imagination uncut

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Mon, 19 Jul 2010 19:57:38 -0700

Came across this the other day and started laughing. It’s...

Wed, 07 Jul 2010 09:51:00 -0700

Came across this the other day and started laughing. It’s so true. Timing is EVERYTHING. Also, this is the perfect outline for all romantic comedies/dramas ;)

Unnamed: Prologue

Thu, 24 Jun 2010 05:50:00 -0700

Her phone was bricked.

Staring down at it with scorn in her eyes she hefted the sleek frame in her hand, tempted to throw it. Over a decade ago, when all phone services merged unwillingly into one provider, stagnant service and bricked phones were expected. Hated, but expected. Dropped calls, or no bars was a thing of the past.

“Apparently,” she breathed, “not today…”

She had stopped in the middle of the entrance way, the automatic doors swooshing open as its sensors swept across her. But then, she wasn’t sure if the swooshing sound was the doors or the wind on the other side. She had come to the multi-mall initially to stock up on some essentials: hair products, sweaters, and grocery items—“Don’t forget canned food, Emma! That’s what your grandparents did when storms came in”—that would last longer than the storm looming on the horizon, but found herself tempting the idea of waiting out the rain and hail that started on her way in.

“Watch where you’re standing!”

Skipping out of the way, clutching her phone to her chest, Emma eyed the man who just brushed by her.

“Don’t just stand in the walkway…” he intoned as he rushed by, the wheels of the shopping cart squeaking just like his voice, “kids today, no manners.”

Standing off to one side, phone gripped in her hands, Emma rolled her eyes. She was miserable. She couldn’t call out to anyone. Six years of service—she had received her first phone as a birthday present for her twelfth birthday—and never once had a problem contacting anyone. Despite being surrounded by people, she felt utterly alone.

—

Four months ago, the national weather service had announced a storm system that moved in over the tropic south. Winds were high, they had said, and an unexpected tsunami tore through the southern coast of Texas, its wave reaching to Mexico. In the days after, the President had his hands full with the National Guard peace keeping, and sometimes sent his own staff to assist in rubble removal. The work was laborious, and tedious. Houston had taken as many refugees from Texas City and Galveston as they could, but had to turn away survivors from the small coastal towns to San Antonio and Austin. Corpus Christi and border towns were washed away; the devastation was severe.

Other countries reported similar weather patterns. Japan, parts of India, isles within the Caribbean and Hawaii saw similar tsunamis. Taiwan was devastated. Hundreds of thousands of people lost their homes, tens of thousands died.

Barely a month after a series of earthquakes shook along the equator, a volcano erupted in Colombia, another in Spain, and the media began hyping the end of the world. For the last two months people, nervous and awaiting the next terrible earth-event, went along their way, thinking someone else would provide if the terrible and hypothetical inevitable happened. Governments banded together to sweep up the mess the earth left behind after it “threw a fit”—as her brother liked to say—and people like her mother, at the first sign of inclement weather, had their daughters running out to stock up on provisions.

Seated alongside her brother in the living room earlier that evening they had been watching the evening news when their mother stalked in front of the TV. Emma had sighed seeing the rain coat her mother had slung over one slender arm, a crumpled piece of paper clutched in one hand.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she had moaned, “they’re sayin’ not to leave the house, that it’s going to start hailing, and you want me to go out now?”

“And what would happen if we lost electricity, or if a horrible storm prevented us from leaving our home for a week?” her mother, sarcastic in nature had dropped a fist to her hip and arched a brow, “I’m certainly not expecting your brother to go hunt for us, or your father to brave the wilderness to forage for our next meal. Up and at’em, you’re going to the store.”

“I’m sure Grandma Linda isn’t out there stocking up—”

“She’s got a whole room of food Em, she doesn’t have to stock up… she already did,” her brother had interjected, nudging her.

“Shut up, Alex, you’re not helping,” she had breathed through clenched teeth. Emma eyed her mother with disdain and sighed heavily as she heard the rustling of the coat being shaken at her. Groaning, Emma pushed herself to her feet, swiped the jacket from her mother’s arm, and slipped it over her shoulders.

