Gaming Collections and Friends

3 am is often when bad decisions are made.

This morning it led to a completion of a series that I have been trying for, for... ten years now?

I will agree that it may seem irrational and impulsive and like many would frown upon it, but you don't understand!

Well then.

Emotional outburst aside, there are a few things that will forever tie us to pleasant memories and the bonding of our core groups. For me, this series, was that.

Years upon years ago, White Wolf publications set forth into the world their creation known as Exalted. There has since been a second revised (and third I believe) edition and so many supplements that I couldn't keep up. That being said however, the first edition is the game that bound myself to a few friends.

Some may say that rolling dice and making up stories is no way to behave. I scoff at you folks. Unapologetically. There is a creative bond between those that embark on such adventures of heroism and bravery that none can compare to. There are deep emotions, late nights awake scrutinizing character sheets, caffeine fueled bouts of clarity to which the problem is suddenly dissolved and the dragon is no longer so fearsome: these are the chronicles I would like to remember.

In college, I was shy. Painfully so. Reserved didn't begin to cover it. I was often depressed and attempted to hide myself away. I wore outlandish clothing in an effort to become part of a culture that I didn't belong to. I felt so often that I wouldn't fit in that it wasn't worth the effort.

It all changed one day. I walked into my Japanese Civilization class, begrudgingly. The weight of the day had already caught up with me and it was only 8 am. It was towards the end of the semester, and one I was sure would not end well. I opened a notebook and began doodling, manga style drawings filling the pages more than notes ever would. Now, I don't remember all the details, but at the end of class a young man introduced himself to me. He was quiet himself, sort of bookish, but had an incredibly kind voice. I remember he made me smile for the first time in weeks. At some point it was suggested that we hang out, and possibly study for finals together. I agreed. I couldn't remember what my logic was, because it was so outside my normative character. We didn't get much studying done, but I remember playing video games and striking up conversations with the others in his suite, eventually. The question of whether I had played an tabletop RPG (role playing game for those outside the gaming community) came up, and I admittedly, had not. Partially because I believed that no one else had such a profound interest in the world of imagination as I had at this wretched campus, but also partially because I came from a small town, where no one really played anything like that. I had dabbled in online RPGs so... how hard could this be?

Nothing intimidating here folks... Just the rightful rulers of  Creation.

It was incredibly different and it was hard. It was hard on multiple levels. I was 1.) being forced to interact with people after a semester long sabbatical, 2.) was attempting to vocalize my opinions which were often ill formed and tended towards overly excited and overly violent expressions in game, 3.) was making my creative self known to a community other than Livejournal.  It doesn't seem like much in hindsight, but in the moment that culmination of the three, left me unable to properly vocalize anything at many of the sessions besides what was going on in game. It was incredibly frustrating for a young woman who wanted to come off like she'd had it all figured out.

The reality was that I had none of it figured out and was still trying in vain to figure out even the basics. The gentleman who had introduced himself to me in class was patient however. He was kind and I grew to depend on him for social interaction and meaningful conversations. He was the only one that I had been able to trust in a long time.

He became one of my closest friends and thankfully, he still is. As a matter of fact he and the group we played with have for the most part remained my closest friends. This game had somehow bonded me to them. We moved on and experimented with other games. Many of us experimented with many aspects of our lives, but we always had that game and more importantly each other.

So yes, it is just a game and maybe dropping kind of money I did to complete the collection seems irrational.

I just don't care. Within that game is the reason I was able to open up and actually begin the process of finding myself. Within that game is magic, wonder, and the belief that sometimes listening to a friendly voice doesn't lead to terrible things. That game, to me at least represents much more than dice, character sheets, and the pages of too many books to count.

It represents the beginning of me.
 

On the Road Again: A Zombie Tale

It was that moment in the afternoon where the sun wasn't quite beginning its descent but the sky had begun to change colors in preparation. For two patrons at the Silver Whistle it didn't matter. The pair sat at the mahogany bar watching the news with half-hearted interest. They both looked tired and the bartender didn't seem to care that the bar wasn't open for another two hours. He stepped forward and poured amber liquor into the glasses and refilled the remaining of the glass with a dark carbonated beverage. The woman pushed some money forward and the bartender just shook his head pushing it back.

"Thanks sweetie. I can use this."

"We all can." the bartender took the girls smile as payment and the gentleman sitting next to her smirked.

"You always do what you want, huh?" His deep brown eyes danced as he began to read his compatriots’. The woman smirked and shook her head.

"Nah... Not always." She ran a hand over her smoothed down ponytail and pulled the elastic out, letting loose her lengthy brown hair. She ruffled her hair quickly and seemed to try to ease the tension in her body. "Be a dear?" She held her hair to the side and turned so her back was towards her friend. He chuckled, took a swig of his poison and began to rub her shoulders. The bartender chuckled quietly to himself noting the sense of comfort the two had with each other. Her face relaxed momentarily. She let out a deep breath and began to understand why all these years that he had loved getting massages.

"How are things at home?" The gentleman asked quietly as he worked on her shoulders.

"What home?" She frowned and all the frustration returned to her face. She reached over to the bar and grabbed her drink, tilting her head back to down it.

"Shit..."

"Dead. Came home to find Mom, Dad, and Evey turned." Her voice was stilted. She twisted the ring on her left ring finger and looked back to her glass. Too bad it was empty. "Haven’t told Sven yet that I had to ..." Her voice broke and the gentleman’s arms went from her shoulders to her waist, pulling her close. She let out a deep sigh and sniffled, her arms resting over his.

"I'm sorry Julia..." He hugged her tight, as if she was the last real thing left in this existence. "He'll understand."

"I hope so." Julia stiffened as the TV seemed to get louder.

"The mob we've been tracking is moving towards the Taunton area, most notably near the Green. Please remain indoors. I repeat remain indoors, and allow the army to deal with the infestation." Julia started laughing a slow, unsettling guttural laugh. The gentleman with her shook his head and tapped her shoulder as he stood.

"C'mon. I've got weapons stored in your van."

"Who knew all those hours of left for dead would come in handy, Derrick " The girl smirked and stood. She pointed to the bartender. "You need a shotgun?"

"Nah I've got my own gun." He smirked and pulled out a sniper rifle, making preparations to mount it on the window. Julia nodded, clearly impressed with his choice of weapon. She pulled out her cell phone and shot off a message to her uncle, while they made their way to the car. A group of people with boards and nails began to filter into the bar.

"We're going back in there?" Derrick asked and looked over to Julia as he tossed her a loaded double barreled shot gun. Julia raised an eyebrow and looked over her sunglasses. "Right."

"On the road again..." Julia sung quietly to herself as the air grew eerily quiet. Just off in the distance you could hear the shuffling of a mob. "Just can't wait to get on the road again..." She looked down the sight to check and see where they were. Nowhere close, yet.

