Just A Random Girl's Balderdash Nonsense

"The Florida Review" -- A Mining Excavation in Death and Creatures

2010-04-13T02:03:00.000-07:00

Help me buy my way to an "A"...

: Click here to subscribe

As an intern with "The Florida Review" Literary Journal, I have had the opportunity this semester to read, review and critique a multitude of submitted manuscripts from authors seeking publication in the journal. This has been one of the highlights of my semester. When I began the semester I chose to read any genre submission: Poetry, Fiction or Nonfiction. I picked my way through a lot of coal. The work at times laborious and exhausting, but every so often I would come across rough stone that with some polishing, would be worthy of publication. One of the first nonfiction manuscripts I took home for a weekend, a near sixty page piece, I could not put down. In fact, I read it twice and brought it in the following week to the intern "hot box" with a shining recommendation. I was so excited about mining this piece, I could not stop talking about it. Because of that piece, I ended up narrowing my focus toward reading the nonfiction pieces. I snatched new submissions as they entered the "just-in" box, eager for another fresh-find. Interestingly, the nonfiction category receives the least amount of entries, or so it seems but I discovered something interesting: Death and creatures. Yes, death and creatures. The majority of nonfiction submissions I read touched on those two topics. In one week I read about two murders, three attempted suicides, and four creatures: Peacocks, hummingbirds, a bat, and a turtle. Scratch that a murdered bat and a dying turtle. While some of those were pretty good, others were less than stellar. Next week is the my final editorial meeting of the semester. Collectively, our small group interns will gather at the round-table to hash out exactly what gets published in the next journal. I will be one of the collaborative voices pushing, debating, discussing and voting on making the next issue the best yet. The journal has a long history of publishing excellent work, from talented writers, but never before have I had an opportunity to be a part of its publishing team. This is where I need your help. Part of our assignment is to find new subscribers. A subscription for the year consists of two issues, mailed "hot off the press" for only $15.00. It is not a recurring (although I have a feeling you'll become hooked) and makes a thoughtful gift. Would you click the link below and subscribe to a year of "The Florida Review" literary journal. My G.P.A. and I would be quite appreciative. Amazon.com Widgets

Thank you in advance, Cassie

"The Florida Review" - http://floridareview.cah.ucf.edu/

Central Florida Future - Dogs, Dishes, Divorce and Deadlines

2010-02-24T10:03:00.000-08:00

...And for God's sake quit poking me.

As far as social networking platforms go, Facebook is pretty user-friendly.

Keeping up with distant friends and relatives has never been easier. Let's face it: we all wonder what that super-cute kid we had a crush on in elementary school looks like these days. You know, the one that we would follow home hiding behind the bushes so he did not see us (oh . . . maybe that was just me).

Granted, I could live without the picture of me in the hideous Rainbow Bright-meets-Paul Bunyan flannel (and you thought it did not exist), memorialized in my online photo album by a fellow high school dance corps member, but it's all in good fun.

However, if I ruled the world (or knew how to make a Facebook app), I would invent both an app incinerator and an E-mail zapper. Seriously, I have had it with the quiz thing and apps posting on my wall before I give permission.

Take for instance - ugh - Farmville! Die, piggy-cow. Die, Farmer John. Insert evil laugh here.

Maybe I am just a "bad" friend, but frankly, I do not care what animal you will be when you reincarnate. I don't want to have a pillow fight, snowball fight or a mafia-vampire war. I don't want to play in your garden or swim in your sea. No thanks; don't want a heart, or smiles, flowers, candy, cards, drinks, croissants, angels, lollipops, guns, knives, midgets, vibrators . . . Ok, I have not seen the last two, but I'm sure it is only a matter of time.

But you get my point, right? I even had someone send me an app invite called "I want to make love to you."

Really? Get a life.

Now, I realize you can block an app after someone posts on your wall by clicking on the icon and selecting %u201Cblock application%u201D on the apps page, but it%u2019s a pain-in-the-butt and I'm full-up in that department, partly because I%u2019m swamped by 769 inbox messages.

I wish it were easier to filter and block Facebook messages. I am either dense or technically illiterate because I cannot figure out how I became guests of events and groups when I have not chosen membership.

If I had my way, I would be a message-blocking ninja.

My dear friend says, "If I didn't speak to you in grade school, haven't in 20 years nor at any organized reunion we mutually attended, why would I want to read about what you are having for lunch?"

Amen!

Oh, and before I forget: just because we are Facebook friends, does not give mean sending me a text at 2 a.m. is Ok.

It's not! It only took one of those before my privacy settings were changed (although I confess, I did consider throwing a flaming cow-patty at the offender, but that app was not available . . . yet.)

So, want to be friends? I promise I will not infest your profile page with random, virtual-diseases.

via centralfloridafuture.com

Posted via web from balderdashnonsense's posterous

Mark Gungor - Men's Brain vs. Women's Brain

2010-02-07T06:51:00.000-08:00

I always thought a woman's brain was more like Pandora's box...but Gungor's explanation is funny.

Three new programs launch at media center

2009-12-03T01:59:00.000-08:00

Central Florida Future - Article Online

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Updated: Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Emre Kelly

UCF's Center for Emerging Media in Downtown Orlando celebrated the addition of three new programs, increasing student options and solidifying key concepts: partnership, collaboration and replication.

About 12,500 square feet of remodeled space is now dedicated to UCF's MFA in Studio Art & the Computer; Flying Horse Editions, UCF's non-profit fine arts press; and Citylab-Orlando, a University of Florida graduate-level architecture program.

These programs join several other high-profile programs at the center: The Florida Interactive Entertainment Academy, UCF's graduate video-gaming school; Vicon Entertainment's House of Moves, one of the largest motion-capture studios on the East Coast; and the soundstage and editing suites of Studio 500.

“The Center for Emerging Media’s mission is to expand programs, access and opportunities for upper-level undergraduate and graduate emerging media students in Orlando, while furthering the city's vision for a creative village that will connect professionals with students to help them land high-paying jobs upon graduation," said Chad Binette of UCF News & Information.

Rogier van Etten, a software engineer at 360Ed and 2007 graduate of FIEA, said they are instrumental in securing employer interviews for students. 360Ed focuses on games with high educational content.

"The best thing you get from FIEA is teamwork: how to be an effective collaborator; how to be an effective communicator; how to be a valuable member of a team," said van Etten. "The skills you can get other places — it’s the team aspect that really stands out."

"We want to replicate what happens in the industry. Collaboration between students, departments and the community is the idea behind the entire building," said FIEA's communications and admissions director, Todd Deery.

Professors encouraged Brittany Metz, a second-year MFA studio art & the computer graduate student, to get out of her box and focus on different mediums. Metz said she joined the program because the focus is concentrated on your own artwork, and the digital media aspect allowed flexibility and broad-range artistic expression.

"I'm drawn to whimsical, childlike, nostalgic things,” Metz said, “things I can create a story out of or that recall the past.

Adding to the community learning and work experience environment, Flying Horse Editions brings in visiting artists who provide students with critiques and real-world experience lectures, said director Theo Lotz.

Beginning fall 2010, a creative partnership with Valencia Community College and the University of Florida will allow students to obtain a bachelor of design in architecture degree.

Michael Kuenstle, associate professor at the UF school of architecture, said the symbiotic relationship benefits students, faculty and community.

"Architecture is an urban endeavor. Students will gain a professional degree, immersed in the subject they are studying, while still living in Orlando, and we are able to teach in an urban environment, using the city as a library and teaching tool," Kuenstle said.

According to the UCF Web site, through a 2+2+2 program, students earn an associate's degree through Valencia, a bachelor’s degree at UCF and a master's at UF. The program aims at preparing students for careers in professional architecture, construction management and industrial design.

In the meantime, UCF undergraduate students and graduate students will be able to take elective courses at Citylab-Orlando and collaborate with top design, construction and planning faculty members from UF, said Binette.

Currently, Citylab-Orlando is working on a local urban redesign project to address different uses for future public space beneath Interstate 4 in Downtown Orlando.