Her mother had smiled her usual grin—chocolate eyes closing, head tipping to one side as she shrugged—and Emma gave her a quick peck on the cheek, and felt the list shoved into her hand.

Shoving the list into her pocket, she had padded to the front room and crouched, pulling her rain-boots on before grabbing her car keys off the hook by the door.

“Don’t forget canned food, Emma! That’s what your grandparents did when storms came in,” her mother called, voice carrying throughout the house.

“Yeah, Emma, make sure to get lots of Spaghettios!”

Clenching the keyring in her hand, Emma had glowered at the gray skies that greeted her as she opened the front door. “You’re such a child!”

—

“…has blocked all roads out of the city. This is an announcement from the emergency broadcast system. High winds and heavy showers have caused blockages in all highways exiting the city. It is highly advised that you remain indoors wherever you are.”

Emma dropped her hand to her side, sliding her useless phone into her coat pocket, and turned her head to the intercom system. She waited, holding her breath, as the announcement played again, and crackled as it faded out mid-stream. The tension in the mall was palpable and was punctuated only by the sound of wind whipping, and the rain cracking, against the windows.

Hugging her arms around her Emma glanced at the people standing nearby and wondered if she looked as pale as they. Turning to the automatic doors, seriously contemplating tempting fate and driving home, they swished open, forcing Emma back a few steps as wind nearly took her off her feet. Strong hands pushed against her back, holding her upright.

“I think it’s best if we keep these doors closed, yeah?” a warm voice stated, light despite the situation.

Throwing a hasty glance over her shoulder she smiled weakly. “Thanks. That’s some mean wind.”

“You weren’t thinking about leaving, were you?” he asked, moving to her side. She noticed him eye the door dubiously, and she shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t think anyone is going anywhere tonight… lord knows they’ll try, though.”

The pair watched the door, and Emma began to frown. She heard him sigh raggedly and glanced at him as he folded his arms over his chest. Fingering her phone in her pocket she tucked her lower lip between her teeth.

“My phone is bricked, I can’t even call my parents… Ugh, mom’s gonna freak out.” She rolled her eyes. “’I know the TV said not to leave, but ‘go to the store anyway, Emma…’ She’s gonna get a piece of my mind when I get home…”

“I’m sure the TV’s are all saying the same thing. Your family will know you’re staying put.” He paused, taking a breath. “I haven’t been able to reach my girlfriend. She was supposed to meet me here after work, but look at it out there—”

Ominously, and as if on cue, lightening crashed, illuminating the inky sky as it branched out racing to see which tendril could touch ground first. She felt her new friend take a step closer to her. She could feel his apprehension in the way he tried to hide the shaking of his arm, or the shallow breaths he took.

“I’m waiting for the horror music to start up…” Emma breathed, her voice hitching as she chuckled.

She heard him laugh hoarsely in return, and she furtively turned her head in time to see him run a hand down his mouth and chin, his skin alabaster.

“What should we do?” a new voice asked from behind them.

Emma turned as her companion proclaimed, “We wait until the storm stops.”

“I don’t think it’s going to stop…” Emma whispered as she faced the speaker.

An older woman stood there, her hands clutching a large canvas bag. She gripped her purchase tighter, knuckles whitening as she licked her lips, repeating, “What should we do?”

“There’s nothing to do but wait it out. Look,” Emma gestured to a wall where a group of people sat huddled on the floor, glancing around aimlessly, and silent, “Why don’t we sit and wait it out?”

Turning back to the young man who was staring wide-eyed at the door, and still like stone, Emma touched him lightly on the arm. He started, recoiling toward the entry way which hissed open. She reached out to pull him back, and they both lurched, practically jumping as water flowed in, and the doors closed.

“Sorry. You’re not thinking about leaving, are you?” she joked at him.

He shook his head, tapping a foot into the puddle. Emma suppressed giggling at his endearing behavior.

“Are you going to standing there the whole evening or are you going to come sit?”

She waited for his reply, unable to see his expression. Patience wearing thin, she prepared a retort and was cut short. “I’m not sure sitting is a good option,” and he pointed.

