Forgive Me Father For I Have Sinned – and it was really bad this time

We lost power on Saturday.

This freak windstorm blew through  out state- which is also on fire  – so over the weekend I did a lot reading and other non-electricity related activities.

And then I did something I am not proud of.

I used my laptop, which was fully charged, to charge my phone. That’s right. I allowed my phone to drain the life from the thing which actually serves a purpose in my life.


You read that right. Instead of using the my laptop, which is where I do all of my writing to actually write, I used it  to  charged my phone.

I even have a Freedom Pop mobile hotspot with a fully charged battery too and I could have written and  blogged  on line for a good eight hours total which would have been plenty of time for the two days we had no power.

Instead, I drained the life from my laptop to feed my freaking phone which I only used to goof off on facebook and take pictures of my dog and cats who seemed to enjoy the storm.  I also used it to  call and bitch with my friends who had no power too, and I only did that when I remembered to turn the ringer on so I could hear calls come through.

And did I mention I used my phone to play a Halloween Game that’s sort of like Tetris and Hangman?

I did a lot of that.


I feel so unclean.


 I figure my laptop is going to do something freaky, like it will develop some kind of Virus that will wipe out the Internet As We Know It and I’ll go down in history as the woman who killed the Interwebs and brought down civilization and sent us straight back to the Land of Dos

There’s a price to be paid for what I did.

I just know it.


Chatty Cathy Strikes Again

Middle Seat

It turns out that your neighbor on the plane/bus/train (or the person sitting at the next table at the coffee shop) is a very, very chatty tourist. Do you try to switch seats, go for a non-committal brief small talk, or make this person your new best friend?


When I travel I am that chatty person  we’re supposed to nail in this prompt.

I can’t help myself.

I love to talk to people.

I’ll be on a plane or standing in line somewhere and I’ll  open up my mouth to toss a peanut in or something and all of a sudden these words just pour out of my mouth  and the person next to me is going to get an earful about something totally random and useless and they will never ever get back that time I’m taking from them.

I never say anything profound or witty. I’m not enchanting, or enticing. God knows I’m not a wordsmith who can turn clever phrases.

I’ve fallen out of trees and almost went through a windshield. In other words, I’ve taken a few to the head.

I talk to people because I like people and I like to talk. And most of the time I learn some interesting stories ( where people are going, why they’re going there and what it’s  like at home. )

Every once and awhile  I will run into someone who wants to be left alone.

And I do leave them alone. I’m always curious about those  people  though because for the most part people do like to talk about themselves.

And then there are the people who I just know are like traffic accidents on the side of the road…you shouldn’t look, you don’t want to look but you do and then you sail into the rear end of the car in front of  you.

I met a woman once who wrote poetry  and it was about herself.  She showed it too me. She  carried around this expensive leather journal with her name stamped on it in gold.

As I started to read I thought, “Oh my God. It was like she made a mirror out of words.”

She wrote about her hair, her boobs, her grim dim world. Her lovers ( which surprised me, at this point  I didn’t think she had room for anyone else in her relationship with herself )It was all hand written in this spidery script and  she doodled in the margins.

She shared this with me on a long  train ride and all I wanted to do after I read that stuff was to  pull my eyes out of my  head because I don’t know much about poetry but she made me feel like she had just assaulted my brain with that stuff and that can’t be good writing.

But hey, she was willing to share so I did read it and instead of telling her what I really thought, I just asked questions about the  poetry writing experience.

So sometimes, sure, I pay for my chatty cathy ways.


But if I didn’t talk to people what would be the point in ever leaving my house?

The world is full of interesting stories and I want to hear as many of them as I can.

Isn’t that the point in living?

You Never Learn, Do You?

Decisions, Decisions

How are you more likely to make an important decision — by reasoning through it, or by going with your gut?


I would like to think that when I make decisions I use my head.

I don’t have a bad brain. For the most part it serves me well and I hardly ever get bored so it keeps me amused most of the time.

So for the most part I try to go by my head  AND  heart at the same time.

For balance.

And, you might wonder, what happens when  let my heart and brain work things out together?

Simple answer: without fail they screw it up every single time.

What do I expect? They’re only internal organs after all- and they’re not even interesting when you pop them out of a skull or crack open a chest and pull them out.

One is a muscle and the other is a sponge.

So when I make decisions I rely on the angel and the devil that ride around on my shoulders.They mess stuff up at some pretty darn epic- no, more like Mount Everest levels. Only when they mess up their self preservation skills are pretty darn superb, so sure. I’ll ‘fess up. I go with them every single time.

I don’t over think things. Sometimes I just  go with that little voice in my ear, close my eyes and go for it.


Thank You Sir, May I Have Another?


Thank You

The internet is full of rants. Help tip the balance: today, simply be thankful for something (or someone).

I am thankful, truly grateful for every single freak show that has ever rolled into my life, smooshed the flowers in my garden  and almost ran over my cat.

