Wednesday, August 31, 2011

My Hat (aka. My Brother's Hat)

                Avon has just started selling what they are calling “Foxy fedora” (Product number 532-025 price $24) it’s adorable don’t get me wrong, but I started wearing my brothers fedora before I started seeing models wearing them.

The Story Behind the Hat

First it was my brother’s hat, then he out-grew it about the same time I started abducting it from his room to wear it around the house until he would take it back. Then to my immense joy, he tried to put it on right after he took it from me one time, and it was ever so slightly too small, (just enough for him to look a little goofy, but not enough for him to notice by the feeling of it.) When I hinted he could give it to me, he said “no”. When I continued to push it and suggested that he could give it to me as a gift, (Christmas was on the way) he smirked as he put the hat away. That Christmas I found the Fedora with a ribbon wrapped around it and a bow; it didn’t need a label for everyone to know who it was to and from.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Not Even Hate

Keep your life,

The way you want it to be

Keep your life

Happiness is the key

Do what you want to

Act like no one sees you.

Just keep yourself

Away from me.

Once upon a time

A long time ago,

You walked into my life

And over my heart

Like I had no feelings

The only thing I have no feelings for

Is you.

You broke my life

You ruined my heart

You twisted my dreams.

I wanted to see you

Burn in Hell

Now guess I’m over it.

Don’t get me wrong

I haven’t forgiven you,

There are just some things

A woman can’t get over

I just have realized

You’re not worth the time

To wish you ill

(That’s the devil’s job,

I’ll let him deal with you.)

‘Cause once upon a time,

A long time ago

You walked into my life

And stomped on my heart

I have no feelings left

For you

Not even hate.

You broke my dreams,

You twisted my life

You ruined my heat

Now I guess I’m over it.

I had my cry

You had your say

Now just go away.

Monday, August 15, 2011

Sunday, August 14, 2011


Running, jumping,

Kicking, screaming.

The noise is pounding in my head

In an uneven beat

Like the drummer is stoned and dying from the heat.

Skipping, struggling,

Lying on the floor

Climbing, ripping, tearing

Please don’t eat that please!

My nerves are fraying

My back is aching

I think I might fall over from thirst.

I don’t dare stop to rest,

For fear of what might happen lest

I take my eyes off of you.

Why do I concern myself?

Why do I care?

Because I would feel terrible

If they fell down the stair.

They’re not my kids,

Not even close

So do I let them do this to me?

Friday, August 12, 2011

New Start

Well, next week I will be in college and I have no idea when I’ll have time to blog. I’ll let you know as soon as I get used to the new schedule, if ever. I still have what seems like a lot of Avon campaign books left to get rid of before Sunday. I’ve decided to make reminder calls to my customers on Sunday, so that I won’t have to think about it on Monday. My first class on Monday is at noon, but I think my older brother has to get there some time in the morning, so I’ll be there on campus stressing until my first class begins and I don’t want to think about work on top of everything else.

 Good news, on Sunday we went to the Orange County Fairgrounds, (which was the inspiration for my last poem.) My brother’s ceramic painted lion was the ceramic and glass division winner ages 13-15. My Ariel cross stitch was the needlework division winner ages 16-18 (earlier I said my apron won, but I was mistaken, I didn’t enter my apron in this contest.) My Short story was the 15-18 class winner; I’m pleased with that still. Have a good weekend.

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Writing Fight Scenes

Unlike some writers I don’t enjoy writing action or fight scenes. Not because I don’t think I can write them well, it just seems no matter what I do there will always exist a negative opinion, here are some examples of the critiques I hear most often (some of you fellow writers may have heard some of these too): “Well, that’s a good start, but it needs some work,” or “I wasn’t there with the character, make it more personal, give me more emotion, less description,” and my least favorite “Make it snappy.” It appears no matter what I do with a fight scene, someone is going to be unhappy with it. I realize that you can never please everybody, but it seems with my fight scenes, there is a definite increase of people wanting the section to be changed in some way. In trying to figure out why that is so, I have decided to pick apart my writing process and see if there is anything that should be changed.

The Process

First with an action scene, I find grounds for the confrontation; I don’t write fight scenes just for the sake of having them, there has to be a reason. Once I know the reason and have made sure that I have or will make the reason clear in my story, I proceed on to mapping out the fight itself.