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Abolitionist, historian wraps up Global Perspectives series

2009-11-22T23:03:00.000-08:00

Central Florida Future - http://bit.ly/8KleHL

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Friday, November 20, 2009

Updated: Friday, November 20, 2009

Caitlin Bush

"Most Americans do not know slavery not only exists in the world today, it flourishes," said Ron Soodalter, co-author of The Slave Next Door, in his presentation in the Pegasus Ballroom Monday morning.

"Somewhere around 27 million people are in bondage in the world today. Now, that's over twice the number as were trafficked in chains in the entire 350 years of the African slave trade."

Soodalter, an active abolitionist and historian, kicked off International Education Week at UCF as the keynote speaker for the Second Annual International Breakfast. The Slave Next Door presentation concluded the three-part series on "Slavery's Resurgence" facilitated by the Office of the Special Assistant to the President for Global Perspectives and the International Services Center.

The series began with Somaly Mam, a Cambodian human rights activist, former slave and author of The Road of Lost Innocence: The True Story of a Cambodian Heroine, when she shared her experiences in September.

In October, Micheline Slattery, a human-rights activist and former restavek, or domestic child slave, in both Haiti and the United States, addressed about 300 attendees.

Modern-day slavery includes around 800,000 men, women and children trafficked each year around the world. According to the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement Web site, about 17,500 of them end up in the United States, with a high percentage received in Florida.

Soodalter suggests a simple Google search on human trafficking for astounding results.

In spite of major federal legislation and anti-trafficking laws passed in 43 states, 103 human-trafficking convictions have resulted, Soodalter said.

Trafficking remains hidden, is largely unreported and difficult to identify. According to the 2009 Trafficking in Persons, or TIP, report, published by the U.S. Department of State, forced labor/involuntary servitude represents the majority of human-trafficking cases in the world. The co-author of Soodalter’s book, Kevin Bales, wrote the original 156-page TIP report, titled “Trafficking Persons in the United States — A Report to the National Institute of Justice.”

“The whole thing is disserving and extending,” said retired UCF foreign language professor David Gurney. “It contributes to the antagonism from people in underdeveloped countries to Western civilizations or Western countries.”

In the 1850s, purchasing a slave ran roughly $1,200, the equivalent of around $40,000 in today's money. The reality is purchasing a slave today costs as little as $100, which makes them affordable and disposable, Soodalter said.

A trafficking victim lives in fear of violence or the threat of violence daily, he said.

Shawn Cox, victim witness coordinator and licensed clinical social worker with the United States Attorney's Office, advocates that trafficking is a crime of absolute power over someone. According to the report Cox co-authored, “Victims of Human Trafficking and Trauma,” the psychological consequences of a victim are similar to the consequences of severe or chronic child abuse or experiencing acts of terrorism.

"In case you thought slavery doesn't touch you, guess again," Soodalter said. "Chances are, the clothes you wear, the food you eat, has been touched by slavery."

The good news is there have been some inroads made recently in the area of agricultural servitude, Soodalter said. When Taco Bell refused to stop buying produce picked by enslaved workers in an effort known as the "Ban the Bell" campaign, it set a precedent that several other companies, including McDonalds, A&W, Long John Silver's, Pizza Hut, Whole Foods, Chipotle and Burger King, have followed, Soodalter said.

"The message is clear," Soodalter said. "Slavery and worker abuse will not be tolerated. Not here, not now, not ever."

Mark Freeman, public affairs coordinator for the Global Perspectives Office, said they are hoping to continue the series next spring since response has been incredible. Because of the series last spring, students on campus were so spurred into action they formed the unofficial student group “Students Against Slavery @ UCF,” Freeman said. “Students Against Slavery @ UCF” has a Facebook page, and Harry Coverston serves as the faculty advisor for the group.

"Spreading the word is the most important thing," said Frank Hegedus, a senior political science and international relations major. "There is only right now."

http://www.centralfloridafuture.com/abolitionist-historian-wraps-up-global-perspectives-series-1.2093273

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quotable quote

2009-11-22T09:35:00.000-08:00

"There are two basic motivating forces: fear and love. When we are afraid, we pull back from life. When we are in love, we open to all that life has to offer with passion, excitement, and acceptance. We need to learn to love ourselves first, in all our glory and our imperfections. If we cannot love ourselves, we cannot fully open to our ability to love others or our potential to create. Evolution and all hopes for a better world rest in the fearlessness and open-hearted vision of people who embrace life."
— John Lennon

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Central Florida Future - More H1N1 vaccines available

2009-11-14T02:49:00.000-08:00

Central Florida Future - More H1N1 vaccines available.

24,000 vaccines requested last week

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Updated: Wednesday, November 11, 2009

John Choi

Danny Demoraes’ brother died of pneumonia, a complication of the H1N1 virus. Demorae, a senior at UCF, received his H1N1 vaccine last Thursday.

John Choi

A month after he watched his 27-year-old brother die of complications caused by the H1N1 virus, UCF senior Danny Demoraes entered the second-floor conference room at Health Services to receive the flu vaccine.

David Demoraes was two weeks away from becoming a firefighter in August when he began complaining of a cough, vomiting and body aches. By the end of the month he had been admitted to a hospital suffering from pneumonia, a complication of H1N1.

On Oct. 3, after a month-long battle, a blood clot blocked one of his arteries, causing his blood pressure to drop to zero, Demoraes said.

“I felt his heart take its last couple beats,” Demoraes said. “My brother and I used to do everything together. Now everything has changed.”

Danny Demoraes received his vaccine Thursday — one of the 1,500 doses available to students, faculty and staff delivered to UCF Health Services, 24,000 had been requested.

“It’s worth getting the vaccine because you just don’t know who it’s going to hospitalize…who it’s going to kill,” Demoraes said. “If the school is offering free vaccines why not prevent it beforehand?”

Chad Binette of UCF News & Information said that there have been 35 cases of H1N1 confirmed at UCF. According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

in Atlanta, college-aged people are within a more at-risk category.

“For instance, between ages 5 and 24, the CDC estimates 2,196 cases per 100,000, but only 107 per 100,000 in the 65 and older age group,” Binette said. “UCF is one of the first Florida universities to receive vaccines and getting the vaccine is the best way to stay healthy and protect yourself from the H1N1 virus. The vaccine is safe and effective, and students can get it for free.”

Thomas Sutton, a UCF freshman micro & molecular biology major, agrees. Sutton said he gets his vaccine as a “force of habit” every year, but his grandmother nearly dying of the virus raised his awareness about H1N1.

Claudia Witcher, nursing director for UCF Health Services, began each session with a short presentation explaining to attendees the differences between the two vaccines. The shot is made of dead viral particles, whereas the attenuated nasal vaccine is a live virus that replicates only in the nostril, Witcher said.

“For homework, go out and tell your friends how easy it is, because we need all students to be immunized,” said Pharmacy Manager Sheryl Gamble.

Anne Schuchat, director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, reported Friday that 129 children have died from H1N1.

According to the CDC, Novel influenza A, H1N1, is a new flu virus of swine origin that first caused illness in Mexico and the United States in March and April 2009. It was determined that the virus was spreading from person to person with the infection causing a wide range of flu-like symptoms, including fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, headache, chills and fatigue. In addition, many people also have reported nausea, vomiting and/or diarrhea. On June 11, 2009, the World Health Organization raised the worldwide pandemic alert level to Phase 6 in response to H1N1.

As of Nov. 1, the WHO reported the pandemic has infected 199 countries and overseas territories and caused more than 6,000 deaths.

According to a health alert put out by the CDC on Nov. 6, most people who get H1N1 will have a mild illness and recover in fewer than two weeks. Others, however, are more likely to get flu complications that result in hospitalization and, occasionally, death. Complications can include pneumonia, bronchitis, sinus infections and ear infections, or worsen chronic health problems such as asthma or congestive heart failure. The CDC urges clinicians to begin antiviral treatment of suspected persons based on direct observation as opposed to relying on rapid influenza tests or laboratory confirmation.

It takes about two weeks for the vaccine to become effective in the system, Witcher said.

She recommends maintaining good hand washing practices, not sharing food or drink with others and employing good coughing and sneezing etiquette in the interim.

