The pursuits of happiness

I know it’s the middle of November and not only did I miss out on NaNoWriMo, but I’ve had a hard time focusing on anything in the writing realm. I’m trying to bust out of that funk with my blogging and then slowly moving back into my novel. Thus, the current goal is to just write. Something. Everyday. Whether it be journaling, longer emails, blogs, exercises, or novel revisions, something will be done everyday.

I have been reading. I’m racing to finish New Moon before the movie comes out on the 20th. I’m not enjoying the second book as much as the first one, but it’s still entertaining and I do plan to finish the series. In addition to my other books in progress listed on the right, I also picked up Ragtime by E.L. Doctorow. I’ve been trying to keep up with the Las Vegas Weekly because its fairly liberal compared to the local community newspaper and it reports on not just the most popular stories but the more obscure ones as well. And the writing is great - witty, sarcastic, honest and thorough. So, E.L. Doctorow, an award winning novelist, spoke at the Clark County library last Sunday and though I didn’t make it to the lecture, I loved what the LVW wrote about him and thought I would check out his work. Ragtime seemed unique and it won an amazing award (award here). I’m not big on mainstream fiction, but this piece borders on historical fiction with a bit of fantasy thrown in. Doctorow’s imagery is beautiful…and sometimes painfully frank. Every once in a while it’s nice to branch out into the literary world.

I’ve also been doing some major soul searching. In particular, I’ve been looking into what I’d like to do with my life career-wise. Now, I’m not one to base my worth or define myself by what society terms a “career”…BUT, I would like a steady paycheck and my writing isn’t bringing in any sound income. Honestly, I don’t want my writing to be about *income* per se. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if writing made me vast amounts of money, but I would be just as pleased if it only brought in a few dollars. The writing makes ME happy and that’s what’s most important. Work wise there are a ton of other things that I’d like to learn/do before I move on from this life. The key here is learn. I love school. And I’ve been to many, just to see what I like and what I can gain from the experience. I’m thinking its time to go back..for good. I have my degree in history and I’d like to get my Masters in history as well. And who knows, maybe even my Doctorate. I thrive on research and I don’t think I’d be a horrible teacher either. It would also help me greatly with my writing. Especially since I have thousands of ideas for historical romances. And how horrible would it be to have to study abroad for a few weeks? As for what I’d like to study specifically, definitely European history. My undergraduate degree was in a concentration in Medieval studies, but I’m ready for something different. I’m really interested in British history during the Regency period. All of that era fascinates me and I’d love to become an expert on such a rich and complex time in our history. Fall registration at UNLV is already closed, but I’m gearing up for next fall if everything goes as planned. I’d need letters of recommendation (it’s so nice to have a former instructor as an ex :-P), writing samples, statement of intent, and an application and fee. Luckily, no GRE is needed for a Masters. It will take some work, but I’m excited about getting back into improving my mind.

Next on the list, improving the body.

The fall Into winter

One of my favorite months is already over and I feel incredibly behind with…everything! October was such a whirlwind that my heart just couldn’t take it and I decided to go to the doctor and get it checked out. Nothing major, or so I hope, just strange heart palpitations. They’re taking it seriously, nonetheless, and are doing a full range of tests. They took blood and urine and who knows what else when I wasn’t paying attention. My EKG came up normal so they fit me with a 24 hour monitor on Monday and I took an Echo and Stress and dye test on Wednesday. I’ll keep you all posted of what becomes of that.

Thus begins a new chapter in my life. Aging. Getting old. Heading down the perverbial hill towards death. Morbid, I know. As the bumper sticker says…I’m not Goth, I’m just prepared. Sigh. And I finally got myself to two other doctors that I had been needing to see as well. The eye doctor was first. On my insurance plan we get a free annual exam and since I’ve never been to the eye doctor..ever..I figured I would use my health benefits while I can. I hadn’t noticed much of a decline, if any, in my eyesight except for some blurriness at night around the bright neon lights of Vegas. The doctor said my eyes are perfectly healthy but I have a slight astigmatism in the right eye and nearsightedness in the left. Together my eyes naturally correct themselves, but she gave me a light prescription for the times I’d like to see in HD, rather than normal J It’s a milestone in my life considering all of my family have worn glasses for most of their lives. My body parts are beginning to wear out. Ugh. The bright side of the situation is that I now have an excuse to get some naughty librarian spectacles.

The other doctor I finally bit the bullet on was the gynecologist. It’s amazing I found a female doctor AND one that was taking new patients on my insurance plan. Long ago when I called around it seemed no one was taking anyone new, but then I’m guessing the recession is affecting everyone..even doctors! The exam went quickly and they did blood work for all STDs. I’m proud to say I’m healthy and STD-free AND now on birth control pills again after almost 10 years!

Ah yes, birth control. I was actually rather excited about going back on the pill seeing that when I first started it back when I was 16 it helped regulate my periods and got rid of my debilitating cramps. I had since pretty much grown out of those kinds of problems, but I was looking forward to being more consistent and have basically non-existent cramps. I didn’t expect what ended up happening… The first seven days (or the first phase of the tri-phase pills) I was an emotional wreck. I was moody to a fault, going from happy to sad to angry in a matter of minutes. The sadness was the worst. Most of the time I felt depressed and ready to burst into tears (which I’m ashamed to say…I did) and for no major reason! Mornings and evenings were the most turbulent, when my mind would just start spinning and coming up with a wild array of things to get upset about. And now as I think back, I feel silly. Luckily, I had some inkling as to WHY I was feeling so miserable, even when I was feeling it, so I would just let it go, ride it out and know it would pass eventually. I felt for Mark, who had to deal with it that intimately, and so soon into our relationship, but as usual for him, he was incredibly supportive. He mentioned how out of it I was and how I didn’t seem myself at all. I would get really quiet and zone out. As soon as the second phase pills came into play I seemed to even out. I’m hoping my body gets used to the hormones for the next round coming up here soon. If not, I’ll have to look into a different type of pills. I would hate to feel like that every month.

The beginning of the month was rather exciting because it was Mark’s birthday. The big FOUR OH! and it just so happened that my parents were going to be in Vegas for the Senior Games that weekend. Mark’s birthday was the 2nd and it fell on a Friday. Weeks before I knew I wanted to make it special, considering I like him…a lot J I had a bouquet of the most gothic flowers I could find (a combination of blood red roses with a black sheen on the petals and faint creamy pink roses, burgundy foliage and other dark greenery) sent to his work because he mentioned he liked flowers AND I wanted to embarrass him in front of his colleagues, like a good girlfriend should. He was harassed by the best of ‘em, and for the evening, I planned to give him his gifts and then take him to dinner at my favorite sushi restaurant. It was a wonderful night and a great weekend. He told me it was one of the best birthday weekends he’s had in a long time. That made me all warm and fuzzy inside. What can I say? I love to see him smile.

Dinner with the parents happened on that Sunday. I had no worries about Mark not impressing them, considering they’re fairly easy to please (ha ha) and are mostly concerned with my happiness. And I know that he can hold his own in most situations, being an intelligent, confident and worldly man. We all chatted effortlessly and the Cheesecake Factory provided some amazing food. My Dad commented as we parted ways that he and my Mom liked Mark, so I figured it was a successful evening.

