This Bookstore May Have Something Against the Blind and Elderly

I left today with a desire to do something personal, inspired by a you tube blogger named Kayley Hyde. Have a look at the simplicity of reminding yourself to stay optimistic. Maybe you will be inspired to do the same.

How adorable is she?

Anyways, after leaving work today I stopped by a bookstore and picked up my own little book to record my own version of “Why Today is Awesome”. I think it’ll be an interesting exercise, especially when I’m having a less than stellar day. Finding little bits of happiness are definitely worth it.

Of course, people are still spending holiday giftcards and returning things so I was left to wait in line for a few minutes. My eyes kept scanning the store that was visible to me. I paused momentarily and talked myself out of buying the KidRobot Simpsons blind boxes when I looked over at the reading glasses display and started laughing.

I immediately picked out two things wrong with this sign. How many did you find?

If you liked the video above, please subscribe to Kayley’s YouTube channel!

NaNoWriMo – Week 1 Sum Up

I don’t really have a picture to encompass my week, but maybe this’ll inspire me. Oh Banksy… .

The first week of NaNoWriMo is coming to a close and I find myself with only 3,914. The purpose of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words in a month. It is a hefty goal, one that I found myself falling short of last year. The truth was, I had already written a story and wanted to just spend the month editing it and making it what it was supposed to be. That failed. Like, superfail. Flail your arms around like enraged kermit fail. Okay, enough of the past.

11/1 – This week started off fabulously, with 2950 words just seeping through my fingers on the first day. I was on vacation and sitting in a cafe with no outside interference *coughG4cough* I found myself incredibly inspired. I was floored by the things that came from my head. I knew they were there, sometimes it feels so incredibly difficult to articulate what you are thinking. It’s often like I need a babelfish just to translate what’s muddling around my brainpan.
Here’s a snippet of my favorite part of writing for day one.

“With each drink, the pain faded. Everything made less and less sense, but my inhibitions left me. I was intoxicated to the point that a part of me wondered if someone had slipped something into the countless drinks I was throwing back with reckless abandon.”

It’s not perfect, but I knew that if I worried about run on sentences, my meaning would never translate through my digits.

11/2 (Tuesday) – Uh… I didn’t actually write anything. After I had managed to get that burst of writing out on Monday, I headed to a friends house and did a mini tour de Connecticut (I even made a video of my big day out!) that got me back home at midnight, but left me utterly exhausted. I had a fun day hangover (no drinking occurred, so it wasn’t an actual hangover).

11/3 (Wednesday) – I managed to pound out 443 words during a lunch break. But, I returned to an office of chaos and I have to admit, after a 12 hour workday I had no intention of doing anything else but watch Morgan Webb, Kevin Perreira, Alison Haislip and Adam Sessler. Yep, back-to-back DVRed X-Play/AoTS was needed. Here’s a snippet from the day.

“I stepped forward as if I was under the influence and looked up at the officer. I knew from his steely stare that there must have been a metric buttload of guilt plastered on my face. His nostrils flared as if he were already prepping to smell whatever bulls*** I concocted. I chose to say nothing.”

It’s not Shakespeare, but it made me laugh.

11/4 (Thursday) – Getting better! 944 words during an extended lunch break. I wasn’t going to stop until I had finished the scene. I have three primary characters, all seen through the eyes of the one being introduced into a deeper darker version of life than she was aware of.  All three of them have been included in scenes, but I am about to get down to the job description of one of them and it totally gets me excited. Here’s a snippet:

As the second ring snapped around my other wrist I looked over my left shoulder into his eyes. “I would like a drug test and to speak with my lawyer.”

11/5 (Friday) – I knew I wasn’t going to get any work done on Friday because I made some weird decision early in the morning that I would remove the word “you” from my vocabulary and replace it with “Drew” in honor of my friend’s birthday… Drew have no idea how weird my whole day was. Follow that up with celebrations and I managed to slide in the door at 3am this morning.Oh that kooky Joel…

11/6 (Saturday) – Well it is now Saturday and I haven’t written anything yet, but I have an hour before I’m leaving for another birthday extravaganza.

So, I haven’t hit the goal for the week. The goal is 10,002. I am at a paltry 3,914. I look at my writing buddies on NaNoWriMo and see Megan has almost hit her 50,000 words. It’s a bit intimidating, but I refuse to let it stop me. I should just be proud of her accomplishment (Not to forget all of my other writing buddies! Ya’ll are doing great! Keep going! Stop reading this and keep writing!)

One of the things I miss is that Melanie and I no longer talk via email/facebook/IM during the work day so I stopped sending her stories. She always had the best reply whenever I sent her something.

The two most encouraging words for me to keep writing are “MORE PLEASE!”

What are yours?


