A Wyntir Tale

"free rant" - The Letter

2011-07-10T11:00:00.000-04:00

~something in here describing the dad, coming home and checking his mail when he comes across this letter from his daughter~

"Hi Daddy,

Sorry it's been so long in writing to you. I've been thinking some things over and wanted to figure out how to express some of my thoughts and feelings from the past.

There are several things that have weighed on my mind, especially recently - well in the last few years recently, that i think may have caused me to act in certain ways. Basically, while i have always had a mother complex, that somehow was coupled with an eagerness to accommodate.

When you and i used to drive on the expressway, i vaguely remember conversations we used to have about the poor state of young people, world hunger and other destitute adults. These conversations always seemed to get to you where you'd pretty much break down and cry to the point where we had to pull over so you could compose yourself.

Being little and seeing your parent cry would probably freak out some kids. For a time, i would get worried, mostly because i was afraid of being on the side of the road, but i thought it was my job to listen and make you feel better by being there. This apparently had a huge affect on me later on in life as i felt the need to be everyone's rock.

Do you remember these conversations? i don't remember us having them that often with Sarah (sister) in the car, though i'm sure it may have happened once or twice.

I don't regret having these experiences, and obviously they happened for a reason. My being, physical and emotional, was a comfort in someway and for that i am grateful. I've just been thinking about how that might have impacted me today.

Now that i have a life of my own, that capacity has grown and dwindled at the same time. At 7 years old, the fears and expectations of a child are very small and external forces may take precedence. But at 32, the priorities change to put the self first. I don't think i ever reached that point. Somehow i was forever stuck in letting the external forces take priority. With some help, i'm learning to turn those odds around.

In order to do that, there are some frustrations i wanted to tell you about, because it's no longer healthy (nor was it ever) to keep these feelings inside. For the sake of keeping the peace and for keeping the "smile" forever on i hid or cut off communications completely. So i will freely describe them below.

I was hurt to receive your email that you whisked yourself away to Puerto Rico. Like the other times you and mommy split up, i felt you were abandoning us. Not only were you going away, but you left me in charge to take care of the family. That was all in my head because i never saw mommy as a fit to take care of anyone. So when you left for the 3rd time, i wondered why you didn't reach out to us for help. Again in my head that i thought i could have helped, in a way to comfort you - even though that's not my role."

freewrite dream

2011-04-24T12:00:00.003-04:00

Her eyes widened as she weaved backwards through the crowd. She could see white linen peeking through legs and shoulders. Step by step he was getting closer. Dark, brown eyes never left her face. his thumb flicked the hilt of his sword, readying for his move. she started to whimper to herself knowing he was after her. She couldn't tell why or what she had done to make him feel this way. all the takss at hand were completed and she did them with accuracy. but he was coming so close.

she backed further through the crowd until she came to a wall. juast as he neared her,, sword in hand and aimed at her heart she felt a pain in her back. she looked down to see a sword coming out of her chest just as the man in front of her pierced through her clothes. she couldn't see who stabbed her from behind but it didn't matter now. there was little pain, the swords were so sharp. she only felt faint, fell to her knees and blacked out....

Mystic's Way (freewrite)

2010-09-05T17:08:00.002-04:00

(no apologies, thanks, Phil :D)

This trip was planned for months. She would finally be able to return to the Renaissance Faire after years of working too hard and burying herself to forget her problems. A car rental awaited her that morning and she happily stepped on the train.

On her way to JFK, she took a deep breath. things were not doing so well in her life. She hated her job, this trip was going to cost her a crap load of money and she probably wouldn't get anything back because half the people cancelled on her. At one time in her life, she could hold everything together. She was the source of stability and comfort that would take over the world. Her grand scheme to rule everyone's heart over backfired and made her a servant.

Exhaling, her shoulders slumped and she gripped her bags around her tightly. It wasn't dangerous in this part of town. She was only going from Harlem to Queens, but this was her only source of comfort. As her arms gripped, a nagging feeling in her stomach started up. She remembered the bagel she bought from a street vendor and loosened her grip.

While the city is very convenient, sometimes traveling can get sticky. Subway and buss routes are frequently changed due to MTA's forever-going service maintenance. She was smart this time - she checked the website to make sure all her trains were running. The issue was with transferring from one line of service to another. From her house, three trains were needed. One to get downtown, one transfer to go local, then another transfer to go from Manhattan to Queens. Doesn't seem too bad unless you're waiting 15 min on a subway platform because the previous train just left.

The sesame bagel was lightly buttered but darkened spots that covered the brown paper bag suggested otherwise. She tore pieces from the bagel and brought them to her mouth, trying to remember if she'd touched anything after leaving the house. Eating on the subway is not the most sanitary, but she was hungry and really wanted to get rid of that feeling in her stomach. About half way through the bagel, she felt a little better and let the thought slide from her mind.

Like most new yorkers, she had an iPod with her at all times. This trip was no exception. Some japanese rock/pop idol caressed her ears as she soon forgot about her troubles and the stomach nagging disappeared. Before she knew it, she was ready to transfer to her next train. One train came right after the other and she was on her way to Queens.

She made it to JFK via the Airtrain, a friendly reminder of the monorail from Disney World, only a little sadder. No Magic Kingdom greeted you at the end of this trip. She went downstairs to the rental car company and was greeted with a long line of people. Here she thought she was right on time for her 8:30 am appointment and now she had to wait for these people.

Three clerks were working behind the counter, one trying to help a family of 5, another with two people with very large luggage and the last helped someone that was just waiting for her receipt. As our Harlemite waited, she was strangely serene. Normally long lines when on a schedule stresses her out, but she had her earbuds in and looked up at the flat panel TV that was shouting out a news report. New Zealand just had an earthquake. While she was going to get a bit behind schedule, these poor people had lost their houses, their communities and some their lives. She wouldn't mind waiting on line.

Ten minutes later, she was at the front of the line waiting for the next clerk. She swore she would never go back to this company again, after the stress they brought her during a previous trip, but they had the lowest price and the minivan she was looking for. She decided to give them another chance. Once she spoke to the clerk and was handed the receipt, she was glad she did.

The minivan sparkled in the parking spot. There was some dirt in the back, but no scratches, paint scuffs and no dings. She gave the car a once over, then took a picture of it for Facebook. With her luck, the phone would post it later that day. She was happy and didn't want to think about the troubles of her phone right now, she was going to the REN FAIRE!

From previous experiences, she went over each feature the car had. Windshield wipers, headlights, overhead lights, audio system and mirrors. Once she had a feel for each, she looked for a way to connect her iPod to the car. As she suspected, this car had an AUX input of a 3.5mm jack. She thought this would be the case and brought her 3.5mm cord with her! She plugged in the iPod and tested the sound system - all worked well!

Now her trek would take her out to Long Island - a trip that normally took about 1.5 hours by the LIRR, two hours by driving. From JFK, she made it to her destination in about an hour. She wasn't speeding, per se, just making good time. She picked up her passengers and they headed upstate to Tuxedo, NY to Sterling Forest.

They made it to the fair only half an hour later than originally planned. And all this after stopping at 7-11 for snacks, Burger King for breakfast and having to dodge crazy drivers that swerved in an out of traffic. They parked in the free parking, she gave out the free tickets and they started up the hill to the faire.

It was a tradition she started a few years ago - to try to go to the faire every year. She started it with her mom and two brothers. Her sister would have been invited, but at the time she lived farther upstate and couldn't make it. Years after they went together, but not all 5 of them together. This year, her tradition changed just a little. She took her brother's friends. She figured, they would want some space to hang out and she could go off and enjoy the faire on her own. It would be the first time she had ever done it, and something called her to do this more than ever on this day.

They went off to do their thing and meet up with other friends that came and she headed to a place she'd want to go for years. Mystic's Way is a path in the Ren Faire filled with Tarot Card, Palm and other readers. She wanted to talk to some of them to learn more about her dreams. When she was younger she used see reality in her dreams before they happened. She also used to be able to tell who was on the phone before it was picked up. After a strained marriage and a brutal change in work environment, these abilities left her, along with her optimistic spirit and happiness. She wanted to seek out help.

Walking to each hut, she saw readers of all kinds. Some had turbans, others had feathers, some would roll the eyes to the back of their heads as drunken tourists looked on in awe. None of these showcase dealers would do. She wanted a real person that had the talent. She rounded a corner and found a gentleman sitting with a lady, another faire worker, and she listened in.

"And literally i come away with pains in my legs and shoulders," the young woman said.

"Of course, it affects you physically too. You have to let it go, i come away from here exhausted," the gentleman answered.

She pretended to read the pamphlets as they continued their conversation - she liked this guy. He knew what it was like to take on the emotional burdens of others. The strain it takes out of you. He would be great to talk to.

They said their goodnights after a few minutes and she went back to her own booth. He looked at this new person at his stall and said,

"How are you today?"

"very good, trying to keep away from my Blackberry," she smiled. She could talk to this guy - he didn't pitch a sale right away. That was a good sign.

He laughed at that. "It's so hard to stay away. Plus you have to fiddle with the damn thing just to get it to receive phone calls!"

Bingo, she knew he would be the perfect person to talk to. They continued for a while about technology and how people are too reliant on their devices.

"Do you do any research of any kind?" he asked her.

"Not really, I'm in IT," she answers.

"Oh, you look a lot more mature than that."

"No, i'm in IT," she repeats with a chuckle. Then she realized what he heard.

"I thought you said you were 19. I was going to say, you look GREAT for 19." They laughed together. He had honest, sad eyes. Eyes that have seen a lot in their time. They also looked a lot younger than his face.

"I'm seeing a researcher in you. I thought maybe you had a job in research," he continued.

"Well, i do search for answers to problems all day..."

They continued the small talk and he asked her to come in and sit down. He was emotionally drained from the week and was not planning on seeing anyone else, so he had some time to talk.

She tried her hardest not to wear her heart on her psychological sleeve, but her body language betrayed her. Having someone know how you feel without you saying it is something she's always wanted. That higher connection always made her a good girlfriend, a good wife. She could tell what was needed and provided it, without being asked. This also tended to spoil her partner because they didn't ask for what they needed - so if something was missed on her part, there was a lack of communication and an argument or insecurity ensued.

He could see she was unhappy and forever worrying. She was a worrier and that caused her to miss opportunities that could help further her life. This energy was building up with such intensity that she could go insane and she was almost at the point already.

School was a possible door opener. It wasn't clear on how it would appear in her life, but somehow, a class or school of some type would lead to an opportunity that would help her to get out of the sadness. She also wasn't sure of what she wanted to do with her life. This led to the worrying and became an obstacle to her happiness.

Another recurring issue was a problem and she confirmed that her ex was still trying to contact her. He suggested that she take a firm action to stop this as it was on the verge of stalking. They spoke for a while about the cases he gets in where women want a better life but refuse to stop going to men that treat them badly. She felt sorry for those women, she was in that situation, not nearly as bad as beating or physical abuse, but she knew what it was to be mentally hurt. That's when he suggested there was a huge event that happened in the past that is causing most of the stress in her life. Something that she hasn't let go just yet. She was confused at this, because her previous relationship was seen as one huge event but then something struck a chord. It could have been the first time they argued and she realized at that time she shouldn't be with him. Or it could have been the incident of so many years ago where her very womanhood was in question.

He sensed a spirituality in her as well, asked if she did yoga. She told him about the dreams she used to have and they discussed his past. His grandmother had the gift and he received it when he was a young child. His father tried to suppress his talent and dismissed it as nonsense. He also tried to dismiss it but his quality of life suffered.

As for the present, he could tell that her current relationship was helping to keep herself together. There are communication issues. There was also a gap that may feel healthy, was not helping to progress the relationship further in the future. He was happy that she seemed happy, but thought she could do much better. She was the type of person that needs someone that's thoughtful and intelligent. She was a romantic and needed that from her partner as well. He wasn't seeing that in her current relationship.

At this point she started to reflect on all that he said. He pretty much told her all that had been rolling in her head all along. She had come to the point where she realized that her partner was not capable of giving what she needed. His best was not enough. This didn't scare her, and it wasn't a surprise, but it was kind of nice to hear it from someone else. This would take some thinking.

"You may feel comfortable now, and you may have agreed upon this space, but it's going so far in different directions, there's no chance to meet again in the future. There needs to be more of this," and he linked his hands together. "You need to be closer if this is going to move on."

"You will also have to make some decisions soon. You may not want to, you may not think you're ready, but you must decide. If you don't make the decision, Fate will make it for you and then you won't be satisfied with the outcome."

He continued to say that she may be unhappy with her job, but keep it for now - it wasn't easy to find another and most people didn't have what she has now. Be thankful for having work and try to figure out what she wanted from life. Most importantly, to FOCUS. Lack of focus is keeping her from having a strong career in that she enjoys. Dissatisfaction with her career renders it incomplete and the relationship cannot be mended until that stability has been established. One thing leads to another, that leads to another.

The last point he wanted to make involved emotion. The energy that's formed from emotions is what rules the universe. When someone is upset, that energy is focused and calls for more to be gathered together. If the focus is kept on optimism, or a positive goal, it will be heard.

"Learn to focus and speak from the heart. That's the way to healthily reroute your energy. By the way, what was your name?"

"i go by Jean. Pleasure to meet you," she smiled and shook his extended hand.

"It's very nice speaking with you, Jean. My name is Tom."

She received a phone call from her brother to say they were about ready to go home. She let them know she'd only be 15 more minutes and then she'd meet them at the gate. Jean apologized to Tom and tried to wrap things up.