“My brother was all about helping people,” Demoraes said. “If anything, he would be happy that at least this message can get out there and help other people. That’s what he would have wanted.”

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Students, faculty take advantage of H1N1 vaccines

2009-11-09T16:49:00.000-08:00

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Monday, November 9, 2009

Updated: Monday, November 9, 2009

Several hundred UCF students, faculty and staff received H1N1 vaccinations in the initial intranasal inoculation sessions held last week.

According to Chad Binette of UCF News & Information, within a half hour of when the vouchers for the nasal spray became available, many students were coming into the Health Center and Knight Aide to pick them up.

More sessions begin on Tuesday when about 500 shots of the injectable H1N1 vaccine will be given to priority groups established by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Priority groups include health care providers, emergency medical services personnel, anyone aged 6 months to 24 years, pregnant women, household contacts and caregivers of infants younger than 6 months and people 25 to 64 years old who have underlying health conditions that increase risk for flu-related health complications.

Vouchers and consent forms can be obtained by presenting a valid UCF ID at the appointment/check-in window inside the Health Center from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. or the Knight Aide pharmacy and convenience store, adjacent to the UCF Arena, from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. Monday through Saturday, Binette said.

One-hour time windows for the injectable shot are available for UCF students, faculty and staff who belong to a CDC priority group at the UCF Health Services building on Nov. 10 from 11 a.m. to noon, 1 p.m. to 2 p.m., 2 p.m. to 3 p.m. and 3 p.m. to 4 p.m. Arriving anytime within the scheduled time window is acceptable.

Distribution of the remaining intranasal doses of the initial shipment is scheduled for Nov. 12 at 10 a.m., 10:30 a.m., 11 a.m. and 11:30 a.m. Students, faculty and staff must bring their voucher and consent form and arrive at the Health Center five minutes prior to their scheduled session. Those arriving after session instructions begin will need to request a voucher for another session.

There is no charge for UCF students to receive the vaccine, but faculty and staff must pay a $10 fee by cash or check.

"Students, faculty and staff are advised to get their seasonal flu shots as well," Binette said. "Seasonal flu shots are available by appointment at the UCF Health Center."

RT @UCFnews: Students, faculty take advantage of H1N1 vaccines by Cassie Turner: http://bit.ly/1UcZ2i http://bit.ly/kO6iM

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UCF to give limited number of H1N1 vaccines

2009-11-05T11:19:00.000-08:00

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Thursday, November 5, 2009

Updated: Thursday, November 5, 2009

UCF Health Services began distribution of its initial shipment of about 1,500 H1N1 nasal spray flu vaccines to students, faculty and staff on Tuesday.

According to Chad Binette of UCF News & Information, vouchers and consent forms can be obtained by presenting a valid UCF ID at the appointment/check-in window inside the Health Center from 9 a.m. to 4 p.m. or the Knight Aide pharmacy and convenience store, adjacent to the UCF Arena, from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. through Friday. There is no charge for UCF students. Faculty and staff must pay a $10 fee by cash or check.

Group session dates and times at the UCF Health Services building are as follows:
Nov. 5 at 10, 10:30, 11 and 11:30 a.m. and 1, 1:30, 2 and 2:30 p.m. as well as Nov. 6 at 10, 10:30, 11 and 11:30 a.m. and 1:30, 2, 2:30 and 3 p.m.

Students, faculty and staff must bring their voucher, consent form and arrive at the Health Center five minutes prior to the scheduled session. Those arriving to their session after instructions begin will need to request a voucher for another session.

Binette said this initial shipment of the nasal spray vaccine is a small portion of vaccines that Health Services has requested for the UCF community and is not appropriate for everyone, including pregnant women, those over 50 years of age and people with a chronic medical condition. The injectable H1N1 vaccine is not available at this time.

"Additional dates and times for distributing the vaccine may be scheduled if doses remain at the end of the week," Binette said.

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Ten students compete in UCF scholarship pageant

2009-11-03T22:34:00.000-08:00

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Sunday, November 1, 2009

Updated: Sunday, November 1, 2009

Emre Kelly

Audience members rose to their feet and exploded with applause when UCF junior Michael Newman accepted the title of Mr. UCF 2010, beating out nine other contestants in the annual scholarship pageant.

Students watched as 10 students dressed as zombies took the stage in the Pegasus Ballroom in the Student Union on Friday as they danced to Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”

Newman, who won the judges’ favor and the audience popular vote, took home over $2,000 in scholarship awards courtesy of Student Government Association and the UCF Alumni Association. He said his main objective as Mr. UCF this year would be to spread awareness.

“I carry the world on my backpack,” Newman said as he performed a poem he found online called The Renditions of a Homeless Man for the talent competition. Newman dressed in layers of jackets and carried a sign that read: “Hungry any spare change helps please.”

“Students a lot of times feel disconnected from the community around us. Two miles down the road there are people that are homeless,” Newman said. “There are a lot of people that stay within the circle at UCF because they don’t really understand or realize what’s going on around us.”

Newman said during his interview that he wants to bridge that gap between the community, students and faculty, which he believes is part of the UCF Creed.

Newman is currently an ambassador on the President’s Leadership Council, the community service chair of the Alpha Epsilon Pi fraternity and a member of the Student Sustainability Alliance.

The pageant winner was not the only student heavily involved in campus and community activities vying for a shot at the Mr. UCF title. Spectacular Knight and Campus Activities Board Director Samantha Nemeroff said 15 students auditioned for the event, but only ten competed in the pageant.

“They represented UCF in a great way,” Nemeroff said. “They are all very involved in the school and the community. Their talents were impressive, too.”

Jonathan Parker sang the bluesy Porgy & Bess classic “Summertime.” Matthew Miller, clad in a glitter jacket and rhinestone glove, moonwalked to a version of “Billy Jean” by Michael Jackson. Marcus Williams dressed in a red and white checkerboard shirt, and performed a hip-hop line dancing routine to a music mix. James Jarman broke out the red vinyl records and turntables, scratched and spun a house and Latin mix.

Tyson Nales, Mr. UCF 2009, and Dasha Gonzalez, Miss UCF 2010, hosted the pageant with a panel of five judges. The bulk of the contestants’ scores came from the talent competition followed by their audition interview, formal wear, beachwear and a final on-stage question.

The scholarship pageant began in 1989 and benefits both students and the community. Sidney Porter, Sunshine Princess and Lake Highland student, donated a midback ponytail of hair to Locks of Love and the audience favorite vote raised $920 for Children’s Miracle Network.

SGA provided scholarship awards of $400 to the third runner-up, Warren Jackson, $650 to second runner-up, James Jarman, and $1,000 to first runner-up, Marcus Williams.

Additionally, Jonathan Parker won $500 in awards for nonfinalist best interview and top ad sales. David Cohn won $350 for nonfinalist best talent and David Yu won Mr. Congeniality and $150.

The pageant is open to all full-time male undergraduate and graduate students who hold a minimum 2.5 GPA.

Nemeroff said she can relax for a week before she begins planning for the Miss UCF pageant, with 25 girls set to compete for the title on Feb. 6, 2010.

UCFnews: Michael Newman crowned Mr. UCF: http://bit.ly/1x2pjS http://bit.ly/1WvEkf

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One Bag Only

2009-10-26T00:14:00.000-07:00

i break your rule…

but I want to grab you

be that girl that can say

the right thing

that can make us right

but I can't fix you and

and I gotta stop being that girl

that tries to fix everyone

else that’s broken

when I can’t fix myself

and you can't handle my overstuffed luggage

i never could pack light

deep down I know it's just an excuse

which is why I picked the fight

and forced your hand

to stop the push-pull

for us to end

what never was

better than unpacking your bags in vacancy

losing your luggage in uncertainty

and I know your right

my luggage is heavy

even for me

i have no business

involved

in more

until

one bag only

is more than a rule

…but I miss my friend

Blogger Tags: girl, luggage, vacancy, friends

The Joys of Being French

2009-10-10T20:12:00.000-07:00

The First Million Years or So

600 Years of Unwanted Guests

Middle Ages and the Turn of Provence

Wars of Religion and Hocus Pocus Popes

Oppression, Resistance, Quel Renaissance!