Each time lightening illuminated the night she could see the rain blanketing the windows and coating the door, running like a curtain thick and fast. Turning from the door Emma felt odd, claustrophobic almost, as if she were underwater—like a fish in too small of a bowl. People huddled in groups against the walls began to whisper, the noise dull in her ears, and she shrank back as a deafening crack resounded overhead, rattling the windows.

The lights overhead flickered. Gasps and shill shrieks of surprise emanated from the patrons around her. She knew panic was beginning to take hold. Pushing back the alarm growing in her stomach, she grappled at the zipper on her purse, knowing the constricting of her lungs and the lump in her throat wasn’t just the dread running through her veins.

Fingers threading through the junk in her purse, she felt them wrap around a familiar outline, and she pulled her inhaler out. Shaking it far too many times than was necessary, but just for good measure—or due to the shaking of her hand, she wasn’t sure which—she brought it up to her lips and puffed, feeling the medication hit the back of her throat. Oddly, it was a comforting feeling and she coughed as she felt the tightness in her chest subside.

The gathered people moved closer to one another as the rain began to drown out their voices. Gazing down the corridor, the mall sprawled out before her, its maze-like halls connecting to a central line. Emma reached out, dropping her inhaler, and gripped her companion’s forearm, ignoring his resistant tug.

Systematically the lights trembled, before burning out, and plunged the mall into darkness. Within seconds screams rebounded off the walls, echoing. Quelling a scream of her own Emma felt a clammy hand cover hers, tugging at her fingers, and she yelped.

“Hey hey, it’s just me. It’s Drew. You’re ok. You’ve got a death grip there, mind if I have my arm back?”

Releasing his arm, Emma laced her hands together, holding them just under her chest. “What do we do now?”

Lightening continued to flash overhead as the emergency lights blinked on. Emma groaned as she saw most of the people that had been seated were now standing and moving toward them.

“Cue stupid people trying to leave…” Drew breathed, exasperation coloring his voice. He raised his hands. “People please, you can’t leave!”

“We can’t just stay here—”

“No safer in here than out there—”

“I hear water! The roof is broken, can’t you hear the water!”

Emma stood at Drew’s back, eying the mob before them. “You can’t stop them from leaving, and if the mall is flooding—”

Another boom resounded overhead, the ground shook, and a crack, like thawing ice, split the air. Emma shrieked, covering her head with her arms as glass rained down on their heads, and hot pain bloomed on her upraised hand. A large force pushed her aside, toppling her to the floor, and a heavy weight landed on her. The air coughed from her lungs. Warm breath raised goosebumps on her arms. She heard water pouring in; she’d been to Niagra falls before, she knew the roof was broken.

She heard echoing yips and groans. Opening her eyes she saw all black. “Drew! Are you all right?”

He rolled off her, shaking his back. “Yeah. I think I got us out of the way in time…” he said and lurched to his feet. Emma stood, unsteady, and between flashes of lightening, took in the scene before her. Half of the group was missing. People were crying, clutching at bags, or screaming with their hands cupped around their mouths. Some people never rose to the floor, and in the brightness of the lightening she saw thick shards of glass protruding from the bodies.

Bile rose in her throat.

“Stop, you can’t go to pieces now.”

Emma hadn’t realized she was leaning over, one hand on her throat, the other at her stomach, until he gripped her shoulders.

“We have to get out of here.”

“But—”

“No, come on!” Grabbing her bicep he sprinted for the exit, and she stumbled trying to keep up.

“But all those… those people!” she huffed, feeling fire blossom in her chest. Her hand throbbed, and her head felt light.

He didn’t reply as they skidded to a stop. He bounced into the door, she slid into his back, and the doors didn’t open. Pushing his fingers into the crack the doors made, he grunted as he wiggled them further in. Emma felt him slip against her, and she placed her hands on his waist, planting her feet into the wet tiles as solidly as she could. She felt him tumble forward as the doors popped, shivering all the way open. Careening out, she heard the thundering footsteps of the survivors running out behind them.

Soaked, the pair ambled forward, unsure of where to go. The remaining group was disbanding, and the rain was terrible. Each step she took Emma felt as if she was going to wash away. A warm hand clasped hers, and she cried out, yanking her hand back.