He suggested a few books where she could find more information to help cultivate what talent she thought was lost. To help her focus and unwind he demonstrated some breathing techniques she could do every day. Lastly, he told her a trick on helping her remember dreams.

"Let me know how the school thing goes - let me know how it comes into play."

"I will!" she said as she walked back toward the faire's entrance.

Her brother and his friends had a great time at the faire and were tired and ready to go home. They met at the front gate, walked back down to the car and headed out on the road. After a quick I-Hop stop for dinner they all got home safely.

Jean returned the car and made her way to t he Airtrain Terminal. She felt fulfilled knowing she has some new things to think about. This turned her away from worry and suddenly she realized there was a quicker way home - an opportunity presented itself. She knew she made the right choice with Tom. She was beginning a new path in her life, one that put her first.

freewrite

2010-08-02T23:18:00.004-04:00

"you don't have to let go..." she heard through the pounding in her ears. "you can control it!"

"I can't... it's too much for me to handle!" she screamed from several feet above.

Ending it all now would solve several problems. She could destroy the next hundred square miles with ease. Flying higher she scoped the area. Several towns would perish if she unleashed this terror. Clenched fists blazed with an internal fire she called upon in times of need. Slowly her knees pulled into her chest and she raised her arms to cross them before her face. All she had to do was conjure up the energy.

The tears wouldn't stop, even though her eyes were closed. She could feel the wet drips roll down her cheeks until the fire kissed them away. Each flame flickered up in response to her anxiety. They fed on her anger and fear which could fuel them far longer than oxogen.

She opened her eyes and saw him below. He was crying too, but not out of fear, out of compassion. He didn't want to see her hurting, he didn't want the flames to wipe away her tears. That was his job. He held his hands out to her and she could feel his love. Not only in his eyes, she felt his very soul reaching out to her own.

Lowering her hands, legs and body temperature, the flames receded. She wasn't ready to meet him just yet - this was a defeat in her eyes. She looked at him one last time and shot into the sky leaving a trail of energy behind her like a shooting star...

(sorry - several different storylines all mixed into one. still trying to figure out my own style. and don't be worries about the subject.... there are lots of scenes i've been meaning to write about and some of them are dark and scary, others silly and light)

^_^

freewrite (thanks to sorcerer's apprentice)

2010-08-01T23:27:00.004-04:00

she stepped up out of the mouth of the subway. a gust of wind splashed her face with a few raindrops of the finishing storm. it was a refreshing chill after being in the stifling heat underground.

her pace was slower than normal due to a growing headache. each footstep pounded her skull so she padded lightly on the cracked sidewalk. at least the rain was helping cool off her head.

she reached the street corner and her book bag started to vibrate. it was either a text or a voicemail, she thought, until it kept going. a smile slipped across her face as she tried to guess the caller and as she pulled the phone out of her bag the smile faded.

i really don't want to write about that - it's an unhappy subject and while my mind requires me to write about it i refuse to :(

not tonight.

freewrite

2010-07-24T23:35:00.003-04:00

i have energy and i need to write now when i have a chance. it's amazing how the city can take on so many faces when your mood changes. i've seen at least 10 different types of beautiful - the kind that makes you cry, the kind you see from crying, a greener kind when i'm happy, blues when i'm sad... wah don't like where that sentence was going.

maybe i should try dr. wicked's lab. nah, i'm doing okay writing so far, just nothing with substance. i'll figure something out.

it always came back to the red door. she couldn't stop thinking about what happened that day.

wow... i was about to write a part 2 to this but i feel like i can't write better than i did then.... scratch that. Here goes nothing...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...my feet stumbled forward and i was standing beyond the gate. with my next breath, my hand was caressing the painted wood. and as i exhaled, the door closed behind me.

it was dark inside. my eyes were still used to the brightness of the morning but my nose led the way. i followed the faint smell of bacon and cinnamon toast and headed down a hall of some kind. It was long and narrow and i held my hands out for additional guidance. no furniture or paintings were here, but there was a small molding about half way up. if i knew more about architecture, i could describe it better. ornate gargoyles bit at my fingers about every five steps. by the time i made it to the end of the hall, my eyes could see what was around me.

the hall i just went down was a service entrance. it was wide, but meant only for transporting goods. arrows just beyond the red door were painted on the wall, directing where each item should go: to the right, food and pantry items, to the left, furniture and linens and up the stairs - clothing. there were sconces above me, but you'd need a ladder to get to them. flameless candles stood atop each metal platform and offered light when used. no electricity was present in this part of the house.

finding all i could, i turned to continue down the hall, then came across a heavy velvet curtain. Just as i reached out to pull it aside a knocking sound came from the wall. i froze in horror, thinking for the first time i've invaded someone's house. what if i was found? how could i explain my trespassing? Maybe if i could just get a little farther into the house. the smell of bacon was much stronger on this side of the hallway, perhaps the kitchen was near?

i pulled the curtain aside and was greeted by an empty home library. Bookshelves lined every wall and even framed an old TV set in it's wooden box. dainty furniture was placed just right for conversation, but didn't look all that comfortable to sit in. A victrola sat in one corner with it's matching records on the bookshelf just behind it. a door to her left was closed and dark from beneath but a door straight ahead was wide open, sunlight pouring in. this room had no windows, as if to protect the books from sun exposure. she'd love to return and see what books were on each shelf, maybe on her way out.

(some how i suddenly turned to the third person... i think i might end up doing that for the story, since it seems to come naturally. but i'll return to telling my story again - sorry about that :D)

As i got to the middle of the room i heard another sound from behind the bookshelf. it was similar to a rat trying to escape quickly from a predator since the movements were quick and sporadic. i froze each time i heard the noise until it seemed to stop. i went on to the next room.

this looked like a bedroom as it had several antique dressers but the bed was missing. i took a look at each to see the cracking paint and remembered a time when i was invited to the CEO's house as part of the new employee hiring welcome. his house included several dated pieces, which i thought was silly to have since they were all cracked and looked broken. this type of furniture seemed to fit in this place though. it didn't look as if someone placed it here - but as if it just belonged. a whispering call asked me to touch it, to see if it was real and my fingers obliged. the cracked paint didn't crumble under my hand but seemed to welcome my touch. "love me" it called out, "we've been incredibly lonely."

i pulled back a bit, as my heart felt a twinge of pain. everything here was a bit sad. something or someone was missing and this place wasn't complete until that thing was found. i moved onto another piece that was set into the wall. Only the drawers and doors stood out from the wallpaper. i pulled on one drawer but nothing happened. maybe it was stuck so i pulled a little harder. After a third pull, i gave up on that drawer. I tried another just beneath it and that one took the entire draw panel right off. now i've destroyed someone's property. what should i do now, i thought.

worry didn't have enough time to set in. As i tried to put the drawer face back, i noticed that behind the face panel i removed was a richly colored wood panel. . i knocked and the panel was solid wood. there was no way a real drawer could fit in there. so i followed the wall to see where the door might lead. it was a wall that jutted out just beyond the bathroom. it sectioned off the room for what looked like function of a dresser, but only the face was implemented. As i went around to the back of the wall, i could see a shoddy cover-up of a door to what must have been a building structure some years ago. (i'll really have to work this one out to get what's in my head on paper)

following that wall and the bad cover up, i heard a rustling, just like the knocking earlier. I looked over to find a staircase that was sectioned off by baby safety gates. paper was moving around on it's own and when i moved in closer, i found a small grey monkey trying to get up to see me. this grey monkey was familiar as i knew it's owner. but to think i'd be in his house.... i held my breath and listened to the heavy footsteps making their way down the stairs...

need to get out of my head....

2010-06-04T23:08:00.003-04:00

she ran. she had to run away from it. the thing that clouded her mind, her every waking moment. had to get away. she closed her eyes and slowed to a stop. her hands rose to her face as her knees gave out. the tears came.

where was she? she couldn't open her eyes. the effort seemed too much. all energy she had was used to banish the thoughts that threatened to suffocate her. was she still standing? no, she could feel the cold wet concrete through the seat of her jeans.

it could have been hours or seconds that she sat there and fought off the images and assumptions. time was not recognized. there was one phrase, one feeling she was trying to protect.

"am i being treated fairly?" it sounded hollow if she said it aloud. keeping it in her head didn't give it enough importance. had the past really screwed up her point of perception? she wasn't sure if she was capable of enjoying something at face value any more.

a smile or kind gesture was used to prepare her for a truth that was not easy to tell. a caress was forced by an external stimulant. complements only meant something was wrong. was she wrong for thinking this way, no - this was what she did to mask her true feelings.

when she was little, she was honest and blunt, inconsiderate to how her words affected other people. it took her several painful lessons to see that some thoughts are better kept in her head. not everyone wants to know how you feel. sometimes people just like to have someone listen. she learned well and started to keep her thoughts to herself.

as she closed her thoughts up, she started to become self conscious. all the ideas started to fill her head and it became very crowded. she started to internalize the feelings she had toward others and didn't want anyone to know what she was thinking. once and a while she opened up to tell someone an honest idea and she was laughed at. this made her close up even more.

people became objects to judge on sight so she knew how to protect herself. no one would ever be let inside. she would be safe so long as she kept a distance from all around her. she didn't need them anyway.

(wah... got hungry, got frosted flakes and lost the rhythm... maybe will finish later :P )

nyc writing (Harlem's Hollowed History)

2010-05-03T23:17:00.003-04:00

inspired was i by a walk down 137th street.
castles past their prime stared down at me with curious eyes.
'would she see us, would she care' they cried to each other.

i touched the wet bricks that water wore away.
some would claim the pipes had leaked, but i knew this damage.
these buildings had seen better days, the grooves were from tears.

in a time long ago and sadly forgotten, this used to be a kingdom.
grand lords and ladies danced in each hall and celebrated life like none other.
oppression couldn't reach them here, or so they thought.

the tides rolled in and things changed for the worst.
living became a burden and the kingdom was slowly fading from sight.
each proud building was left to deteriorate like their spirit of celebration.

the wonder of how things were consumes me.
there is a hunger for knowledge of the past while trying to preserve it in the present.
just think of all that could have been offered if the celebration always continued

midnight freewrite

2010-04-30T00:09:00.003-04:00

i know i should be sleeping but i felt i should write. it's been so long since i've wirtten a story that i feel it's time to put something on paper. i could also be because i'm reading this good book called "a children's story" pleas eforgive me for for forgetting the writer - i'll look it up later and maybe comment on it.

so i was thiking about a story that welnt something like thiss.....

wah, this freewrite is not coming out how i want it. i have to exercise this muscle - it's terribly weak again and makes me want to cry. my wants and needs are so spread out it's hard to focus on just one thing. there's so much fear i'll miss out on something that i tend to do a little of everything insteadof a lot of one thing.

the stories are constant in my head. every face i pass has a story, every building, every crack in the sidewalk. my city calls out to me begging for it's story to be told. but not the one you see at barnes and noble. not the one you read about at the library. the very soul of my city calls out for the true story to be told.

i'm saddened because i feel i'm not up to the task. but she calls out to mek, every night i pass through her neighborhoods. I can see her - in the child that waved hello on the subway and smiled, he needs life on paper. a story must be written about every thing every living being.

my timeis plentiful and there are enough stories to write in a lifetime and more. only how to start. poems, short stories, not ever a novel - that would be too presumptuous. it must be in the style one experiences. fleeting moments and carefree passes through the hall. that is how i'd tell her story.

endless love is so cliché

2010-02-04T23:40:00.003-05:00

He could see the faint glow of the moon's reflection just over the trees. The lake must be beautiful, he thought. Stars twinkled down to show him the way through the Pines and Firs as his steps quickened. This time he was away for too long.

It wasn't a far walk to the lake and he thought it best to leave Cassie behind. Her hooves would make too much noise along the path. Not that he needed to be quiet in these parts, but disturbing the silence didn't feel right. At his best, his boots whispered along the dirt path. She wouldn't mind, though. It was his way of telling her, "i'm coming...soon."

The last tree cleared and he dropped to his knees. There, on the lake, was the moon's reflection. While it's luminance lit up the area, it was not the source of the light shone over the trees. His hand trembled as he reached out to a figure in the water.

"Forgive my absence. It's been far too long since..."

"Hush, my love," her voice danced to his ears. "You're here now. Come to me."

He stood, eyes fixated on the light in the lake. One foot after another he was drawn to her. She called him and he obeyed. As he neared the lake's edge his eyes adjusted to the light. Little by little her form materialized. The outer curves of her shoulders were the first he noticed. Their width were matched by her round full hips. Next he could see the back of her head trailing with a braid that draped over one shoulder.

She turned to face him with puffy eyes and arms crossed. While her voice could hide any trouble she was having, her body could not.

"I had a terrible dream," she began. "You became sick and died. Nothing i did, nothing i tried could help you get better. There was nothing i..." her voice trailed off.

He moved in closer and listened.

"I couldn't help you. I couldn't save you. I was hurt that my time with you was so short," her arms grew heavy and fell to her sides. She dropped her head and continued "Nothing... all the love that i had wasn't enough to save you. i couldn't keep you with me."

His hand rose up to caress her cheek as a warm tear rolled down his fingers.

"I'm here now, we have this moment. Let's not waste this precious time we have together," he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

"My love for you i so deep i cannot love another if we should part. I want you to know, until your last breath that i have always loved you. I don't want you to feel that you were ever alone," she mumbled into his shoulder.