Debating The Age of Bad Taste ou Epoch Classique?

Post-War brings Socialist Mitterand and the Revival of Occitan

The Joys of Being French, Oui or N'est Pas?

C'est La Vie in The South of France

Santon Fairs in the Var et Renoir at Les Collettes

Columns, Columns, Columns and a Bridge

Troubadours Cansos, Love Story, La Californie of Europe

Hug the road winding the Cote d'Azur

Bordeaux, Beaujolais, frescoes in Peille

Sailing to Promenade du Soleil

Down the Rhone: Orange to Beaucaire

Malabar's bulging biceps swell

Jagged Alpilles, rocky plains of the Crau, marshlands of the Camargue

For the Rhone is a Saturdays Child

On to Nimes, the Gard and Montpellier

Le Vin's de Herault and Agde founded by the ancient Greeks

Narbonne, the Corbieres and the Aude, Castles and Cathedrals abound

Last but not least, there's the Catalans of Roussillon

Getting There

By Air, By Coach, By Car, By Train

By Boat, By Bus, By Bicycling

The Song of Summer, Cicadas tune

Siesta under pine trees and game of boules

Tender is the Night with starry skies

Bouillabaisse, Aioli, Thirteen desserts

Estocaficada and onion tart

Before Laying a Bet, will it be

Holiday Destination or Life on the Riviera?

Like the Fitzgerald's and Hemingway's

You will not be the first to stay

Avec votre coeur dans la méditerranéenne.

Blogger Tags: French, Million, Guests, Middle, Turn, Provence, Religion, Hocus, Pocus, Popes, Oppression, Resistance, Quel, Renaissance, Taste, Epoch, Classique, Post, Socialist, Mitterand, Revival, Occitan, South, France, Santon, Renoir, Collettes, Bridge, Troubadours, Cansos, Love, Story, Californie, Europe, road, Cote, Azur, Bordeaux, Beaujolais, Peille, Promenade, Soleil, Down, Orange, Beaucaire, Malabar, Alpilles, Crau, Camargue, Saturdays, Child, Nimes, Gard, Montpellier, Herault, Agde, Greeks, Narbonne, Corbieres, Aude, Cathedrals, Last, Catalans, Roussillon, Coach, Train, Boat, Song, Summer, Cicadas, Siesta, trees, Tender, Bouillabaisse, Aioli, Estocaficada, Destination, Life, Riviera, Fitzgerald, Hemingway, Avec, Columns, Castles

Red Light Life

2009-09-17T22:03:00.000-07:00

You once saw this chick with wild, fiery-red curls sitting at the stop light of Magnolia and Pine. You marveled at her hair and her shiny, silver 1963 Stingray, not sure which you liked more. Perhaps it was the feeling it gave you. She had the top pulled back and "Boys of Summer" cranked, pumping out of the cabriolet, as she puffed out a series of tight smoke circles in the air with her Marlboro Red. You knew it was a Marlboro Red because the white and red pack, wrapped in cellophane, sat on the dash, staring at you. You were tempted to lean out the window and grub for one, forgetting you quit smoking ten years ago when you were young and dumb and free and dating old what's-his-face. Yeah free. You remember that feeling. She felt like the silver-bullet train of freedom to you, in those two minutes and thirty-two seconds at the corner of Magnolia and Pine. You re-lived life before marriage and mortgages, before diapers and daycare, before disillusionment and divorce. The light turned green, that girl in the '63 Stingray with the crazy red curls popped the clutch and stole across the intersection, leaving you in her wake with your memories. You released your foot off the brake of your SUV, littered with lost Barbie shoes and yesterday's half-eaten PBJ, and once again contemplated leaving. Sighing, you knew you can never escape yourself. Instead, you stuck your hand between the seats, fished out that half-eaten PBJ, and thought who needs freedom anyway.

LiveJournal Tags: Life,chick,curls,Magnolia,Pine,hair,Stingray,Summer,series,Marlboro,Yeah,bullet,freedom,marriage,disillusionment,girl,stole,intersection,memories,foot,Barbie,Instead,seats,needs

Vacancy

2009-09-17T21:57:00.000-07:00

Need lurks in the corners of her closet

Trying on a ball gown, a clutch, a stole

Pretending she is anything but herself

Waffling between the here and the there, of fame and anonymity

Jimmy Choo heels, borrowed Yurman, Prada on loan

Insecure steps on the red carpet she walks

Courage in a bottle, a pill, a man, she requires

For tonight's masquerade, her anonymous task, she selects a numbing mask and

Free-flowing Vodka Gimlets to quiet her nerves

Desire harpooned that summer in Cannes

This chameleon, playing charades, she does pretend

Silk straps off her shoulders fall

Passionate promises, poor choices provoked

His smell on her she cannot escape

It’s a shame they will never know his name

Blogger Tags: Vacancy, ball, gown, stole, fame, Jimmy, Choo, Yurman, Prada, Insecure, steps, carpet, Courage, bottle, pill, task, Free, Vodka, Gimlets, Desire, Cannes, Silk, Passionate, charades

Reflections in the Water bowl

2009-08-09T13:05:00.000-07:00

Cleaning out my car, I ran across a horoscope I tore from the Orlando Weekly a little over a month ago.

Aquarius: (Jan. 20- Feb. 18) Here's a preview of the accomplishments I expect you to complete in the next four weeks. Number of karmic debts paid off and canceled: one. Bad habits replaced with good habits: two. Holes blasted in your theory about why you can't do more of what you love to do: 300. "Necessities" lost that turn out not to be necessities: one. Psychic wounds successfully medicated: one. Confusing messes that evolve into interesting opportunities: two. Romantic obstructions eliminated: one and a half.

Interesting time for a telling horoscope.

Blogger Tags: Water, bowl, Orlando, Aquarius, Here, preview, accomplishments, Number, debts, theory, Necessities, Psychic, Romantic, Reflections, obstructions, horoscope

Ivory Peonies

2009-08-08T15:36:00.000-07:00

Somewhere in the dark corners of my mind

The places we go to hide

I wish I were four and still a child

You say grow up, be a little more mild

I never asked you to stay and wait

In fact I think I warned you I'd be late

Flowers only bloom in the spring you see

And it’s been winter for eternity

Explains the cold shroud around my heart

And you thought i was just playing tart

No babe, but dessert sure is sweet

Yet haven’t you learned that I ain't

I made you a pie, you baked me a cake

We spent that whole winter down by the lake

Trying to fix, to forgive, to forget

Strangers out of season, frozen with regret

I told you I did, I warned you I would

Get bored with gardening in the cold wood

He thawed my ivory peonies one magical night

Now from you I run with fright

Back to the comfort corner of my mind

Very safe place to go and hide

I'll pretend I'm four, a prodigious child

I can't hear your screams, your call of the wild

Some say a cold-water death can be euphoric

For your sins, I know you will burn for it

You and your dreams, now locked in a hard cell

I hope I haunt them from my cold watery hell

Blogger Tags: Ivory, Peonies, Somewhere, places, fact, Flowers, winter, heart, babe, haven, lake, wood, Back, Very, Some, death, dreams, cell, hell, Strangers, four

Change

2009-08-04T10:49:00.000-07:00

“It’s coming.” Said you

“What’s that?” Said i

“Change.” Said you

“Change? Change has come and gone and come again. It’s the only constant. You’ve been busy. Haven’t noticed.” Said i

“But I’m afraid of change.” Said you

“The hardest part is waiting. With change you skip-the-line. It’s a VIP pass straight to the ride.” Said i

With desperation you looked at me

I could see adequate fascination in your deep blue eyes

You questioned my actions

An intensity only you could deliver.

Remember the only constant in time is change

and only change is constant

I warned

Trying desperately to make you understand

the future is not something I can tell

nor do I know if I can give

what you want

if I only knew what it was

And if I did know these answers would I relinquish them so willing?