“Are you all right?” Drew yelled, reaching out to take her hand again. Gingerly he lifted it and hissed at the gash running from thumb to wrist. “I don’t have anything… Emma this is a bad cut.”

“I feel woozy…” Emma giggled, throwing her other hand on her forehead. The situation certainly wasn’t amusing, but all she wanted to do was laugh. Laugh at the lightening. Laugh at the thunder, the pouring rain, and the pain that lanced up her arm, stabbing at her heart.

“Here.” She heard a ripping sound, and felt a wetness wrap around her palm. Looking down, a bulky bandage made her hand look fat.

She chuckled. “Thanks. Sorry you had to—”

Drew grabbed her other hand, cutting her off and pulling her forward. “Let’s get you to your car. We’ll wait out the storm in there.”

Reaching for her bag she groped through it until she pulled out her key fob, punching the panic button. A series of beeps replied, and they jogged toward the pulsating light and the welcoming honks.

“Hey, does the rain feel like—”

“It’s stopping?” and Drew stopped.

Turning to their heads to the sky, no rain touched their upturned faces. The lightening subsided. He dropped his grip on her arm, and they turned to the expanse before them, looking for the lights of the city they knew lay below.

Clusters of bright lights dotted the landscape, and patches of dark between them were the dense forests. They made their way to the edge of the parking lot. Emma tipped her head, perplexed. She could have sworn she’d seen lights going out. The pair stood at the edge, hands shoved into their pockets.

She looked up at him. He was soaked, his hair matted against his forehead, skin pale, and shoulders shaking from the cold. She couldn’t imagine she looked much better and was sure her bedraggled hair lay in tendrils around her face and down her back. Her hands felt clammy in her pockets.

“At least electricity didn’t go out.”

Emma blinked, gazing onto the cities below. “Actually, I’m not so sure—”

One at a time, lights began to go out. Then a couple. A handful. And as they watched, the entire city was thrown into darkness. If she tried hard enough, Emma was sure that in the quiet she could hear the panicked cries into the pitch.

They waited. Emma bounced on the balls of her feet, hand aching, head feeling as if it were filled with cotton, and looked vainly for any sign of light.

“They’re not going to come back on, are they?”

“Doubtful. Now we really need to find your car…”

“Wait!” She pointed.

A soft blue glow, like a pinprick, nearly impossible to see, cut the darkness. Emma glanced down at herself, startled. The hair on her arms raised, and she felt her body tingle with electricity. The air nearly hummed with it.

The glow grew; it pulsated once, and Emma threw her forearm in front of her eyes. She heard Drew yelp, and everything was white behind her closed lids. Lowering her arm as the blinding light subsided, she turned to her companion who was rubbing his eyes fiercely with heel of his hands.

“God, it hurts!” he exclaimed, pulling his hands down and blinking as if to clear his vision. He waved a hand in front of his face, jaw slackening. “I can’t see. Emma, I can’t see!”

“Stop, stop, stop,” she replied, pulling at his hands and holding his wrists. “Don’t panic, please don’t panic, you’re going to be all right.”

He tugged on his wrists. “What’s going on, you have to tell me what’s happening.”

Emma turned back to where the light source emanated, and her mouth dropped open. The light was a shining disk of blue, vaporous coils extending into the inky dark, reaching and growing, as if to infect the night. She heard the murmurs of people walk up to stand around them as a high pitched whine caused them to shy away.

“I—”

“Emma—” Drew protested, his hand seeking hers. Fumbling, she gripped it, “please—”

The disk hung like a halo over the valley, bathing the rise and fall of the mountain side in aquamarine. The pressure of electricity grew, and her bones began to rattle. She placed a hand over her constricting chest.

“My kingdom for an inhaler,” she lamented under her breath. She shook her head to Drew’s questioning grunt. “Nothing… nothing is happening…”

Her eyes widened. From the light and behind the mountains a monstrous shape floated into view. Taller than the highest peak and longer than the mountains length, the shape dwarfed the valley it hovered above. It took her a moment of staring but, she could make out windows all in a row.

