. It read, "Hardest Riddle Ever!!!" Please note there was not only one, or two, but three exclamation points there, that's what really drew me in. I am also a total sucker for riddles. I thought I would check it out. Once the page pulled up it read:

WORLD'S HARDEST RIDDLE

99% of Harvard students couldn't figure this out, but 87% of kinder-gardeners could in 6 minutes or less.

I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.

Due to a few of the questions my first thought was sunlight, or the sun but I couldn't really associate it to every example provided in the riddle. After about five or ten minutes of looking this over I decided to employ the ever brilliant Google to help me out. I found this posted in several forums with people seeking answers or opinions as to the answer of the riddle....I also found a single line that was left out of the original riddle I had located on Facebook. The next piece I found read:

I turn polar bears white
and I will make you cry.
I make guys have to pee
and girls comb their hair.
I make celebrities look stupid
and normal people look like celebrities.
I turn pancakes brown
and make your champagne bubble.
If you squeeze me, I'll pop.
If you look at me, you'll pop.
Can you guess the riddle?

The last line was left out of the original riddle I had located. Looking through all the potential answers plastered all over every single forum on the web I picked a couple of my favorite where you could tell people put a lot of thought into the question.

"I think Its air

I turn polar bears white (cold air)
and I will make you cry. (cold air)
I make guys have to pee (cold air)
and girls comb their hair. (air)
I make celebrities look stupid (cold air)
and normal people look like celebrities. (air)
I turn pancakes brown (hot air)
and make your champagne bubble. (air in the bubbles)
If you squeeze me, I'll pop. (air in like a balloon)
If you look at me, you'll pop. (im not sure about this one maybe your ears pop)
Can you guess the riddle?"

Interesting theory, air or wind. I could see that working. One of the better one's I found was this piece:

"It's got to be pressure.
Polar bears are white because the pressure at the poles is low, so they have to be able to absorb heat.
Pressure makes you cry if it's too much.
Pressure in your bladder makes you have to pee.
Peer pressure makes girls comb their hair...Otherwise we wouldn't bother!
Celebrities usually crack under pressure.
Many normal people will shine under pressure.
Pancakes turn brown thanks to pressure generated by the heat.
Champagne will bubble until the pressure of the carbonation has disappeared.
If you squeeze something under pressure, BAM, there it goes."

I thought the logic was very good in this answer and bravo to whoever this deep thinker is. The problem with these two answers is that no kinder-gardener is going to think about the pressure in the North Pole, or about the air in the affecting the color (or lack their of) in a polar bear's fur. I really think that if I had read the question in it's entirety in the first place I would've figured this out on my own, but I cannot take credit for it. The point of it is to look at the piece in it's entirety and think of this as if you were a child. If someone were to ask you "Can you guess the riddle?" what would your answer be?

My answer would be "No."

If we were to base this on the fact that kinder-gardeners answered the riddle in six minutes, this would be the answer they would produce in it's most simplistic form. After I came to grips that this was the answer to the riddle and kinda gave a good "Oh! I get it, got me there riddle!" the rabbit hole deepens.

I was speaking online with another friend of mine whose internet search skills are for superior to my own, he produced the answer "time." I tried telling him I couldn't see how time could work with all of the answers, and then he sent me this poem he had come across. I would give credit to the author, but unfortunately I don't know who it is. Please read below, and reference it back to the original riddle.

The time has come,
winter is here
and those yellow bears disappear.

The time has past
as man looks back with a sigh
and a tear is his eye

As time is held
boys cross their legs
but of course the toilet begs

As time marches on
Girls loose their blush
and swap a comb for their brush

As time passes
For those held high
their end is nigh

As time catches up
Everyone is equal
when we get to the final sequel

As time turns
Without it we have flour and water
With it we have breakfast for my daughter
As time revolves
How does one turn water and wine
into something so fine

As time runs out
The more in a minute you try to squeeze
the less you can do with ease

As time ticks
All the time that has past
man cannot comprehend something so vast

So now this, to me anyway, seems to beg the metaphorical question "which came first, the chicken or the egg?" This seems to be an older style of poetry to me, so I would guess that the riddle itself would be based off this piece. If that is the case, then 90% of the smart ass people on every forum that said "Duh, the answer is no" would be completely incorrect. The answer, in fact, would be time. What's your take on this?

URL: http://able2know.org/topic/72848-1

Soothes the Savage Beast

Soothes the Savage Beast

You can only lose so many pieces until there is nothing left
I listen to the strings resonate through the air, to dance inside my ears for a moment in time
as though someone is speaking to me
another soul, wrapped and tethered,
and as battered and bruised as my own
nothing a band-aid can't fix.
Brush the sand from my knees
wipe the pain from my face with a single eloquent motion,
but I cannot force myself up between broken breaths and gasps for air.
It's as though I can identify the moment it breaks in my chest,
The chill up my spine, the tightness in my throat.
Not a single soul for miles.
You've encompassed my entire being
in a few strokes of the keys
and a voice that will echo forever.

Top 10 ways to identify that it is time...

Ok, so I'm laying down some ground rules here. Very important ground rules *shakes fist*

Top 10 ways to identify that it is time.... to stop your friend from drinking

10. Your friend is straying from their normal alcohol selection because there is nothing left but the crap.

9. They use terms like "I love you so much," or, "I'm a terrible person."

8. They choose the floor over standing or chairs

7. They then crawl on the floor rather than walking around.

6. They give lapdances (and they aren't a stripper)

5. They receive lap dances (that aren't from a stripper....or a hot chick)

4. They take pictures of themselves with their friends boobs as if they were at Disneyland and the boobs were Mickey Mouse

3. Your friend is on the other end of prior stated situation.

2. They are calling people they talk to daily by the wrong name...(like Melissa for instance).

1. They have a breakdown, complete with self loathing and tears that are usually only worn on those who just watched Steel Magnolias.