Since then we’ve spent a lot of time together and have settled into a nice, electrifyingly sweet groove. You’ve already heard about Naked Fridays, but we’ve created a few other special days. I’ll refrain from going into those out of respect for imagination. What’s really awesome is when Mark decides to change it up and throw something different into the mix. Just because. That kind of romantic quirk could most definitely define him as a “keeper”…

But our relationship isn’t just comprised of the erotic. I mean, we also go out to the movies, eat fast food, watch reality television (like Tool Academy and Say Yes to the Dress to name a few) and even go to fabulous Vegas events like the quarterly Gun Show. Yes, Mark got me tickets to the Gun Show. And yes, he kissed his biceps when he said it. :-D As a fairly staunch liberal, this isn’t normally my event of choice, but my curiosity frequently gets the better of me, especially when I think of the photo ops and story ideas that could come of it. Mark grew up with guns in Oklahoma and still enjoys shooting a round at the range for sport. Men seem to be drawn to blowing shit up and destroying things in the name of sport and science. Me, I can safely say: not a fan. I understand the need for guns but have a hard time getting past the devastating power a gun has. I’ve shot one before and instead of giving me the adrenaline rush many say they get from it, I only got more afraid. With each squeeze of the trigger I braced myself with eyes nearly closed for the massive kickback and the knowledge that what I just did could obliterate a human being in one flesh-ripping second. Yeah, I’ll pass. But the show was…interesting. Various booths were set up with guns and gun paraphernalia for sale, but what shocked me were the booths for a random array of items: antiques, other weapons, glass-blown figurines, used books, jewelry and novelty clothing. I’m guessing gun enthusiasts bring along their wives and such, so why not cater to them, too. I could have done without the rebel flags, lack of deodorant, and Obama bashing literature, but the guy with the parrot on his shoulder made it worth it. And the characters there - from the young wannabe gangster to the diehard survivalist were entertainment enough. I did feel like a badass in my Harley boots and rockabilly t-shirt when I picked up a gun and did my best Dirty Harry impression. Mark threatens to take me out on the range one of these days. We’ll see.

For Halloween, Mark and I hoped to make it to the Fetish and Fantasy Ball, held at the Hard Rock Hotel, but the Day of the Dead crept up on us so fast we were left unprepared. We plan to order some exotic/Goth outfits from an online store that specializes in the more macabre. It takes a few weeks because it is done in China and per individual measurement. Next year for sure. This year we spent some time at the Town Center Mall and accidentally ended up in the center of a huge trick or treating event…for kids. Adults were dressed up as well, but most were with their children and or dogs. We sat on a bench and just took in all the costumes. Some unique, some cheesy, some cute, some beyond inappropriate. Would you go as a hooker if you had two young children with you? Well this IS Vegas, maybe she wasn’t in costume. We ended up staying for quite a while and brainstormed what cool costumes we might try next year or in the future.

So now it’s almost Friday and I’m at work. I’m blogging at work. That should tell you how slow it is. Matter of fact they laid off my co-worker, Michele, but by the grace of some spastic time-continuum, someone up in accounting happened to be leaving for greener pastures in California. Michele was able to snap up that job before anything catastrophic happened. I’m gonna miss Michele down with Kim and I in our hole off of the warehouse, but like we had much choice. The economy is killing the casino industry and Stations is taking a serious hit all over the board. I’m just glad Michele will only be a couple flights of stairs away. It’ll get me in shape. I just hope the work environment has improved since she last came down as a refugee. But then everyone wants to work with Kim and I. We’re a blast and we don’t buy into that gossipy bullcrap…most of the time.

Anyway, I think it’s time to end this entry. Next time I’ll go into my reading and writing pursuits, along with what else I have in store for myself.

naked friday

Enter Mark: Las Vegas City Planner extraordinaire, intelligence laden, hot as a rock star in leather pants, wit up the wazoo, wild hair on the long-ish side, a heart of gold, puppy dog eyes, and 6 foot 2 inches of bonafide, sinew-packed man with a penchant for using *product* in his hair and Monty Python references... Can we all say yum?

Any more gushing and I might make myself sick..and we can't have that after his inaugural appearance on my blog.... ;-)

With a new man in my life comes the emergence of new traditions. Our first being Naked Friday.

Naked Friday's really are quite simple. Once done with all forays into the public domain for the day...disrobe. Completely and preferably with total abandon. Rinse and repeat. Then go about your business as described for the rest of said Friday and maybe even into Saturday. You can do this alone, if need be, but it is much better with another and hopefully someone you'd enjoy seeing nude. Touching in this state is encouraged yet up to each individual and not necessary. Just remember not to perform certain tasks that emphasize the reasons we aren't naked most of the time. These include...sanding floors, opening pickle jars, coughing, and bicycle maintenance...

All joking aside, Naked Friday's are first and foremost...intimate. And well, we all crave intimacy in a variety of forms. Because while it can be incredibly sexy and sensual, nudity is also awkward, unusual, and sobering. We're forced to surrender to our hang-ups or dwell in them. All of our so-called *flaws* are on display for the other to see and we must figure out how to handle them. Since everyone is different when it comes to dealing with such raw and pure feelings, it's inevitably a learning experience for all parties involved. Being so open has eased many fears that I've had in the past and I'm honored to be able to share such an experience with Mark.

Go ahead people....try it!

TGINF, Baby!!

a new day

September already? Where has the time gone... Just yesterday I was whining about this and that, then moving on toward new ideas and new endeavors. Life never ceases to amaze me with its twists and turns and ups and downs, like that of a novel you can't put down and you never want to end. And so it continues....

I did end up picking my friends' brains about my business idea and everyone has been helpful and supportive in all aspects. I'm not going to give up on it yet. It may need tweaking and a little time (and money) to get into the works, but its still a viable thought that grows and morphs with each day. I'll let you all know as it progresses..

In the beginning of August I went to visit my bestest friend in the whole wide world, Ariana, in Newport, Rhode Island. I stayed with her and her boyfriend Alan at their home off the Point District. I went last year and it was a whirlwind trip, but this year it was much more laid back and relaxing. Nothing like a vacation to help rejuvenate the soul, right? And that's exactly what it did. I fell right into step once I got there. I initially thought I'd have trouble adjusting to the non-working schedule, but...um....no. I was able to sleep in, watch cable, enjoy the moisture in the air and the lovely color green that I miss so much living here in the desert. And along with the foliage came the history and the architecture of old. It all makes me want to breath deeply again. I was able to take a couple more tours of the mansions, photograph cemeteries, and hang out in bars where everybody new my name. Okay, so everyone didn't know my name, but when the bouncers and the wait staff remember you, it gives you a warm and fuzzy feeling. We also caught a concert and a couple comedy shows at the Yachting Center, which is a great, intimate venue right on the wharf. Newport is surreal and I was beyond glad to get to spend almost two weeks there enjoying it and the company of Ariana and Alan and all the other good people that made my visit special. Upon returning I expected more of a let down, but the trip seemed to rev me up and give me somewhat of a new lease on life. I took stock of things and regrouped...

Recently, I've been reminded by a certain special someone and, of course, nudged by the incessant clock that ticks away in my head, about my goals posted earlier this year. I like goals. I make a lot of them. It seems to give an idea more immediacy, more focus and more permanence. And well, if I have say....18 goals and roughly only half get accomplished I feel successful in that accomplishment. Because if I had only one and didn't accomplish it, I'd feel like a failure. I went back and read through them again. Some I had completely forgotten, others had fallen by the wayside for various reasons, a couple need to be re-evaluated and the rest are done!

As for the writing, I may not have kept up with the incredibly demanding schedule I imposed upon myself, but I'm still moving forward and trudging along. My main book is still fresh and alive, in revisions. It's taking much more time and effort than I imagined. It hasn't made me love writing any less or dampened my spirit though. If anything it has strengthened my respect for the craft and for the authors out there that are creating and getting their stories out there. It's a fascinating and wildly difficult process, but I learn more and more with each step and I'm confident in my ability. We'll see how long that lasts! ;-)

I'm wondering if I should do NaNoWriMo this year. I'd love to get back into the groove of writing every day in that manic form, but I fear it may detract from my revisions. I'll have to think about it.