(grrr.... somehow this didn't turn out how i wanted it to.... perhaps i'll revisit. she was supposed to be the strong one professing her love - but maybe that's just too mushy :P)

freewrite. romance

2010-01-24T01:42:00.003-05:00

is it really meant only for books?
for women to fill it in their head through fairy tales and movies?
this one thing thought of from someone's head.
romance

maybe i'm just overcome with emotion.
seeing other people's feelings - how easily it gets to me.
why do i share what they experience.
empathy.

just fiddling around with some verses... think i'm too tired to write. have to start practicing that muscle again.

freewrite - first of 2010

2010-01-11T23:06:00.000-05:00

this is my writing exercise for the night. let's see what i can dig up from my head.

she closes her eyes and notices her fingers start to fly. she's no longer sitting on a bed, but on a toadstool. it's large, similar to the one from Alice and Wonderland, but it's colored in the bright orange and red most known from Super Mario Brothers. She can almost hear each item around her being pixellated. First the toadstool goes to 256 colors, the orange turning more into a yellow and it feels a bit rigid under her bottom. the pillows that are next to her turn into two goombas, silently pacing back and forth between two green pipes. the dolls that were on her bed become the vine plants coming up from the pipes. she's turning her room into a video game.

HA... the ceiling is made up of flashing gold boxes, their question marks teasing and calling her to knock them over to see what's inside. she does to find a growing vine that leads up to the clouds. now she feels blocky as she stands in one motion and looks down at the plumber pants she's wearing. She deftly climbs the vine to find a world full of coins and clouds. They look so high but as she reaches up her legs can't help but jump to grab them. Now she's flying through the air and wait... there's a tail behind her. She can wiggle a bit and get ever so higher. More coins, she laughs.

her eyes open and suddenly she's back in her bedroom. the pillows are neatly at the top of her bed and the dolls lay where they have been next to her. she looks around and is happy she's not in a video game. where would she sleep? were there any bathrooms in the level? what would happen if she really fell down the well - could she just start again at the beginning? things she never really thought of, it's just a game after all.

how would she feel if she stepped on the goombas and they disappeared. would she feel remorse for killing something, even if it was an enemy. all good questions and none she'd care to think about while playing the game. why would someone purposefully make you think about reality in a simple game as that. the whole point is the take your mind off the drama of every day, right? she's very happy she has video games to escape to, but it's also nice to know there's a soft bed waiting for her at the end of the day.

and to totally switch topics, she wants a nice garden that will hold all the veggies she'd cook with. if it were up to her it would be nice to have a farm - work hard, have real troubles. she's starting to feel like the troubles she has are made up or could be prevented. it's not like she's fighting Bowser to save the life of the Princess. she's fighting off bill collectors and rent responsibilities. but one thing is for sure... hahahaa.

that last line might be omitted for the sake of my job. ha... to think that i can't speak my mind because the internet has made the world a much smaller place. yes, i think i will remove that last line - maybe i'll make it my facebook status. no one would understand if it was out of context. sometimes i do wish i could be in a video game - but not really. just have the chance to go someplace different. to see new things and not have to worry about the money that must be spent doing it. i want to learn for the sake of learning. guess i'll have to stick to books and the library. that's the only real way to do anything for free anymore.

guess i just, i don't know- i'm very lucky. i'm able to have my own place and have enough money to help my family when the need is there and to still enjoy life a bit. it's not that i really want more for me... i just want more so i can help the people around me. guess my time is almost up and now i can watch the time tick by. if i were writing an essay, i'd say there was no way i could pound out 800 words in about 15 minutes. But look at me know. There's 800 with 45 seconds to go. seems it's all a state of mind. i could probably get to 1000 if i wanted to. seems there are so many things we're all capable of but we just don't have the want to do it. the Will is there if you cultivate it. you just have to want it.

why the hate?

2009-12-18T23:42:00.003-05:00

she paces back and forth with her fingers tangled in her hair. one moment she wants to pull as hard as she can because she doesn't know what else to do. the next moment her palms are cradling her throbbing head. the feeling of hate just won't go away.

it all started when he came into work. his "i'm always mellow" façade fooled even her, until she disagreed with him.

"We can easily do it this way..." she started to suggest.

"NO. We're doing it my way," he grumbled on the phone.

Not used to hearing such tone from her managers, she agreed for that moment. But why was he so mean all of a sudden?

'That was the beginning' she thought. Now she had to sit down. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she didn't feel well. Before she lost her footing, she made it to the couch and lied down.

"Deep breaths.... just breathe and let it go."

Her passion for living was so great it intensified feelings toward others. In love, this was incredible for her partners but for her enemies, it was a burden you wouldn't wish on anyone. Once someone showed a sign of irrationality due to power given, it was hard for her to take that person seriously and her rebellious nature to prove she is right comes out.

Which is what got her in trouble the week before. Some unusual activity started up at work that kept her busy for quite some time. As always happens when she's bombarded with requests, he comes over to ask generic questions expecting very specific answers. She let him know she'd look into the issue as soon as she can.

When she didn't get back to him in a reasonable matter of time, he began to slam her with emails asking for status updates and other requests. On a dare of her own conscience, she shoot back an email telling him she'd email him when she was ready. Then she prepared for the tone of voice, the disapproval and the condescending attitude. She could take yelling and insults, but having some idiot with a high ranking title talk down to her was unacceptable. She'd have an attitude all her own.

She was wrong, perhaps sinking to his level, but what right did he have to treat her this way? It wasn't as if he didn't treat others this way. She's heard people in his office disagree and the tone would come out. If only she had the wisdom to fight him with intelligence and not emotion. This was just too close to her pride and she couldn't let it go.

"i want..." the tears are streaming down her face now, her head buried in one arm. "i want to let it go. i don't want to let this get the best of me. I know i'm the stronger one, but i have to learn to let this go... i have to let the hate go before it destroys me."

freewrite - letter found in a bottle on the east coast

2009-12-07T22:51:00.004-05:00

feelings are like waves. they make you sway back and forth, choosing one side of a decision in happiness and another in anger. Sadness breaks your heart as you discover yet another path... maybe that's another reason Buddhists suggest making yourself into an island. no matter how hard the waves pound back and forth, you're still an island.

i'm stuck on a boogie board in those waves. they are taking me in one direction one day while i try my best to paddle away from the current. am i foolish to go against the grain? it's always taken me to my goals before. why is it so difficult to do it at this time? perhaps because the feelings are so much stronger now. so much more...

there's never a time for a clear head or a safe assumption. everything must be weighed and counted. i won't let the waves drag me under. i'm still afloat. i can be that island and that is where i intend to stay.

free write - realization

2009-11-02T23:24:00.003-05:00

blah... don't like my writing tonight. i just want to paint a picture of someone in the shower. the walls are dripping with condensation as the hot water runs. drop after steamy drop splashes against her forehead and cools as it runs down her cheeks. this time is her time. she turns around to let the water hit her back - the heat and constant pattering massage her tense shoulder and neck muscles. without thinking, she smiles.

how easy it is for her now to look back to see how foolish she was. he couldn't use her anymore. his flowery words told her she was the only one to help him. she could see now he only meant to use her up until she had nothing left. it almost happened, but she got away.

the water burst a bit more as she turned the knob. somehow tonight the water couldn't get hot enough. she thought about the call he made earlier that day. she didn't pick up, she didn't dare. he never cared what she might have been doing, so long as he could get in touch with her. not leaving a voicemail also made it easy to bear. this was one chapter she wanted to close and never revisit.

it was amazing how she could see it all now. especially how she could put it beyond and not cater to his needs... even if he really did need her, it wasn't her job any longer.

write or die - the past

2009-10-06T23:40:00.003-04:00

1000

32

lab.drwicked.com

okay well here we go. i can't believe how much i've wanted to write recently. i was so afraid i'd lost my ambition, but i thought if i wrote every day, that would get the juices flowing again.

yesterday i wrote about a red door. today, who knows what i'll write about. hopefully it won't just be blogging... right, here we go.

eyes closed, she listened to the whisper of the drapes. a warm breeze swayed them back and forth over the radiator. it was hot in the room, how she hated the stuffy room. flowers surrounded her bed like a funeral parlor. well didn't they want her dead soon anyway? it didn't matter. it wasn't their consistent bothering that made her worry.

all her life she struggled to make sure everyone around her was comfortable. if money was low or bills had to be paid, she gave up her own bills to make sure everything worked out. she didn't want to see others suffer. she knew that beyond all else, she could take on the burden of their suffering - she was strong enough.

what worried her now was her leaving this world. her brothers and sisters were all grown up and her parents moved on with their lives too. but what would happen if someone needed money or emotional guidance, or just a shoulder to lean on. had she been too concerned to let them live on their own? were they capable of taking care of themselves, or did she always give them an easy way out.

"why do you worry about such things..." the question hung in the air for a moment. Suddenly, she realized it was spoken aloud.

"who are you? how did you get here?" she was neither scared or shocked, but amused that someone was standing before her reading her mind.

"i'm here to guide you to your next life. You cannot make it on your own because of attachments you refuse to give up."

she stared at him curiously now. it was young man in a loose white shirt and black slacks. his hair reached just below his ears and he had beautifully trimmed sideburns.

"what attachments," she smirked. "i cannot leave until i know they are okay."

"That's not why i'm here. That's not your true worry." he picked a flower from one of the bouquets.

"of course it is, why else would you be here?" this time, she was surprised.

"because you are still linked to your husband." he dropped the flower.

her body stiffened and she looked up to the ceiling. blinking quickly, she tried to get rid of the tears that were forming, but at this stage in her life, she couldn't blink them away any more.

"i want nothing to do with him. nothing, do you hear me? i've had enough of worry and what-if's that i can't run my mind through any more scenarios. please leave me al..." her last word faded into a sob and she covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"you don't have a choice. this is your last unresolved attachment that must be faced and resolved. if you refuse, your life will be spent attempting to fix it..."

"no, yo-you can't ma-make me." she wiped the tears away but they wouldn't stop.

"you have no choice. i will try make it as painless as possible, but it won't be easy. come, take my hand..."

his hand didn't seem the least bit comforting. the thumbs were nibbled on, cuticles split and raw skin showing, and the veins popped out of the back of it, as if he didn't eat enough. still, she didn't want an eternity of trying to fix the relationship she let fail. she weakly reached out her hand and touched his...

she was back in the year 2002. before her stood a judge, her ex-husband and his brother. she gasped and started to shake, this was her wedding ceremony. she shouldn't be here, this happened already. she tried to speak but noticed she could only see what was happening through her own eyes. she couldn't control her body or voice.

"why am i back here?" was all she could think.

"this is where it started. the guilt, the joy, the feeling of belonging to someone and being stuck with them for the rest of your life: the regret of not having a real wedding with the excitement of not doing things traditionally. sure you were with him far before that, but the attachment started here.

you see, having a boyfriend was a bit of another babysitting job for you. it was another person to take care of. he didn't compromise to take care of your needs, so you felt he was incapable of doing so. you put it out of your mind and just took it one day at a time. then you got married. deep in the back of your mind, something told you that this person that was incapable of taking care of you would need to be cared for on a 24 hour 365 day schedule. you let parts of yourself go at that moment to make sure he had what he wanted. you forgot the most important thing..."

"what is that...?"

"what you wanted." he tightly gripped her hand and they moved onto the next memory.

~~~~

not too bad for half an hour. i almost made it to 1000 words. perhaps in these 39 seconds i can make it all the way up. don't know. think i should write down my life story, someone's bound to read it. even if i'm pictured as the enemy, the person to hate, wouldn't it be interesting to see how many people like my life?

dr. wicked's write or die - freewrite

2009-10-06T00:08:00.002-04:00

397

16

lab.drwicked.com

a true freewrite. i have nothing to say at the moment. though, that brings to mind a certain red door i once came across while walking to work one day. the color drew my attention since it was against the boring greys and blacks of the city. this door stood out. i suppose i'll tell you what happened when i entered.

the handle was warm, a shock compared to the chilled air around me. my hands didn't grip, but caressed the tarnished brass doorknob. for some reason, i really didn't want to let go, except the mood on the other side of the door called me in.

my body rocked back and forth, as if it was fighting with my head not to go in. i thought of the warmth coming from the inside and i couldn't help but step in. the moment my foot touched the soft hallway carpet i couldn't think for myself anymore. my hands closed the door, locking the 5 locks from top to bottom.

gotta stop telling and describe what's going on. let's try this again.

i reached out to touch the doorknob as my heart raced. so cold was the air it must have looked like i was smoking. but that didn't matter. the tarnished brass was warm on my fingers. caressing the curves i turned the handle more as if someone asked me.

no don't like that either. i'm sure other writers have this sense of not liking what they write. but it does get frustrating. i worry about how i want something to look to someone, even if i know full and well they will read whatever they want to read. it's just important that i keep on writing. i just can't sstop. my life depends on it.

we'll see what happens next time. love this dr. wicked's write or die. helps to get a sense of purpose in writing.. and jogs my memory to do it properly.

as i approached the door, my body swayed. the heart pushed me to open the door while the start of a headache cautioned me to stop and run away. i couldn't resist the heat coming from the other side. i needed to get in.

The castle... (freewrite)

2009-09-23T00:01:00.003-04:00

"Higher! It's still not tall enough..." the words flew from his royal mouth like arrows enclosing an enemy.

The prince's eyes didn't focus on anything but the wall of his castle. It would be a fantastic wall, built to scare away the enemy who tried to rush it and to protect the ones within. But so far he hadn't felt comfortable with the plans.

"Y-yes, sir" was all the architect could utter. Tavarius rolled up his seventh revision to the castle plans and bowed out.

"Marcello, show the man out."

"Yes, your highness."

When the room was quiet, the prince began to pace. Perhaps it wasn't the height that was bothering him. Was it the thickness? the brick used, the mortar? Day and night he thought about this wall and why it troubled him so. There must be something missing, something he hadn't thought about yet.

"If only father were here..." he sighed.

"If only...?" a smiling voice came out from behind a curtain. "Brother, what is troubling you?"

"Miranda, this is nothing for you to concern yourself over."

"Your darkened eyes worry me, Darius. If there were anything i could do to help ease your suffering, just say the words."

"You could help me fix the damn wall!"

"Brother, there's nothing wrong with the wall. No matter how strong its bricks or fine construction can make it, the wall is only as good as the people that support it. Father was weak and didn't have the strategical prowess that you have proven on the battle field. Go on with the plans. They are sound. Trust in yourself."

"But i'm not ready..."

"We adapt. Come, let's get some supper."

writing begins!

2009-07-27T23:26:00.002-04:00

just rewrote "Thank you... for everything" posted here: (Parts 1 & 2)

going to submit this week to a few contests.

will let you know ^_^

saturday morning freewrite

2009-07-11T11:15:00.003-04:00

it's amazing what goes on around you. while i was riding the train the other day, i noticed a highly irritated woman sitting in the row of seats across from me. a man just squeezed into a 3 seater and decided he'd work on his over-sized laptop. elbows out, he worked in the tiny space, making her feel uncomfortable.

here's a bit of a story freewrite i started on the train describing what she might have been thinking. i guess you could see my writing process, where i stop, crossout, start again. Perhaps this is a good way to see how my thoughts come together ^_^

~~~~~~~~~~~~
"What the hell is he doing?" her eyebrows scrunched.