If 5-10 is happening to your friend-take away the booze! if 1-4 is happening to your friend either a: find them a ride b: take them home or c: call them a cab. Thank you, that is all.

My Personal Truths of Life

I know every so often, people forward around cheesy emails with stuff like this in them, but these are my own personal truths of life. Some of these are not my own quotes, and some are a little bleak, but they still hold true to me.

* You CAN decide if you're going to have a good day or a bad day, but it's easier said than done

*The people you'll remember most, are those who hurt you.

*Everyone wakes up on the wrong side of the bed once in awhile.

*It's ok to feel completely overwhelmed sometimes, if only for a moment.

*Never trust an honest face, they are usually attached to liars.

*We will never truly "clean up" the environment.

*Everyone cries alone once in awhile. There is nothing wrong with it.

*You will grow apart from some of the people you love the most, and even forget about some of them and what they've meant to you.

*The greatest feeling is to laugh until you cry-and the flip side of that is that sometimes the only way to stop crying is to find something to make you laugh.

*You will never really know someone. Most people are lucky if they really know themselves.

*Life really is too short to hold a grudge.

*It's normal to want what you will never have.

*Whoever said "money can't buy you happiness" has obviously never been flat broke.

*Sometimes help will come from the most unlikely sources when you need it the most.

*Although it makes life hold more meaning to have a religious belief, doesn't make it right.

*Determination is the best quality to posses. With that, all others will fall into place.

*Even your best friend can betray you.

*Even if you aren't going anywhere, you should always dress up for Halloween

Paradelle

Shoving my hatred deeper and deeper
Shoving my hatred deeper and deeper
I pull away from my sanctuary
I pull away from my sanctuary
My sanctuary deeper, shoving deeper
I pull the hatred away and
Peel my rose petals from your lips
Peel my rose petals from your lips
I leave the lies to linger in you
I leave the lies to linger in you
Peel the lies from your rose to linger
in my petals, leaving you
alone in your death
Alone in your death
To drown in the silence that stagnates
To drown in the silence that stagnates
To drown alone in your silence in
the death that stagnates
Shoving your lips in my petals
to linger alone in my rose
peel away from the hatred that stagnates deeper,
I pull deeper leaving your lies to silence
The death....The sanctuary...
to drown in you.

My Subjective Judgement

I writhe and fall again in slow motion
and feed you the cliche life you're expecting:
picket fence, black tie, hopeless romantic, party of four.
We all reside in a box near the overpass,
some boxes just have better curtains and more windows
which marks the contrast between living and existing.
Defined by the contents of our wallets
this civilization, this abomination,
conceals animosity between clean sheets-
a six hundred dollar "egyptian cotton blend."
Freedom in this new millennium is not actually defined by being free,
it's being shackled inside 'American Gothic"
encrusted in Swarovski Crystals, and name brands to keep us blind.
The English language is trapped inside five hundred thousand words
that define us, but mean nothing as we are only equal to our number
that lies between hopelessness and supremacy, or 450 and 850.
A single being's entire existence
is only as crucial as a single wool mitten in the lost and found
at a run down elementary school that lies where 'Nowhere USA' meets 'Rodeo Drive'
Human life is subjective,
and only supreme amidst whispers in polite circles
where relative thinking is an art lost to the ages.

Lyric in Verse

Bring it with you or don't, but save a piece for me.

This nervous reaction, is what I come back to,
as I stutter through each moment.
It always comes back to this.

The song skips, stuck on a single lyric
we will never escape from.

It's running your fingers down a brick wall,
in a room with no windows
just ten lonely square feet.

Describe it in words only a child would understand,
but it's always the same melody
concealed by false covenants...
the vagaries of life.

Our presience should be trusted,
as gut feeling ignored, can alter which piece you take,
or which note will repeat itself in hopeless redundancy.

Take care which piece you choose.

Lost

*This is a poetry piece, if you couldn't tell

I let it slip away for a single fold in time
only to find it's been missing all along.
Compress it to a single moment,
the realization that you've lost control.
Pulling the skin from beneath my nails
to understand I stand alone
to understand the scars are mine
and they have been there all along.
To think I had escaped was infantile
and empty in this trust,
and I could beg and plead,
and squeeze the juice from it
as if it were ripened fruit...
but still it stands un-phased,
like it were pointing and laughing
with bony fingers of truth,
wrapped in lies,
confronted by time
but missed it's mark.
As I have missed my mark a million times
standing inches from it
but light years away.
As though a single breath would freeze in the wind
to reach this fold in time
I will not be mistaken.

My Lost Hope

I am at a complete loss on what to do, which is new territory for me, when it comes to someone else anyway. I always seem to have an answer, some advice or at the very least a witty retort when it comes to someone elses' problems. I will have to remain vague for obvious reasons...but what do you do when you see someone that is seriously struggling and you are completely powerless to help them?

She was vibrant, and amazing when we first became friends. She had ambitions, dreams, and an attitude to contend with, very close to her family and friends and very down to earth. Eight years later I see nothing left of the friend, confident, and partner in crime I had found so long ago. It seems that a handful of difficult experiences has lead her to drown herself in bad decisions, and whatever she can find that comes with a childproof lid.

As a friend, you want to be there for someone in their time in need. You want to be that shoulder to cry on, or their last resort for a ride if they need it. When does this become enabling? Am I giving them what they need to stay sick? I feel like I am watching a close friend with a terminal illness die slowly...and it is killing me. The only difference is that I know there is a cure for this, but it remains just out of reach. Everyone I talk to, gives me the same suggestion which is completely impossible at this point in time. How do you help someone that cannot, and will not help themselves alone? I guess only time will tell.