"Time for another drink?" Derrick smirked and she nodded. A least in all of this... she hadn't lost her sense of humor.

New Promises

It's funny that it was almost exactly a year ago that I put this blog aside.

Many things have changed in that year and still, so many are the same.

One thing I can tell you, is that as part of my resolutions, I'm picking this blog back up. I'm also going to be partnering with Kit from Goggles and Lace and a couple other bloggers to bring you an exciting new project. Details TBA.

Starting tonight I'm scheduling in time to write every day in order to meet my personal goal. I want my novel published by the time I turn 30. It's only three years off at this point so II need to get cracking. On top of that  I'm attempting to pump out more short fiction that will be available here. I've let my writing fall to the wayside over the last year, which while awful, has also let me develop a few things on the personal side, fulfilling my life that much more.  Big plans over the next year, not only for this blog but outside it as well. You'll see...

That being said: tonight I'm enacting my resolutions and beginning my journey back towards that words and stories that I have loved so much. Be on the look out for a story before midnight.

Love and letters,
Jessi

To a New Year

The New Year is time for many to start again. For once, this actually includes myself.

In years past, my New Years celebrations have been with some great people, mostly close friends and my younger sister. This year was quite a different experience for me. Not in that there weren’t great people there, because there were! Instead of a bunch of adults kvetching and sending out a giggle into the night to break up the conversation, I spent the night with a little girl (I really should say young lady, I’m sure she’d prefer it) who was keen on making herself known as a young intellectual force in a game of Cranium. She’s bright and has a wonderful future ahead of her. I also spent the night with a new love. He and I rang in the New Year with the celebratory midnight kiss. It was a quiet moment that many people talk about. The world seemed to be shut out for a moment. I felt his lips, his arms around me, and the warmth of the moment. It was, one of the most perfect kisses I have had the pleasure of experiencing.  

Mmmmm..... sugar-y

In the season of new beginnings, the romance is not the only thing that will be changing my life. I’m revamping my writing. This year is the year of finishing for my writing. I’ve started three different novels over the course of the last three years, and I am keen on pushing at least one to completion. I need to get it out there, even if it’s just to get rejection letters. I want to be published before I’m 30 and while I know I am still a few years behind that… time isn’t going to slow down and make it easier on me. Time to get to work.

I’m also working on a fun little side project that I’m fairly intent on showing the world as I go. Once I get the first 15 entries done, I’ll be posting a link. For now, the only clue I’ll give you is Letter #1. See the entry and see if you know. If you’re in Inkwell, you know, so no cheating!

Well.

Now that that’s out there… What are your goals for the year? How did you spend your New Years? Did you find a moment of perfection? Please feel free to write a bit and leave it in the comments section.

Cheers,

Jessi

NaNo Dare 1 : Character in a Tavern

I dare you to start your creative juices flowing now. Take one character from your upcoming NaNo and put them in a bar full of Centaurs and other mythical creatures. 500 words minimum...

Somewhere in the fragile lines between sanity and insanity dwell, lies the bounds of reality. Erik knew this area well, as most mad scientists do. He sat quietly watching a train pass by on a long dead track. It ground to a stop, brakes clearly un-oiled as the squeals filled the evening air. Erik winced and stuck his pinky in his ear, wiggling it in an attempt to clear the noise from his mind. The doors opened and he stepped on board, trench coat encompassing the doorway. He tipped his fedora to the conductor, a smaller than average man, with long pointed ears. The tiny man smiled and gestured to the row of open seats. The train took off and a few minutes later, it was full of creatures of every description… all inbound to one destination.

The tavern was quaint. It was a medium sized brick building. It was an unassuming looking building during the day but at night, well… to be fair the sight of a minotaur crashing through the front windows sort of denoted the place as a bit… odd. Erik walked forward, smirking as an elf and a clearly inebriated dwarf left the bar pointing and laughing at the minotaur who was being helped to his feet. The creature seemed stuck between a howl and a chuckle and couldn’t decide. Erik passed through the front door to the bar, where a pretty, pale girl with black hair stood. Her face was perfect, symmetrically. He’d noted this several times, mostly while drunk. Her name was … Sylvia? He couldn’t remember. He did remember however, exactly where he sat every night he came. He moseyed over to the bar stool and took off his coat extending it to nothing, letting it be whisked away to the coat room. Ned was the ghost in charge of coats. He was the only one who could handle corporeal matters.

“What will you have tonight, Erik?”

‘Slyvia… Sally… she must have a name…’ Erik smiled through the confusion and shrugged. “Something to warm me. The chill in the air is quite heavy tonight.” The woman smiled and nodded.

“I think that’s just Ned screwing with you, but…” She poured an amber liquid into a glass and set it in front of him. “Here you go.”

“Scotch…” Erik’s smile grew and he picked up the glass, saluting her quietly. The woman smirked and leaned forward, whispering something into his ear. “Well of course I knew your name was Samantha… What do you take me for, my darling? How could I forget such an impossibly lovely woman’s name?”

“I take you for human, Erik. To ere is human after all.” She smirked, her eyes flashing red for a moment. She held his gaze for a moment before walking away to another patron, nodding and getting him a drink. Erik frowned and looked into his glass.

“ ‘I take you for human…’ “ He mocked softly and took a swig. The cool liquor brought the expected warmth to his esophagus, and began to migrate outward. He turned his attention away from the bar and … Samantha, looking around the room to what most would consider a freak show. To him… This was home.

A Time for...

I opened a button on the top of my starched white button down. Sitting on the steps of the funeral home, I starred silently past the floods of people wafting in and out. I had no idea who they were but it didn't matter. They didn't know me, either. I pulled a long, thin, black cigarette from a pack in my purse and lit it, inhaling deeply. The sugary sweet puffs of smoke passed over my lips and seemed a welcome, minor relief in the sea of death and condolences that was washing over my reality. I cracked my neck and finished the cigarette, putting it out and waiting until it was cool enough to pocket. Non-smoking areas tend to frown on cigarette butts on the lawn. I stood there for a moment, starring at the door.

I could go back in. I guess that's what I should do. Go in and tell her 'I'm sorry' for the 700^th time of the night. Hug her, tell her everything is going to be ok. It won't. It never is, though it never was either.

I could turn around and walk to the car. What would I do? Drive. Drive all the way back to work, back to an empty house, or back to somewhere I haven't discovered yet, but will feel familiar. I could go to the ocean. But then again... nah. Too cold.

I could stand here. Not doing anything but greeting people with sad smiles and empty welcomes. I wouldn't have to go back in until they began to close out for the night...

I sigh instead of any of the alternatives. I'm so tired. I pull another cigarette out, lighting it. The habit hasn't been easy on my lungs but damned if it didn't give me a minute or two to breathe during situations like this. I smile, uneasy at a couple people leaving the funeral home. One older woman stops and stares. I stare right back. Neither of us are sure what to say, but we both know that somehow it wouldn't be enough anyway.