A day of getting coffee, writing kiss-ass letters and .... (started over)

Her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance. The guy next to her just whipped out a 17" laptop between the Metro North seats. One long sigh from pursed lips foreshadowed their ride home. She leaned her head back and had to laugh. Just in front of her was a Sprout ad on the window.

"That's the kid's channel, right? The one where little ones learn how to be with their parents. What that would have done to my relationship with Mama. Too bad we never took time to make paper flowers."

A smile crossed her lips at the thought. Would it ever be possible to start over.

"Maybe i'll cal her tonight..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~

maybe i'll continue the story. thoughts of a train rider. maybe a little mroe research and body language reading is in order. damn i love to tell stories... ^____^

writing on the downturn

2009-06-15T22:51:00.004-04:00

guess i've been busy lately. dreams have kept me up though... here's one i had last night:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She enjoyed the scent of lavender. Every time she wiped down the counter, she would catch a whiff. Being economically sound wasn't so bad after all....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and with that pause, the phone rang and i couldn't finish this story. i find it amusing how i have an entire build-up of a story but the reader doesn't have any idea what's coming.

more to come, hopefully i'll remember to finish this one.

some day, i'll have a complete story.

excited about a new story

2009-06-04T19:36:00.002-04:00

okay... i think i really have something good going here. one of my freewrites, the one on may 17th has really caught my attention. i was writing at a time where my emotions ran high and the feelings just hit close to home. i hate to say it, but you really have to write what you know.

so i think i'd like to ellaborate on that theme. a lonely woman who's been burned before, finds hope in her new lover, but becomes incredibly divided in her own mind. while she feels security in him, she is unsure if she should trust him, like she's trusted no other. i don't want to describe the entire character, i'd rather write about it, but i'm wondering how well i can make it flow.... we'll see.

next part coming soon.

short story

2009-05-26T21:00:00.003-04:00

going to attempt a short story. but now that it's forced, i wonder if i can do it.

perhaps this will turn into a free write. maybe i'll just close my eyes and let the words come out.

swirls of leaves danced around my ankles as i walked down the street. as a gust of wind picked up, i thought they might travel up my pant leg, but the dear little green things were content to stay close to the ground. a laugh escaped my lips as i realized i was thinking about leaves as living, sentient beings again. maybe it wasn't just a dream.

a bright ray of sunlight reflected from an apartment window, and i only had a chance to admire it's beauty for a moment before the bus arrived. as if they were threatened by the fumes, the leaves blew away as the hissing doors opened. i stepped into the bus, dipped my metrocard and with a familiar bleep, i was on my way to work.

every time i get on a bus i apologize to rosa parks. i happen to like sitting in the back, though i know times are different now. there's a difference when you're given a choice, or made to do it. but i take the seat in the corner, walking past little children going to school and older men in suits, also going to work. most of them don't bother to look up, unless i accidentally brush against their bags on the floor.

"sorry" i murmur, though they don't really hear it.

my seat is taken, and i sigh sadly. i just wanted to ride with a good seat next to the window. there was something i had to prove. two days ago, i walked to work, nothing out of the ordinary, but still, quite a distance. i passed through one of the city's largest parks and took my time. sweet grass filled my nose, singing birds drowned out the car horns and the sunlight danced between the tree limbs. i almost didn't want to leave.

as i approached the exit, something buzzed by my ear. i thought this early in the morning it might be a mosquito, so i swatted my ear and turned around to see what caused the noise. a leaf was dancing on the air, right next to me. there was no wind in the park, so naturally i was dazzled by the magic of its flight. it buzzed again, but this time, i could hear words from the buzzing.

"don't leave..." it pleaded. "come play with us."

my brows furrowed as i thought about the rationality of this happening. here it was, about 6am during the week, surely i was dreaming. there were leaves falling from the trees and on the ground, i must be seeing things. but the leaf danced closer and again, without a face asked,

"won't you stay...?"

looking around, i saw no one else in the park. i couldn't hear a car, or a truck, a subway or screeching children laughter. everything was still except the leaves. i apologized and slowly backed away from the leaf. inch by inch i made it out and the leaf fell to the floor. a car horn warned me of its turn and i jumped back up on the curb, barely missing being hit. from then on i agreed to take the bus crosstown.

reaching up, i grabbed the pole and held on for the rest of the ride. that couldn't have been real.

"leaves don't talk" i whispered to myself.

a little girl who had noticed me smiled and placed her finger to her lips. 'it's a secret" she whispered back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i don't think i like writing in the first person..... :-P at least not like that.

freewrite

2009-05-17T22:53:00.002-04:00

The silence stiffened her. Every second was another empty hiss in the receiver. She could open her mouth and say something, but what was the use, it wouldn't make her feel any better. She was here in New York, he was far away, beyond the reach of her unmoving hand.

"yeah, i'm okay." it was a lie. nothing was okay. her feelings for him were slipping with every phone call they made. she couldn't touch him, he was becoming a memory and all too quickly. he wasn't there to comfort her, he wasn't there to tell her he loved her. empty promises meant she should let go. to protect herself.

"okay, i'll talk to you tomorrow then." and with a sentence, any last remaining hope of being saved was broken. the frayed rope just snapped in two and now she was going to bed alone. again.

she felt angry, sad, lonely, and empowered. it was one more nail in the coffin - something else to help her become stronger to live on her own. each time her feelings went unnoticed she became a pillar of her own strength, building the metaphorical wall around her heart. someday, she knew that wall would be too high for any man to climb. but maybe that's what she wanted all along.

but for now, the wall was only five bricks across, two bricks high. was it unhealthy to count the amount of times she was ignored, probably not. but she did. the calculations remained in her head like any good aquarian has an instinct to do. she'll hang on to that calculation for dear life because if she couldn't grasp that, she would fall apart.

now the doubt set in. was this really what she wanted? why had things changed so drastically. did she notice them change at all, or did she never really see clearly how things had been in the first place? he listened to her, complimented her style, looked past the body and into the mind. but is that how all men seethe their way into sex. was she completely take in by charm? it couldn't be that. if only for the reason that she was just as sexually charged, if not more so.

after doubt comes insecurity. maybe she's changed, and hasn't realized it. maybe she was better, or more appetizing when she wasn't the main course. isn't it true that you always want to try what someone else has? is history repeating itself? he's getting tired of her. there's no need to write stories or poems or tell her how much he loves her because he's already got her. what if she just doesn't have staying power? is that what happened the last time? is that why it didn't work out. she just wasn't good enough.

her mind is pacing back and forth, like she would do if she had the room in her small apartment. why couldn't she see that before? why does she think she can have what other women have? the face and body only lure them in, no matter what they say with their sweet talk.

she'll go to bed crying tonight, lonely and determined to live a lonely life in the end.

the red door

2008-11-20T23:52:00.001-05:00

this is a story all about how.. no that's just will smith now. funny how the past comes back do you... isn't it? i started this dr. wicked lab thingy to see if i could get myself back in the habit of writing. i want to write stories again. now the screen just started turning pink. think next time i'll do kamakaze mode.

but anyway, on to my story. i'd like to write about the red door. i should start off small, but then i never know where to begin a story. when i was younger, it always seemed to come much easier to me. but now, it seems like a chore to remember all that stuff. it just shouldn't matter anymore right? just start typing away with a story and see how far you can go with it. and stop with the damn backspace!!! grrrrrrr....

i thought someone was trying to get me. walking to work is such a bore. the same streets, same subway lines, same everything when it's a daily occurance. i'd rather just take a different adventure every day, until i wanted something normal again. we all know what happens to girls that want something different. they get it in a way they didn't expect, then they realize how much their previous life was what they really wanted. in the end, they all get to you.

so one day i noticed something different. i couldn't believe that i never saw it before... a door under the stairs was bright red. Not a nice christmas red, but dark, living red. even with my ipod on, i stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at it's living presence. it wasn't breathing, yet it moved as if a wind was carried through it. i thought that maybe my tired eyes were seeing things. i'm never my best in the morning. but then i heard a lock click and i started on my way, not wanting to stare. the day progressed as every day had for the last year. i went to work, took in calls, resolved issues, stayed later than i should have, and walked home. the door was completely forgotten.

the next morning, taking my normal "follow the traffic lights" route, i came upon the door again. it still seemed like it was moving, but this time, it was inviting and warm. for some reason, i couldn't take my eyes off it. my feet stumbled forward and i was standing beyond the gate. with my next breath, my hand was caressing the painted wood. and as i exhaled, the door closed behind me.

Free write....

2007-10-07T13:17:00.000-04:00

Her head fell to the pillow, sleep finally took over. After hours of crying, there were no more tears left. blah... i need to write. my creative juices have dried after all the insanity that's happened over the last year. though, i find that' i'm most imnspired wheile walking. in the misdddle of the park, crossing the street, doing laundry. then my laziness sets ijn,.

why am i so reluctant to do what i once loved? perhaps its' because i really have gained a sens e of losing attachments. either that, or i'm attached to other things now. how do you get your old seldf back? i'm not usied to jachanging. i'm not used to beind different than myself. and now i look at me and i don't recodgnize the person looking back. it's a sham e really. all was vigiven up sofor something i thought i could depend on. then i failed myself.

The subway

2007-05-18T21:22:00.001-04:00

Where warmth surrounds you in a soft embrace.
When it's cold outside and you need a place
To hide away in your secret place
On the train that rumbled by.

What fun adventures await the day.
"Oh how we travelled" they'll proudly say
To the ones that watched them ride away
On the train that rumbled by.

It takes me home, it takes me far.
You could never sleep by car
And arrive in half the time unjarred
On the train that rumbled by.

~wyn ^_^

friday night freewrite

2007-02-09T23:48:00.000-05:00

getting back into the habit of writing. actually pulled out my planner so i could scribble a bit wile i as thinking. saw some trailers tnonight... friends went to the movies and reaminded me i have to keep tsome tabs on the real world. just to understand my surroundings and context.

made a really great friend a few weeks aog. sometimes we hang out, or go for walks. talking is awesome and i think this is the first time i actually made a friend on my own. it wasn't someone knowing someone else. imagine that, the introvert is a social butterfly. HA! wheatever.

where did my itunes ogo? damn steraming radion station. bring back my blac.. classical music please! time to find a new statuyion.

should we go to thje pspa for my fbirthday? not sure. really don't want to drag our asses over ther. sorry, very opotty mouth post. think i like posting beter from my laptop, but the mbile device canb e typed on anywhere!! _^________^

been listenin g to the last five yarars and draswing so many parallels. only i feel like th e faults o f boh partnnerrs was sfelt by me. it probably istn't fair, but i mjst do what i have to do tomorrow. if it means losing an apartment, hey.. i learned from thew best how to lose attachment.

Free write

2007-02-07T13:39:00.001-05:00

Need to write, has been a long time since I heard wicked. It feels good to have something familiar. So many new things at once are frightening. Seems I can tyype slligtly better on a teo. Hahaha figures now the typos start.

Don't think this is as useful, I can't typr as fast as I think on a msall device. Too much at work. Have to claw my way out and drag my team to the light. Don't know why I have this feeling of being the only one that works I cnt imagine we woul d be working at all if no one was working, but why am I one of the few that srtess out?

Hope he's fee tonight. I'll need ..... Why oddo I feel I don't deserve someone to be there for me? I wasn't conditioned to thiink that way, at least not by past relationships. I have to be the strong one, alsways, to lead the pack. But what happens to a naturl leader that doesn't want to lead....

Breathe. Its a simplw concept, but so rarely done. Caught an attitude today because I don't know if certain eople realize how much we suffer. Attempts to help are nice, but we need some real-life solutions. Have grat ideas in calass, but that's just class.

I'm tired of this job. Everyone has an attitude, they don't need my help then. They can nastily go on aboout their business. Money is just not above happiness.

Sure, I say that now because I have it to live comfortably. Feel crushed with responsibilit and decisions..