So time lingered

as predicted

adequacy became waning

as I warned

Parting company was easy, no hard feelings

except for a slight loneliness we had both dealt with before

with others we cared only too little about

It’s too bad we felt this way

for we too

remain constant

as changes always do

Blogger Tags: Change, Said, Haven, desperation, fascination, actions, Remember, adequacy, feelings

GLITTER GULCH

2009-08-03T23:42:00.000-07:00

Out-of-date neon signs, long past retirement age, line Fremont Street. Their colored bulbs radiate an unwavering glow on the downtown Las Vegas streets. It is close to seven o'clock but the day's heat clings to the air, stinging her eyes, as she exits from the back seat of the of the Town car. She gives a wave to the driver and quickens her pace entering the Horseshoe through one of the revolving doors lining the entrance. The cigarette smoke hangs in the air, like a cirrus cloud, causing her to wince. The room is low ceilinged and buzzes with ample fluorescents and gambling euphoria. Tourists, digging for gold, clutch metal coin buckets in the crooks of their arms as the clink of their booty echoes. They are permanent fixtures, screwed to row-after-row of slot machines. That's Sin City, she thinks.

Benny Jr. insists that you can still 'smell the chips' in the Old Vegas Horseshoe, on account of them being the same since Grandpa Binion opened the place in 1951, forcing the other houses to change from sawdust joints to classy, carpeted casinos. Benny always tells her, 'they don't make em like this anymore.' Roxy wishes he would change the forsaken, threadbare carpet, but old cowboys seldom change.

"Would you radio Benny and let him know I'm here and will meet him in the Steakhouse?" She says brushing past Amanda the thin, freckled clerk at the registration desk. She checks her watch; three minutes until seven. She learned over the years you did not make Benny wait, you waited for Benny.

"Sure thing, Roxy." Amanda calls after her as she enters the elevator she hears the ting of a slot machine bell, a lucky winner screams at a jackpot win.

She presses the button for the twenty-fourth floor giving herself a once over in the floor to ceiling mirrors that adorn the elevators antique interior. Her lips are shaded Dangerously Red, matching her dress, complete with a low-plunging neckline and killer curves, all courtesy of Benny. She steps off the elevator and into Binion's Ranch Steakhouse where Benny is waiting at the vintage mahogany bar. He slides his rocks glass across the bar and signals to the bartender, Petey, for another. She checks her watch again, noting it is one minute after seven o'clock. Her stomach muscles tighten as she gauges the expression on Benny's face. He smiles at her tipping the brim of the cowboy hat covering his jet-black hair. The tension releases in her gut and a sheepish grin spreads across her face.

"Rox, the usual?" Petey asks polishing a wine glass.

Roxy nods and turns her attention to Benny planting a kiss on his left cheek. "Hi baby, sorry I'm late."

Benny retrieves her Chardonnay off the bar and takes her by the elbow leading her to their corner table overlooking the Vegas valley. Her breath catches in her throat as she gazes out over the cornucopia of shimmering lights. Benny and the Vegas lights brought her from Dallas and they are the reasons she remained after leaving she stopped performing each night on the strip.

Roxy hangs her purse on the back of the chair and takes her place at the table. "Benny, you said you had something important to talk to me about." Benny, opens his mouth to speak, their lanky waiter, James, brings over their salads.

"Mr. Binion. The usual for you. Caprese salad and the Pear and Gorgonzola for you madam. Your porterhouse and lobster will be out soon." James says sliding the dishes in front of them.

Benny stacks a thick piece of mozzarella on top of a ripe, red beefsteak tomato and slices into it. "Wanna bite?" he asks.

Roxy shakes her head and pushes a candied walnut around the plate with a fork. Her palms are sweaty. James returns and slides the tables candle towards Roxy. He places a steaming, twenty-one ounce Porterhouse, Au Gratin potatoes with a crisp, golden-brown crust, a bright orange Australian lobster tail, and a heaping mound of sautéed baby asparagus in the middle of the table along with two extra plates. The flame catches her eye, it orange, blue and white colors dancing the white wax. Benny prepares her plate, selecting tender morsels from each category. The converging smells assault her making her light-headed. Roxy reaches across the table and grabs her glass of ice water. She takes a big gulp, stifling the urge to vomit. She pushes her plate out of the way.

"What's the matter?" says Benny.

"Oh, it's nothing. I haven't been feeling too good lately. I'm not too hungry anyway. Didn’t you want to talk to me about something?" Roxy says changing the subject.

"I do. We'll get to that." Benny signals to James. "We need a bottle of champagne and two flutes. Bring only the best in the house for my girl here." James returns and pours the bubbly into two glasses. "We've been together for some time now ya know Rox," he pauses reaching into his pocket, "I'd like you to marry me." Benny extracts a golden ring topped with a three-karat diamond from its velvet home.

Roxy gasps, exhaling as she reaches for the ring, the dancing flame exhausts itself. "It's beautiful." She says admiring the brilliant stone.

"Sorry uh, boss, I don't mean to bother you but uh we got a shark we took outta the pit. It ain't his first time neither." Bruno the head of security for the casino interrupts.

"Bring him on into the kitchen. I'll meet you there." He turns to Roxy, "I gotta show a friend some cowboy hospitality. I'll be right back."

Roxy stands. She feels her ears grow hot the fire spreading over her face. "Benny, I'm warning you…we have been over this a thousand time…"

"Roxy, sit down, shut up, and don’t' move." Benny exits.

She hears Benny's booming voice over a clatter of pots and pans, followed by a man pleading. The pleading turns into a wail of pain before silence. Two Horseshoe security guards pull the sobbing man through the dining room. He clutches his hand in a blood soaked linen.

"What did you do?" Roxy says in a whisper a look of horror on her face. "What did you do?" She says again raising her voice.

"You know we don’t play with fish in my house. If I were Grandpa Binion that fish would be two feet under in the middle of the desert, instead of missing a finger." Benny says as he dips his linen napkin in water to extract three dots of crimson from his shirt.

Roxy looks out the window at the glitter gulch below. In the distance, she sets her eyes on a thunderstorm bypassing the valley, illuminating the black horizon with flashes of lightning. Her eyes go wide. She looks at the ring on her finger, up to Benny and back down to the ring and takes it off.

With a slow, trancelike movement, she bends gathering her handbag. She pauses, touches her abdomen, and drops the ring into her full champagne glass. "Mr. Binion, I have to let you go." She says as she backs away from the table before fleeing from the restaurant.

She does not stop for Benny's angry cries. She does not stop on the stairs for twenty-four flights. She does not stop during the two-mile walk down Fremont to her apartment. She does not stop through an hour of frantic packing or through eighteen hours and twelve hundred miles of desert driving. She does not stop until she gets to her Mother's door, and rings the bell.

"Mama, I'm home." She cries, bursting into tears.

Blogger Tags: GLITTER, GULCH, retirement, Fremont, downtown, Vegas, Horseshoe, euphoria, gold, fixtures, machines, Benny, account, Grandpa, Binion, Roxy, winner, jackpot, Ranch, Dallas, shark, Tourists, buckets, crooks, cowboy, black, neon, lights

WRITER’S BLOCKS

2009-08-03T22:00:00.000-07:00

It is no secret; Authors such as John Updike, Earnest Hemingway, and George Bernard Shaw sat down every morning, without fail, and wrote. Some counted pages, some counted words. Some stopped mid- sentence, mid-process, mid-flow when they reached their daily goal. Others did not. James Thurber said, "Don't get it right; get it written." How did the literary geniuses do it, when getting started is the hardest part? Since the beginning of Creative Writing 2001, I have discovered a brave new world in fiction writing. What I think, I thought I knew I did not. I knew nothing. Writing is damn hard and the line between art and cliché is as thin as the line between love and hate.

Realizing the only way to start is to start. We are a conflicted group. How do you start with the constant barrage of interruptions? The tea calls from the cupboard. Make me. The cat purrs. Scratch me. The dishes pile. Wash me. The phone rings. Answer me. It is procrastination. Finally, you sit down to write and nothing happens. You want to smash your computer into smithereens, bash your head on a gritty sidewalk…anything would be less painful. Then you get an idea. A glimmer of hope emerges. You are tossing it around when your critic shows up. He tells you it sucks and so do you. You tell him he is not welcome, that is he who sucks, not you. You are a writer, an artist. You toss him out, but he is a persistent bugger. Joe Schuster chair and associate professor in the Communications and Journalism department at Webster University believes: "The fear is the disease, the block just the symptom."