“Were you close to her?”

“No. I'm here for her mother.”

“Ah... Thank you.”

“It's not enough, but we all do what we can.” I say softly. My words trailing off as I stare at the ground. I can't hold her gaze any longer. Her eyes speak to the sadness of loss too easily. I took a deep breath and a drag of the cigarette, hoping the ensuing silence would send her on her way. I look back up and she's smiling softly,. Her own eyes cast downward. She's fragile. That much you can tell. Brown hair with silver streaks, beginning to creep through. The black she's clad in seems to engulf her, much like the rest of us.

“You're young. I hope you never have to do this.” She says, her voice is soft but knowing. I nod, taking another drag from the cigarette. I walk forward, unannounced and hug her, arms wrapping around her shoulders. I don't know her, but she needs a hug. That much you can tell. Her shoulders shake breifly and she hugs me back, albeit a bit weakly. I smile and take a deep breath as I step back, hoping it id something. She smiles, albeit a bit weakly. Her husband takes her hand, smiles politely to me and she crumbles into a puddle of tears. I frown. This would be the pattern if I remain out here...

Time to go back inside...  

The Moment When...

There comes a moment when you stop, stare into someone eyes, and you can see yourself reflected perfectly back at you. Not the you that you imagine, but the you that the other person sees.

All of their fears, all of their joy, what they see within you, that comforting and perfect moment when you finally realize, it's not infatuation. It's purely, simply; love.

Whether it's love from someone you've taken into your life, through an odd series of events; or someone you've known forever, the feeling (familial or romantic) is profound. It's a moment that no one can ever take away from you.

It's scary sometimes, to know who loves you. But.. in those moments of uncertainty and fear, knowing, simply knowing that someone is out there who cares for you more deeply than any describable logical sense... you find strength. Within that moment. Within yourself.

No one is ever better off without you. YOU have made an impact. YOU are special and amazing.

Please. For no other reason than finally admitting the truth to yourself or someone else, tell someone you love them. Today, everyday, any day. Have the courage to be that moment for someone. Look into their eyes, and show them how much you care for them.

I recently had this moment with my partner. He and I starred into each others eyes and for a moment, I saw what it was that he saw. Within those deep mahogany brown pools, I saw love reflected back at me. Nothing complicated. Love, admiration and something I couldn't quite describe. Until we broke the stare and kissed. I knew what it was. It was something I've never seen married so cleanly together with love. I'll never forget that moment. It was a moment that I will carry with me and cherish for as long as I live.

Thank you, my love.

I sincerely hope you all have either gotten to experience this moment. If not, you will. I truly want to thank you all for allowing me to share my work and myself with all of you. This is in no means a good bye. Simply a moment of appreciation mixed in with a recent revelation in my own life.

Namaste,

Jessi

Astor's Grace - Old WiP

               There was something about the look in her eyes. It was the sort of look that inspired confidence in her followers, her army. She was the sort of woman that men fought wars for. While she was painfully aware of her effect on men and women like, it wasn’t for her ravishing looks, as she didn’t possess those. She was fairly plain in her appearance. Long brown, straight hair; brown, never ending eyes; and a slightly crooked smile. She stood with a complex mix of feigned grace and awkward self consciousness, as she addressed her men. Somehow, when she spoke, she transformed. Her beauty shone through, like the way that the sun reaches the smallest of plants in the early hours of the morning. Her intellect was rapier sharp and just as quick, throwing in a crass joke or two to elicit a laugh from the lower ranks, and connect her to ‘the common man’; while eloquently tying in beautifully predetermined metaphors and imagery to inspire the utmost confidence from her ranks. Her name was Elena, and she was our queen. The one we would march for, the one we would die for, and the woman that I called my wife.

                She stepped back from the podium, sounds of applause still ringing in our ears. Elena walked off the stage with the power and grace of a well spoken official, but behind the thick red curtains of the stage, she let the sort of façade melt away. She reached out and hugged me tight, looking deep into my eyes for approval.

                “How did I do?” I had to chuckle as it was evident that the speech was a rousing success, yet she still asked. Honestly, I was the last person she needed approval from. She had a legion of young men willing to die for her. Me? I was an advisor to the tactics committee, and very rarely saw any action on the front lines.  I smiled and stroked her cheek.

                “You did good, kiddo.” I said, half sincere, half jokingly. She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.

                “One of these days, you’ll stop calling me that.” She said, pushing herself against me. I smiled, a small private smile and pulled her closer. A cough sounded from behind me, and Elena looked past me rolling her eyes.

                “I’ve got to be the only ruler in all of fucking Astor that has to stop public displays of affection with my husband.” She grumbled and pushed away from me. I turned. It was Cynthia, her etiquette coach and the face of public relations for the kingdom. She was a sterner looking woman, with thinly rimmed glasses, and her hair pulled out of her face. Cynthia looked down at the stack of papers and walked forward, being joined by one of the military advisors on the way. I saluted the gentleman, recognizing him to be one of the generals of Elena’s airship fleet. General Dante Valk, leader of the 1^st airborne squadron, the finest pilots in all of Astor. Elena smiled and reached out her hand to the general who bowed and kissed her hand.

                “All allegiance to her majesty, may her grace protect.” Elena despised the greeting but it had a certain degree of formality to it that her station demanded. The general righted himself and Cynthia smiled.

                “Your Grace…”

                “Elena.” Elena said curtly looking at Cynthia a little harshly. The formalities seemed to be an unnecessary addition to her position and most unwelcome. I hid a small smile as I stood there beside her.

                “Your Grace, the legion facing Eltheener’s western border have begun the march towards their capital. Your general has informed me that an aerial assault, weakening their biodome would be the next step. It would weaken their citizens and allow for easier passage for our troops.” The general stood silently and I shook my head.

                “As much as an assault on the city’s dome directly, would aid greatly, it would also weaken our chances at any sort of eventual diplomatic negotiations.” A voice came from the shadows and a gentleman with long black hair came forward. His name was Liam and he was one of Elena’s diplomatic council members. Elena smiled seeing him joining the small circle. The pair had been close, since the two grew up together in the palace, the children of noble blood. The General frowned and waved his hand dismissively at Liam.

                “Diplomacy with the Eltheenians? Highly doubtful. Their leader is more hot headed than our own and half as wise. Do you really think he’ll have anything to do with us after we’ve barged through his countryside, and razed two of his cities to the ground?” The laughter in the General Valk’s voice was clear though he still tried, in vain, to hide it. Elena frowned and Cynthia’s face paled. Clearly she hadn’t intended for him to do any of the talking, though Liam was an unaccounted for variable in her original plan. Liam smirked and shook his head.