At least I made a friend. Luch is almost over... Wish I had more time.

sunday freewrite

2007-01-14T10:59:00.000-05:00

good morning. thinking of him, thrielller . dancing michael jackson whnen he was good. vincen t price was a great actor. the horror "the thriller" aaahahahahahahahahahahhaha

ahahahahahahahahahahha

80's music. makeing new friends of friend's families. little lkieddies. KIDDIES ARE LITTO!!! music makes me lose control. having fun with friends. the beauty of staritgin g over . think this is missy elliot. i miss yhim, but he's having a busy weekend, just like i am. when the kiddies are done with backshketball, we'll be together again. working out for th e 4 of us . can't wait for spiderman 3, hope id to doesn't suck like x-men 3. "who's around soto save you...?"

i have someone that seaved me. i didn't have to be a superhero alone.

birthday's coming soone, thing k thinkgs ah... messed that up ureally bad. dressing up is actually fun. who would have thought. gotta luf the eyes when you show off. like cinderaella at the ball, all eyses on me, love the attention, love the safe distance because you're so radient.

going to have a good year. going to bring my 3.7 back up somehow. can't believe this messed up my bgrades, but no more. i ;m taking care of what needs to be done.

i need to take care of me. have faith, no that's not the right word. i have faith, just not the will to put myself befoer others. i can't believe they samples furirlese? is that how you spell it... ah well.

went to a house party and actually had fun. its wrong to cartegorize people, but they were 80's music listening intellectualls. that 's my crowd. didn't realize i had a crowed, a place to belong. it feels really nice to stay up late and sttalk to a complete strange r who had something very simialar happen to them.

seems like so many people were unhjappy at no, in 2006. and there you have it!!

~wyn

freewrite - a little on the sad side

2006-10-12T01:00:00.000-04:00

constantdrowning, fricken cockroaches - infesting all parts of the scity, not to mention the damn rabts at 3am in the morning, more like 5 but who can tell when your eyes are still closed and you hae ve to go to work. miss him, miss him terribly, then i get the sinking feeling like when you're not wanted. it's not a pleasante feeling. thought i would not get that again that i ofound someone that might have made that go away, turns out at some point in time, everyonen may feel that way about you. i don' t want to feel that way about anyone, because i know hot w it is on the receiving end.

just a meatter of fime. damn my typing is horribel. don't want to body to get in the way. sexual feelings are one thing, but theysh ouldn't be the only thing. just want to be held, want to watch mets games in someones arms. getting that now, just whaeve a sinking feelin g that it will end.

hurting. doesn't want to speak to me anymore that's okay, and understandable. no pressure omcoming from my side of things. i undersatand there's opain, i understand healing must be done and i don't know if we can aever be friends again. time will tell.

that hurts, but is also freeing. he'll make it without me. perhaps it was wrong to think he needed me so much, but it's hard not to think people don't need me. yeah , i'm selfish that way, i guess. maybe more o.. more egotistical. but it's all in the aname of caring and all that. too bad i can't see myself needing ahnyone elsea. that's what got me into this mess in the first place.

thinking about revamping all my blogs. maybe make into one with tsome pages, then i get lazy. can't even keep up with some of my school work . invetensive classes suck because therey're just one after another after another and if you miss haeflf a lclass you're prettye much screwed tof rhtela;flksjdfl for teh rest of the esemester. don't want to fail this one, it's oimporattant. i know i can learn the coding and all the parameters, ubut i'm missing so much of fthe foundation, what can i do.

work will get better. changes are being made and ewe'll avhave a bit less stress than we have been. omost importantl,y, people will like calling the help desk again. gotata amake sure we get these people what they need.

drained and drowning. not sure chawhat to do next. don't liketo go to sleep at night. it's hard being alone............

Nuclear Dream Escape

2006-06-25T08:23:00.000-04:00

There's a reoccuring dream i have... where a bomb is dropped and no one realizes until it's too late. Normally, in that dream i've never been able to escape. As the flesh and bone melt down, i've normally woken up. This time, i found a way out.

A school building represents the scene. There are several characters that we must think about, the group of geeks, the mysterious nurse and her doctor accomplice, the "unaware" and a small child mastermind.

The school is having a festival, and the noise drowns out the sound of the drop. The rumble, the heat, even the explosion doesn't seem to wake people up. i turn to see the flames devour the unknowing, and i'm probably too close - but i have a new motivation to escape. Instead of going toward the chaos, i turn down the hallway and see a way out.

Normally, within minutes the radiation has a hold of me... but this time, i'm able to get outside and i keep running. My running was slowed, but this new freedom allows me abit of speed. I run all the way to the outskirts of town, knowing that's where the bomb cannot reach. This is where i find the strange nurse and she asks me to follow her.

Like a cut scene from a movie, i can see the other characters. The group of geeks just picked up the surveillance of the bomb and they are investigating now. A teacher is watching TV as he sees his three year old son playing with a large video game controller. No longer the cute little boy he always knew... but the little boy seemed to be carefully moving the buttons and as he flipped over the controller, there was a keyboard on the other side. He started talking about how he told the government all about his father and their plan. How it was time he did something. The young child used advanced vocabulary and his eyes were wild with madness.

The father and i went to his house where the child was sitting in his crib. The father looked on unbelievingly because the little one was crying. As he wiped the tears away, he smiled. "It was my first mistake... I was finally able to make my first mistake." Hearing that from someone so young, i decided that all hell was breaking loose and i'd better get out of there.

Now i was flashed back to the nurse. The police were looking to quarantine anyone that was in the vicinity of the bomb. The nurse and her accomplice were wearing their respective work clothes so we had to get them out because it looked as if they belonged to the school. She tried to tell an approaching police officer that they were from a different region, but they weren't believed. With a little disguising, we ran away again to try to find the geek team....

~wyn

Fellings Free-write (for mature audiences)

2006-06-18T10:04:00.000-04:00

too much work, constantly talking and unable to breathe. wish someone was there to rescueme. on a beach, in his arms, safe from the turmoil of everyday attitudees. traeveling to someplace far away, being together, being understood, being cared for, finally someone who cares back. it's been so long, too long to remember, someintone understands.... this is the most important thing.

not much to write about today, just the incrediclble feeling of being understood. having someone know me , having someone who wants to know more about me.

short but finished.

~wyn ^_^

deadly free write

2006-05-28T21:54:00.000-04:00

(this one is really not complete at all.. just something i had in mind)

One police officer shook his head. "It's a shame really, she was in love."

"Or obsessive," His partner replied.

They stood over the body of a 21 year old woman. Her legs As camera flashes captured her final resting place, Officer Neil Croady noticed how her skin matched the innocent white of the chalk outline.

"I wouldn't call this suicide, Kev. Look at her legs. What position would she have to be in to get them tangled like that. See how the left one is bent, and under the right?"

"Call it what you will Neil, but we have a job to do," Officer

The note from her night table was not the only one found in her apartment. Perhaps she was an aspiring writer, but these are what teachers call 'free writes'."

your hands, their position, anywhere you want to be. come be with me , here in my arms. how acan someone be so far away, yet so close to my heart? when ever we're together, i feel like you understand whthe way no one else has. what could have brought this feeling to my mind? i've never known anything like this begore.

Jibberish

2006-04-27T11:31:00.000-04:00

Too many voices
They all want more than I have
What am I to do?

Something forgot...

2006-04-27T11:10:00.000-04:00

On the platform a genlteman looked at his watch.
"Where the hell is the train," he muttered. The 6:26 train was already half an hour late. "So much for the sunset. Forgive me, Kahri."

He inched closer to the edge of the platform, like many others, looking for an oncoming train. Empty tracks returned his stare as a fllimsy piece of garbage mockingly floated by. When he moved back, his shadow stayed behind, a painful reminder of what he missed earlier.

"Soon the stars will come out and we'll all play in the dark," an old woman sang. "Dark and light, day and night. 'ntil the break of day."

The gentleman shook his head with pity. Here was a little crippled lady, hair in disarray, walking down the platform singing. Despite the cane and hunch in her back, she had a smile on her face, and didn't seem to mind if people were trying to rush around her.

She was just about to pass him when a woman ran by, knocking into her shoulder. The cane flew into the air as the old woman tipped over. Ray didn't have time to think. His bags dropped to the floor and he jumped onto the tracks to catch the little woman. He only thought of her silence as the train horn blew.

"Let's go," he mumbled and ducked under the platform, the little body cradled in his arms.

"Dark and light, day and night," the old woman continued her song.

Ray set her down on a bundle of old newspapers and brushed off his own pants. She didn't look hurt, and looking closer, the hump was gone. 'Now I must be seeing things' he thought. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Now her hair was neat. It was hard to tell the difference, but somehow she looked younger.

"I guess we missed the train," maybe conversation would explain things.

"'ntil the break of.... Oh no, we caught the train, Ray, we caught it just in time."

"But we're under the.... How did you know my name?"

The woman smiled. "Oh, excuse my manners. Please, call me Kat. I've known you for a long time, Ray, but it seems you've forgotten me. But we'll talk about that later. Let's be on our way."

Still stunned, he nodded and took her outstretched hand. 'Who was this woman and how does she know me... Did she look familiar... Why was she old before, but now she's my age....' He questioned silently. "Where are we going?"

"We're going to find your strength."

2006-03-02T18:22:00.000-05:00

Distance was easy to measure from the high seat of the traveling princess. Her eyes swept over the mountains and rivers they crossed for six days. From her hometown, it was

As a girl, she used to travel to the city of Plainwreth during the summer. There were several paths to its center, but her companions chose the one she was most familiar with.

She couldn't believe they came so far, just for her. Most of her court were brought up

Thank you, for everything! (pt. 2)

2005-12-25T18:49:00.000-05:00

Today would be the day. Jeanne sighed and listened for a while, before opening her eyes. She could hear bars slamming, yelling and whistles in the distance, but she’d grown accustomed to it, like one who no longer hears the crickets at night. When she did open her lids, a cloudless sky mocked the seriousness of her final day.

The lifeless black box stared at her when she entered the main room. It remained where she left it, on the table, and defied her very use of it. Jeanne almost wanted to throw it across the room, but she knew its purpose here, and why she asked for it in the first place.

She sat on the table and stared back at the tape recorder. It was time.

Record.

“I returned to my apartment, which is strange to describe. It consists of three levels, the the main room is an open square. Each level has its own staircase and the room that day was flooded with sunlight. That’s when she came in.

“I saw her from the corner of my eye and tried to get to my apartment before she could reach me, but she just came up to me yelling like a mad woman.

" ‘Why were you with him,’ she fumed!

" ‘You’re taken, why do you care,’ as if it wasn’t bad enough I hurt him, this bitch was getting on my case.

" ‘You had no right!’ she was grabbing my shoulders now, but her little frame could hardly move me.

" ‘I know, I didn’t want...’ I tried to finish but she cut me off.

" ‘LIAR! He just wanted to be your friend and you..’ the rest was indescribable. That woman looked at me with crazed eyes.
‘You just wanted his warmth.... But you stole that from him!’ “

Pause.

She put the device down and went to the fridge. The water wasn’t changed; that meant they didn’t complete surveillance last night. Maybe they wanted to give her a last chance for a good night’s rest. She let the door to the fridge close on its own and returned to the table. Rays of sunlight were already heating the floor.

Unpause.

“She was wearing a bathrobe. I figured her feet must be wet, but I came to accept the truth of it. She couldn’t have slipped from the landing, the stairs are carpeted.

“When she screamed, someone from the third level came out to see what was going on. I don’t think he saw me push her, or even see where she initially came from. But he did see her broken body strewn across the bottom floor, blood pooling from her head and chest.

" ‘Jeanne... Jesus, what happened? ‘ he asked me.

“Although I opened my mouth, nothing came out. My legs had another idea.... and I found myself running. Through my front door I went, looking to climb out to the window ledge to escape. There’s a trellis-thing on the side of our building that I’ve used often to get to the roof for privacy – it was very convenient for that instant. When I reached to one of the window roofs, I sat there and cried.

“Have you ever had the feeling that your heart was sinking? That you’ve done something so terrible, it-it makes your heart feel lower in your chest? Well, that’s the feeling I still carry with me. The reason I’m doing all this. I wanted to tell Mr. Adam thank you, for everything he showed me... I...”

Pause.

Jeanne sniffled, then wiped her eyes. “Now I have to explain Derek... Damn.”

Unpause.

“Derek was the guy I talked about before, the one who might have seen the fall. He used to date the crazy bitch, well, he still might have but the way we were going at it, I’d say he lost interest...” Jeanne smiled and laughed at that.

“Derek worked on cars at the mechanic’s shop downstairs from our apartment. He always smelled of oil and tires when he came home. Even though he was going out with the crazy bitch, her name was Marianna, we didn’t let our looks to each other go unnoticed. So, we fooled around once or twice, it meant nothing, just fulfilling our basic instincts, and remained friends.

“When I was out on the roof, crying, Derek came up to see if I was okay. When he offered that greasy hand to help me down, I realized the mistake I made. Marianna wasn’t talking about Adam earlier. I pushed her because I thought she was blaming me for Adam’s sadness. Since that wasn’t the case, it was time to turn myself in.

“I accepted Derek’s hand and climbed off the roof. The police were already downstairs and he turned to me:

" ‘Are you sure you want to go down there?’

" ‘Yeah...’ was all I can remember saying.

“The police were waiting for me, and they seemed surprised that I was the one coming forward. I turned toward Derek and thanked him, to which he replied:

“ ‘Just returning the favor. Please, take care of yourself.’ And the police took me away.”

STOP.

A knock at the door startled her. “I’m done,” she answered. Sliding the tape recorder across the table, she whispered “I’m done...”

Keys jangled at the lock, and the cell door opened.

“It’s time Miss ...”

“I’m ready,” she interrupted.

Although this was off her chest, she still felt remorse. Stiffly, she held out her arms to be cuffed and they led her away from the cell. Since she was completely cooperative with the police, she was offered two requests before her execution. Jeanne asked for a bottled water, and a device to record her confession.