I'll leave it at that for now....the muse will be back soon, I'm sure.

Quote of the Day: An incurable itch for scribbling takes possession of many, and grows inveterate in their insane breasts. ~Juvenal, Satires

on the horizon

I realize that my last blog may have been a tad melancholy and dramatic....No regrets though. Thank you to all my blog followers and friends who gave me their well wishes and words of wisdom and courage. You are the reason I bounce back from these moods so quickly! :-)

In my quest to keep myself thoroughly ensconced in all that is calm and bright, I have tried to surround myself with people who I admire and who make me feel...at peace. My circle of friends are a wild and wooly bunch who have a myriad of talents and skills. When searching for what I want to do in life, I often turn to them for advice and encouragement.

Lately, as I work on the revisions of my novel (I'm up to Chapter 5 and running) and work on my financial health (cough cough), I've come across the prospect of starting my own business. This comes from a slew of directions and inspirations, mostly that of friends embarking on their own business journeys (Shae in baking and Chris in a top secret web business) and from my hope in doing something that doesn't tie me down to one specific place, making me enough money to live comfortably and write my novels.

In the excitement of my idea stage, I did some serious research and am pleasantly surprised at what I found. My idea is definitely not new, but my take on it is....different. I can't go into detail quite yet, but know that I may have something here. And once I get this nailed down better in business plan form (you all know how much I love research and reports :::big smile::) I'll be looking to my friends and calling upon said talents and skills to help me make this dream a reality.

Look forward to me picking your brains....

Quote of the Day: If I don't write to empty my mind, I go mad. ~Lord Byron

finding myself

I've discovered that it's when you're sitting alone at twilight that you find out who you really are.

Somehow by the light of day your thoughts are different. With the sun comes clarity, vision, and purpose. With the moon comes panic, chaos, and deviance. And with me, twilight opens the dam and my thoughts spill out and mingle like a massive stew of nostalgia and unrealized dreams - with a hefty helping of fear dumped in when the vapors reach a crescendo.

I've had plenty of these so-called "shadow times" to reflect and dwell in all that is me since I moved into the new place. It's not pretty. In fact, it's downright depressing. I know I've talked about this before but who knew it would be so difficult for me. I actually look forward to the weekdays, when I can go to work and avoid being alone with myself. It gives me some semblance of structure and responsibility, whereas I could be at home staring at the wall. You all know I have plenty of things to do, but I lack the discipline to do them. I have nobody to answer to. And it's not like I need someone to crack the whip, but I need someone there (physically) to care. I care, but only after it's gotten too far gone for me to take.

This brings me to something I had an inkling about before, but I didn't want to admit. I'm co-dependent. There, I said it. Now, I don't believe my relationships are one-sided like they say in their definitions, but I am addicted to being in a relationship. I'm not sure why. Could my parents long marriage have the adverse effect and negatively inspire me to ALWAYS want to be included in a partnership? I'm not sure. Or could it be that I have trouble establishing platonic relationships with people? I have friends, but not deep, meaningful ones. My best friend in Rhode Island is the only long-term friend I've had and I would do anything for her. She's in Rhode Island though! My partners' have always been my best friends as well. Again, I could go on and on all day about this.

So we've established that I'm lazy and co-dependent. I'm also a control freak. I already new this, but it likes to lay dormant until something catastrophic happens. Something out of my control, go figure. Instead of freaking out, I withdraw from life and need time to figure out how to get that control back. I tend to lash out verbally, too, especially with people I care about.

There's more I need to say, yet I need a break. It took me most of the day just to get this out and I have a chapter to revise. At least I have that to go on. Maybe there will be more tomorrow. Wish me luck.

Quote of the Day: I'd rather be caught holding up a bank than stealing so much as a two-word phrase from another writer. ~Jack Smith

when in doubt

post a video...

Since I'm incredibly overwhelmed with everything that is going on in my life right now and because I'm just in one of those moods, here's a treat. My favorite emo/goth rocker.

I miss Adam.



Quote of the Day: The ablest writer is only a gardener first, and then a cook: his tasks are, carefully to select and cultivate his strongest and most nutritive thoughts; and when they are ripe, to dress them, wholesomely, and yet so that they may have a relish. ~Augustus William Hare and Julius Charles Hare, Guesses at Truth, by Two Brothers, 1827

back in the saddle

I finally got the summary of my novel organized into a place where I'm fairly happy with it. I'm sure it needs a lot of work still, but at least I have a solid foundation to start with. First drafts are one thing, but if your plot is flawed and it depends on a sequence of events for a mystery you might as well get the plot in line before you start chipping away at lofty revisions. At least, this is my thinking.

I set up a new document, pasted my first draft into it and labeled it "Second Draft." I sat down with my summary, my notes, and my cup of coffee and began this tedious process of rewriting.

And it sucks!

I can't sit as long as my brain wants me to because my chair is wood and HARD and I have a bony ass that falls asleep right when I'm on a roll. Not to mention my fear of blood clots. I swear my calf is throbbing more than usual.

Also, I don't have a desk and the bottom of my laptop is hot. Add the 100 degree Las Vegas weather and now my thighs are drenched in sweat.

Plus, my back hurts from hunching over to type.

In conclusion, my butt is asleep, I feel a blood clot coming on, my thighs are sweaty and my back is sore.

Why am I doing this again?

Oh right..I'm a writer.

P.S. HAPPY MEMORIAL DAY!

Quote of the Day: The only cure for writer's block is insomnia. ~Merit Antares

tag team...back again

In getting back into the swing of things, I finally completed my portion of the tag team story that Maura and Shae so dutifully finished on time...But better late than never, right? Well, here it is. No title yet. You decide!

As the plane slowly backed away from its designated gate, Sam realized that he didn't want to leave Chad. Yes, the living conditions at the camp where he had been working as a doctor helping with the refugees from Darfur had been dirty and cramped and often very dangerous. But he had felt like he was doing something important, more important catering to the whims of Manhattan's social elite, who only wanted the latest and greatest anti-depressant to cope with their problems. Hah, problems, like too much money and not enough compassion or understanding. After hearing the stories of violence in the camps, he marveled at the way the refugees had coped with their lives and still seemed happy, despite the cramped conditions and no food. As Keon, his Sudanese translator, had explained, their lives were better still in the camps than they were in their former homes, and that they were simply glad to be alive.

Alive. That was it, that was how Sam felt now. And it was due to what he had experienced. And Maggie. How could he leave Maggie? He could see her plainly in his mind. He remembered the first day he arrived at the Amnabak camp. He was tired and dirty and pretty sure he had made the biggest mistake of his life when he looked over to see a blur whoosh past him. She was short and red-haired with rounded curves and she never seemed to stop moving, like a hummingbird constantly in flight. The complete opposite of the women he had always dated, cool thin blondes who never did anything that might make them perspire, except the occasional Bikram yoga class.

The first time he saw her, she was playing soccer with a group of Sudanese children and he smiled at the memory of her laughter as the kids easily stole the ball from her. Maggie's laugh. She was always laughing, and she could find humor in the darkest of places.

Sam remembered the day they had left Amnabak to check on patients at the Guereda hospital. He had only been in Chad a few weeks but already he admired the dedication Maggie gave as an aid worker. She had volunteered as part of a graduate program she was in, then stayed long past her departure date.

"I can always go back to Nebraska, marry an insurance salesman and have the three children, brick house and get a golden retriever like my parents want, but first I wanted to make a difference," Maggie told him.