                “You seem to think that diplomacy has only one face, General Valk. For your uneducated, war like hind brain, I’ll speak in small words.” A small, but powerfully poignant smile passed over his features infecting Liam’s eyes. “Interrogation can come across as diplomacy as long as you don’t break too many bones. Keep insulting Elena, our queen, and I may show you that darker side, personally.” The way Liam looked at Valk made him and myself, uncomfortable. The sheer brilliance of Liam’s blue eyes and venomous personality seemed to culminate in his stare. He had always been protective of Elena, taking on his current position to remain close to her. I once theorized that the two were lovers, while I was away, though the thought seemed to fade as quickly as it sprung up. In all of Astor, he was the only man that made me feel uneasy; uneasy about my position in his eyes and uneasy about leaving my wife alone with him.  Elena held back a small chuckle, and covered her mouth, coughing slightly.

                “Ok. Enough. We should head back to the palace before anymore discussion takes place. Besides, I’m sure your families would like to see you tonight. I’ve had you all away for weeks, trying the bring morale higher.” Elena smiled and the group silently agreed, walking off to the airship. I waited for a moment before following knowing there would be reporters with their vid droids crawling all over the exit area. For all that it was public knowledge that I was her husband, it was considered to be a sign of weakness to have me so close to her at all times. While none of her trusted companions believed this to be such a thing, the general public seemed to have adopted that unsavory opinion. It hurt me to a degree to have to be apart from her on a personal level, but on an official level it made sense. She needed a strong positive image during the war.

A Moment Away from the Fiction: Dating a Geek

Dating.

It's a four letter word in my book, quite frankly. The whole notion of trying to get to know someone well enough to judge them on their eventual ability to make you happy in the long run, is absurd. Especially, if it's complicated by the fact that you are a geek or nerd (ME) or are dating a geek or nerd. If you or someone you love, is one of these, listen up.

**DISCLAIMER: This is a fun, not to be taken terribly seriously article, that if you pull some dating advice from, hooray! If not, take a deep breath before you get offended.**

Jessi's Guide to Dating a Geek (and Loving Every Minute of It)

What type of Geek are you dating?

Identify your geek type. Believe it or not, that helps a lot, with what your personal limits are and what their limits might be.

1. Gaming Geeks
Their favorite game will, in fact, take up too much of their time some days. Practices are important. But please, be tolerant. These geeks have survived quite well, up until they met you. So understand that while they're blowing off Locust skulls, they're not doing it to 'piss you off' or even better 'replace you'. Take a deep breath. You have a hobby too, right? So why not engage in it while they're playing? No hobby? How about personal time to go to the gym or take a walk and get some air? Thumbs get sore and your geek will come out of it. Generally looking to either have sex with you or explain how incredibly awesome he/she is for game highlight a-z. Or be consoled because they got beaten so badly. Either way it leads to more time with you.

Really, the geek in question will thank you for being so understanding. And who knows... maybe post war zone 'relations' will be the best thing you've experienced yet. Never can tell...

2.Knowledge Nerds

Oh my goodness, Ned! You're so sexy when you
go on about the Game of Thrones series...

I'm' using this particular category to cover a few types of Nerd sub-genres. We all know a cooking geek, booze geek, environmental nerd, gardening geek, or book nerd. These tend to fall into one overarching category. If you don't agree, so be it. I welcome your reaction in the comments below.

Ok. The short answer is that these particular breed, love learning and love to prove their knowledge; i.e. arguing. This is something that should be known by you. If not arguing, then there may be a tendency to ramble on and on about the matière du jour (topic of the day). Honestly these are some of the most benign forms of geekery, until you take it to a massively extreme level. This can be said for any and all of these stereotypes. If you enjoy listening to professors speak on their specialty, seek out these people. They're a walking dictionary, and quite alluring to the right kind of person. Just as with the Gaming Geeks, be understanding. They will appreciate it, -if- it's genuine.

They're a pool of untapped research that is amazingly ready to share. Just listen. You may learn something, not only about the topi, but about them.

Are YOU Interested in What They Are?

Yes? You're in the clear. Enjoy your relationship. Assuming it isn't a Horde vs. Alliance throw down every argument, have at it. I've been in many a relationship, where arguing about the right weapon on CoD or GoW (right sorry... Call of Duty, Gears of War) for the particular map in question. It's fun, if a little agitating sometimes.

No? Get out. Get out now. It's not a friendly suggestion, either. They will not change who they are. That's the thing about us geeks. We are who we are. And we're proud of it, most of the time. Seriously, if someone asked me to choose between a relationship with a highly successful underwear model, or my GoW sessions with my friends, that have helped cement our already amazing friendship? Sorry underwear dude. I'm sure the sex was great, but uh, friends were here first. Sorry. I'm sure you'll have beautiful babies with someone else one day.

As Aforementioned... Be Understanding!

No really. This will go a long way in any relationship, but especially with someone who has been socially ostracized for most of his/her existence. Seriously. Coming from this standpoint, it's amazing what we'll put up with, if you genuinely get us, want us, can't get enough of us. We're great people. Not something to be sneered at. We invented the terrifying 'over the glasses' look.

Understanding can bring you farther in many aspects of your life, if it's not beyond your own personal limits. So please, keep your limits in mind when thinking about dating a geek of any sort (and yes this includes you SPORTS geeks).

Talk to Them

Are you feeling alienated because of a week of excessive geekery on their part? There is a solution. Talk with them. They're generally intelligent individuals that will want to know how you feel and how they can help. This is true with any relationship. So please, remember that. Communication is key.

Enjoy Them for Who They Are

Smile when they get a new Magic card. Laugh when they demonstrate a silly dance from one of the new Horde races. Love them. Trust me when I say that we rock. And we need that love as much, if not more so than everyone else you've ever met.

<3 and Good Dating,
Jessi
Level 36 GoW on xbl

~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  ~*~*~*~  
This, I have decided, will most likely be a bit of an ongoing series into the minds of geeks and all of the pitfalls of this particular geek. I am happily beginning a relationship with a fellow geek, and am incredibly lucky for that. But that being said, I'm always willing to share the insights as I gain them, even if they're at my own detriment. Stay Tuned.

A Knight's Decision

"She's gone for the night, you'll have to return later, Knight." An eyeless Watcher stood outside of Illia's chamber. I shook my head and turned, taking my leave. I had no words for that idiot, and anything I could say would be recorded for an eternity. I knew his kind. A footstep behind me. I turned my head slightly, stopping in my walk. "She is not yours, do so remember that, good knight." I could hear those putrid lips part into a grin over his teeth, without so much as looking. I shook my head and continued walking. He was only right in that she couldn't ever be declared mine.

The walk back to the guardhouse was always longest after not seeing her. I would inspect the guards, check weaponry for the evening, and call role, making sure everyone was accounted for. Those that weren't, were rounded up or let go. There was a zero tolerance policy for those trusted with guarding the Family, and the grounds. I turned the corner to a rowdy scene. I tilted my head to the side, seeing a few women scattered about the barracks, and upon quick glance, none of them were authorized to be there. Beer, everywhere. Clothing, sparse.