Daily Writing: Smokey

10/27/10 – Wednesday Topic: Smokey
10/27/10 3:19pm
I am conflicted as to whether the topic is “smoky” as in misty, murky, cloudy, foggy, hazy, opaque, or gray or if it is “smokey” as in the American bear dressed as a forest ranger struggling to prevent forest fires.
I think I’m going to go with smoky. As I don’t really have the full ten minutes to write a bunch, here’s a haiku.
Swirling grey tendrils
A cigarette is waiting
Longing for a drag.

Daily Writing: Cold Ground

10/26/10 – Tuesday Topic: Cold Ground
10/27/10 2:48pm
“Do you know how hard it is for me to walk barefoot on cold ground after spending so much time in hell?” Cormac cringed as he tiptoed over the pavement to me. I let his shoes dangle from my fingers and smiled sweetly.
“Less talking, more walking,” I replied. I laughed at every quick intake of agony as his feet pushed down on the winter tempered cement. Real laughter for me had been different for awhile now. It was never belly laughter. I could only muster a slight giggle when I was supposed to. I hated faking laughter but after everything I had seen and experienced it was so hard to fill myself with joy.
However, the schadenfreude of watching an ageless worker of the Devil pad across the street like it was lined with glass pulled out the humorist in me. Some days were really hard. I guess I had bad days before the deal was struck, but it seems so very long ago. When I thought about before, that led to thoughts of the future, and it was very bleak. I didn’t want to think about the years left to my contract.
I used to live in the moment. I wanted to return to that carefree feeling. Father Andrews said I took the weight of the world on my shoulders. Once I realized that I couldn’t tell my therapist everything and the Devil had no sway on holy ground, I’d been going to Church a lot more.

Daily Writing: Maroon

10/25/10 – Monday Topic: Maroon
10/27/10 2:30pm
Maroon banners waving from the bleachers, pompoms sparkling against the spotlight, people cheering… It was then when Rita decided she wasn’t going to like high school. It was the first pep rally in her first semester of her first actual school. She saw the cliques all around her. Girls that had known each other through previous academic years. Boys laughing and joking with each other.
She was in a crowd of thousands and felt so incredibly alone. Her mother had noted her obsession with talking with people over the internet and insisted that she immerse herself in social situations. She was afraid that she had raised a child who was afraid of leaving the house. It wasn’t that she was afraid of leaving the house. She just didn’t understand why she had to go outside when all of her friends were in her computer.
Her jaw dropped when a boy clad in a uniform stopped in front of her, his shaggy blonde hair swinging in front of his eyes.
“I know you,” he said quickly. “How do I know you?”
“I’m new,” she said, dumbfounded. She realized that she had that bit of familiarity as well. She knew this boy but couldn’t place the face. Maybe they had bumped into each other when she was out buying clothing for school. She could no longer wear pajamas to class, so she practically got a brand new wardrobe. Her mother even insisted she get a hair cut.
“Holycrap!” The boy exclaimed. “You’re the girl with the video blog!”
2:40pm (boo ran out of time!)

Daily Writing: Picture

10/22/10 – Friday Topic: Picture – Lighthouse – red barn in front
I bought the lighthouse on a whim. I was tired of being at the beck and call of every damn person in the world. My cell phone, my home, my television, and even my car were built to allow for people to contact me. There was no way I was ever going to finish my dissection of Dante’s Divine Comedy. Yes, I know there have been plenty of people that have looked for hidden meaning in the written word of the past, but something in that story just tugged at me. There was a deeper meaning and maybe even the most truthful account of hell that were I not to look into it, it would continue to be consumed by highschool students.
As a denominational outcast, I have had dozens of people approaching me and telling me I’m going to hell. Being disowned by your family and the religion that you were raised in hurts. But I’ve always been an advocate for truth. If I was unable to be true to myself there was something inherently wrong with me. Walking the walk in this instance was just as important as talking the talk.
The dying old woman that I bought the lighthouse from was a widower whose family had a history of gross misfortune. Her great grandfather had been lost at sea, her grandfather leapt from the Widow’s Walk that I spent most sunsets perched upon. Even her father had been lost in a plane crash. She refused to talk about her husband.
When I bought it, I made sure that the coast was no longer a navigational hotspot. She assured me that no one had sailed in my quiet little nest of oblivion. The electricity had been updated, but the closest store was a forty five minute drive.
Imagine my chagrin when I saw a ship approaching my beach. It was followed by alarm as I noticed that water was spilling out of the sides of the massive brig that was going to beach itself if it wasn’t careful.
I watched for the twenty minutes it took for the behemoth to crash into the beach. I felt sick to my stomach as someone flew over the front of the ship and landed with a sickening thud that I could even hear three stories up. I tore into the house and grabbed my first aid kit and rushed to the beach.