How many people are involved? What weapons or potential weapons are in the room? Will the character resort to these make shift weapons, or do they have the skill or resources to fight without resorting to them. Who is in the immediate area? Are there people in the other room who might over hear this fight and come to see what is going on, or call for help? Will the fight be quick in decisive, or will it be drawn out? Will one of the characters run? Where will they run to? Etcetera. So once I have mapped out, either in my head or on a piece of paper where everyone who will be involved in this scene is and who it will affect, I start writing. It usually starts out very basic: “he hit, she kicked” kind of thing. Then I go back and add details such as pain for the characters and how it effects their movements, sounds, the character’s thoughts if applicable, I flesh it out a little bit you might say. Then I reread and edit, reread and edit, read it aloud, and edit until I’m sure all the holes are filled in and I’m satisfied with it. Then it’s time to read it to someone, or give it to them to read. I’m always filled with apprehension when I reach this stage, because I’ve always been told to change it up, and at this point, I think it’s done. It’s true I want feedback and I want to hear what other people think and if there are any holes that I missed; and I do get this feedback…more or less. Advice with action portions of my books always seems so unhelpful. “In needs to be changed”, “Shorten it”, “Lengthen it” but no one ever tells me how or where it needs to change. “Well, you’re the writer, so you need to make the changes” yes, but some suggestion would be nice, or better yet, why don’t you tell me why it isn’t good? Why does it not reach you expectations, take a small excerpt of the scene and write out and show me how it needs to be changed, and I will reformate the rest of the scene. It doesn’t seem that much to ask if you really want to help me out, but you can’t find the words to describe what needs to be done.

  I guess it boils down to the only thing I dislike about fight and action scenes is the repetitive and unhelpful critique that is bound to come with them; which is why I prefer to have my characters use stealth and cunning to get what they want, rather than brute force.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Every once in a while...

Yesterday I heard this playing on the radio. Sometimes they do get somethings right I guess. You've got to love the British and their weird videos.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

The Fair

Black, white and yellow trash
And people of the middle class
Rush and crush
And brush past each other.

They see the same thing,
But they don’t do the same things
They don’t think the same things.

Wheels and deals
Noise and sales
Music and rides.

This is the county fair.

Friday, August 5, 2011

"This was my week..."

Well, I can’t really make up my mind on whether or not my week was a good one or not.

  On Monday I did the usual house cleaning that I do every first Monday of the month. I washed the bed sheets, just like every Monday, and I made reminder calls to my Avon customers who hadn’t placed any orders this campaign, which this time was everyone, with the exception of my Mama. It was bizarre; did anyone else get the memo about this Monday being, Don’t-Pick-Up-Your-Phone Monday? I kid you not, nobody picked up, and by noon I had placed my order consisting of my order and my Mama’s order without a call back from any of my customers. After I placed the order one customer called to say she didn’t want anything.

  Tuesday was a little bit better. I registered for my college classes, and remarkably enough, I got enough Units to be a full time student and I’m not on any waitlists! I know; I was shocked too.

  Wednesday nothing of import really happened, I put some of the new brochures on some of my customer’s doorsteps.

  Thursday was my Papa’s birthday, and I made cupcakes for him. I also put an Avon brochure in laundry mat that Mama goes to, it’s the end of the first week for Campaign 17 and I’ve only gotten rid of a few booklets. I’m not very pleased with myself, but I can’t really help it. I also found out that I got my first on-line customer order: Mama, shocker. I’m grateful that she ordered, if one customer orders every campaign, it cancels the fee Avon charges for me to have an on-line store;’s still Mama.

  So I feel pretty worthless, but I’m going to keep on working, like I always do.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

The fall of the Vase

The vase sat upon its pedestal and coolly serveyed his neighbors, if he had been in the possession of a nose, I am sure he would have been looking down it, and occasionally would have given the occasional disdainful sniff. None of them were even worthy of being in his presents. The only one close to his high rank would be the long legged marble topped table he sat upon, but even he was not above rebuke, he had one leg that was shorter than the other three and had a tendency to tremble when someone with a heavy step walked past. The vase had found it prudent to rebuke the pedestal on several occasions about this flaw, yet the table had failed to do anything about it, with the feeble excise that he couldn’t do anything about it.

  The last day of the vase began like any other day, but then the earthquake began. The vase began to rock back and forth upon the table. Vase began to scream at the table to stay still but like always, the table excused himself by saying he couldn’t do anything. The case rocked at first very quickly and in short rocks, but it didn’t take long for the earthquake to gain momentum causing the vase rocks back and forth dilate until the ornament was thrown asunder and crashed to the floor, breaking into a thousand pieces; and so, ended the tyranny of the vase over the other item occupying the living room. No one mourned the vases violent death, with the exception of the pedestal. Despite the vases snootiness, the piece of furniture had grown quite fond of him.

  As time elapsed, the table became apprehensive when he wondered who would take the vase’s place. Would it be worthy to adorn his fine marble top? He grew so frantic by his fears that he fell over, his short leg having cause the other three to grow weak during the earthquake. In falling he too broke and the two most distinguished of the living room’s items went out with the trash that Friday.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Timber, I'm Falling in Love ~ Patty Loveless

This was one of my favorite songs a couple of years ago, and every night I would listen late to the Old Country station up in Missouri (whose digits I can't remember right now) hoping that they would play it. Every once in a blue moon the New Country stations: Kix 104 (which on my radio came in better on 103.9) or Sam 98.3 would play it and I would be ecstatic.