Hello, Satan?

"Hello, Satan? Yes, I'd like to book a table?"

"At the moment, for one, but you may want to keep a few chairs handy, I think I might be joined by some friends."

"Yeah. Ok. I'd like it to be in the non-smoking section, please."

"Oh. There isn't a non-smoking section. Alright. Hmmm. Could it be in a quiet, corner? Maybe something a little intimate and cozy?"

"Yes, as far away from the screaming and fiery pits as possible would be nice. Thanks."

"Okay. See you then!"

Yes the Jehovah's Witnesses were back. Don't worry. I dispatched them quickly. No, not under the loose boards of my porch.

The sad thing is, I don't think I've seen the last of her. I'm getting the feeling she's attached herself like a pit bull to my ass. Like I'm some pet project of hers. I'll fix her. Even if I have to turn the hose on her.

Damn, I wish I had those flying monkeys.

A Few Truths I'm Learning the Hard Way

Truth #1 - Public service and volunteerism urges in me should be squelched at all costs.

Truth #2 - Saying no is a very good thing that's difficult to do.

Truth #3 - When people know you can't say no, they treat you like a broken ATM that spits out fifties instead of twenties.

Truth #4 - Wanting to write is a sick affliction that doesn't turn off no matter how overbooked or tired of mundane life tasks you become. The damn story won't let you the hell alone!

Side note to Micah - Yes, I know where I left you. Yes, I know how close you are to getting it on in the woods with Leigha. Yes, I am familiar with blue ball terminology. Chill! You'll do the deed as soon as I can find two spare seconds to open your damn WIP! Quit bugging me!!!!!

Truth # 5 - A four day vacation in my bathtub with the sea monkey tribe to keep me company, and claiming I went on a Carnival Cruise is perfectly sane.

Back to the grind. Hope your grind is better than mine right now!

Really: with Seth and Amy

I love this segment on SNL. It was hard for me to choose which one to share.



I need a Really segment for my missing Richard Simmons on the sacred list - See previous post.

That is all, citizens!

How Did I Miss Him?!?!?!

For a recap, check this post and this post.

Richard Simmons!!!

How did I miss him the first TWO times?

There's something seriously wrong with me. Geez. Sorry citizens. I'll try to improve. Gotta watch me every minute or else I'll start slacking.

Cool Artist

Bill Shannon is an extremely skilled performance artist. From what I've read, he does need to use the crutches for mobility. What he does on them is wicked.

His website is very cool. His definitions to certain phrases or ideas are in blunt, succinct terms that challenge everyday conceptions of people with disabilities. Definitely worth checking out.

For now, take a look at his artistry in this Visa commercial and then in this music video.





I admire the way he challenges the ingrained views the majority of the public hold in regard to people with disabilities. I also admire his moves.

A Menagerie of Misgivings

Does it make me a bad person if . . .

I would rather have huge bat boogers fly out of my nose than see my in-laws tonight? (See this post for a small explanation)

I want this T shirt really badly?



I want to stay at the writing retreat and never come home?

I wish I had flying monkeys to deliver my wrath?

I'm an ageist cynic in regards to the blue hairs in charge of a committee I volunteered for?

Probably am, but like I said after the Jehovah's Witnesses darkened my door, I'm headed for Hell anyway. So what's the difference if I enjoy myself along the way?

Fatalism, Free Will or None of the Above

I just finished watching the latest new episode of Supernatural,{Thanks Natalie!} "The Monster at the End of This Book". (Great title by the way.) And I'm intrigued by the idea of this modern day prophet. He channels an uncontrollable power which is ultimately used to record events as if it's the new gospel. Filtering the events through this medium, they are recorded as he sees fit. The prophet is trapped. Enslaved- with no way to stop the message, and then the urge to capture it on a page, trying to do it justice. Writing and rewriting, only to find out what you're seeing is coming to pass. (Castiel's dry one liner, "You should have seen Luke" made me smile.)