It was a ship. A floating ship. Steam wafted off of it as it pushed its way into full view. The disk collapsed upon itself as if it didn’t exist, and a steady glow came from the vessel.

Squeezing Drew’s hand, she repeated, hoping that she could control the terror that threatened to close her throat, “Nothing. There’s nothing there…”

Forward: Blog-Novel

Wed, 23 Jun 2010 23:16:51 -0700

Four months ago to the day I wrote a summary of a crazy dream I had (re: Do Dreams Make for a Good Novel?), and given some positive feedback and my own need to keep writing because I knew it wasn’t over, I began painting the world.

I posted a poll for assistance in the naming of my lead character. I knew the general idea of how the prelude would look as I’d already seen it, but I began to think of what would happen once that was completed.

Since I’m currently working on another novel I had an idea to create this one as a blog-novel. My first “chapter” is barely 5 pages long, which is terribly short in terms of my usual 13 page sections… so it’s been a challenge to write a compelling piece of work that won’t have blog readers scrolling for days but still satiates my desire to have them see the piece I have in my own head.

But, I believe I have pulled it off. I have completed the prologue. I had it sent out for review, and it came back with praise (and some grammatical changes ;) ). I rewrote sections, and added in new copy, only once, and now I’m pushing it out there.

Dear New Walgreen's on the Corner

Fri, 07 May 2010 13:16:37 -0700

I want to tell you a little story about the location you now sit on. Less than a year ago the place you’re being built on was shrubbery, and the last little patch of untouched land on that corner. People wondered for years, probably a good decade, if something was going to pop up. The other corners had been dominated with cement, neon signs, and small lawns with children’s toys, but not you.

Two years before that there was a tree. A gnarled mesquite tree, that grew dangerously close to the sidewalk, but for people awaiting a bus it was a long smudge of shade.

Five years ago there was, hammered into the ground, a white wooden cross surrounded by candles, and a picture of a classmate I graduated high school with.

Just over five years ago a friend called me frantic, telling me that someone we graduated with died in a car accident. No one was quite sure of the details since there wasn’t another car involved, but a friend of ours died. I remember asking if she knew the persons’ name. It was a boy, but she couldn’t remember his name. She hung up.

Your corner wasn’t on my way to work or school, so I never passed you to see who it was but I figured I’d find out soon enough. I was going to the bank the next morning to cash a check, and I’d ask my high school friend that worked there who it was.

I pulled open the darkened doors of the bank and my purse dropped from my shoulder, my check slipped from my fingers and I tilted my head at the photograph on the counter. It was the cashier that would always help me.

I looked toward the row of cashiers as a customer service agent came up next to me and asked if I knew the guy in the portrait. I remember answering, “I used to come in when he worked… I graduated with him…”

Sure, it’s been five years, but you’re standing on an important spot regardless of time, and I wanted you to know what happened there. Other people that pull into your parking lot, and walk down your shiny new aisles might not know, and if they do they might not care, but things like life and death are important to me and deserve to be remembered.

listening to "COBRA STARSHIP: The Church Of Hot Addiction"

Tue, 27 Apr 2010 06:56:56 -0700

listening to "COBRA STARSHIP: The Church Of Hot Addiction":

Have you heard of my religion? It’s called the Church of Hot Addiction.

you, less than

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 21:53:00 -0700

you, less than:

Great post for anyone that needs a reminder that you are awesome. you, less than

listening to "Glee Cast - Gives you Hell (HQ)"

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 20:57:43 -0700

listening to "Glee Cast - Gives you Hell (HQ)":

When I sing this I correct the grammar… =x

listening to "Glee Cast - Gold Digger (Kanye West Cover) - Free MP3 DOWNLOAD!"

Sat, 17 Apr 2010 10:55:41 -0700

listening to "Glee Cast - Gold Digger (Kanye West Cover) - Free MP3 DOWNLOAD!":

Had this song stuck in my head for days. Gettin ready and dancin around my house.

listening to "Glee - Hello (Full HQ Studio)"

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 10:47:27 -0700

listening to "Glee - Hello (Full HQ Studio)":

Best song from Glee last night - Hello

listening to "

Thu, 08 Apr 2010 23:21:24 -0700

listening to ":

and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence… (this live version is amazing)

listening to "Joe Esposito - You

Wed, 07 Apr 2010 06:59:17 -0700

listening to "Joe Esposito - You:

Hear this April. I’m the best around! And I’m comin to take you down :p

I ran out of gas. And it saved my life.