Shuster among others believe in order to combat block a process must be employed. Free write, journal, blog; write anything and everything that comes to mind. Go ahead; explore and experiment. Write about the things you know, research what you do not, but keep in mind that research does not replace experience. The blank page is not your prison; it is your playground. There is more reality in fiction than you think. Use everything; nothing is sacred. Be furtive, no one is looking. You have an immense power called revision. Earnest Hemingway said, "All first drafts are shit." Hemingway is right, but do not let it stop you. Through first drafts, I have learned as much about myself, perhaps more, as I have about the process.

If we look at art as our design and craft as the execution, how do we bridge the gap? How do we take a killer idea, a rambling of free writes and shape them into a gripping narrative? Art defined is as the creation of beautiful or thought-provoking works, produced through creative activity, skill or the ability to do something well using a set of techniques in a particular field or a superior skill that is learned by study, practice, and observation. It is the process or product of deliberate arrangement of elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions encompassing a diverse range of human activities, creations, and modes of expression. A craft defined is a profession or activity that requires skill, training, experience, or specialized knowledge to produce or create something with skill and care. As artists, we break out our drafting tools. We study the process. We invest time in learning how to structure a story and design a grabbing plot. How to use point of view and show character nuance while creating time, space and place details that ignite the five senses. We evoke theme using metaphorical comparisons, symbolism, and allegory. We strive to manufacture tense conflicts; crises converge, and offer resolution in blinding twists.

Writing is damn hard. Good writing is even harder. Learning the art of storytelling is not simple, but it does have a formula: read, write, revise, and repeat…read, write, revise, and repeat. So, if you are going through Hell now, keep going because writing is less expensive than therapy. In the words of Joe Schuster, "I can learn to write badly until I learn to write well."

Blogger Tags: Writer, writing, Creative, fiction, cliché, critic, artist, Communications, Journalism, journal, Write, revision, Through, narrative, creation, skill, observation, arrangement, nuance, theme, symbolism, allegory, formula, Hell, therapy, Authors, techniques, emotions, creations, artists, comparisons, crises

....And Nostalgia Creeping In

2009-08-02T03:54:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the time when you glanced at me

…and I swear I could see right down to the bottom of your soul

…and it felt so good

a moment captured in time, when all was good and right

…and you knew it too, you felt it same as I

and we thought it might last, we said it always would

but moments like these seldom do

for fear he captures our souls and he whisks us away before our very eyes

before we can recognize that life is too short to let these moments pass us by

…but so often they do

Blogger Tags: Nostalgia, bottom, soul, moment, life, moments

In the Shadow of the Queen

2009-07-28T22:42:00.000-07:00

In the Shadow of the Queen

I hear Sam’s music long before he comes tearing around the corner in his 356 Speedster. My stomach, doing flip-flops, stops mid-flop, as he zips past my house pulling into the neighbor’s driveway. I remind myself to breathe. Grabbing the magazine at my feet, I flip to my horoscope and feign interest. Careful not to give myself away, I peep over the top of the magazine. Looking in his rearview, he tousles his sandy hair, grabs the low-raked windshield and the camel-colored bucket seat, and swings his lean body out of the cabriolet. As he turns towards me, I pop the Seventeen back over my eyes. He rounds the front of the car and pauses to buff the Porsche’s emblem. It glistens and twinkles in the summer sun, almost as much as his golden tan.

“Hey Elle,” he waves. “I’ll call you later babe.” I throw my middle finger in the air and crank ‘The Boys of Summer’ tune playing on my boom box. He shrugs, sauntering up to her door.

“Damn her,” I curse under my breath. My ears begin tingling, heat crawling up my face. He has blown me off twice this week, cancelling our standing M&M (Main Street and movie) binge, to whisk her off to God knows where.

What does he see in her? I am his best friend. I introduced them. Why am I am getting the shaft? I try to focus on my horoscope, hoping the growing tension in my head will subside. It says the change in my love life that I am hoping for, is right at my fingertips. My heart starts pumping. I throw the magazine on the ground and grab the baby oil, smoothing it up to my bikini line.

Violette Salisbury. Her name sounds as if someone combined Barnie with a slab of beef. All she needs is a side of mash potatoes and we have a full meal.

“She’s named after the famous French ballerina Violette Verdy,” Sam told me one afternoon. Sounds dramatic to me.

Violette Salisbury and her mother moved to Kings Mountain a few weeks ago, from Los Angeles – the Valley she called it – after her parents’ divorce. She told me her Dad was some big shot movie producer in Burbank, whose hands had the uncanny problem of wandering up in his production assistant’s skirts. Her mother had more than enough of her husband’s indiscretions, and the Silicone Valley, to last her a lifetime. Learning her childhood “summer cottage” on Moss Lake was on the market, she made long-distance plans to purchase it. Sight unseen she bought the property and high tailed it back east, Violette in tow, to lick her wounds in the comfort of her Alma Mater. This landed the Salisbury team of two, and their foofy Pomeranian duo, to flank my house to the east sharing a common sidewalk.

My Timex beeps, jolting me out of the thoughts in my head and signaling me to start baking my backside. The two lovebirds exit Violette’s house. Violette is giggling and chewing on a piece of her flaxen hair. Our eyes meet.

“Oh my God Elle!” She says running over to me. “Like, thank you so, so much for introducing me to Sam. He like just asked me to go with him to Denny Hagedorn’s big bash. I was so totally worried about moving to this podunk city at the end of the school year. I thought, like I wouldn’t make any friends and would just have the most boring summer vacation ever. You totally fixed that.”

My jaw dropped. Sam, my Sam, was taking her to the biggest social event of the school year. The Sam that hid beneath the willow trees creating mythical lands and creatures with me, best buddies since we were nine years old. The Sam that set rabbit traps in the cotton fields, plunged from the rope swing and sunned on the banks of Moss Lake with me summer after summer. He had gone with me to Denny Hagedorn’s big year-end bash since Denny had moved to Kings Mountain in the sixth grade.

My heart was a freight train going downhill. I wanted to burst into tears but refused to do to do that in front of Violette Salisbury. My nostrils flaring, I managed a smile matching hers. After all, I was in drama club.

“That’s terrific Violette. I’m sure I’ll see you there.” I said. “We’ll have to hit the shops in downtown Charlotte to look for dresses before the party,” I lied.

“Perfect,” she purred. “Ok, well, were off. So, like, I’ll talk to you soon?” She rocked back and forth on her heels, making her golden mane swing back and forth, causing me to hate her more.

“Mm hmmm.” I was tempted to stick my foot out as she walked by, but I knew that would create issues between Sam and I. As it is now, he seemed oblivious to my pain.

“Cool,” she said. She walked to where Sam was waiting in the car before turning and calling out over her shoulder, “I can’t wait.”

Next, Sam did something that blew my mind. He got out of his precious Speedster, walked around to the opposite side, and opened her door. Never, I mean never, had I seen him do that. That is when I knew: My days of sun and Sam would be over from this point forward.

I bolt upright in bed. My heart is pounding as if it is going to leap out of my chest. My breathing is erratic. My cotton jersey sheets cling to my sweat soaked skin. I start laughing making my sides clench into tight balls of iron. It was all a dream.

The clock flashes eleven. The sun is waxing its mid-morning peak. I throw on my bikini and run to the kitchen to devour a bowl of Special K.

Grabbing the phone on my way to the door, I dial. “Dude! Are you up yet? Get over here. You and I have a date with the rays and bottle of baby oil. Ugh, and I had the worst dream ever. I’ll tell you all about it when you get here.” I say. “Hurry up.”

In the yard, I plop down on my towel and crank my tunes. The Eagles, Hotel California, is playing on the radio. The lyrics make me laugh. As I am sloshing on my baby oil, I look up to see a shiny Mercedes Benz turns the corner. A forty-foot Atlas Van Lines truck follows. The Mercedes pulls over allowing the truck to pass. The truck driver downshifts to a stop at the neighboring house and backs into the driveway. The blood drains from my face as a young, buxom, honeysuckle blond and her mother exit the Mercedes.