I loved that the prophet was just as tortured, just as trapped as the participants. But it made me uncomfortable with the ideology of predetermination, or fate. I've never been keen on the idea of fatalism. It chafes and becomes an irritating sore spot on my mind. I much prefer the idea of free will over destiny. Prideful, spoiled being in this great wide world that I am, honing and sharpening my denial of my insignificance in the grand schematic, I desperately cling to the hope that the path of life is more meaningful than a predesignated walk through. I don't want to feel like one of those mathematical "proofs" I was forced to complete in high school geometry class where each step begets the next until its logical conclusion.

Maybe I could be content with the "All roads lead to Rome" philosophy. No matter how you choose along the way, the different paths you take will inevitably lead you to the same destination. As long as I get to choose how I get there. I could be okay with that. Maybe.

Remember those Choose Your Own Adventure books? When they first came out, I always enjoyed them. But then came the moment when you decide to try and take every path, and experience every storyline it contains. After all, they offer finite possibilities. It was a challenge at first, but eventually I found it depressing. Each path I chose forced me through stilted cattle chutes to an predetermined end. Just not my idea of fun.

So, fatalism or free will? Chance or fate. Chaos or ultimate design? Either way, this - Life - is still the only game in town. And we're here now, so at the very least we should try to enjoy the ride.

Keep On the Sunnyside

Ok. Here's something for you to counteract the surliness of yesterday's post. This lady is so cute and absolutely wonderful. The video has gotten over five million views in just four days. It's amazing.

The embedding has been disabled, so here's the link. You definitely won't regret it.

Susan Boyle

And when did Simon get so handsome? But only when he smiles.

Unbelievable

So I'm at home on this rainy Tuesday, feeling sick. (Big frickin' surprise, I've been sick since the beginning of March.) And there's a tentative knock on my only-used-by-strangers front door that is semi blocked by crap and only opens half-way. The dogs go ballistic, and I get ready for the inevitable.

Yes. It's the Jehovah's Witnesses.

Now, I'm usually a polite person. They're following their doctrine, and I can respect that. But when the person you're trying to convert is hacking all over you and not inviting you in and trying politely to let you know that they're not interested and holding back the hounds of hell so they don't tear your throat out and is not feeling well, STFU and leave them be.

Now not only do they not shut up, and I can't shut the door because then one of my dogs would get cut in half, but they wrap up their spiel trying to elicit a promise from me that I'll read over their pamphlet and talk to them about it when I'm done.

What?

Don't come to my house and assign me frickin' homework! WTH?! Do you think you're going to administer a pop quiz when you get back? The woman actually said, "I want you to promise me that you'll read over this literature so when we come back we can discuss it."

Lady, are you fucking nuts? If you do come back, I don't care about the busy road in front of my house, I'm releasing the hounds. Do you really think I want to discuss anything with a person so driven by doctrine that you have no common sense or courtesy for the sick? Do you really think I want to choose my faith from a door to door salesman? Do you really believe that because I'm a polite person and didn't back you off my property with a gun in your face that I'm going to invite you in for a coffee clatch about your propoganda rag?

Suffice it to say, nice ended and snarky stepped up. I replied, "If you do come back, you'd better bring some different wares to sell because I ain't buying what you're shilling now." And shut the door.

Yeah, I'm going to Hell, but I knew that way before they hit my front porch.

Enjoy This Easter Treat

Ahhhhhhhhhhh

Who needs therapy when you've got a motorcycle? I got out for a quick ride last evening. It was a little chilly, but oh so needed.

I haven't had a chance to escape at all this week. I felt like I had a lo-jack on my ankle. House arrest sucks, especially when you're innocent of any and all offenses (at least as far as anyone can prove).

The ride was great. I have to admit that it's hard not to feel like a badass when you're riding a motorcycle.

This is the exact bike I have:
I have a black Joe Rocket jacket with imbedded armor and a splashy green and black matching helmet. There's just something about that Kawasaki green that screams racing.