He watched her closely that day. No one was stranger for long with Maggie. She charmed everyone with her smile. She carried pockets full of cheap butterscotch candies, the kind wrapped in yellow cellophane, and handed them out wherever she was, leaving a trail of crinkly wrappers and happy smiles behind. Her curly hair was always trying to escape the braid she kept it in and she had a smattering of light freckles across her nose no matter how much sunscreen she slathered on each day. He learned a lot about her that day.

They stayed later at Guereda longer than they had planned and the hospital administrator urged them to stay, rather than make the drive back to Amnabak in the dark. But Dr. Mendes, the WHO doctor who had accompanied them wanted to get back to the camp and their driver Chidi assured them that he could get them back safely. It had all gone smoothly until they heard gunfire. Chidi pulled the Jeep into a deep ravine by the side of the road. The gunfire was from rival militia groups and they were caught in the crossfire. Even though the Jeep was clearly marked as an international aid vehicle, Chidi felt it was safer to wait for daylight, when peacekeeper patrols resumed. They sat huddled on the side of the Jeep, the sound of automatic weapons echoing around them.

"Anyone for a sing-a-long?" Maggie joked. "A rousing chorus of 'Kumbaya' perhaps?"

At first Sam though she was nuts, but as he saw her shiver in the darkness, he realized that she was scared too, but as always was determined to make the best of it. He moved closer to her, and put his arm around her. She was rigid for a moment, then relaxed, and leaned on him a bit. He had never wanted to protect someone more than he did at that moment, and he started to make up stories about how his mother's society friends would handle the situation, just to make her laugh.

"Now see here, Mr. Rebel," Sam said with the affected tone of a wealthy matron, "you really must stop this fighting, we have a verrry important dinner to get to you know. No time for this kind of nonsense, my good man."

Maggie chuckled a little, and they spent the rest of the night talking about everything and anything and Sam knew that was the night he fell in love

***
Maggie smiled at the little boy as Dr. Mendes listened to his heart. The youngster had arrived with his mother and two little sisters only an hour ago. He appeared to be healthier than most of the children who came through here but you could never be too sure. Illness and death occurred all too frequently in the refugee camp and Dr. Mendes was doing his best to reduce the awful statistics.

It was far too often a losing battle, though. Refugees poured into the camp and supplies were precious and scarce. As were doctors. And now they were short one. Maggie kept her smile pasted in place in spite of the tremor of anger that tore through her. Sam knew what they were facing here. How could he leave now?

Dr. Mendes declared the boy healthy and lifted him down from the table. Maggie handed him a candy which he accepted cautiously before scurrying back to his mother and sisters across the room.

“Is that it?” the doctor asked wearily.

Maggie rubbed his neck as he slumped on his stool. “For now,” she said. “You should go lie down while it’s quiet.”

“I will,” he said. “Call me if you need me.”

He walked away, a distinct droop noticeable in his shoulders and Maggie’s anger bubbled up again. Damn Sam, anyway! And damn herself for allowing him to mean so much to her. He wasn’t the first doctor to bail on the camp after a short time, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last. Most of them came in with such noble ideas of helping the unfortunate. But time and again they left in frustration or grief, unable to face the overwhelming odds that were against them.

But Maggie had believed Sam wasn’t one of those. In spite of his obviously pampered upbringing, Sam was one of the more level-headed doctors to have shown up at the camp in a long time. He was undaunted in the face of the staggering number of deaths that occurred. He wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty and never once complained about the lack of nurses which resulted in his having to do work that was considered beneath most doctors in the States. He was compassionate, caring, and gifted. Dr. Mendes had grown to rely on Sam heavily, knowing the younger doctor was the best asset to have arrived at the camp in a year.

And now he was gone. Maggie did her best to understand his motives but his mother’s letter had been cryptic at best. An emergency at home and Sam was desperately needed. Ha! She’d probably broken a nail and her manicurist had quit on her.

Maggie sighed deeply, regretting her snide thoughts. God forbid something really terrible had happened. But from everything Sam had ever told her about his mother, her “emergencies” were often anything but. She had made it clear that she was not happy with Sam’s decision to come to Africa. Maggie wouldn’t put it past her to have cooked up some phony emergency to get Sam to come home and join his father’s practice. She sighed again as she stepped out of the building into the blazing heat.

“Something wrong, Miss Maggie?” Chidi was standing near the door, gently kicking a battered soccer ball to a couple of toddlers who squealed with delight as the ball rolled towards them. It never failed to amaze Maggie how some of the children had such energy in this heat.

“No, Chidi. I’m fine.”

The young man looked at her shrewdly. “You are missing Dr. Sam I think.”

Maggie smiled. There were no secrets in the camp, the cramped living conditions saw to that. Everyone knew that she and Sam were more than just friends and co-workers. But she wasn’t ready to discuss their relationship with Chidi, or anyone else for that matter. It was too new. And possibly over for all she knew.

Sam had said nothing beyond a vague promise to come back. Not when or for how long. Nor had he made any mention of the possibility of Maggie coming to see him in New York. There had been no promises between them, no discussion of the future and where their relationship might be headed. They had so little quiet time together there had never been an opportunity to discuss any of those things. Never been time to tell him how she felt about him. She hadn’t been expecting him to be called home so soon and in his pell-mell hurry to get back home, she hadn’t been able to find the right time. And even though she knew it was unreasonable of her to expect Sam to know she was in love with him if she had never told him, Maggie couldn’t seem to shake the resentment she was feeling. His departure felt like a betrayal.

“We sure could have used his help today,” she said to Chidi. “Dr. Mendes can’t do this all alone and that new doctor still needs time to find his footing.”

“Find his footing?” Chidi looked at her quizzically. “What does that mean? How could he not know where his feet are?”

Maggie chuckled. Chidi’s English was extremely good, but every now and then a simple idiom would cause him confusion.

“Let’s go get something to drink and I’ll tell you.” Pushing her unsettling thoughts about Sam aside, Maggie linked arms with Chidi and walked across the compound, grateful for the distraction. Sam was gone and only time would tell if she would ever see him again.

***

Sam called his mother’s cell phone once again. Still no answer. He’d lost count of how many times he’d dialed her number since the plane touched down in New York. He even tried the house phone and his father’s cell to no avail. His fears of what the “emergency” his mother wrote to him about had grown exponentially with each unanswered call. Maybe this wasn’t another ploy to get him to come home like he first thought. However, he wouldn’t have gone all this way if he really thought that was true. This was his mother, for God’s sake. He couldn’t deny her cry for help. His mother definitely had a selfish streak, but he didn’t think she was capable of lying to him in such magnitude. Besides, he had already made it clear to both his parents that this was his life and he would decide if and/or when he would join his father in his practice. He thought he had finally gotten through to his mother, then again, he was sure his fierce stubbornness came from her genes.

He hailed a cab, telling the driver to step on it as he jumped in. He tried to think positive, pushing any dark thoughts from his mind. Already, the long and arduous plane ride from Chad had him teetering between his mother’s letter and how he left it with Maggie.

Oh Maggie. He had wanted to tell her everything – how much she had changed his life, how much he loved her, and how much he wanted to be with her when he returned. But for some reason he couldn’t get the words to come out. He looked into her haunting eyes and his tongue failed him. All he could manage was a promise that sounded more like a camp friend promising to write at the end of the summer. I’m such an idiot, he thought, and smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand.

The driver glanced back in his review mirror. “You okay there, buddy?” he asked, the question barely recognizable in his thick Indian accent. Sam nodded and made a mental note to tell Chidi just how much he appreciated his near flawless English.