"Dammit." I grabbed the horn on the wall and blew. It's blare got their attention that was for sure. The women were up and out the door in under a minute, and the men, standing at attention, merely seconds after that. Some clothed, others, only partially. "Well, men, I'm glad you enjoyed your evening." I snarled. I couldn't stand the resentment in my voice. The men stood silent. I starred into each of their eyes for the moment and turned away, moving on.

"Your watches are assigned on the door. I trust there will be less women and booze at each of them. Harris and Milton, you're staying here for the night. Drunkards. Fall out." The two soldier remained, their attentive stares, now falling away in the realization that they'd been found out despite their efforts to appear sober. I frowned as the other men went off, grabbing trousers or shirts as they went. I frowned, directing the men to two seat against the wall. I paced in front of them for what seemed like an eternity.

"The outhouses need scrubbing and the horse stalls need to be cleaned out. I suggest you make yourselves useful. I gestured to the door and it flew open. I blinked, seeing two members of the Court standing in my barracks. Their white and gold robes, hidden poorly under the brown cloaks.

"Gentlemen." I turned my attention to the soldiers, practically throwing them out in favor of these two. The saluted and stumbled out, my hand going to my temples. "What an I do for you, gentlemen?"

"That should be discussed elsewhere and with the ones who sent us for you." The voice was soft but resonated with power, not quite of this world. He extended his hand back out the door to the carriage.

The carriage was black and could only lead me to believe it was going to arrive at the Mancers high court building. I looked at the two that now stood behind me.

"I see I don't get much of a choice in this actual decision. " My tone went from helpful to mocking by the end of the sentence. The two sort of chuckled though I'm not entirely sure what that noise was. I stepped forward to the carriage and sat in the vehicle. The lining was rich. Red velvet, gold trim, and the of course, black curtains. They were drawn for me, and a candle lit within the interior. I sat silently, waiting. If it was the Mancers looking for help from the order, it wasn't going to happen. Since their betrayal so long ago, aiding the Dreamscape split from the Nightmare Realm, the Order wouldn't trust them. Further more, I wouldn't trust them. I have my own issues with the Council.

The ride didn't take long, unfortunately. I would have hoped that I would be able to collect my thoughts a bit while on my way to a certain end. Those that didn't help the Mancers were either eliminated or were driven into madness. I sighed as the door opened and the brown cloaks had been removed. I instead was greeted by the open arms of a woman, whom I didn't recognize. Her dragon, however, did recognize me. It snapped and snarled, threatening a firey end at the word of it's mistress.

"Ah Knight Leoguart. I've been waiting for your handsome face." Her smile swirled upward and the sudden appearance of it, the dragon backed down but only slightly. I approached and bowed, taking her freely offered hand, kissing it gently. She giggled. A woman of her... advanced years shouldn't be giggling. I glanced upwards before standing back to my full height. She was an older woman. Blue-gray eyes that spoke to her wisdom, and bright white hair. Her face showed the marks laughter and tears had left streaked across her face. She was ... tiny. She stood maybe five foot five and weighed less than she should. Her eyes softened when I didn't say anything and she nodded, waving a finger in the air.

"So you want to know who I am. Well, over tea. Come now. It is breakfast time." Her invitation was a bit odd to say the least. It was in fact time for breakfast, though I wasn't sure where the hell the time had gone. A soft melody seemed to float through the air, and I found myself casting a protection spell over my being. She laughed hearing the soft incantation. "Oh darling, that will 'hardly' be necessary, but have it your way." She glanced back over her shoulder, her long white braid swaying back and forth as she walked. The dragon that had been at her side, now head butted the back of my knees.

"I'm going, already. No need to be rude, little one." The dragon hissed and headbutted me again, forcing me to lurch forward. I caught myself easily and moved forward, entering into the not so humble home. The interior felt relaxing and lived in but still immaculately clean. She walked across the hard wood floor, gesturing to a seat by the fireplace, a high backed leather chair sat waiting apparently for my arrival. I stood next to it, waiting for her to return. The house was lovely. Earth tones, greys, and brick adorned the abode. The fireplace was roaring , casting a flickering light to fill the room with it's warmth. Before I had the thought to say anything, she had returned with a tray. Two mugs for tea, a teapot, and some sort of pastry. It was the most hospitality I had seen in a very very long time. She placed the tray down delicately, though She plopped into the seat with a force I generally see from men twice her size. I smirked and sat down in the appointed chair gazing into the fire.

From the Eyes of a Watcher

Her scream was the most beautiful sound in the Nightmare Realm. It signaled her return. The delicately boned girl on the bed, shot up, clutching her chest as she let out a scream that was rivaled by only murder victims. She was at her most magnificent then. Illia screamed as her consciousness flooded into her body here, from the realm known to her as Reality. To us, it was a foreign place, full of the harshness that humanity is capable of... a land of so much potential to live out these nightmares we inflict on the mortals. I smile a vicious, toothy smile, settling down in the arm chair and pouring her a cup of tea.

“Good evening Princess.” I said softly and her eyes darted across the room to where I sat. The emerald orbs focused on me and her shaky hand moved from her chest to her head, wiping the cold sweat from her brow.

“That doesn't get any easier...” She said softly, her voice trembling as she ran her hands over her face, realizing where she was. I simply sat in the corner, watching. The frailty of the human mind never ceased to amaze me. It took the trauma of the transition with such terrifying elegance, yet every time, the young girl remained terrified of the portals. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, grabbing her silk dressing gown and tying it loosely around her waist. Her face was alabaster white, framed with long chocolate brown curls, leaving the girl a slave to her beauty. She looked so much like her father some mornings.

“Here. Have some tea and relax. We have some time before the meetings begin for the day.” I pushed a tea cup across the small table to her. She nodded and picked up the cup, taking a deep breath, inhaling the sweet fumes of the tea. Her requirements were simple, unlike her fathers. He however, now resided solely in that foreign land beyond the veil. She frowned, catching my eyes drifting over towards the window.

“What troubles you, Watcher?” her voice was soft and sweet, like that of a concerned child. It was something she would have to shed in the coming months. Her place was very nearly as secure as her fathers was, albeit the dissent within the upper class and the nobility was a bit disconcerting. I forced a smile and turned back to her shaking my head.