True, she was being held because of the murder of Marianna Kensington, but this sentence was only fitting for her behaviour. The act of rejection was truly the worst crime of all.

"Thank you, for everything!"

2005-12-04T20:46:00.000-05:00

Jeanne sat at the table, watching the small box across from her. She stared at its menacing buttons, and rotating eyes, not sure what exactly she should say. It would almost be intimate, speaking her thoughts and recollections out loud, alone, except for the box. Nothing like paper, or even a video - but pure magnetic audio tape...

She took a deep breath and picked up the tape recorder.

"There was this guy i once knew. He was kind of quirky, in that smart kind of way. You know, the kind of guy you want to cringe from, because he said something embarrassing, but you'd never do it, because what he said - well, it was the truth.

"I met him online. He was a tour guide, to some off chance diner that i used to frequent. We decided to meet up because i just couldn't take being in my apartment any longer. That's another story that will come in later. I saw that he knew a little more about the history of this diner, and i emailed him, asking him to join me for dinner."

Pause, it was a strange word, but it meant the world. She wasn't ready to go on, not yet. His memory was too clear in her mind. Jeanne was a little afraid, afraid she'd feel those feelings again. The feelings that were so dear to her, yet forbidden to have. It was impossible now. Unpause.

"Let me tell you about the diner. It had the corny black and white checkered floors, red booth seats and chrome lined tables. Every day i'd see the master chef behind his counter, a tipped white short-order hat graced his balding head. He always smiled when i came in, because he knew at least someone would enjoy his food that day. By now i'd come to know the entire staff. Sara was my favorite waitress and i noticed, quite subconsciously, that i'd come in during her shift just for the great service.

"Benny was the man behind the counter and Pedro was the busboy," she laughed and pressed pause again, wondering if she should keep laughing on the tape. She decides to, unpause.

"Despite Pedro's name, he didn't speak a word of spanish, and he got more than a few looks for being a busboy. But he loved his job, the atmosphere, the people, even his boss, Benny. I used to talk to Pedro from time to time, it was another reason i loved the diner. Now i'm getting off topic.

"Adam was his name. It was a pure name, as pure as his dark roots and blond hair. It was sandy brown, and messy, just the way it should be. He wore rectanglish glasses," she laughed, "is that even a word? Sure, why not. It made him very attractive, and the focal point was his eyes. I'm not sure why he was a tour guide. His intelligence made me wonder about his choice of career, but i wouldn't ever ask him about it, for fear of hurting his feelings. I'm also not sure why that might offend him, but it just seemed like the wrong thing to ask.

"Off topic again. So he came in and asked for me immediately. Sara quirked her brow and with a huge grin asked if he was my date for the night. He took the jest in stride, pushed his glasses up with a graceful, but shy motion and replied, 'Just here to meet her, how the rest of the night goes....' "

Pause. Jeanne closed her eyes. Tonight it was clearer than most nights. One of the reasons she decided to record it. But she wasn't ready for the feelings to come back with the memory. It was always taught to suppress the feelings, so as not to taint the image, but these feelings were too strong to contain.

Unpause.

" 'Miss Jeannne?' were the first words to come from his mouth. I nodded, and smiled. 'Mr. Adam, i presume.' and the night started.

"We spoke about the land ownership, the building site, the change in management and even the fire that brought everything down. Over a month, we made Thursday nights our hang out night; the diner, our sanctuary. Then something changed.

"Walking out one night, we were both silent. Like we knew what each other were thinking, but we didn't want to say anything. I turned around and found it hard to look at him."

Pause. Jeanne put the recorder on the table and went to the fridge. The yellow light shone on one bottle of water, and a tin container of last night's chinese food. She grabbed the water and went back to the table.

It wasn't until she sat down that she realized it was dark outside. Moonlight spilled across the floor and was reaching for the table - reaching for the tape recorder. She knew it was impossible, but something in the room wanted to break the device, but this was her only chance.

With a twist, the water was open and a cool wave of liquid splashed down her throat. Made her mouth tingle with numbness, until the wave subsided and she was clear headed again.

Jeanne stopped the tape, rewound it a little to remember her place, Play.

"Walking out one night, we were both silent. Like we knew what each other were thinking, but we didn't want to say anything. I turned around and found it hard to look at him.

Record.

"For the first time, i couldn't look into his eyes. Instead, i reached up and put my arms on his shoulders. He was trembling, just as i had been. There was no way i could describe how these feelings came to be. We tried to kiss, but i went to his cheek instead."

Pause.

"GOD, this is embarrassing....." she yelled. "But it has to be done!"

Unpause.

"Just as i hesitated, i realized my mistake. In that one little instant, that one scant moment, i broke his heart because i didn't fulfill the perfect moment.

"I was immediately devastated. I tried again to kiss him, but his eyes turned cold, and i knew he would never warm again."

Pause.

This wasn't right. When feelings pushed objectivity out the way, the account changes and facts may be skewed. It was time to leave it for tonight. Her heart had taken enough, and it was time to rest.

She stopped the tape recorder and returned the water to the fridge. Tomorrow is another day.

free write

2005-12-02T14:31:00.000-05:00

Guessthis will be another free write. No editing, no hitting the back uptton or anything like that. It's not fair though, because some of my stuff is edited by word... maybe I'll turn that edit thingy off. Ah well. Seems many people really liked my startrek story. I'm glad, everytime I get to write something that people enjoy, I feel I'm a good writer. I don't know how much of that is true, but at least it makes me happy hee hee

Wow, stufk, you're not supposed to stop typing/writing, when hyou get studk, damn there I go again, it was spelle d incorrectly. I wish I was sleeping right now. I don't think I had much sleep at all this eweek and it really ta tells on my mind. I start making mistakes and stuff. Aybe I'll email my teacher, I really don't know if I can stand gougn to class tonight. It's not thati don't enjoy class , my teacher is the best, but when I have very little lseep, I pass out beca from the exchaustion. Dmn my spelling is HORRIBLE !!! hahahahaha

And so it goes. I stoped for a moment, but only because I had to shift in my seat. I hate sitting for long hours on end. I should srtand and try to stretch or something. Maybe I could be a farmer and work to make things grow "OKAY... MAKE MY MOSTERST.... GROW!!!" hahahahahaha yeah power rangers. Ah, the blue ranger, "I'm partial to blue" ouh onh. Looks like I'm going to have a black blast foto the past.

Grab your sword , grab your hoe... stcrew your courage to the sticking place
Shining shimmering splendid tell me princess now when did you liast let your heard decide. Beauty and the beast . record it on slow, so it's fast. BONJOUR!

Totally loved talk girl and "nights and white satin..." don' know why that just came into my head. Hee hee hee. Freezing outside, everyone is talking about ebeing cold. Okay, time to end this.

Star Trek: Chritsmas Get-away (Part 2)

2005-11-29T11:15:00.000-05:00

"Are you sure you're okay? I thought you'd be happy they let you come to the party," he chuckled. "I even made homemade macaroni and cheese, just like home."

Lyllandra stopped walking in the hallway, letting a security officer and some others pass by.

"...just like home. Tim," she turned to him, "it's time I go back home."

"Shhh, not here," He pulled her to the left where a corridor was bustling with cooks and replicators. "They'll hear you." Tim looked up and down the hallway, and then sighed when he felt no one was watching, or listening.

"You have to trust me. Once the party's over, and we're close enough, then we'll..." a cook ran by with a plate filled with squirming Filden Gagh. Tim smiled "at least Lt. Worf will be happy tonight."

Lyllandra turned her head feeling sicker than ever. The hallway was spinning before her and she had to swallow several times to keep from re-tasting her Long Island Iced Tea. As she clutched onto Tim's arm for support, she was hit with a gust of warm air and suddenly she was alone.

Light broke through her darkness and she awoke on a beach. Several people were playing in the water, and Lyllandra sat up to regain her sense of location. This was the diplomatic ocean planet of Pacifica, where she first met Tim several years ago. A prank played on a Romulan here, on this very beach, caused her capture and sentence to their prison camp. A shudder ran down her spine at that memory.

Tim came up to her and laid out a plate of food. "This is my latest re-recipe," he held out a plate of pasta covered in a florescent yellow sauce.

"What is that?" Lyllandra squinched her nose.

"You don't remember macaroni and Cheese? Didn't you ever have that on Earth? It was an American past time," he laughed and started to serve it out.

Even then, he was light hearted. After all, he did live for his catering. Lyllandra closed her eyes to enjoy the sun, and when she opened them again, she was back on the Enterprise.

"I can't wait, I have to go now." She started to rise, and noticed she was back in her quarters.

"The guards found you roaming the halls and brought you here. One moment you were next to me, and then you disappeared. What happened?" he was less jovial this time.

"I returned to the past, somehow," she looked at her hands as if she never saw them before. "Tim, can you help me?"

"If the time is now, so be it." He smiled. "Though I don't think you'll be needing that escape pod any more. Come, let's go to the window. It will be easier if you can view the planet itself."

Lyllandra left the chair she was in and slowly looked out her window. Suddenly, she felt sorry for all the trouble caused aboard the Enterprise. The room that was meant to be a prison was convenient. She had a private bathroom, a replicator with an extensive menu of Earthen delights, and a window. Tears filled her eyes, but it was hard to say if they were caused by her nearness to freedom, or for the pain she caused on the ship.

"No matter..." she whispered as she held her hands up to the glass.

Tim was busy jamming the door frequency so that the guards couldn't come in. It proved difficult - one wrong entry and the alarm would sound - but in the end it was finished. He joined her at the window and carefully readjusted her arms.

"Remember like I showed you on Pacifica. Hold it in your hands and meld your mind around it... Go on."

Lyllandra nodded and watched the Earth. As always, nothing happened at first. The great globe of green, white, and blue just stared back at her until she felt comfortable enough to open up. Her mind relaxed and that's when the mountains brushed against her hands. She could feel the cool water in her toes and an unforgiving sun on her forehead. As the sounds of people began to fill her ears, her heavy eyelids closed and she began the transfer.

"Unauthorized entry, please use higher security clearance" the computer chimed behind them.

Someone started pounding on the door. "We know you're in there Miss Wyntir, release the barrier!"

Tim cooed her on "remember the mountains, the grass, the trees... don't stop until you're there Lilly..." He placed his hands on her shoulders, giving her strength.

Tears ran down Lyllandra's face as she reached out further and further.

"I'm home!!" she mouthed, though no one on the ship heard. Three guards burst through the door, shouting silently towards her. One reached for his phaser, but the Lieutenant that spoke with her earlier reached his hand out and shook his head. They all watched as Lyllandra and Tim faded from the room.

Star Trek: Christmas Get-away (Part 1)

2005-11-25T13:39:00.000-05:00

I found this awesome site: Captain Picard's Journal that inspired me to write a bit about Star Trek. Seems they are throwing a holiday party on board the Enterprise and many were invited. Here's Part 1 of my tale:

Lyllandra paced back and forth in her quarters, trying to make use of the spare time. The party would be in a few hours, but she could hardly keep her excitement hidden. After so many years of running away, it was time for her to return to earth...

Three nights before, she prepared her clothing. A long, blue silk tunic studded with violet posies and pale green leaves was her first choice. Her own mother embroidered the garment and it was the last thing she had of her homeland. The blue top had matching pants that were wider at the bottom, to allow for boots, decorative or not. Silk is not very warm, but at least it would fool those at the party, let them believe she wasn't up to anything.

Although the Enterprise crew was kind enough to save her, and others, from a prison camp back on Romulus, her past history and run-ins with StarFleet kept her locked in her quarters. This would be her one and only chance to escape.

The invitation was sent around the ship on stardate 59345.8 for a Christmas Party at Ten Forward. She would be allowed to attend for two hours, and then return to her room for the night. That two-hour time frame was just enough time to be seen, and then slip away.

"Room unlocked," the computer chimed. The party had begun.

Lyllandra stepped from her room and made her way to Ten Forward. As others passed her, she smiled graciously, almost regally, as she looked the part. Just as she reached Ten Forward, someone grabbed her hand.

"Miss Wyntir, I'd like to remind you of the security measures for tonight." A gruff security guard warned her. "For the safety of everyone, please, behave."

His touch wasn't ungentle, and he was wearing a ceremonial security outfit, not a common one worn every day.

"Thank you, Lieutenant." Even though she didn't know his name, his rank was easy to tell by the color of his uniform. "I'll do my best."

And with that, she entered Ten Forward.

The band was already jamming in one corner, Guinan was behind the bar, as always, and others mingled as they arrived. Lyllandra went to one of the several replicators and asked for a Long Island Iced Tea; she needed to keep her head clear, after all.

Few gazed her way, and she was thankful for it. A small corner seat concealed her longing gaze towards the planet Earth. Although she wasn't Betazoid, it was known that those from earth sometimes sensed things, other worldly things. This is one of the reason's why she stayed away from Counselor Troi. Lyllandra was always afraid that her true intentions would be known if she met this woman.

Her thoughts materialized when the Counselor entered Ten Forward. Cursing into her cup, she headed deeper into the corner, hoping not to be seen. Now that she was here, there was no way to escape, except to return to her quarters.

She passed by several crew members, hoping not to get their attention when someone bumped into her.

"Hey Lilly, where you going?" A familiar face smiled down at her.

"Not now Tim, I'm not feeling well," was all she could blurt out.

"You do look a little pale. Do you need to go to Sick Bay?"

"I'm okay, really," Lyllandra feebly responded.

"Well at least let me see you to your quarters, okay?"

And with a nod they left Ten Forward.