Sam arrived at the mansion and immediately noticed a lack of usual household commotion. Even the gardeners weren’t about. He threw down his luggage at the base of the marble steps, just as Elaina, the housekeeper, opened the front door.

“Sammy!” she gasped, pressing a hand to her chest. He bounded the up the steps towards her as she launched into a frantic explanation in Spanish.

He grabbed ahold of her arms to calm her. “Elaina, what’s wrong? Where is Mom? In English, please!”

She took a deep breath and looked into his eyes. Suddenly, her own eyes teared up.

“Jinny is at the hospital. She was hit by a car a week ago and the doctor say he couldn’t help her.” Elaina could barely finish the sentence without crying. She put her head into his shoulder and he patted her dark hair as he took in the news. A bittersweet relief washed over him.

Jinny was the family dog. Well, you could say she was his dog, considering the floppy golden retriever only came when he called her. She was fourteen years old and before he left for Chad she was still as rambunctious as ever.

“Is that where Mom and Dad are, Elaina?” he asked.

“Si, Sammy. Jinny is being sent to heaven.”

“They’re putting her to sleep?”

Elaina nodded.

“When did they go?”

Elaina looked at her watch. “It was some time ago, maybe two hours. I’m sure Jinny is with Him now,” she said, looking up and crossing herself.

Sam closed his eyes. Even if he had taken the Mercedes kept for the staff, he wouldn’t have made it to see Jinny one last time. Dr. Crenshaw’s office was clear across town. He said a silent prayer to himself.

In the grand scheme of things, this news wasn’t as decimating as what he had been expecting, but it still broke his heart. Jinny had been a good dog and a great friend all through his life. He loved her and he was upset he couldn’t let her know one more time before she passed.

“Let’s get your things inside, Sammy. Your parents will be glad to see you home during such a trying occasion. ”

Sam’s eyes flew open at her words and realization struck him.

It was too soon to come back.

Sure he missed his family and his friends, and Jinny, and he didn’t blame his mother for considering this an emergency. Jinny was considered part of the family. He wished he could have made it home earlier to have seen her one last time.

But there was someone else who needed him now. Or at least he hoped she did. He wanted her to become part of this family and he didn’t want to miss any opportunity to have her in his life, permanently. If he stayed here, Maggie might not be available when he finally came back.
“I can’t stay, Elaina,” he blurted out.

“But Sammy, you just got here! What about Jinny? What about your parents?”

“Jinny is the reason I can’t stay. It’s that wonderful dog that has inspired me to not waste any more time in being with the ones I love and telling them so. I need to go back to Chad.”

Elaina shook her head in disbelief as he gathered up his luggage and ran toward the garage for the car.

“What do I tell your parents?” she yelled after him.

“Tell them I love them..and that I’m sorry Jinny passed...and that I’m asking a woman to marry me!”


Maggie flopped herself onto the cot. It had been an incredibly long day with Dr. Mendes and now, even in darkness it was still 110 degrees. She found herself getting tired more easily in the last two weeks. Maybe it was her body telling her it was time to leave this place. She knew she was doing good things for these people, but if her heart wasn’t totally in it they would be better off with a brighter, more bushy-tailed grad student anxious to give it all they’ve got and the energy to do it.

She went through the motions of getting ready for bed – washing her face, brushing out her hair, and changing clothes. When she finally clicked off the lamp, she realized Chidi hadn’t come to see her.

Usually, Chidi would be around to talk before she went to sleep, but she hadn’t seen him all day. Keon mentioned he was picking someone up from the air field. She wondered who, since Chidi never held back any pertinent information – or any information for that matter. It just soured her mood even more. She didn’t want to admit that her mood, along with her body, had gone downhill since Sam left, but she couldn’t deny it any longer. She missed him. Really missed him. No matter what she tried to tell herself, her heart ached for his return. As futile as that dream seemed.

She turned over, trying to block out the sounds of the night – the chirping insects, the wind, the distant voices, the rolling of tires on gravel.

Chidi must have returned, she thought, and continued to try and sleep. Until footsteps approached her door and suddenly a voice came through the night.

“Maggie!” he whispered loudly. “Can I come in?”

She jumped up, somewhat groggily, yet knew what she heard.

“Sam?”

“Maggie. I need to talk to you!”

“Uh, yes! Come in,” she said, sitting on the edge of the cot, trying to sound calm. He came back!

And Sam barreled in nearly taking off the tent door as he pulled her up and into his arms. Before she could say a word, his mouth found hers and he kissed her deeply. Her arms came up and around his neck and she kissed him back with just as much ferver.

“Oh Jinny,” he moaned, and she pushed back, falling onto the cot below.

“Who’s Jinny?” she asked, somewhere between hurt and anger.

His eyes softened and he sat down next to her. He took her hand in his, though she thought about pulling it away.

“My dog,” he began, and she felt her eyebrow raise.

He laughed, and she realized how much she missed the sound.

“My dog died back in New York. That was the emergency.”

Maggie didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Me too. I just wish my mother would have been a little more detailed in her letter. Still, Jinny was a big part of my life and it’s sad to see her go. But Jinny didn’t pass without inspiring me to do something important.” He smiled and looked down at her hand in his. She followed his gaze.

“I missed you,” she said, before the moment passed.

“I missed you, too,” he said, “a lot.”

She swallowed. She guessed she didn’t know what response that would get her if she said it. Now, she wasn’t sure she was prepared for it.

“Maggie, I love you,” he said, bringing a hand up against her cheek. “You’ve changed my life for the better and..”He fished a box out of his other pocket and reached over to click on the lamp. “..I can’t bear the thought of not spending the rest of my life with you.”

His eyes glistened as he opened the box. The ring sparkled in the lamplight and she blinked back tears.

“Marry me, Maggie,” he said, pulling the ring out for her.

She suddenly realized what Sam meant regarding Jinny’s inspiration and she reached out for the ring.

“Oh Jinny,”she said, letting the tears fall down her cheeks. “I love you.”

“Wait, did you mean me..or Jinny?” he asked with a smile, his face wet.

She laughed and kissed him. “You! I love YOU, Sam! I want to marry you!”

“Okay, okay. I just wanted to be sure,” he replied, kissing her back.

“Did you want to tell the group?” Maggie asked, grabbing a shirt from her nightstand.

He put a hand on her arm and then clicked the lamp off.

“Let’s tell them in the morning,” Sam said, trailing kisses down her neck.

THE END

Quote of the Day: Writing comes more easily if you have something to say. ~Sholem Asch

alone with my thoughts

I lay here on my old double bed as the light from the hot Vegas sun slowly drifts further and further down the length of the window, casting half-moon shadows over my new bedroom. My laptop is open and filling the room with the ambient sounds of a favorite iTunes radio station and I am reminded that this is good for me.

I realize if I didn't have the music playing I'd be tempted to fall asleep. I do a lot more of that these days. I've come to find that I sleep when I don't want to do something or if I'm bored. Being tired seems to be an unnecessary requirement. Yet right now, it could be the wine causing such deep relaxation. When I come home from work, a glass of wine or a bottle of beer helps set my mood. That and a dip in the pool and/or a soak in the jacuzzi.

I'm fairly settled in the new place. After a few kinks, I've managed to move my stuff in nicely - hoping to get a better system of organization down as I think of things or as the paychecks allow. I've been so focused on the bare necessities, like a working washer & dryer, fresh sheets, towels, bathroom essentials and kitchen appliances that I haven't had the time for much else. Writing has fallen by the wayside. Bills have to be paid, the pool serviced, and the rest of the house cleaned enough to where I feel comfortable putting my things away.