“I can no longer see the King.” Her eyes cast downward as she nodded. The sadness in her demeanor was incredibly alluring, and it took everything in my power not to try to feed off of the moment. I used to be a Monster, the King's personal guard. Now however, I seem to have been demoted. Now I watch. I watch the links between the worlds for the Family. I watch the Princess. I snarled slightly thinking about the switch. Enough however about me. My place has been defined. This is a story about my lovely little charge. She sits watching my movements. I don't need eyes to see that body language. Her fear and unsure nature only betrayed her near me. She was strong and the face of the empire that she needed to be. The poor, poor little princess. She's been raised to take this position and yet somehow she's managed to foul it up. Her only job was to take the court and maintain the peace until the time of war was upon us. Here she sat, naïve to the real purpose of her presence. Poor little girl. Poor delusional little girl.

Her hand moved from her tea mug to my hand. I recoiled in shock and stood, going to the window. Her hand was cold, like one would expect from someone first entering the realm. It wasn't the temperature that shocked me however, it was the gesture itself. Her mother's compassion would do her no good here.

A knock on the door signaled the start of the day, thankfully. I walked to the door, opening a crack and nodding to the guard. The roach seemed to nod back and closed the door.

"Explain to me why again, the Roaches must guard my door?" A shudder went through her voice. I let a grin slide across my mouth and a small chuckle escaped. It turned into a laugh that sounded far more maniacal than I had intended. I coughed and chuckled again.

"Because they're the best stealth agents we have in the palace. You wouldn't even notice them if it weren't for the knock on the door." My smile didn't reassure her, as she stood and made her way across the room. The closet stood before her as she contemplated what to wear for the day. For some reason, this was the decision that took the longest in the day. She frowned, picking up a black veiled hat and placed it on the side of her head, pinning it into place, carefully. The rest of the ensemble would follow. A pair of black military style boots, some sort of skirt, and a jacket to hide all of the various weaponry she carried around with her. Even in her own palace, she claimed not to feel safe. To be fair, would you feel safe, knowing that half of the nobility was out to kill you? See?

"I'm ready." She nodded looking in the mirror judging as to whether or not everything was hidden properly. She picked up one last sword that lay by her bed. It was largely ceremonial, but the gesture was still appreciated. Handing me the hilt, she unsheathed the sword and ran her finger delicately over the blade, her blood trickling down the blade. I grinned. So it should continue.

To My Ladies...

This is to you, my lady friends...

To you, late night booty call receivers,
remember that they're not so friendly
when there's less alcohol in their system
they're princes of the silver tongued seduction
but they'll still not want to cuddle in the morning
worse, see you without your make up on

To you, the lonely, sister figure
you have a million friends
and Facebook stats to prove it
you will find someone that is worthy,
but perhaps not within your group
perhaps a change of venue...

To you, the master of last call pickups
lay off the man hunt for the night
the term coyote ugly comes up too often
in your vocabulary.
The search for a body to fill that empty bed space
never seems to end with all your dignity

To you, the girl that's just right,
sometimes it's OK to be wrong
sometimes that's even advisable
just take a night off,
drink with the above girl and watch her work
she's a pro at being the bad-ass

To you, the tough chic
put 'em up sister
toss 'em back and watch the boys crumble
your guns outmatch theirs
and you rock
so why is your bed so lonely?

To the quiet, the meek, the oft uninvited
your overlooked charm has sat on the shelf for long enough
this is your time
being a nerd/geek is hot
rock your glasses and get those people to kneel and moan your name
admit it, you like it

To me and you and all of them
you got this.
I'm hip so let's ride.
Time to show them what you've got.
Time to show them who you are
It's about time to show yourself some love

instead of any of them

A Goggles and Lace Writing Challenge: The First Snowfall

I walked quietly through the paths of the campus, looming grey clouds, gently reminding me to get inside before some sort delinquent weather started dropping from them. It was cold enough for snow but still. It was early November in New England, it could go either way. Heavy freezing rain, or a light snow to usher in colder and much harsher weather ahead. I took a deep breath and let the cold, moist air fill my lungs. It seemed a welcome relief in the dryness of late fall...

I pulled my coat tighter around me and looked over the cold grey of the campus that matched the clouds perfectly. For all the damp coolness and the warmth of the dorms that lay just 50 feet away, I wanted to stay outside. I took a seat on the park style bench outside the big rock in the freshman quad and pulled a pack of cloves from my pocket. It'd been a long semester already and finals had yet to come. Hell, it wasn't even thanksgiving yet. The funny part about all of it was, the campus hadn't seen it this quiet since the first day of freshman move in. There wasn't a soul outside in the impending storm.

I took a clove out and lit it frowning as the smoke rings blew away in the breeze. The cinnamon spice taste of the cigarette reminded me of the holidays in the best and worst of ways. It was ironic that these were the memories triggered by the snow. I let the smile slip from my lips as someone sat down next to me. I looked up and held my pack of cloves out to the new occupant on the bench. My room mate took one and lit it, looking out at the path leading towards the campus center.

“Ready for the holidays?” Her thin hands held the cigarette delicately, watching my movements, calculating what I would say before I said it. I smiled softly, but sadly. “I see.” She nodded and took a drag, trying to ignore the fact that I'll be staying on campus again this year. She always makes the offer to bring me to her house, but I always decline. I love her family, I do. They're amazing but...

“I don't know...” I hear myself saying and watching as the first snowflake lands on my black naval coat. I take a drag of my own cigarette and relax as the smoke passes over my lips.

“You should.”

“I should what?”

“Know. It's been three years. Come home and enjoy the days with some family.” She's more insistent this year than in the past. She should be by all rights. I'd turned her down for three years running at this point.

“We'll see.” The silence in the air was dampened by the softly falling snow. She looked up at the sky and let the snowflakes fall on her ebony eyelashes. A smile passed over her lips and she stood in front of me, offering me a bony white hand.

“Let's go. I need to pack.” I looked her over for a moment and stood, finishing my cigarette. I took her hand.

“Yeah..." I knew that mischievous smile on her lips. I was either in trouble or about to have my things packed for me. The snow, however menacing it was to drivers, is what made me remember that one happy thing. Every time it snows, I have to smile. The crisp air, the faint memory of cinnamon and that smile... Something I'll never forget.

The Imagination and Inkwell Meets Here

I've been incredibly fortunate to meet so many fellow writers in the last year that have forsaken the trail more oft taken and blazed ahead to make a name for themselves. Some of them I still speak with and often commune with but some are far bigger than just themselves anymore, not leaving much time for anything else. But I digress. My ability to find amazingly creative individuals astounds me to this day, though seeing how often I frequent Barnes and Noble in Millbury, I probably shouldn't be shocked when I run into authors anymore.

However, beyond these amazingly successful professionals, the ones that really astound me are you all. The few that write in your free moments and keep trying. Not only do you inspire me, but you show me the persistence that still exists within our hearts' inkwells.

You are part of the reason that Kit and I started Inkwell so many months ago. Actually at this point it's been over a year. A year, one month and 10 days at the time of writing this. So happy birthday to Inkwell. We've made it through the first year!