(End of Part 1)

Stardates taken from this site: http://trekguide.com/Stardates.htm

Saving the Phoenix

2005-11-14T15:36:00.000-05:00

Sunlight spilled from the windows and onto a dark, hardwood floor. Sundust danced happily on the rays as the breeze blew in from the high windows. It was hard waiting for the doctor, especially when something so pressing was on her mind.

Being used to this office after only two weeks, the older location was haunted and she scarcely felt safe discussing her dreams with ghosts in the room, she laid down on the plush sofa and watched the sunlight. After ten minutes, it felt like hours, he came into the room, clipboard in hand.

"Thank you for seeing me today, Doctor. It's been a while since our last session, but the dream i had last night cannot be dismissed."

"Mm, hmm," he mumbled.

She had to admit he was handsome. His face was tan and radiant, she knew he was a runner and maybe that helped with the complexion. Dark hair was cut short atop his head and that complimented his dark eyebrows. Some might have called him short, but his confidence overrode any doubts of his ability.

When he sat down across from her, he took off rectangular glasses so she could see his eyes. They were brown with a warmth that offered trust.

After a moment of scribbling on a pad, he looked at her and smiled.

“Okay Kate, what’s been troubling you? Tell me about this dream.”

She nodded and began her tale.

“It’s going to sound strange. This time my dream was not in fluid scenes,” she looked down and folded her hands. “Each scene became more coherent as the dream went on,” now she was hesitating.

“It’s okay, go on,” he gently urged.

Kate took a deep breath. “We were in the water, two children and i. I was one of them, a child I mean. There was sand and a cabin next to the life guard station. It was kind of like a beach. At first we were wading in the water, but then I noticed something in the water.

“At this point, I knew I was undercover, even though I was a child. I had an adult brain.”

“What gave you that impression, Katie?” The doctor decided to go along with her child like feelings.

“I felt as if I knew more about the water than they did. That’s when I noticed the jellyfish. It seemed that they weren’t there before, so I grabbed the two children and asked them to watch out for the little jellyfish. That’s when I started to feel guilty,” as she stared at her knuckles, she noticed they were turning white from her own grip. She quickly released them and looked at the doctor.

“I felt as if I took their innocence away. They were happily playing in the water, until I ruined it with tales of these jelly monsters. They couldn’t have been more than 3 or 4 years old, but I was bigger and a little older, so I took them to safety. That didn’t rid me of that sadness though.”

“Sometimes we must be the truth bearers. Go on, what was the next scene.” His soft voice never threatened her, so she went on.

“Next, I found myself in a gymnasium. I’d regained my adult body, to go with the brain, but there was chaos everywhere. I could sense that she was in trouble…’

“Who’s in trouble?” this surprised him. Her past dreams had been of a man in need of help.

“The Phoenix. I know this sounds weird… but recently the one in trouble has been the Phoenix. You know, the one from X-Men. Everyone was looking for her, or her followers, and since I was undercover, I decided to play along.

“The gymnasium was surrounded by artifacts, as if it was a bazaar from ancient Egypt. One fellow claimed to be the master of some unknown universe, and he’d forwarded all his efforts in trying to find the Phoenix, to arrange her hand for marriage,” at this, her eyes went dull and she was reliving the dream. The doctor sat forward, a little anxious, but watching her all the same.

“I simply tapped his upper arm with the back of my hand and whispered to him… ‘She IS the queen of the universe,’ and left him before he thought to catch me.

“I knew where she was, so I navigated through the maze of tents and posters to where she was sick in bed. Marvelous in her yellow outfit, she sat in a bed, speaking to her friends. ‘You are being hunted,’ I bowed, to show my courtesy. ‘Please excuse this intrusion, but I must get you to safety.’ I picked her up in my arms, with every intention to carry her away to a safer place. So many people were after her….”

“Katie, stay with me. Katie…” the doctor rose from his chair and kneeled next to her own. By now, her eyes had slipped closed and her breathing was shallow. He checked her pulse and was happy with the results.

“Go on Katie… what happened to the Phoenix?”

“I,” she swallowed, it seemed a labor to breathe, even. “I carried her away, and her alchemist came with her. She had a, a drawer, rings. Each,” another swallow, “each had a small marble ball attached. They were used as… as medicine when swallowed.” A bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, though she was cool to the touch.

“Melandra was her name and she had many piercings. Not uncommon for an alchemist. One of her own ball rings was in her lip. Anyway, Phoenix asked for certain medicines according to the maladies she felt. She swallowed one remedy and asked Melandra to throw another away. Although she wasn’t …. “

“Katie, just a little longer, please, keep talking to me.” This time, he grasped her hands in his own, her temperature was beginning to rise and more sweat beads dotted her head like diamonds.

“The Phoenix wasn’t showing any signs of pain, except in her eyes. It was like looking into the sadness of the world, and all it’s terrible power,” a shiver ran through her then, the sweat drops evaporating one by one.

“…joked for a while, the alchemist and I, and I dared to refer to a common friend that we all shared, but the magi ignored her, she was carrying me after all….”

As a smile grew on his face, Kate’s ruddy cheeks began to drain of all blood, despite her fever.

“I simply told her that wasn’t who we spoke of and laughed. I was weak and she was there to protect me. Then I told her she was my Queen, the Queen of the Universe.”

A sharp cry rang in Kate’s ears just then. Something had gone terribly wrong. She opened her eyes and saw a horrid site before her. The seat where her doctor once sat was empty, and next to her knelt a charred figure. Kate wasn’t afraid, however. It was clear what happened.

Her dream was no dream at all. Past nightmares were only so because the person was wrong. Her duty was to protect, however those she protected were never right. She woke up screaming from those dreams, for those that were under her care would always perish. Not until this last dream, could she see clearly.

She was destined to protect herself… the Queen of the Universe.

Dreaming of Death (some violence, be warned)

2005-09-19T16:59:00.000-04:00

The day started like any other. I could picture it as if it were right before me. Now of course, i would never see it again.

I remember being in school. The long, winding stairwell (that i knew with my eyes closed) stretched before me as i descended. I looked at the metal and rubber steps and for a moment they floated before my eyes. Swimming through the hallway felt like a good idea, but my senses brought me back to reality. Catching the banister just in time, i saved myself from a very bad fall.

At first that worried me, as i'm not susceptible to fainting spells, but after walking for some time, it just became another memory. There were errands to run and my husband to meet.

I headed to the post office, trying to catch it before it closed. Three older men in t-shirts and ripped jean shorts watched me as i passed through the lobby. They looked a little frightening, since they were just sitting around talking, and all of them looked as if they didn't know how to shave properly. I paid them no mind and walked to the end of the hall, towards the clerk's desks.

My husband was already there, speaking with a younger woman. She was very nice and showed us how the doors to the post office worked. The window was divided into 4 sections. Three smaller windows opened individually like a rotating door. You could pass parcels and money through these sections.

Behind the glass i could see that the clerks were about 3 feet off the ground, sitting on boxes waiting to be shipped out. It looked hot back there, almost stuffy, but no one was sweating and there were fans twirling from the ceiling.

At first, the woman seemed frightened of me, but once i gained her trust, she showed me how to open the top, larger window. It slid up and down from a lever on her side. As soon as she opened it, my husband jumped in and the woman looked fearfully behind me. Just then, i turned around to see the three men approach the clerk windows. Fear gripped my heart and i knew then what they intended to do.

The one closest to me had a large wrench. It was dull, but bright white metal, and it was almost as big as his forearm. He didn't look menacing, just desperate for money. The second man was behind me, and behind the man with the wrench. I couldn't see him. The third man was who scared me. He held a gun and was pointing it directly at the window where my husband went in.

I knew that they saw the window open, and they were waiting for a chance to hold up the post office. I was scared, but glad that my husband was behind the glass. It was at this time i realized it was bulletproof. As they started yelling out their demands, i took my chance.

Ducking under the arms of the man with the wrench, i went to the back of all three of them, trying to run away. That decision was the most important one made in my life. Immediately after passing under the wrench, the gunman shot me in the neck. I could have run away, but at close range, he shot a second time, then a third, and a fourth. The second didn't hurt, the third took my sight. After the fourth shot, something wet covered me in a blanket of warmth from the neck down. As i laid there staring into the darkness, i realized, with a great sadness, that i was dead.

The Beginning of an End

2005-08-31T10:55:00.000-04:00

A tall gentleman stood with a top hat and cane, staring at the black clouds coming towards them.

"It's the beginning of the end, my friend."

"Three signs, this is the first. Darkness to blind the foolish," a round man with bushy whiskers replied. "It looks like ash."

Their words were drowned out by silence. People all around lost hope as the black clouds surrounded them. Lacking wind, lacking sound, lacking movement, only darkness descended upon them. It seemed as if she was choking on it. Feeling around, she knew there was only one thing left to accomplish. She had to find him.

For years they were friends. She was always non traditional, especially in these times. Her partner was a woman, but things didn't work out. The town shunned her, but it mattered little. She lived life as she saw fit. They called her Elloisa.

He was conservative. Marriage was a serious and social affair. He married a beautiful woman of wealth, had three children, and a maid. Their finances were never in trouble and he spent money very carefully. It was almost a freak occurrence that he befriended the wild Elloisa.

If Elloisa came to visit, the maid never let her in. It wasn't until Henry came to the door and allowed her over the threshold that she could enter.

"Come in, dear friend," he would always say with a smile. "The little ones have missed you."

A faded smile crossed her lips as she felt her way along the street. His smile always brought joy to her heart, but it never felt lustful. He was handsome, she used to tease him about it when they were younger...

"All the girls will want you to win their hand, you know."

"Oh, Elly, stop that nonsense. Mother and Father will choose my bride, and we'll have the best wedding in town. Surely you'll be there."

"Of course," she almost whispered.

Although she was greeted with kindness at the Gibson Estate, Henry's parents weren't over fond of her. They smiled if in her presence, but Henry sadly told her what they warned him of.

"Henry, dearest, you know what company like her will do to your reputation. It's simply unheard of. Men attract women and visa versa. Women should never attract women, not in that way."

"Your mother is right, son. We are simply concerned about your image and how it will tarnish" 'Think of the Gibson name,' was his father's creed.

"If society has a problem with my compassion, then let them tarnish the name. Mother, weren't you the one that took in the homeless family, despite your parent's warnings, and helped them to freedom?

"And Father, don't you remember when you shared the same feelings of friendship with Elloisa? She was like my second sister until she told everyone what goes on in her bedroom. Really, I can't believe the two of you. Out of all the neighborhood, I would expect at least my mother and father to have a perspective of how things really are."

The darkness was getting thicker, if that's possible, but she was left with memories for comfort. Henry always defended her and it never tarnished his reputation. If there was an impact, it only made him more desirable.

Even so, she was forbidden to take part in the wedding. Henry's wish to have her as a Best Man was squashed. His parent's would have it, so long as they were footing the bill. She was allowed to watch, however.

"Don't worry, Elly. I'll get you in somehow," the smile was devious this time.

"I won't have it, Henry. Please, just this once, don't get in trouble for me. If i can see you take your vows, i'll be happy."

And when the day came, she was happy. Her friend knew the direction he was going in life. He had everything laid out for him.

"Oh my God. It's the second sign... RUN," Someone screamed down the block.

Elloisa turned around and noticed the darkness receded a bit. A pale sky stared at them, almost sad, as if it knew what lay ahead. A large mountain of blue capped with white began to grow in the distance. Every scream confirmed her own idea. It was a tidal wave.

For a moment, all she could do was stare. The massive wall of water didn't break even as it crashed through building after building. As the screams of the people taken by the water were silenced, new ones erupted closer to her. It wasn't until she could feel the cold spray of water that she remembered her destination.

Step by step she moved backward, caught onto the railing of the flat steps and flew down the stairs. Two floors down, she knocked violently on the door. Bryan, a small child with intelligent eyes opened up and smiled.

"Hi auntie Elly. Come on in."

"Not now, sweet one. Is your Father home?"

"He is," Henry replied. "What's wrong, Elly, you're shivering?" She gently brushed his arm away from her shoulders.

"Can i speak with you for a moment?"

"Yes, of course. Come inside Bry, your mother needs help in the kitchen."

Swaying back and forth, she tried to gather the words she would use. 'Saying it plainly would scare him away. Being subtle is just an annoyance. How will i ever...'

"What's got you so worried, Elly?"

"Come with me," she held out her hand and he took it.

It was warm and firm, and she never wanted to let it go.

They arrived at the first floor landing and looked out over the city. The tidal wave was just a few blocks away, moving steadily, but frighteningly slow. Henry frowned and looked to her.

"Is this all you wanted to show me? The whole town knows about this. We are safe in our flat. It's been protected, come with us Elly." His voice was sincere, she could hear the tears coming on, the hoarseness in his throat.

"Let's go back, please..."