Running into the house, my mouth tasting of vomit, I hurl myself on my bed and start crying.

Blogger Tags: Drama, Queen, music, Speedster, Porsche, Elle, babe, Summer, heart, Kings, Mountain, Valley, Burbank, husband, lifetime, cottage, Moss, Lake, friends, vacation, buddies, downtown, Cool, Mercedes Benz, Atlas, indiscretions

intoxicating...

2009-07-28T22:24:00.000-07:00

…as your hand grazed my incandescently illuminated flesh

lips parted

…waiting

…anticipating

my next…

and just as soon as I came…

I left

in search of another

…high

yours too had worn off

bittersweet succulence

engraved relentless

in clouded memories

i took your moment and made it mine

…feeling nothing

Blogger Tags: flesh, lips, succulence, memories, moment

satisfaction...

2009-06-26T20:42:00.000-07:00

“Meow…tasty little tweety,” thought the kitty as he licked his lips. Swatting the toy mouse across the heart pine floor, he yawned. Like the king in his castle, he sauntered to his favorite spot in the golden sunroom. Sunlight streamed through the bay window, warming his silky fur. He plopped down, lifted his leg and began to lick his…paw. Satisfied, he drifted off for a cat-nap to dream of far-away lands full of field mice.

Blogger Labels: satisfaction,lips,heart,castle,lands,mice

…fool’s song

2009-06-26T17:18:00.000-07:00

Pencil

Paper

Glass of Wine

In Hand

Words

Tools

Emotions

Worn on a Sleeve

Break

Crush

Simplicity

At its best

Feel

Know

Think

And Grow

Healthy

Toxic

Which way

Do I go

Blogger Labels: song,Pencil,Paper,Glass,Wine,Hand,Words,Tools,Worn,Sleeve,Break,Crush,Feel,Think,Healthy,Toxic,Emotions

Casualty of War

2009-06-05T16:18:00.000-07:00

Part One: Casualty of War

They said it was a game. I had never played it before.

“You take the golf ball and throw it on the ground. If it hits the other person, they’re out.” Lizzie’s sister said it so matter-of-factly. She was older. She was the expert. With trepidation, I gingerly accept the golf ball. I was “it” first. No basic training, not even a “boot,” catapulted into a boondoggle operation. Game on; we scatter like rats, scampering for our lives, when the cook enters the kitchen. My operative: get to base-camp (the front porch) and through the beaten zone (the rest of the yard) without encountering a bouncing Betty (said golf ball) or the Viet-Cong (Lizzie’s sister). I sprint towards the back of the house to hide beyond the berm. Emerging cautiously from the boonies, I scale the perimeter towards the left. No good, possible spider holes detected. I adjust my sights and focus my recon to the right of the hooch. Bingo, I was scott-free, feeling like a skilled boonierat.

Enter armed enemy sapper. Red Alert. Rock and Roll, she fires a shaped charge, no hesitation. I watch in slow motion, my thoughts the dead march. Analyzing my potential moves, one-by-one, I turn each one down. I was trapped. Her ammunition bounces off the drive-way hitting me square in the mouth. Man down. Blood everywhere, I’m screaming somewhere inside my head and for real. I’m not sure which of the two was louder.
When Lizzie’s father comes storming out of the house, he yanks me inside commencing the bomb damage assessment. I can feel it. They are gone. A million dollar wound. A check in the mirror confirms the worst…my two front teeth: FUBAR. I was a casualty of war.

Part Two: Porcelain Shrapnel

Slow motion moments. Eyes fluttering, nauseous, groggy, foggy. Just keep them closed. Where am I? That smell, I recognize it. It’s antiseptic, sterile with an indefinable mixture of cleaning fluids, anesthesia, rubbing alcohol and metal? Sit up? No, lay chilly. Just keep them closed. Damn, where am I? Cotton mouthed. Thirsty. Lost in the past, my thoughts pierce my stupefied state shrieking silently, “Are they still there? Chipped? Cracked?” Running my tongue along the marred porcelain, I bolt upright, roaring, “Get my fucking husband!” The nurses, dressed in their standard-issue clinic fatigues, shoot each other a knowing look of alarm. They’d known this was coming. Their fugazi patient awake, kicking and screaming, “Get my fucking husband! Now!”

“Uh Ma’am, please. Please stay calm. We, um, we had a little problem with your procedure,” the doe eyed physician’s assistant putters. She’s a predictable hooch-girl with hair cut into a too-neat bob. My personal space alarm goes off…ehn, ehn, ehn. She was the first one I wanted to put in a Glad-bag, just because she was there. Restraining my inner hell-fury, I fire my best die-bitch-die look instead.

“I know. I knew you were going to freak out,” in walks my husband, the moment’s knight-in-shining armor. “The anesthesiologist came out. An hour ago. He told me everything. I’ve been calling all over town. I found a guy who can fix it. I scheduled an appointment for tomorrow morning. It’ll be ok,” Cookie spews, a torrential rain, breathless. “So, while he was taking out your trach tube,” he continues the after-action report, breathing a little more regularly. “You came out of unconsciousness quicker than expected. You bit down on the tube, hard, nearly taking off his fingers. They went flying into the air. You almost took-out the head nurse. You sure-as-shit freaked out the anesthesiologist; he may require therapy.”

Huh? I freaked out the Bac-si? He’s going to require therapy? I festered. Kill, kill, kill! I couldn’t wait to get my hands on the anesthesiologist, the orchestrator of my current cluster fuck. The reason I was lit-up. Oh I was going to give it to him. Porcelain shrapnel was only the beginning of my wrath. Fester. Fester. Who was I? What had I become? Fester, fester, fester. Why couldn’t I think clearly? My thoughts were rumbled, my mind racing. I’d known something was going to happen.

“Oh just sign, honey,” the intake nurse had crooned just four hours earlier. “We never had anyone have any problems with that. That’s just a legal formality, you know?” Sign I did. How could I resist? She afflicted me with intonation so silky, so smooth. Wooed me with her syrupy-sweet disposition; quelled my rightful concerns over the contents of the medical liability waiver and release forms. If I had a clacker or some foo gas right now I would have buckled the co-cong, but I felt like I was going to hurl.

And let’s face it; I really wanted the damn things anyway. Having been inflated for nine months and sucked dry for thirteen, I was overdue. Tired of them flapping around like two deflated water balloons, compulsion drove me. I needed an upgrade. Now, for the second time in my life, I was a casualty of war.

My scars are well hidden. I have two of them, one on each side. They are not very large. You would never know they were there, unless you knew me intimately. Even then, not unless I told you. Of course, you would wonder. It’s obvious they must be somewhere. But you wouldn’t ask me unless we shared a couple shots of tequila and swapped war stories. Some don’t like them. Some think they are expertly crafted. It’s a matter of opinion. Running my fingers across my battle wounds evokes vivid wartime memories. I have a feeling they won’t’ be my last.

my life in middle management - rip suburbia

2009-05-10T21:27:00.000-07:00

Well happy friggin mother's day to me. mini-me giving me fashion advice as she twirled in circles across Venturing beyond my two-mile bubble and out of urbania today, I found myself enve in the land of maniucured greens . A few mimosa's into the day and cookie and I were at each other's throats. Gee, I hope we have this much fun on father's day!

confessions of a cheater

2009-05-09T21:01:00.000-07:00

Dear Blogger,

I confess...

left, right or center?

2009-05-08T09:05:00.000-07:00

What's good for the goose, the gander may choke...

Being a tad more liberal-minded than my extended family, doesn't bode well in the land of urbania. Catch, convert, capitulate...the heathen....she that escaped suburbia! The random email assault pelts my overstuffed inbox. The latest a forward originating from my far-right "Aunt Bunky," department of justice extraordinaire, passed on to Grammy before slithering uninvited through my personal electronic box. I've got mail. She's learned though...Grammy that is...discovering how send to "undisclosed-recipients" will prevent my disparate opinion from reaching her country-club-clan. What can I say? It was an election year and they started it. I simply made use of "reply all," lobbing the antagonist viewpoint to their campaign right back in their court. Truthfully, it was mostly for shits and giggles, to spark healthy debate. "Oy vey!" Grammy didn't partake in the giggle part...it was shits all around. Branding me the wayward lefty, promptly becoming family non-grata, from a political perspective.