But back to this being good for me. It's been harder than I thought transitioning from never having a moment to myself to having every moment to myself. Four years is a long time and it's tough being alone with your own thoughts. I know there is always something I could be doing or writing, but it's almost like the motivation is completely sucked into this newfound emptiness, this void. It's a strange feeling. Not entirely bad, just strange.

I've already had my friend Doug come out from California to the spend a weekend and that was tons of fun. I find myself looking forward to those instances of interaction much more than I used to. I still have to go back to Rob's once a week to watch my TIVO'd shows. Once I get cable that will change, but it's nice to be with him and enjoy the company.

I'm not anxious to date right away, mostly because I think I need this awkward time. It's been a while since I've had it, jumping from relationship to relationship. I'd like to dwell in this alone time and hopefully use it to be productive in my endeavors. I've got a book to finish and much much more to write, damnit!

My first order of business is to finish Shae and Maura's story from our tag session. I'll be doing that this weekend. Then it's back to the original plan...(see previous posts).

Well, it's about time for my nightly soak. Then maybe some reading.

Yes, this is definitely good for me.

Quote of the Day: When you are describing,
A shape, or sound, or tint;
Don't state the matter plainly,
But put it in a hint;
And learn to look at all things,
With a sort of mental squint.
~Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (Lewis Carroll)

the ideal date

For my writing exercise this week, I've been asked to write about my ideal date....

This is more difficult than one might think, because I'm not the kind of girl who has just ONE fantasy about the perfect date. Sometimes I have several and sometimes none at all. And when it really comes down to it, those fantasy dates change depending on the datee, the mood, what's available to do and the time of year. I've never been one to depend on a fantasy when it comes to real life. Because starting off with that ultimate perfection can only lead to disappointment in the long run. I'm the master of low expectations, remember??? I'll always have fun or at least find something fun about the date that way.

That said, I'll give you all an example of an ideal date I had with my most recent ex-boyfriend.

Rob and I met on the internet. I believe it was through Yahoo personals. I was fairly new to Vegas and didn't know many people, but I'd always had good luck with internet match-ups, so it wasn't a huge deal that I found someone worth meeting after a few emails and phone calls. We both had awkward schedules which made it hard to do the whole dinner and movie thing, and that was fine with me. I prefer the unusual to the norm.

It was late May, and warm, and the neon was already at full throttle when we met at a pool hall between our homes. We thought we'd have a couple drinks and play some pool. When we had arrived and gotten over the "thank god we both looked like our pictures or better phase" we found the pool hall closed. Time to go with the flow....

Not knowing what else was around, Rob suggested miniature golf. The course we went to is closed now, but coincidentally situated next door to Palace Station where I ended up working a year or so later. But that's another story. Back to mini golf. Mini golf is damn fun and even moreso on a date, where you can gauge how your partner handles stress, competition, and the general public. You can have a little fun too, seeing if you can distract your date enough to miss the shot ;-) Anyway, Rob and I both shared a huge soda and played two rounds of golf, enjoying every minute of it. It's easy to talk since the game isn't that involved, too. It was fairly late by the end of the games and Rob drove me back to my car in the parking lot of the pool hall.

Now I didn't want the date to end and apparently neither did he because after we both noticed the pool hall was open, Rob suggested we play a couple games. (We came to the realization that it was open before but the door to the place was on the side and it was dark inside, thus we assumed the place was closed, when in fact, we just were trying the wrong door. At least both of us were idiots.) We played some pool, had a few drinks and still didn't want the date to end, even though it was pushing 2am. Rob talked about a spot near the airport where we could lay in the back of his truck and watch the planes fly in, and I was all for that. I'd always watched those scenes in movies, but never had the chance to do it, so we drove out there. 3am in the beginning of of a Vegas summer watching the cargo planes above was amazing, and to my surprise, Rob didn't even make a move. Ha!

When the date finally came to an end back in the parking lot of the pool hall, we had spent nearly six hours together and after a quick make-out session, we made plans to see each other again. And here it is four years later, and we've barely been apart more than a week's time. Sad that it's come to a close, but I'll always remember our first date. It was the perfect date for us and when the times comes to date another....I hope we both have many more.

Quote of the Day: I asked Ring Lardner the other day how he writes his short stories, and he said he wrote a few widely separated words or phrases on a piece of paper and then went back and filled in the spaces. ~Harold Ross

P.S. I'm still working on my summaries and for my next exercise I will finish Shae and Maura's story tag. Wish me luck! And Godspeed!

I couldn't find the picture like Paul Rudd's below...but I'm working on it.

in summary, i'm behind

I wasn't able to finish all my summaries last week, but I did get the BIG chapter summary finished, which is a load off. I'm still planning on completing the shorter summaries because I would really like Maura and Shae's advice, so no worries.

Thus, my goals haven't changed yet. I'll update them next week.

But to distract you from my shortcomings, I decided to post a sexy /funny picture of Paul Rudd. I think he's trying to do a parody of a famous photograph David Duchovny did a while back. I'll post the original next week to keep you all coming back. Well, the girls maybe ;-)
Quote of the Day: When something can be read without effort, great effort has gone into its writing. ~Enrique Jardiel Poncela

the storm

Running with this random weather theme, my writing exercise for the week is to elaborate on the title above...

My favorite storms are the ones that seem to come out of nowhere. The ones that creep in silently, with only the warning of a gentle breeze, or a dark cloud in the middle of the sky, like an ink stain on a freshly washed shirt. These types of storms are rare out here in the West, but I can recall a number of them when I was back East. Yet my most memorable storm came from a visit down South, on the banks of the Mississippi River.

The night was balmy; normal for a humid summer there, and the lights of the riverboat casino shined bright on the water, as tacky as rhinestones on blue jeans, beckoning passerby's to try their luck at the tables or slot machines inside. For those of you who don't know, riverboat casinos aren't boats at all. They don't float. They are mere facades, built into the river floor, destined never to traverse the waters in which they sit. Quite sad, really. But I'm sure the people who board them know this and don't get as depressed as I do at the lack of movement. It was aboard one of these fake boats that a storm hit so suddenly that not until a bolt of lightning touched down to illuminate the water that I knew it was happening. The sight of lightning coming down from the sky is a breath-taking event in itself, but when it smacks down upon a body of water as big as the great Mississippi, it's mind-blowing. Nature at its best, and its worst. And any boat, real or fake, that stands in it way could be doomed to a nasty, firey demise.

The insane crack of a bolt of lightning, like that of a steel bull whip, makes most men stop in their tracks. It commands full attention, or fear. That night crowds gathered on the bows, watching in awe as nature, or since we were in the center of the Bible-Belt, as God, smote down his vengeance upon the world. The sky lit up with each jolt, like a long jagged firework, appearing across the water, then closer, then away, then in unison with another bolt, at different levels, different thicknesses, and different intensities of sound. Cracks, crashes, snaps, and the occasional buzz completed the night's music. Thunder, Lightning's brother, was absent for this purely electrical storm, taking a break while his sibling wreaked havoc, letting him gain a little respect from the heathens below.

And like most tantrums, the spectacle came to a slow end, Thunder grabbing his brother's hand saying "That's enough." Lightning rolled his eyes and finally agreed, putting away his toys of destruction. I stayed out on the bow after everyone went back inside. I continued to watch the sky. The clouds disbursed and the air settled again into its thick seat. The element of surprise is what amazes me the most about weather like that. But at that moment all I had wanted was that lightning to take out the posts beneath, so that this stagnant ship could set sail and explore a world which held such surprises as the one I had just witnessed. Yep sad, really.