I'm usually a pretty level-headed person, but the temptation to misuse the power of this machine is great. I only got up to fifty on some of the deserted back roads. It was starting to get on towards twilight, and I was a little concerned about deer bounding out in front of me. (A description of my area is in this post- Is Redneck Contagious?) So I took it easier than usual.

So suffice it to say, I'm feeling a little better mentally. Physically, I'm still ill, along with others in the household who shall remain nameless. I swear I have to get tough on those sea monkeys again or we'll never get well.

I started writing the next chapter of Shifting Her World the other day, but hate how it begins. I think I'm supposed to be done with this chapter before the next meeting. Magic Eight Ball says: Outlook Not Good. (damn, frickin' magic eight ball!) There's a lot of forwarding of plot and character development in this chapter. Need to get on it already, but my big fear is coming to fruition. I was scared that if I took a break and broke my momentum I wouldn't be able to get back to it, and here it's happening before my very eyes. I overbooked myself through the beginning of July. And the small amount of time I get to devote to writing is getting sacrificed. I'm the one who's letting it get sacrificed, so I have no one else to blame (but I really wish I did!).

Sea monkeys, motorcycles, magic eight balls, and life. Man, did you ever think you'd read about all those things wrapped up in one any time in your life? Me either. And just think, my neighbors think I'm a completely normal person. Boy, do I have them fooled!
Damn, I'm good.

Sea Monkey Status

The sea monkeys are still alive. I know you've been concerned. They continue to chant their war songs from the depths of the bathtub, performing their ritual sacrifices involving hunks of Irish Spring and a decapitated rubber ducky. They've got some powerful mojo. I truly believe that their aspirations go beyond just conquering my house. I'm pretty sure world domination comes into play.

But really. How bad would that be? Sea monkey world domination. I can see the upside. You'd go to work naked. No more worrying about what to wear. You'd be underwater, so you wouldn't have to worry about doing your hair. Tridents replace nuclear subs. Sea horses become a major mode of transportation. No more worries about fossil fuels and global warming. I don't know if there is a downside to this.

Alright, the tub dwelling sea monkeys get a pass. They will live another day. So now I guess my new mantra around town will be, "Make Sea Monkeys, Not War." I wonder if it'll catch on?

Banned Books

The Ten Most Banned Books in America



The 100 Most Frequently Banned Books from 1990 - 2000



An interesting compilation. Wish I knew how true it is, their source information, and if it's in the USA or World Wide, etc. I've read a lot of them. Two, at least, are on my favorite books list for Blogger (The Wish Giver and Of Mice and Men).

My next frequently banned book to read is The Freedom Writer's Diary. Any banned or challenged books on your to-be-read list?

My Turn at The Wall

So, yeah. It's my turn to hit the wall. I'm going to forgo all the whining and excuses. It doesn't matter how I got here with my writing. All that matters is what I decide to do now.

My initial response was to close off and get really introspective. Do a lot of thinking that clouds the issue and gets me nowhere. My commonsense knows what to do, but my motivation just isn't there.

I don't know how some authors can work on the same novel for eight years. I'm so sick of the two I've been working on for about a year that I get nauseous every time I open the damn document. The shiny new ideas are calling to me, but not even the allure of something else can tempt me back to fiction.

My creativity is a dead bloated fish belly up in the water.

Hmmmmm. Even that description is trite and tired. Just not into it. Need some inspiration or motivation or circulation or ventilation or calculation or ammunition. I'm leaning towards the ammuition. That way I could pull an Elvis. Instead of shooting my TV, I'll shoot my computer and put the wips out of their misery.

Hoping something good is going on for my writer's meeting Saturday. Nothing's really scheduled, though. If it's writing again, I don't think I'll stay. We'll see. Maybe by then my motivation will catch up with my commonsense.

Here is what my commonsense is telling me to do to the wall - as interpreted by Grover.



C'mon, motivation. Get in line and get going.