It's been an interesting year, that's for sure. I've met so really creative individuals that have the story lines and the talent to carry them through it. Some need more help in the technical arena, but others have that and no story ideas. Wither way, you can do it. “You got this”, I'm fond of saying.

The purpose of the group is to help you through your writing ails and help you find your voice in the large expanse that is often less than helpful, and more often than not, fairly painful to navigate alone. So we all meet, sit, commiserate, and help each other through the veil hoping to at the end of a few meetings have something more palatable to the average reader, and perhaps an editor along the way.

The Brotherhood of the Quill and Inkwell is a strong one, as long as you know where to look. Even if you're not local to Inkwell, seek out writing groups in your area. If they're not what you're looking for, try another. At the very least, you'll meet another group of caffeine addicted oddballs that understand when you tell them the characters in your head are fighting for the white space of your blank page. They probably won't try to have you committed either.

Until next time,

Jessi

Camp NaNoWriMo and Some Other NaNo Info

I know, I know. Thursday isn't on the normal update schedule. But this bears the extra post for the week.

The Offices of Letters and Light has decided to run a summer program for NaNoWrimo! It's called Camp NaNo and for those of you that are usually swamped with finals and the like during November, this is perfect for. Also perfect for those that aim for two novels a year! Well really, it's perfect for anyone with a mild writing obsession. And it's more excuse for me to send out emails encouraging you all to keep on writing!

Camp NaNoWriMo from the Desk of the OLL

Greetings, Wrimos!

If you're holding hot coffee, I'd recommend you put it down. If you're standing, please sit.

I have potentially explosive news: we're launching Camp NaNoWriMo this summer! As in, mere months from this very moment!

Some of you may be wondering, "What is this camp you speak of? Will there be mosquitoes?"

This camp-themed version of National Novel Writing Month enables participants to write a novel in a month other than November. You bring the words and we'll meet you there with the encouragement, tracking tools, and a tent!

For everyone who has ever wanted to do NaNo multiple times a year—or for those who simply can't make a November novel work—welcome to Camp NaNoWriMo! The plot bunnies will frolic, the sun will warm your half-baked plot, and yes... there will probably be mosquitoes.

To pay for all these building materials, we're holding a summer fundraising drive starting May 25. More awesome goodies at more levels than ever before! (Two words: bumper sticker. For the first time in NaNo history!)

Stay tuned for more camp news and details about the upcoming fundraiser. In the meantime, I've still got some canoes to hollow out.

The fundraiser is a pretty big here. Once again even if you participate in Camp, YOU DO NOT have to donate. I know how poor we all are and I won't tell you that you have to, ever. If you feel the need to do so, have at it. That being said, as soon as I know more about Camp NaNo I'll be posting it here, and organizing little writing exercises and games to run through the program so keep a heads up on that. What kind of ML would I be without helping orchestrate the madness?

Offers still valid from NaNo 2010

Did you win NaNoWriMo? Congrats! you have some offers that are still valid if you did, so go on over to NaNo Winners and check it out. You have until June 30th to collect your CreateSpace proof copy of your NaNo masterpiece. Also available is a 50% off deal on Scrivner, which helps with planning, note keeping, and generally awesome organizational software. It's not only for Mac users anymore! There is an open beta test for Windows, so check it out, before you dive in and buy it. You will have to be logged in with your winning ID to collect the codes, so keep that in mind when licking the link.

First Writing Challenge

Camp NaNo hasn't started yet, but this be your first official 'task' for the summer writing season. C'mon! Play along. If you have a blog, post your link to your entry in the comments section and I'll happily link you, advertising on my social media for every entry. So without further ado...

This particular writing exercise is from Writing Excuses, a great blog I follow on a weekly basis. They have great prompts and podcasts to keep the creative juices flowing.

Writing Prompt: Start with a highly magical, pseudo-medieval fantasy setting. Now… how do you deal with baldness?

Enjoy, and keep checking back for NaNoWriMo news as the details are revealed!

Namaste,
Jessi

A Time for Silence

Why is that through all the social networking, all we can think about is relationships?
Sometime, just sometime, I'd love to see someone proclaim
“I broke up and I'm OK with being single!”
But wait, that too is about relationships
My social chatter is mostly noise confused and garbled
trying to push past the inanity of life
while failing miserably in my humble attempts
I 'like' peoples statuses and leave snarky remarks
I see people that I know will never, ever be good together
go through the ups and downs
and they expect me to go along for the ride.
This coaster only has room for two,
And
I'm not you so please step inside with your significant other
There are times when I cry for you
There are times when I laugh at your mistakes
I say “I've told you it'd never work”
and you threaten to strangle me every time
The truth is
I'm tired of seeing you all hurt
I'm tired of picking up pieces
the pieces with which you'll make the same mistakes
again
and again
and again.
I'm tired of being right
I'm tired of being wrong with my personal life
I'm just... tired
I want to be happy.
I want you to be happy to.
But for once, can't we just be happy
by ourselves?
No.
Because then we'd have no need for facespace and all the rest
We need others.
And we need to be wrong.
But I'm sorry I'm not 'like'-ing that new relationship status.
Call me callous, call me cruel
but when I pick up the pieces again
I'll try really hard not to say
“I told you so”

Dear 16 year old me.

Dear 16 yr old me,
Hey. How's 11th grade treating you? Awful I know. Still thought I'd ask. You haven't graduated from high school and college is still two years out. Grandma has just passed on. Princess will die soon, so give her a hug for me, please. But it gets better! That's the good news. The other bit of good news? You're going to be amazing. And I say that with a bit of perspective. You're 25 now, realizing that you're old, and looking at your little sister who just turned 18. She survived so far! It's practically cause of celebration. No death via sodium intake.

So here's the deal. High school wasn't easy and college doesn't get any easier. As a matter of fact, it just gets harder. You're going to have one of the hardest years of your life. And I truly mean that. I could show you the scars, but you need to experience them to grow. Out of freshman year, you realize that you're strong enough to live through the depression. You start to see that that quirky guy you met in Japanese civ, is going to save your life. Better yet? He's going to become one of your best friends. No really. We're still friends. Even after you kiss him and realize it's a little weird. Don't forget to compliment him on his skills. It's only polite.

Kit is still our best friend. She's gone to FL now, and it broke our heart. But she had to go, sadly. Soon enough she'll be home though. When? I don't know. But she will be home. She's been friends with us for 13 years now. Crazy huh?

You have friends that love you. You have guys that are amazed by you. They think you're beautiful, something we never thought would happen, right? Mostly for some uh, more physical reasons but that's neither here nor there. By the time you get here, you'll have experienced, love, loss, tragedy and joy that no one can ever take from you. You'll have been engaged, and so close to being married. And then you'll make the decision to end it. Because in the end, you're not the one for him. And trust me, there's more than the initial reasons.