Quote of the Day: A synonym is a word you use when you can't spell the other one. ~Baltasar Gracián

the summary method

For my first manuscript goal, I'm going to work on a technique from John Braine, a British novelist discussed in James Scott Bell's book, Revision & Self-Editing.

"Braine advocated writing a first draft as quickly as possible, to stay in the flow. No looking back. No pause for major changes. Then after some cooling off, produce a summary of the novel. A synopsis, but one that's subject to change. Because you're going to try to make it better and deeper. You may even change it significantly. The summary should be no more than 2,000 to 3,000 words, and you should produce several versions.

As described by Stephen Koch in The Modern Library's Writer's Workshop:

Tell yourself your emerging story again and again until you have, in capsule, a potent credible version that is propelling you into the new draft. If you like, summarize your first draft version in the first. Then try some other ways of telling it. Change the beginning, change the ending, shift points of view and perspectives. Keep each summary short and try never to devote more than a day's work to any one of them. You are not rewriting. You are summarizing; you are testing possibilities...Don't talk to yourself about the story: Tell it to yourself in this concentrated form. Don't indulge in fancy meditations on theme and do not theorize. But do include images and motifs and moments that you know drive the story forward...

If you produce several of these summaries, and finally fine-tune the best version, the method will give you a roadmap for an organic second draft."

I've been working on my huge chapter by chapter summary. I'd like to finish that and then delve into this. My goal by the end of this week is to have the chapter summary done and at least two summaries as discussed above. I'd like to have my accountability partners review the summaries and give me guidance, advice, or direction when it comes to the bulk of the story.

Wish me luck!

Quote of the Day: Writer's block is a disease for which there is no cure, only respite. ~Laurie Wordholt

wild is the wind

The desert is a strange place. Its weather is either one of two things: Hot as hell, and dry. Or cold as fuck, and dry. There's rarely anything in between. We do get an intermittent spattering of random climate here and there, but that's usually forgotten as the next torrent of cold or hot comes through.

Today is one of those odd times when the consistency falters and the random reigns supreme. Today the wind blows. And I'm not talking gentle breezes. I'm talking "wind-advisory-please-stay-inside-or-get-a-two-by-four-to-the-face" kind of blast.

Outside the gusts rush through the trees and buildings like a massive wave; forcing leaves, trunks, telephone poles, dirt and rock to bend, coil, snap, and take flight under its powerful will. First in one direction...and then the other. Only brief interludes of reprieve where the foliage and wildlife sags, spent and tortured, limply awaiting the next blow. Above, the sky, a brilliant blue, seems oblivious to the brutality and violence below. But like puffs of factory smoke creeping in to pollute a passing daydream, the clouds move in.

Every once in a while I hear the sound of wood scraping glass, and it reminds me of a multitude of horror movies, where the little boy is huddled in bed under his covers, afraid of the monster outside, who is really a big old elm in their yard. I hear the unusual sound of metal clanging metal, and it reminds me of the bell on ships that signals danger, or maybe arrival. I would hate to be on a ship during wind like this. To be tossed about on the ocean, like some child's toy, holding on for dear life amidst the spray, praying to any god that would listen. My life would flash before my eyes as the waves crashed and flipped before me, threatening death underneath the watery depths. Then as suddenly as it happened, the wind would die down until it was eerily still. The boat would scarcely rock, the water flat and smooth, barely a ripple in its surface.

I would marvel at such a wild change in the weather, wonder which prayers worked, or if it was simply a natural coincidence. To be in dire straights, smack in the middle of chaos and within a few frantic heartbeats back in a moment of utter stillness; that's....wild.

And wild is the wind....

Quote of the Day: Every writer I know has trouble writing. ~Joseph Heller

on our way

It's that time again. Getting back to business. The business of writing.

Maura, Shae, and I have embarked on another step in the journey to publication. We've all finished first drafts (though Shae deemed hers more fire worthy than anything else ;-)) and now we need to get these suckers revised and agent and/or editor ready. Maura has already done one round of revisions and in my honest opinion she doesn't have much further to go. Shae would just like to get back into the writing scene again. Me, I'm just the procrastinator of the century and a moody one at that.

The return to the writing scene is exactly what the focus of our next step is about. Writing for the sake of writing! Maura has been journaling, which is awesome, and Shae has been writing for the camera, and I have been...blogging. Sometimes. I've been slacking on my goals as my mood has fallen, I've let reality has seep into my creative side. Not good!

Thus, the plan is as follows....

1)Each week we will be posting one writing exercise that we have done from a source of our choosing on our blogs.

2)Each week we will complete one current manuscript goal until....well, for me, until I've sent it off to my prospective agents.

I'm excited and looking forward to working with my girls, as well as my characters, again :-)

Quote of the Day: When we see a natural style we are quite amazed and delighted, because we expected to see an author and find a man. ~Blaise Pascal, Pensées, 1670

where to start?

First, the hair. What do ya think? I'm very pleased. Thanks Justine from Curl Up N' Dye!



Second, the new car. Yep, I bought a 2009 Toyota Yaris in beautiful black.

I love it almost as much as my hair. This came to me in my quest to lower my debt to income ratio. With this car, I have a slightly lower monthly payment, the car is in MY name and ONLY my name, I'll save on gas because of the sweet mileage, and I have a three year warranty that I didn't have before. I really liked my previous VW bug, but it was time to move ahead and make some serious choices about the future.

That said, I went to my NACA workshop concerning purchasing a home and found out how awesome their program is. Their goal is to get as many people into realistic, legitimate mortgages as possible. They require you to make goals about what you want and how you plan to get there, along with demonstrating how you will make it happen. That is the tough part. You have to have patience. Since, I want to get into a condo and get into it the right way, I'm willing to take the time. They say roughly three to six months. And though my living situation isn't the greatest, I'd rather make sure I'm set for the future once I'm out of here. I don't want to be in this position ever again!

Other than that, my cellulitis on the tattoo cleared up and its almost back to normal skin. I can't wait to get the next two!

My writing has been put on the backburner in all this car and home mess, but my schedule is starting to clear up and I'm aching to get back into it. I'm hoping to get out to RWA's conference and push the novel, like Maura is going to do. I noticed in the RWA magazine, that its possible to get a scholarship by writing in. I may just do that. Then I'll only have to worry about airfare and lodging. We'll see. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Honestly, I hope to have the novel done in the next couple of months, and ready for an agent. Obviously, my January goal sheet is on my mind, but hey, things happen and goals can be rearranged. :-)

Quote of the Day: Let me walk through the fields of paper
touching with my wand
dry stems and stunted
butterflies....
~Denise Levertov, "A Walk through the Notebooks"

gothic revival

And I don't mean architecture.

It's time for a change and I decided to start with my hair. I usually do something different with my locks once a year, so I'm going with a funky emo / goth cut in shiny black. I think I've had my hair every color at one time or another, but never black. I guess I figured I'd look too washed out with my pale skin. Now I keep thinking the contrast would be awesome and it would force me to add a little color to my lips, eyes and cheeks, and stop being lazy!

Here are my inspiration shots....


I found a website for this amazing salon here in Vegas called Curl Up N Dye. Kinda cute, huh? All their stylists are tatted up, pierced, and have really funky hair, so I figure I'll be in good hands.

Other than that I've been trying to re-establish my goth roots with some new clothes and jewelery. I never go overboard with all that, but when done subtly it suits me. Also, there's a Cure concert coming up that I'd like to go to. How cliche is that?

I'll make sure to post some pictures after the hair is "did."

Oh and listen to my playlist song, Black No. 1 to get you in the proper goth mood.

Quote of the Day: Every great writer is a writer of history, let him treat on almost any subject he may. ~Walter Savage Landor, Imaginary Conversation: Diogenes and Plato

infections and condos and workouts, oh my!