Tue, 06 Apr 2010 22:23:00 -0700

Yes, I ran out of gas. And no, I don’t mean that figuratively. I literally ran out of gas. Whether the incident actually saved my life or not, I’m not fully sure, but I’d like to think it did.

I was on airport duty tonight, and had been eying my gas gauge. In the past couple of months I’ve had a lot of work done on her and I’ve been able to drive further, and further between refueling. I was pushing 350 miles, I had a lot of driving ahead of me, and I knew that on my way home I would need to get gas.

At the point I was making my way home I decided to bypass the gas station. My light didn’t come on like it does, alerting me with it’s shill beep and glaring orange light: ‘hey, stupid! get gas!’ and the gauge showed I still had just more than 1/8 of a tank left, so I assumed I was good. Part of me also wanted to see just how far I could go before the idiot light came on (it’s 380.4 miles, btw) and I have been pushing, and pushing her further each time. Dumb move, I know.

I’m driving along a major street, luckily it’s not often dense with traffic and my car started to sputter, began bunny hopping, losing power and then she stopped moving. As it’s happening the only thing I could think was, ‘crap, not my alternator, not again…’.

I pulled to the side of the road, straddling the bike line and the right lane; angrily poking the flashers on. Pulling out my handy, well loved car manual, I called my mother. When it comes to problems with my car, she’s my handy assistant for frantic questions, and panicked trips to the dealership to drop it off.

With my car pulled over, and her flashers on, I glared at the battery icon steadily shining out at me when I heard the mocking beeeep of my gas light. Within two minutes of me sitting there, trying to figure out how to get gas, asking my mother if she had a can to fill, and hoping no one would rear end me, lights in my rear-view mirror blinded me, and there was someone at my window. Not a cop like I had expected, but some dood coming to see if I was ok.

While I sat there, exasperated and somewhat amused at my state despite the situation, the guy had gone off to go get me a gallon of gas, and I watched as a few dozen people drove by… one even flashed his high beams at me, another honked. No one stopped, people just let me know that they were frustrated I had come to a stop on the side of the road that wasn’t built for a broken down car.

Refueled and back on the road within an hour, I thanked him profusely, I offered him cash but he denied, saying “Can’t I just do a good deed?” I want to pay it forward, and I think I know a way I can… he was wearing his work shirt, and I’m feeling verbose (obviously) so a review of his company might be in my future.

I drove myself to the closest station, got a full tank, rolled down my windows and made my very routine and usual way home from that side of the valley. The corner of Thunderbird and Scottsdale was glowing with police lights, a fire truck blocked part of the road and an ambulance sat at the corner, the paramedics still pushing their patient into the back. I pulled up aside the accident, two cars had collided on the lawn of a corner store, and wondered:

If I had been here, at this intersection, maybe an hour… even half an hour ago, could that have been me? Could I have been one of those cars?

Of course it’s not something I’ll know. Unless you’re in it, or you’re a CSI, it’s probably not possible to figure out when an accident would have taken place. But, sitting there with my windows down, music off and watching the flashing lights on the scene, I wondered if that could’ve been me. Perhaps I wouldn’t’ve died. Maybe I would’ve broken a few bones, or walked away just fine, but it was like that scene from Bruce Almighty… where he’s asking for signs as he’s driving along and he never notices them as they pull in front of him… maybe this was my sign.

A week ago today a beautiful young woman succumbed to cystic fibrosis, passing away on her 26th birthday.

Last Friday my boss told us that her sons’ tumor is growing back.

Today my car, the piece of machinery I vehemently complain about, might’ve saved my life as she slowly shutdown yet again reaffirming: You can’t sit on the sidelines of your own life.

And I don’t plan to anymore.