-----Original Message-----From: Grammy: Sat, 25 Apr 2009 12:13 pm

THIS IS SO INCREDIBLY WELL PUT AND I CAN HARDLY BELIEVE IT'S BY A YOUNG PERSON, A STUDENT!!! WHATEVER HE RUNS FOR, I'LL VOTE FOR HIM. OUTSTANDING.
DIVORCE AGREEMENT

Dear American liberals, leftists, social progressives, socialists, Marxists and Obama supporters, et al:

We have stuck together since the late 1950's, but the whole of this latest election process has made me realize that I want a divorce. I know we tolerated each other for many years for the sake of future generations, but sadly, this relationship has run its course. Our two ideological sides of America cannot and will not ever agree on what is right so let's just end it on friendly terms. We can smile and chalk it up to irreconcilable differences and go our own way.

Here is a model separation agreement:

Our two groups can equitably divide up the country by landmass each taking a portion. That will be the difficult part, but I am sure our two sides can come to a friendly agreement. After that, it should be relatively easy! Our respective representatives can effortlessly divide other assets since both sides have such distinct and disparate tastes.

We don't like redistributive taxes so you can keep them. You are welcome to the liberal judges and the ACLU. Since you hate guns and war, we'll take our firearms, the cops, the NR A and the military. You can keep Oprah, Michael Moore and Rosie O'Donnell (You are, however responsible for finding a bio-diesel vehicle big enough to move all three of them).

We'll keep the capitalism, greedy corporations, pharmaceutical companies, Wal-Mart and Wall Street. You can have your beloved homeless, homeboys, hippies and illegal aliens. We'll keep the hot Alaskan hockey moms, greedy CEO's and rednecks. We'll keep the Bibles and give you NBC and Hollywood .

You can make nice with Iran and Palestine and we'll retain the right to invade and hammer places that threaten us. You can have the peaceniks and war protesters. When our allies or our way of life are under assault, we'll help provide them security. We'll keep our Judeo-Christian values.. You are welcome to Islam, Scientology, Humanism and Shirley McClain.

You can also have the U.N.. but we will no longer be paying the bill. We'll keep the SUV's, pickup trucks and over sized luxury cars. You can take every Subaru station wagon you can find.

You can give everyone health care if you can find any practicing doctors. We'll continue to believe health care is a luxury and not a right. We'll keep The Battle Hymn of the Republic and the National Anthem. I'm sure you'll be happy to substitute Imagine, I'd Like to Teach the World to Sing, Kum Ba Ya or We Are the World.

We'll practice trickle down economics and you can give trickle up poverty your best shot. Since it often so offends you, we'll keep our history, our name and our flag. Would you agree to this? If so, please pass it along to other like minded liberal and conservative patriots and if you do not agree, just hit delete. In the spirit of friendly parting, I'll bet you ANWAR which one of us will need whose help in 15 years.

Sincerely, John J. Wall Law Student and an American

P.S. Also, please take Barbara Streisand & Jane Fonda with you.

_________________________________________________________

DIVORCE AGREEMENT – Amended Version

Dear righty’s, antiquated regressives, advocates of the dark ages, war mongers, fascists et al:

In response to your divorce agreement, we’ll agree with the following amendments. Yes, we have stuck together for far too long, putting up with your narrow minded, self-serving ways and chaotic decisions for much longer than we should have. Your desperate adjustments over the last eight years, seemingly driven by special interests and greed are more than we can handle. It became evident in the last election process, when you had trouble clearly branding yourself and even more difficulty identifying with our newest population of voters. In a word, your antiquated and we are far too different to remain united.

Here is an Amended model separation agreement:

Our two groups can equitably divide up the country by landmass each taking a portion. Basing the division on the electoral state each party won should make that relatively easy. We understand you don't like redistributive taxes, however you find so many ways to hide behind corporate tax loopholes, were not sure why. We do wonder how you feel about public education? We agree to keeping the liberal judges and the ACLU. We’ve decided to hang onto women’s suffrage as well. Since we’re not crazy about guns and war, please take the firearms, the cops, the NRA and the military. We’ll be glad to keep Oprah, Michael Moore and Rosie O'Donnell, since we do welcome those that voice controversial opinions, as we tend not to follow the flock. Along with the OMR trio we choose Oliver Stone, Sean Penn and Robert Redford and all those that give without attending a plated-dinner black tie event. We demand you take the Royal Family of the country of Texas (we’ll throw in Texas too…in exchange for California and Florida), officers Koon, Powell, Briseno, and Wind (ask Rodney King), Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold of the Columbine massacre.

You may have all the uncontrolled capitalism your little heart’s desire, the greedy corporations including Enron, Haliburton, AIG, GM, & Ford and their respective CEO’s. Please take Big Oil, Big Pharmaceutical and the failed Wall Street fat-cats looking for handouts to supplement their overzealous company spending, unfettered expense accounts and bankruptcy bonuses. We’ll take open-market and free-market economics along with Microsoft/Bill Gates, Apple/Steve Jobs, Berkshire Hathaway/Warren Buffet. Take Wal-Mart & the Waltons, we’ll take Target, Ross, Marshalls & TJ Maxx. You can have Wall Street…we’ll take the Internet. You can have your beloved homeless, homeboys, hippies and illegal aliens. We’ll send the homeless and the homeboys to Area 52. The hippies to Camp David and the aliens to states that border Texas. And since your taking the military we’ll put those funds towards patrolling the borders of California & Florida and the borders of the states that border Texas. Oh Gee…you got us…it’s going to be oh so tough giving up Greedy CEO’s and Rednecks, but as long as you’re asking, by all means. In all fairness, we’ll throw in the KKK too. We’ll trade Hot Alaskan Hockey Moms for Victoria’s Secret (we like our miracle bras) and the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Models. As far as the Bibles go, you only get the Old Testament for NBC & Hollywood. If you want the New Testament too we’re going to need ABC, CBS, FOX (except the News), Broadway & Bollywood.

We’ll make nice with Iran and Palestine if we feel like it, seeing as invading and hammering places that threaten us doesn’t get us very far. Seeing as you still believe the mumbo jumbo about our way of life being under assault keeping the aforementioned right is at your expense. Since you would you like to keep your Judeo-Christian values we were wondering if you would you like a few more Crusades to top them off with? We’re not really into the whole organized religion thing, however remaining open-minded, we’ll take Islam, Scientology, Humanism and Shirley McClain (after all she is selling jewelry these days). We’ll take the U.N., we’d rather deal with that expense than the headache and expense of war.

By all means, do us all a favor keep the SUVs, pickup trucks and over sized luxury cars…while you’re at it you can keep the high gas prices too.

Go ahead, continue to believe health care is a luxury and not a right. We sure as hell hope your Greedy CEO doesn’t find someone half your age to do two times your workload, leaving you struggling to find an insurance company that will accept you. And if they do accept you, we certainly hope you feel the crunch to your wallet when you realize it costs the equivalent of a small mortgage payment every month. Take The Battle Hymn of the Republic and the National Anthem. We happen to like Imagine and John Lennon along with the Beatles & Bob Dylan, Jerry Garcia, Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, Bob Marley, Jim Morrison, Ravi Shankar, James Taylor, Jackson Browne. By the Way…Charles Manson is all yours.

Of course you want to keep practicing trickle-down (er voodoo) economics, however it hasn’t “trickled-down” in the 50 years it has been in practice, stimulated the economy or grown anything but the size of the deficit. But that was your intent, wasn’t it? And by now we’ve come to realize that no matter what actually happens in history you’ll creatively mold it to fit your idealistic and historical opinions?

So if you would agree to our amendments, please pass it along to other like-minded liberals and conservatives. And by the way which ANWAR are you referring to? The 2007 Hindi Movie or the Alaska National Wildlife Reserve?

P.S. Absolutely. We’ll take our ‘Funny Girl’ and with Fonda comes Turner. You can keep Barbara Bush and J. Edgar Hoover…we’ll throw in Rush Limbaugh and Sean Hannity too.