It's been a crazy couple of weeks.

After the newness of the tattoo had worn off (and it had gone into scabbing over and drying out phase - the icky part of the process no one really tells you about) I began to focus on two things: 1)Getting out of this crowded house and 2)putting my all-over health plan into effect.

I looked at a couple apartments in the neighborhood of my job and quickly found out that it would be impossible for me to get an apartment of my own. The rents here are from $600 to $800 for a one-bedroom and $900 plus for a two bedroom. The one bedroom is out. I can't afford it. The two bedroom would work with a roommate, but I'm nervous about having someone new live with me. Then, I found out that I couldn't get a two bedroom in my name anyway, because they want you to make some ungodly amount more than the rent. Soooo.....I researched more options. Either move in to an already established household with a room for rent (thus opening up the whole fear of roommates thing again) or buy something.

Now, I am the last person who I know who I would think could buy and own a home. I make very little, have a lot of debt, and have little savings for a down payment. Low and behold, the magic of low income, community programs for people like me. At Station Casinos we have a program that works with HFN (Housing for Nevada) where they help you with the financial obligations (down payment, appliances, etc.) and counsel you with the rest of what goes on with purchasing and owning a home successfully. I got the application and did some more research. For my purposes, this would be my last resort, because it MUST be owner occupied and then when you decide to sell, HFN gets first dibs on buying it back and making it available for other program participants. That's fine but it is unclear if any profit is made when you sell and that scares me, defeating the purpose of investing in property to begin with!

My boyfriend's best friend (who's a realtor) gave me the name of his mortgage guy and I met with him. He told me my debt to income was too high and that he couldn't help me. I wasn't really discouraged because he was honest, but luckily I know there is another option. NACA, Neighborhood Assistance Corp of America, is similar to HFN, but even more involved and, according to a lender friend of mine, one of the best deals around right now. NACA helps you with the down payment, gives you a low fixed mortgage rate, is more "character based" when it comes to your credit score, and has more lenient restrictions when it comes to debt to income ratios. They counsel you throughout the entire time you own your home and encourage you to participate in their program to help other low income people purchase homes. They require you attend a workshop and then one-on-one appointment. I'm kinda excited. If this ends up working out, I could own a condo here in Vegas and have a $400 dollar mortgage payment. Doesn't make a lot of sense to rent, when a mortgage is less expensive and works more to your advantage in your financial future, does it? My workshop is on Saturday. I'll let you know how it goes.

As far as the health plan, I cut out certain foods, bulk up on the healthier foods, eat more often, and have smaller portions. Also, I started working out with weights and doing 25 minutes of cardio a day. Two days of the week I do 45 minutes of cardio. Let me tell you. I was sore, but I found I was sleeping better and wasn't tired throughout the day like I used to be. I had energy and looked forward to coming home from work, working out and taking a hot shower. I'm happy with my results so far.

The last of my news is unfortunate. Friday my tattoo is mega itchy and bright red. I don't think much of it because it's at the tail end of the healing phase. At work, I show it to my boss and she says it doesn't look right and to ask. I ask a woman who has tattoos and she says it doesn't look right, that its infected, and to put ointment on it. I call my tattoo place and they tell me I won't die and it will go away. I'm okay with that until I get home and pull out my trusty laptop. I look up people with infected tattoos and my symptoms are similar. Bright red, the skin is hot to the touch, itchy, and swelling. My ankle below the tat is swelling up too. Online they have mixed pieces of advice. Some say it will go away on its own, others say go to doctor immediately to get antibiotics. I call my insurances 24 hour hotline and the nurse says go to the doctor, even though they are more worried that the tattoo artist wasn't reputable and they gave me Hepatitis or Tetanus. But I watched the artist go through her motions and everything was either brand spanking new out of the bag or heavily sterilized. I was worried that something on my hands or under my nails got into my wound and infected my blood in a bad way. I needed to see a doctor for piece of mind.

I did not want to go to Urgent Care. I didn't want to spend my Friday night waiting around for hours for a doctor to look at it and hand over antibiotics. Urgent Care is for emergencies, not infected tattoos. So even though my insurance didn't cover it, I headed over to the nearest Walgreens Take Care Clinic. I had never been but thought I'd try it, even without them taking my insurance. I'm glad I did. With no one in line, I checked in within 2 minutes on the computer and the nurse took me right in. She asked me some questions, looked at it, and knew exactly what it was, Cellulitis, and how to treat it. She told me what to expect, how to deal and gave me a prescription for antibiotics. My prescription was free and on Wednesday she said to stop by and she'd let me know if I needed to keep taking the antibiotics. $60 was worth the hours I would have waited at Urgent Care. It's getting better, but still looks wicked and I want to scratch it right off sometimes! I love the design sooo much though. Even the doctor commented how cool it was! :-)

Other than that, I lugged my book out to work on the edits. I haven't been doing much on it, but I've been reading. I thought I'd expand my horizons and read a mystery. Sue Grafton's Kinsey Millhone Series, A is for Alibi. So far I'm enjoying it. Very succinct writing, but amazing descriptions. Millhone is a straight-laced, tough-talking detective, yet she knows people so well.
Here's one of her best....

I cleaned my place, did laundry, went to the supermarket, and had a nice visit in the afternoon with my landlord, who was sunning himself in the backyard. For a man of eighty-one, Henry Pitts has an amazing set of legs. He also has a wonderful beaky nose, a thin aristocratic face, shocking white hair, and eyes that are periwinkle blue. The overall effect is very sexy, electric, and the photographs I've seen of him in his youth don't even compare. At twenty and thirty and forty, Henry's face seems too full, too unformed. As the decades pass, the pictures begin to reveal a man growing lean and fierce, until now he seems totally concentrated, like a basic stock boiled down to a rich elixir.

This is what makes me want to write.

Quote of the Day: When a man is in doubt about this or that in his writing, it will often guide him if he asks himself how it will tell a hundred years hence. ~Samuel Butler

sometimes its just funny

the start of a beautiful friendship....

..between me and my tattoo...Though I was a wreck for most of the day leading up to it, barely eating any of my breakfast at Dennys and fighting the urge to run over to 7-11 for some liquid courage, I made it through, and with flying colors..well, red and black colors.

It was definitely the anticipation of what was to come that made me so nervous. Because when it came down to it, it really wasn't that bad. I was there with my boyfriend, my co-worker Angie, and her sis-in-law, Debbie. Debbie went first, getting a heart with her husband of 20 years' name on her arm. She made it look like it was nothing. She almost fell asleep in the chair!

When my turn came, Anji, the tattoo artist, said I'd be fine. She was super nice and told me all about how she got started, including how she met her husband, Ryan, who was the guy doing tattoos in the booth next door. I always want to know how people meet. Anyway, she tested a small line and I was like, "That's it?!" She continued.. and yes, there were parts that hurt more than others, but it wasn't unbearable. As Shae mentioned, it's better than being in the dentist's chair. I kept talking while Anji was working and before I knew it, I was done. The entire process took about 45 mintues.

For those that can't see it too well, it's a black tribal-esque quill with a rose entwined around it. The ink drops that are coming from the tip are red, symbolizing blood..my blood. How every word that comes from my pen is a part of me, like my blood, like my soul.

I can see how people would get addicted to this stuff. I'm already planning what I'm going to get next and when. Luckily, the price keeps me grounded in reality. All in all, it was a great experience. And now it can be slashed from the list. Another resolution resolved!

Quote of the Day: It seems to me that those songs that have been any good, I have nothing much to do with the writing of them. The words have just crawled down my sleeve and come out on the page. ~Joan Baez