Daily Writing: Knit

10/20/10 – Wednesday Topic: Knit
10/27/10 1:05pm
“The dream is always the same,” I found myself starting up a conversation with my therapist that I wasn’t ever ready to revisit. However, the dreams had been coming more frequently as of late and I just needed to get them out. I opened my mouth to speak but found that my brain had decided to prevent me from sharing my horror.
“Go on,” he egged from his overstuffed armchair.
“I’m trying,” I choked. I opened my mouth to speak again and couldn’t contain the fit of coughs that burst through.
I wanted to tell him everything. But, I guess that in signing your soul over to the devil, the fine print includes a confidentiality clause. I don’t think I could have spoken about it. But I tried. For about a half hour I kept trying to start, my process switched between coughing and stammering. I finally gave up after I coughed and a bit of blood spattered into my palm. I get it, I thought. I could almost see Cormac in my head, grinning his Cheshire cat grin.
I wanted to tell him about the dream. It was always so vivid. A woman in a housedress with a rusty pair of knitting needles. My entrails as yarn. The excruciating pain that always followed. Waking up and vomiting. Even my mind had trouble painting the picture without jarring imagery.
We continued talking about the horrors in my life (that I was apparently approved to talk about by good ol’ Satan) until my time was up.  I cut the balding man a check, scribbled my next appointment in my date book, and headed down the stairs of the fourth floor walkup.
“So, how did it go?” The serene Irish accent next to me shouldn’t have startled me, but I was still shaking from the verbal block.
“Go to hell Cormac,” I whispered.
“Where else am I going to go Maria?”

Daily Writing: Picture Topic

Friday 10/15/10 Picture Topic 
10:00am Friday
A pug can’t be a ballet dancer. It’s not that they don’t have the heart for it (although a veterinarian would probably tell me that the DON’T have the heart for it), I’m sure there is a little pug brain somewhere just imagining themselves twirling in a tutu and finding peace. (Do pugs daydream in color?)
Pugs are notorious for having health problems. Mostly related to breathing. A pug wheezes nonstop. In order to be a ballerina, you have to have a good lung capacity and the ability to maintain a surface of calm. I’m guessing. I don’t know. I haven’t been in ballet for over fifteen years now and it was never professional nor did I have any false impressions that I was ever a ballet dancer.
Anyways, why did the ballet dancer thing pop into my head? Well, the pug is “standing” and using a fence as a rest. He looks taller and even a little graceful, but I’m not sure that is good for its hind legs. Dogs are built to be quadrupeds.

Daily Writing: Vast


Have you ever just sat and thought about how completely insignificant you are in the scheme of things? I know that seems like a very dark topic, but it’s realistic. I mean… How many billions of people are on Earth right now? How many other planets are there in this solar system? No, we haven’t confirmed life on other planets, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t there.
Taking it a step further, how many solar systems are there? How many galaxies. I’m sure an astronomer is looking at this post and thinking “good god she knows nothing about space”. You would be correct. I don’t. Everything that I assume of the vast expanse of black in the sky is altered by my love of science fiction. Put me in front of a table of DVDs and tell me I can only pick five of them… If one of them is Firefly, it’s in my hands. I like the idea of rebuilding societies and am especially a fan of the ‘verse that Whedon had created. So much, that being the tabletop nerd I am… I miss the Serenity RPG I was playing.
I don’t know anything about engineering or what it takes for a spaceship/rocket to hurl itself in the air. I don’t need to know that to love it.
I pretty much melted in the theater when I saw the advertisement for Skyline. Best. Tagline. Ever. “Don’t look up.”
No, I haven’t seen every space movie in the world. In fact, I would think that I have seen a miniscule amount compared to the die hard fans. I guess I like shows like Farscape and Star Trek, because I like the idea of different beings having the ability to communicate and work together for the good of all around.
Wow… That was just a bunch of jibberish. Sorry.

Daily Writing: Castle


I used to always hate building sandcastles.
As a child, for one week every summer, we would go to Cape Cod and rent a house. My father, being ever the frugal man that he is, would rent one within a suburb far from the ocean. Every day, we would pack up our lunches and beach neccessities and head to the water. We’d cut out our own little piece of prime real estate with the secure force of a blanket and toss all of our stuff around it. Then, we’d tear ass to the water. Hopping in, diving through waves, wiping the salt water from our lotioned faces was one of my calmest memories as a child. Once we were too pruny, or if my parents decided that they needed a break, we would trudge back up the beach and dry ourselves before reapplying lotion and finding something else to do. I always wanted to read. My brother wanted to fly kites, build castles, catch hermit crabs… And when my parents realized that their daughter was being antisocial, I would be tasked to join in the follies of my brother and the dozens of children he was performing for. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a wallflower. In fact, I’m pretty damn outgoing. But the beach was my relaxing time.
So I would resign myself to building a sandcastle. I’d slave over it for what felt like hours (but was probably one at the most) before my brother would come over and kick my creation to the ground.
Sandcastles always ended one way for me – in tears