He tried to lead her back down stairs. Elloisa followed a few steps, then leaned into him hard, pressing him against the wall. Her lips met his as tears streamed down her face. When she received no response from him, she pulled away,

"I love you..."

daily writing

2005-08-03T10:39:00.000-04:00

this may not make sense, but i have to catch the rhythm of my writing.

puddles lined the sidewalks, no dry place to step. the rain hadn't stopped for a week and all gutters overflowed with the stuff from below. walking in the street wasn't an option, since cars floated down an avenue or boulevard. but it didn't matter anyway. her clothes were soaked to the skin. at least the friction burns kept her from losing consciousness.

it seemed like only hours ago she was going to work. taking a subway into the city, then coming home afterwards. her husband welcomed her every day with open arms and that moment was her reason for everything.

things could have been worse. he might be dead, her too, but with the rain pummling down, she couldn't see how. for a moment, all vision blurred and she swayed from one foot to another. with a clenched fist, she caught a nearby wall and leaned hard into it. The cool stone felt good, it was stable. turning her back to it, slowly she slid down and closed her eyes.

they tell you to always try to stay alert, not to go to sleep, but what choice did she have. her watch displayed June 29th and she started on the 19th. the accident was only a few days behind her and the bleeding stopped, so she was okay. at least that's what she thought.

her vision blurred again and this time she retched, unable to hold the ground under her. it didn't matter, though, because the neverending rain washed it down the concrete and into the river of 40th street. for a moment she slept.

when she woke up, the room was bright and yellow. the color was easy on the eyes, but it seemed strange because it was so dry. around her, as a bed with guard rails, to prevent falling out and a rolling cart with food. she couldn't smell it, but steam rose from what looked like mashed potatoes and mushrooms. no one was in the room, but people passed the window that showed out into the hallway. She would guess it was a hospital, but everyone who passed wore yellow, to match her room.

One young man looked in when he noticed movement in the room. His brow furrowed and he walked in the opposite direction. A short time later, two women, accompanied by the young man walked through the door. As they approched, she blinked a few times, adjusting her sight. It seemed as if the two women's outfits changed color as they stepped through the door. The man remained in yellow, but the other two were in red.

"How are you feeling Miss," the one on the left inquired.

"I... i'm really sleepy," she replied.

"That's fine. We had to give you a little something for your head. But you're all better now." Would you like to eat some food?"

"Sure!" why did she sound like a little kid?

The young man rolled over the food cart and for the first time, she realized just how hungry she was. The two women moved aside and spoke about papers at the end of her bed. He came closer to her bed, and she noticed that the mash potatoes weren't steaming anymore. Her shoulders slumped as she was looking forward to a warm meal.

"Let's go, time to eat."

He pulled a stool next to the food cart and was ready to begin feeding her when she held up a small hand. The mashed potatoes shifted before her eyes, they were moving. small, translucent figures danced under grayish gravy. Her stomach turned as she looked to the mushrooms and found only slugs in their place.

"How do i eat that? They are bugs," her small voice was quiet in the large yellow room.

"They're good for you, please don't fuss," he said in a firm, but kind voice.

"You're not going to make me eat that!"

"You'll have to to feel better, miss. You wouldn't want to make him angry," one of the women chimed in.

"That's right, he would think we did a bad job of making you better," the young man continued.

The silent woman looked at the food, then to her. With a smile, she gestured to the food with an open hand. White, fluffy mounds filled the plate again and next to the mushrooms, a brownie was there for dessert.

It wouldn't be so bad to eat this, it looks like food now anyway and i'm so hungry she thought to herself....

daily writing

2005-06-30T14:04:00.000-04:00

okay so here it begins. this is not a free write because i'm editing it, but it is daily writing.

i have to write daily, i have to write daily. i wish i could come up with stories like other fantasy writers. i guess if i decided to make it my first job to write, i would be able to create something that magnificent.

there are too many instances of the letter "i" in my writing. could it be that the self is perceived way too much. is the subconscious trying to tell me something? it's easy to write without using the self reference, but often times, it's preferred to include it. maybe there is a need to use elementary writing because the brain refuses to exert effort. it can be quite tiresome!

if i were to make a world, it wouldn't be like any other. all commonalities we've grown to know would be thrown out the window, and no one would like the story, probably. gravity would be thrown upside down just so i could have my way. things could be explained that don't make sense here, but in my world it wouldn't matter. it's my decision anyway, right?

don't know. i really need to find a way to keep myself less stressed. it's starting to play on my health and i don't like that one bit. i'm getting sick too often, and i'm always tired. the reasons are clear, too much work... but it can't be avoided. unless i fall into a sickness so great, it would hinder me. but i can't wish for that to happen, that would give too much freedom.

anyway, let's start with a forest. one of my favorite characters i've created is a speaker of the trees. it's not really like the lorax, or anything like that, more along the lines of pixie's and silly fantasy stuff like that.

here is where i'm at an impasse. should i freely write my stories here online, when there is a chance that they'll be stolen? i could easily write my newly made stories without a problem, but i couldn't write my most beloved and true tales because they are too important to me.

so, i guess you'll have to read about Lylandra when it's on the bookshelves.

(wow, i forgot i had this. will post and start anew)

been a while

2005-06-29T09:37:00.000-04:00

it's been a while.... but it's time i wrote again.

been reading george r.r. martin's book - game of thrones and it put me back in the mood of fantasy writing.

i went to his site to see what he had to say about writing and it's the same as all authors. read and write all the time.

although i say i don't have the time, maybe it's just because i'm not putting enough effort into it. i used to keep a diary and write fervently every night, making sure my memories were kept in the sacred books. dreams too, but that all went astray when i had to take on more responsibilities.

i should do my free writing again, but i don't feel like it.

maybe later. but i do want to start writing some short stories!

~wyn

free write

2005-05-18T14:17:00.000-04:00

yeah, so i think this free writing ertally helps me. for sclass last night, we had to come up with a 3-5 minute speach, speech, and i wrote all about my husband. the words flowed out and it felt good because i only stumbled a little on the words to use, but never the idesa.

maybe i'll make a habit of doing this at least once a day, kind of to clense my pores of thought. that could be kind of couol, wouldn't it? then maybe i could write a little more about what ideas go on in my head, then again, maybe not. hee hee

at least my typing is getting a little better. i can write a lot more without deepending on the backspace, and that';s reassureing. or maybe not... ah well. it's good to just relax and type it all out.

this probably won't be a s long as th e last one. seems that i had a lot on my mind. today, i'm a little tired. we stayed up to watch some tv shows and just spend some time not working so hard.

if i could go to school, i think i would , no that's not the right place soto start. if i could go to school for anything, i think it would be for the culinary arts, voice performance, or something esle. but i have to go work not..

~wyn

free write

2005-05-17T13:17:00.000-04:00

well i figured i have a lot of things on my mind, so without hitting the backbpase ckey, i'm going to just do a free write. i don't thingk i like to edit the spaces because that takes too much briain power. the grammar is already embedded within my gingerditips, oi.. fingertips , and using the backbspace key is def. part of m y normal typing speekd :(

so i figured... i ditn't want to start off like that. ah well. lots of things are going very smoothly at the start of this semester. i have this writing blog athat i inctend to use more and more to help my free flow f or of writing. so, once and a while im going to start using this method to help my thoughts just come out.

one of the many reasong s i have a problem writing is because i clam up. for some reason, i feel like my mind has to be.. has to have a perfect rendition of ta scene aoso oi i can write it out. that's no good because i streess too much on what should be written and hwo it should be rewriteten . hopefully, i'll be abke to write more freely this way.

hahaha now i'm beginning to ramble. but that's what this is all about, riht? this is normally how my writing happens, im' on the subaway,or o (damn i used the spacebar... have to put that piece back where ti it was... hee hee), or in the shower and i have a perfect scene that i can picture in my head. unfortunately , when i get to a piece of paper, i don' thave the same drive to write it down, the moment's over. it's kind o

it's kind of spoiled, in a way. i should condiction myself to write anyway, or at least keep the excitement until i tcan get to some paper and a writing implemetnt. perhaps someone will betell me to get s a pad and pa pen to carry around with me all the time. that would be great, but i'm walking most of the time. perhaps a recorder. maybe i can invest in a tepa tape recorder, digital and recuortd.. uh.. record my thoughts and recollections on this journal. hahahahaha that's so dracula unleasehed. i think that's what i may do.

i don't have an iposd, but i have ... no let me rephrase that. i don't have an ipod mini or regular, so i wonder if the digital rercording thingy is fgood for the shuffle... hm. interesting.

well, i think i'll ed tn end this free write. i have some work to get back to .

i was ful it was fun!! hahahaha and i'm learning a lot abotu my typing mistakes. that's something i should sowkr ok work on as well.

or maybe my fingers just haven another adgenda.

`Wyn

Video Games!!!

2005-05-16T11:18:00.000-04:00

YAY!! i wrote once again about video games. This was my final research paper for Writing Workshop II.

My brother is so cool, he corrected me by saying that Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas is the FIFTH in the series, not the fourth. Thanks B!!!

Check out the file here!

The Effects of Violent Video Games on Children.

Let me know what you think!

~wyn

scenes...

2005-04-29T14:24:00.000-04:00

i hate when you try to write a story when you're in front of a keyboard and nothing comes up. then, just when you're ready to take a nap on the subway or walking home from school, an epiphany occurrs.

so, alas, i have some time and i can't think of any of the scenes that have been playing through my head :(.

let me see if i can recall any of them:

no :(

ah well. maybe late tonight. i'll keep my laptop by my bed instead of a notepad ^_^

~wyn

Satire needs a rewrite

2005-03-11T09:29:00.000-05:00

well, my writing workshop teacher was impressed with the second draft of my satire. the first draft was edited by the students, and the woman that had mine totally marked it up. I hope the teacher didn't have a problem reading it....

she commented that the description of the process was a good addition and i should include more information about why gelatin is harmful.

hee hee i feel like the young girl from a studio ghibli movie. now i have to do the research to make my story believable. it's kind of exciting.

well spring break is here and i have lots of work to catch up on.

~wyn

Satire - Draft II

2005-03-04T08:55:00.000-05:00

Here is my second draft of "The Meating."
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“Dr. Roberts, we thank you for taking the time from your research to share some of the progress you have made in your field.”

A tall man stood up at the front of the boardroom, statistical papers in hand. At the mention of Dr. Roberts, he gestured at a young woman sitting to his immediate left. Around the table, seven pairs of eyes moved from his figure, to hers.

The young woman pushed her chair away from the table and stood, gathering a remote control, clipboard and pen. She nodded to her introducer, then walked to a podium at the end of the room.

“Thank you, Mr. Sohn, and to you, ladies and gentlemen, for having me here today. Our research firm is aware of your superb customer service, and we strive to make that first priority.

“For 15 years, we’ve been studying the eating habits from around the world. Tests have shown a growing number of people concerned about food ingredients.”

“It’s a horrible thing,” an older gentleman pounds his fist on the table.

“Yes, sir. These results are disturbing. If we can discover methods to mask Product A - make it virtually undetected - your customer satisfaction will not suffer.

Using the remote control, Dr. Roberts dims the lights and begins her presentation at the opposite end of the room. The first slide appears and on it, an illustrated cow and the heading, Making Product A.

“Let me explain why Product A is not desirable as is.”
She clicks the remote and a new slide appears.

“In order to make Product A:

Bones, skin, cartilage and tendons from cows and pigs are cut up and washed to remove any dirt or inorganic substances.
These pieces are de-greased and de-mineralized by one of two solutions: an acid solution is used for bones and rough skin, while an alkaline-acid mixture is used for more tender skin.
Warm water is added to form liquor, and is filtered as a final step to remove any un-pure substances.
Vacuums remove the remaining water until the liquor has a syrupy consistency.
To remove the risk of contamination, the solution is exposed to high temperatures.
At this point the solution is cooled, minced, and dried to be cut into smaller particles.
Final testing ensues, and the end product is customized for the customer’s satisfaction.”[i]

The members around the table are impressed at the detail that goes into their product. They would applaud, but they are waiting for the finale.

“You can see why we must mask this process. The general public would not approve of having Product A in many of their foods. And that’s why I’m here, ladies and gentlemen, to show you how your product can be hidden.

“Several products that line the supermarket shelves can include Product A.”
The current slide shows a box of Pop Tarts.

“A quick breakfast treat, filled with sugar and a fruit gel inside. To keep the fruit from melting or leaking from the pastry, why not add Product A?”

Someone mumbled and another nodded in approval.

Dr. Roberts clicked to the next slide. A box of Frosted Mini-Wheats appeared.

“What better way to keep the sugar coating on than to add a bit of Product A for an edible bond.”

More murmuring, this time, the approval was audible. However, one member was doubtful.

“If we know these consumers scrutinize the ingredients, what can we do to quell them,” an older woman quirked her brow.

Dr. Roberts smiled and put down her remote.

“That is the final step of integration. Once we give Product A a name, far from its meaning, people will use it freely without thinking about its origin.”

“And what name would that be, Dr. Roberts,” Mr. Sohn asked this time, a smile on his face. He was fully aware of what her answer would be.

Dr. Roberts picked up the remote, clicked for the last time and revealed a picture of a small child eating Jell-O.

“We’ll call it, gelatin.”

Applause ripped through the boardroom. Many members stood and moved to shake the hand of a brilliant scientist that found out how to make their product more successful.

The company’s plan was to include gelatin in everything. Film in cameras, plastic in bags, clothing, medicinal remedies, nail polish and its remover, as well as food. This would be the greatest advance in their company history.
Unfortunately, the products you’ve read above actually have these ingredients. Look at the ingredients of everything you eat. You’ll be surprised at the frequent occurrence of gelatin. Hopefully, we can get rid of the use of this horribly unnecessary product.

[i] Process practiced by the Gelatin Manufacturers Association of Asia Pacific - http://www.gmap-gelatin.com/how_made.html
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It still needs work (another product of my procrastination) but maybe i'll get to work on it once more.

cold

2005-01-06T16:54:00.000-05:00

"...Thank you for calling, have a nice day!"

click. disconnected.

she could see the bluish hue of her fingernails on her upturned hands...

how to start this story... hm...

will have to work on it later.

more email tests!

2005-01-05T08:59:00.000-05:00

Test test test test test! Mmmmmmmmmmwhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!

test blog

2004-11-25T21:50:00.000-05:00

this is my test blog...

a place where my writing is displayed and practiced.