When to Take a Social Media Break

Mon, 05 Apr 2010 12:22:00 -0700

When to Take a Social Media Break:

Two Saturdays ago I took a social media break. I was so busy over that weekend that I just slowly stopped tweeting, and facebooking, until I completely stopped doing both. For a whole week I didn’t tweet, though I picked facebook back up. I kept up-to-date with what people were talking about, but I didn’t tweet.

I had been thinking about writing up a post about it, because as the week went on I started to enjoy not tweeting and used it as ‘experiment time’. My conclusions were similar to the write up I came across this morning written by Matt Leonard on Search Engine Journal. The main ones I noticed were (taken from Matt Leonard’s post):

I would touch base with my online friends in other ways that were much more personal.
The extra time I now have improved my quality of life.
Social media was very much an all or none proposition for me. If I wasn’t doing it actively, part-time participation lacked interest (excluding my desire to make sure friends are well).
My driving improved greatly (oops… =x )

Since I’ve been back into tweeting, I feel far more connected. I can’t say that I was lonely, but I definitely felt out of the loop with friends, and activities. But, I also noticed that I started connecting with people in other ways: texting, gchatting, actually catching up with their daily lives in person and instead of through a computer screen. Luckily though, I’ve also realized that I was becoming somewhat addicted (can you say, “hi, I’m Sam and I’m a twitterholic”) and having backed off for even a week has changed how I use social media.

listening to "Paralyzer - Finger Eleven"

Fri, 02 Apr 2010 22:36:24 -0700

listening to "Paralyzer - Finger Eleven"

listening to "Muse - The Resistance"

Thu, 01 Apr 2010 13:31:17 -0700

listening to "Muse - The Resistance"

The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page.

Sun, 21 Mar 2010 12:00:38 -0700

Back in January I wrote a post about things I wanted to do, see, accomplish, and otherwise before I turned 30 (cliche, I know) and since then I’ve been realizing that while the list is good… I could make individual ones for a host of different things.

For example… traveling. I’ve always wanted to go around to different parts of the world to learn, admire, and observe. My father started it… he traveled for business on a near weekly basis. I think the only countries he hasn’t been to is a handful in South America, China, and Japan. I unfortunately could never go as he’d be gone for weeks at a time and my schools weren’t too keen on sending my homework, and class assignments. So, I stayed home and made up my own adventures of travel in my backyard amidst the dense trees, fields of clover, and the brook that ran through.

I forgot about traveling once I was an older teen and young adult. My grandiose dreams of getting in touch with my family history in Scotland, or walking through the ancient Roman Colosseum, or standing on a hillside awed by the beauty I’ve heard New Zealand holds faded as I graduated high school, secured jobs, threw myself into college, and struggled with finding the time to take even a week off work where I could actually disconnect and recharge.

Sitting among peers, older and younger, and listening to them either talk about places they want to go or places they’ve been has revived my dreams to travel. I suppose it also doesn’t help that Smashing Magazine posts a selection of images from different places around the world, calling it inspiration…

So, I remembered a year or so ago when I lounged on my friends’ couch and we joked about the places we wanted to go calling it a World Tour, and decided to list out (in no order) places I want to go before I die…

Japan - this is my first stop, no questions.
New Zealand
Australia - Sydney Opera House? I’m there.
Scotland
France - specifically the Wine Regions and Musee de Louvre.
Italy
Egypt
Morocco
The Virgin Islands
Iceland
The Caribbean
Moscow/St. Petersburg - I’ll be seeing the Moscow Ballet Company.
The Isle of Man
Amsterdam
Great Britain
Peru
Alaska
Canada - yes, Canada.
Seattle
Portland
various cities within the U.S
India
Napa Valley

Most people have reasons for going specific places… I just want to go and figure it out when I get there :) The people watching would be amazing, the cuisine in all of the locations would be fantastic… the sights, the sounds… Ahhh… well, I’m already saving to head to Japan sometime next year so we’ll see how I fair on the rest of my list.

listening to "Puretone - Addicted to Bass - Good Sound Quality!"