These people change everything about you. They challenge you, they make you stronger, and you love them more for it. They're going to make you angry beyond belief, and push you until you think you're going to break. And they show you in the end, who you really are.

You start an amazing writing group with your best friend. And the support system that you create there for others is invaluable. Not only are you helping keep the creative spirit alive and well in the community, but you're writing. Just like Gram. Ok maybe gram didn't write about mutants, fate, death and coffee.

So life will get harder. But you have to know that even when you're sitting on the floor of your dorm thinking it's the end, you will get better. Honestly. And even though I know you'll never see this, I know someone who knows a 16 year old, soon to be 16yr old, or once was 16 will. Depression is a very real thing and needs to be addressed head on. So please always remember to be kind, hug often and laugh even more than you think your sides can take. Have one drink too many once in a while and lay in your best friends lap, listening to a good conversation. And just remember. You're going to be amazing.

Love,
Me.

In Which We Prepare for ScriptFrenzy

Aaaaaaand, I'm back!

So it has come to my attention that in a very short period of time, ScriptFrenzy will begin. The second (well first chronologically speaking) of the Office of Letters and Lights annual festivities is about to kick off. I, myself, have never participated in this maddening affair though I am making an attempt to this year. Wish me luck. My friend Patrick offered me a link that I'm now going to offer to you. It brings you to a free online course on how to write a screenplay, so if you haven't but still want in on this, have fun! How to Write a Screenplay by the University College at Falmouth

Ok ok so I've avoided talking about what the challenge entails up until now. Here goes. Don't run. Have a cookie. Sit, yes? Good. *deep breath* It's a challenge to write a 100 page screenplay by the end of April. http://www.nanowrimo.org/eng/scriptfrenzy

Have you ever wished there were a version of NaNoWriMo dedicated to scriptwriting?

There is!

Script Frenzy!
Write a movie, play, TV show, or graphic novel with us in April!

The Office of Letters and Light is proud to announce the fourth-annual Script Frenzy event coming up this April. For it, participants take on the challenge of writing 100 pages of scripted material in the month of April. Every writer who completes the goal of 100 pages is victorious and awe-inspiring and will receive a handsome Script Frenzy Winner's Certificate and web badge proclaiming this fact.

Even those who fall short of the word goal will be applauded for making a heroic attempt. Really, you have nothing to lose—except that nagging feeling that there's a script inside you that may never get out.

Who: You and everyone you know. No experience required.

What: 100 pages of original scripted material in 30 days. (Screenplays, stage plays, TV shows, short films, and graphic novels are all welcome.)

When: April 1-30. Every year.

Where: Online and in person. Hang out in the forums, join your fellow participants at optional write-ins all around the world. (Your NaNoWriMo user name works over at www.scriptfrenzy.org.)

Why: Because you have a story to tell. Because we all need creative challenges. And because making stuff feels great!

Stil there? Awesome. Have another cookie. Unlike NaNoWriMo, since I have never finished this or even attempted it, I will not be an ML or anything of the like. However, since I'm doing this too, I figure I'll have some interestingly humorous posts regarding it on the blog. Maybe even a stress induced cartoon. Who can tell?

Oh also, April hapens to be National Poetry Month so Inkwell will be hosting a Poetry Slam mid month (more details to follow pending approval). This month has a lot packed into it. So deep breath y'all. Here goes nothing!

Namaste,
Jessi

Failure and its Inherent Sexuality

The idea of failure is something that has lingered for too long on many of our minds. Whether it's failure at a story or failure in a relationship, or whatever; we've all experienced it. And it an be completely and utterly heart breaking. Then there are some who are better than the rest of us that an find happiness in their misery. They come out of the shit pile looking fresh and clean; generally with a book deal chronicling their experience with that failure. While I'm certainly not the first to think this it's something that's been on my mind almost as often as the idea of failure.

I'm 25. I work as a middle manager at a retail chain. I have a degree from the Umass school system in Writing Rhetoric and Communication. How do I not have a job I can look at and say, "You know what Jess? You've done well."

I'm 25. I -had- a fiance. It was the sort of thing I could have easily continued on with and continued the pattern set down by so many before me, my parents included. They were happy for years. I remember that. But they've always resented each other. I remember that too. I can't set myself up for a life full of resentment. He'll be a good man for the right woman, I know it. I was not that woman however.

I'm 25. I live at home with my parents because my job doesn't pay me enough to pay back my student loans and to move on with my life.

I'm 25. And fairly lost. The GPS doesn't seem to be helping.

On the flip side...

I'm 25 and I know my self worth. I know for a fact I'm worth more than what is being given to me. And it isn't because of the self esteem parenting that so many people were raised on. The belief that we're all special snowflakes that can "save the world". I don't think I am. But gods be damned if I'm going to let that stop me from trying to one day be a wife, mother, and successful author.

I'm 25. I have a great family. Not only biologically but I'm incredibly lucky in the fact that I can't count on one hand all of my close friends. There are many I trust and keep around me as closely as I can.

I'm 25. I run a writing group that feeds and maintains the creative spirit in the community. Sadly my partner in this is in FL, but we continue on, not in spite of her absence but because when she comes home, she'll have another home to return to. The creative spirit is something that should never falter even within the confines of a modern world. One word: magic.

I'm 25 and I'm lost. But damn if I'm not having fun finding my way.

Remember: Even if your life isn't going as it's planned out in your head, remember that you have made a difference in your world. Even if it's a microcosm you did it. The road you're paving is there for a reason, so why is it?

Failure is a very sexy notion in the modern vernacular and while I could go on for a long time on the subject, I'm going to instead link you to a good blog post on it. I was surfing the internet at 4 in the morning, and found this Why is Failure so Sexy? by Tim Stevens. He's a minister somewhere and while some of his posts are a little heavy handed, I thought this one was very well written. Check it out.

Namaste,
Jessi

Next time on A BA in BS: The importance of editing as demonstrated by reworking a recent blog post.

On Inspiration

Hello all,

First off apologies are in order for my absence for the last week. It's been a little rough emotionally here and there. Then there's work. And my lack of inspiration in general. However these are more excuses than anything else. Bottom line: I'm sorry.

So now that that's out of the way, all the writers that read me should head on over to Goggles and Lace. The link will take you right to her weekly writing challenge for this week. I'm actually going to be attempting to take it after a shower and the coffee and B vitamins hit my system. Her writing exercise this week focuses around removing adjectives from your descriptions. Not ALL. Just most of them. In the end this sadistic little exercise will force you to rework your writing so that you find other ways to describe scenes than just the adjectives oft overly used. (ha see what I did there? No? Ok fine.) So if you're feeling a touch masochistic, and would like to improve your writing; do so.

So my question to you for the day is: Where do you find inspiration? Comment below or even better get to writing!

Namaste,
Jessi

Post Script: I'm also trying to throw together an official updating schedule. Should be up by the end of the weekend. =]