Without the twisted wreckage of humanity that ended up at my front door asking for my help, my attention, the marrow of my bones I might not be the writer I am today.

If my life were perfect, if everyone who came into it was  well adjusted I would be…I don’t know… uninspired is the word that comes to mind.

I know life is meant to be sweet, simple, full of laughter and breathtaking sunsets and our connections with each other should be deep and profound.

Those things can be tossed in the kitty and can show up in writing, but not in mine.,

I like to kick over a rock or two and see what scuttles out.

Speaking strictly from experience things that scuttle are worth every second you can spend watching them.

And for that I am thankful.

Do I Have To Go Over This Again? Well FINE.



“ You wrote that about me didn’t you?”

Put up a picture with a snarky quote on your Facebook Wall  and I guarantee you somebody will jump on the comment section and answer it as if it was intended for them … you know, like out of the 400 people on my page I took the time out of my day to post about YOU.

I sat on my phone and ate up Data looking for a picture to sum up YOU.

I can’t speak for the rest of the “ Facebook Community” but the thing of it is I’m a writer and when I’m using facebook or my blog it’s all about ME.

It’s not about YOU.

If you want something about YOU sent out to the interwebs, please feel free -this is America after all.  YOU  are free to express yourself all over YOUR FB wall. Anything your little heart desires within the scope of the law- which on FB seems to be like the laws during the Wild West Days here in the states. So you can get away with some pretty nasty crap.

Because when I write, it’s all about ME and whatever story is in my head.

Only room for me and that story in there.

Besides, writers are self absorbed it’s all about us and our thoughts and our visions. I really don’t sit around and think, ” Oh boy. I might offend somebody out in the FB Universe. I better scrap this.”

When I write it’s full steam ahead.

The way it works is, when  I’m inspired by a phrase or a picture and I think I might find useful for my future works,  I put it on FB. If  it really strikes a chord I’ll probably do post about it, or I’ll walk away with a character personality trait or at the bare bones I’ll have a neat picture to throw into my post because hey, people love those pictures.

In fact, I’m pretty sure that people go to my wall for the most part because they like the pictures, I don’t think anyone goes there to actually read anything, or they’re just NASTY OLD TROLLS and want to see what I’m up too and figure it’s a way to get into my head without me knowing it,  however-  FYI – (POLITICOS this includes you too,) I write FICTION, I make stuff up ALL DAY LONG when I write. Just keep that in mind ) I look at my FB Wall as a brick or cement wall and I have all the chalk in the world to play with.

Plus when I hit a theme I like I’ll stick to it- like for awhile my page was all about David Tennant and Cats.

Once I write something  or go on FB ( and those pictures and links do tell a story, when you view them all together as opposed to stand alone posts ) I’m prepared to stick to it. But explain it? No. If I have to do that I didn’t tell the story very well and all one can do is try better the next time. That means that there is a chance that  if you saw something that ticked you off, you’re going to be ticked off again and again until I get whatever feeling that I  am trying to capture right and I’ve made my point..

I’m tenacious when it comes to my writing- no matter what form of media I may be using at the time.


As the kids would say,

“ Word “


They Don’t Really Like Us, Do They?


Back when I was a kid, the Zoo was not an Animal Friendly place.

It was all concrete and people throwing peanuts at the animals and the Primate House was like- as I would discover years later- like walking onto a Psyche ward.

Those Gorillas and Chimps would sit there and glare at you and when they played it looked frantic.  People would point and make faces  at them and  they ( the humans ) would wave their babies around  and make Monkey faces and I would think:

” Those Monkeys don’t like us and they look really, really sad.”

So when my family would wander around and look at the animals I would be quiet- which was not the way I normally behaved. After my family had taken in the bears and big cats  I would start in about going to the Nocturnal House and the Reptile House to see the snakes and bats and bugs  and I kept asking until I made my family’s ears bleed.

I wasn’t a big fan of reptiles- however I liked the bats because they looked like cats with wings and my Mom refused to let us have cats back then so hanging around the Bats at the zoo  was as close as I could get to cats.

Plus I liked the little bowls of blood they had out for the tiny Vampire Bats and I loved the Fruit Bats because  they were big and I was sure they’d make great pets and I even had a spot picked out in our house two keep one or 15 of them.

So why did I like the Reptile House so much if I wasn’t a Reptile fan?

I liked it because the Reptiles looked alive.

Reptiles looked right  at you and when  they did it looked like they would like nothing better then to crawl out of their cages and eat you  bit by bit and I had heard some of them would stash body parts from their kills for snacks.

I felt sorry for the other animals, they looked sad and broken and if you really watched them, it was obvious. They didn’t like people very much.

The Reptiles though, they were not looking sad and broken and if they had gotten loose and eaten their way out of the zoo and hid body parts up and down Aurora- even as a kid in Kindergarten I understood one thing-

it would have been fair.

Maybe even right.