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 13:02:16 -0700

listening to "Puretone - Addicted to Bass - Good Sound Quality!":

Your bassline is shooting up my spine… your baseline… Wow woah ho :D

Dream Interpretation

Thu, 18 Mar 2010 08:40:00 -0700

I don’t believe in astrology. That’s not to say that I don’t get a thrill out of looking at my vague horoscope, but you can’t take it with anything more than a grain of salt.

Dream interpretation on the other hand I find a little bit more interesting, but I’m still just as skeptical. Dreams are a mash up of things that you’ve seen, done, thought, and felt during the day (or days, weeks, etc). More often than not mine are weird. Kind of like the Tim Burton Alice in Wonderland weird where colors are overly saturated and strange events happen - like driving, and driving, and driving to no where, or being stuck inside a world where you live in tree-houses, your main transportation is a boat and there is a tiger in your attic.

Sadly, I don’t often have the weird dreams. If I dream, sometimes I don’t, they’re oddly real and focused. The colors are dull, as if someone has placed cellophane over my eyes. The sound is muted, I’m generally alone except for the one other person.

Typically that one other person is trying to kill me. I’ve died in my dreams countless horrible ways and I wake up hyperventilating or crying.

Last night I woke up around 3am hyperventilating and nauseous not because I was being murdered but someone else was dying, and there wasn’t anything I could do.

I was standing alone in a large park. The lime grass was short, and crunched under my feet as I stood at the parks outskirts, a broad running path to my back and a tunnel/bridge to my right. The sun was high over head in a twitter-blue sky, but I wasn’t warm, and I was surprised that I was alone on such a beautiful day. Tall, lush trees lined the field and they stood like sentinels. A pained whisper grabbed my attention and I looked to my right.

A woman, wiry and stretched, sat on a wrought iron bench that hadn’t been in the field before. But, I thought perhaps I could have missed it as it was in the shadows of the tunnel. My limbs froze as I recognized what was so wrong about the woman reaching out to me, her doe eyes wide in a pale face mottled from crying.

She was horribly contorted. Her limbs wrapped around each other in grotesque hug. She was barefoot, and all I could see as I threw my hands over my mouth were blue toes wiggling from beneath a healthy foot. It was like watching something trying to crawl its way out of a hole where it was stuck. As I watched the toes turned bluer, then black, before squishing out of existence. Tears ran down her cheeks as her body continued to stretch and wrap around itself like a python crushing prey. And the sounds were terrible. I could hear her breaths, the whimpers as she revolved tighter around herself.

Her body was slowly dissolving, the blackening limbs dying and rotting as I did nothing but watch her fade away. She continued to reach out to me with her good arm, her other a long rope of useless flesh. I finally had to courage to move to help her and her good arm fell to her side, she breathed raggedly, her tears glistening on her face, and the pained whisper brought me to tears of my own. I reached her as her body tottered to one side, her eyes closing, and I caught her in my arms-

Then, I woke up. Perhaps I watch too much Law & Order… :D

Writing is a form of personal freedom...

Sun, 14 Mar 2010 22:30:00 -0700

It frees us from the mass identity we see in the making all around us. In the end, writers will write not to be outlaw heroes of some underculture but mainly to save themselves, to survive as individuals. - Don Delillo

I’ve barely a half a month to write my next section of Freyas’ story for my writers critique group and I’m zero pages in. I’d like for them read at least 10 pages, but I haven’t given them any work that hasn’t been reviewed multiple times. This’ll be the roughest work they’ll get from me and even though they’ve read over 70 pages I’m nervous handing them something so raw. Awkward dialogue… unintended plot holes and potential continuity/timeline errors… lackluster descriptions.

On the other hand I’m unsure if I want to continue that novel right now. It was a fairly easy vote, but my dream-novel has a main character with a name and I’ve an itch to start working on it. The mains’ name is Emma by the way, and her world and story is a lot brighter in my head than Freyas’.

It’s March. I’d set up a goal for this year to have my novel completed and I’m no where near it’s end. Each day is slipping away. I might end up pushing the self imposed deadline back to another year. Perhaps 2012… supposedly it’s the end of the world and wrapping up Freyas’ story after 10+ years is cause for some mild calamity ;)