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.
 

Boston Strong: A Personal Reflection

It’s been almost a week.

For those of you that haven’t been following the news or anything of the like, Monday will mark one week since the Boston Marathon was heinously attacked. I live in Massachusetts and have a large amount of family (both biological and other) that either lives, or works in Boston. For a moment; time froze. There is nothing that will ever ease the news of our states home city being savagely attacked.  I waited with baited breath for phone calls, social media updates, and any sign that those I loved were ok. Thankfully, no one that I knew was injured. So many others were however, somewhere around 200 families (biological and other) felt the shock of domestic terror.

I was angry. So angry I saw red. I wanted the ones responsible dead.

Then I sat back and waited for more news. I saw one of them was no more than 19, the same age as my little sister. I wondered what happened, and for a moment, felt something I wasn’t familiar with. It was an emotion I certainly wasn’t ready for.

Remorse.

Remorse for wishing someone who is just starting out on his life; dead. Remorse for his family.

I became angry with myself when that happened. He acted without any remorse. Why did he deserve mine?

I couldn’t answer that. Not readily. But come Friday, sitting watching again as the state came to a stand still for a third time, he was caught. Lying on a boat, alone, and bleeding badly. He would live to answer for his crimes.

I breathed deep as he was caught and rushed to a hospital. For the first time in a week, I realized that it was going to be ok again.

For now.  This reality of bombs and terrorists is a day to day reality for so many across the world. Syria, Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan, and so many others. Realizing just how unsafe I felt for a week as news continued to pour in about my beloved Umass Dartmouth and the victims from the marathon, brought more than one tear to my eyes. I cried. And I sobbed. Not only for the events of Monday  but for all those that felt that there is no other way to change our world than through acts of considerable violence.

And then it hit me. Love. Compassion. Kindness of strangers. These are things that spring up in the darkest of situations. Random people reaching out, helping their fellow man; running into the war zone to break down barricades, tearing off their clothes to make tourniquets and save strangers limbs.  I cried because not only because did Boston see the worst of two individuals, but it saw the best of hundreds of them.

There is still much to be done within the city to recover and to ensure that hospital bills are covered. I may not be a Bostonian by birth but I am Boston Strong. I am an American and most of all I will persevere, and help those continue on with their lives.

If you feel compelled to help, below are two links to ensure that the victims and their families will be able to look forward to a bright tomorrow.

Red Cross:
http://www.redcross.org/ma/boston

One Fund:
http://onefundboston.org/

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

NaNoWriMo Day 5

Hey guys! A quick update and a look into my life and NaNoWriMo!!


Sorry I've been absent but hopefully this will be the start of more regular postings again. <3


Love and Letters,
Jessi

Clustering : A Brain Dump in Color

So tonight at Inkwell, we decided to go over some organizational techniques for writers, given NaNoWriMo is just around the corner... already! *deep breath*So in an effort to show the effects of clustering (yes kids, in color), I demonstrated on my NaNo storyline, thus giving you a peek into my NaNo and my clustering methods. 

In addition to this ...mess... There is a point to clustering. It's not simply to draw on white boards with pretty marker, though that does help keep you focused, but to engage your brain in active imagination cohesion. Your brain works in odd ways and not many of us can work in pretty bullet pointed lists. They are shiny, but not for everyone, just like clustering. The biggest advantage of clustering is, it forces you to see the connections inherent with your characters, theme, setting, and misc.  Suddenly all those little details you didn't want to think about need a home, and the bigger notes? They get a list on the side, or, even better, a whole separate more overarching cluster!

So give it a shot. Take a look at my mess and see what you can do with your own stories. =]

<3 

Jessi

Whole beginning cluster. Neatly color coded and a list of notes on the side

 

I'm starting to think here that Annie (the 11 yr old) may be much more
interesting than her adoptive father....

Eric wants a Dragon. * points above*

Dislikes private investors. Stupid minion demand... 

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

Speak Out with Your Geek Out: Costumes Continued

So even though Halloween is still a month and a half off, I've begun onstruction of my costume for this year. Given my last post about how much I love costumes, I'm going to share with you some of the pictures I've taken of my construction so far. It's a hat! I do so love the hat. The materials used with 1/4 yard of single ply netting in both black and purple (not tulle, that's something much finer), a purple 3 inch flower, one glittery purple and black bird, some 1 in purple satin ribbon, and a cheap top hat from iParty. Below are the results!

What are you doing for Halloween? Send me your pictures! I'll proudly post them in a special Halloween Week series of posts.

<3 Jessi

Speak Out with your Geek Out: Costumes

Ok, ok. I'm sure you guys were expecting my first Speak Out post on gaming, writing, or something of that ilk, because I talk about it CONSTANTLY. However. There are a few things with which I frequently geek out over. One of them is costuming.

If you're one of my close friends, this is no surprise to you. I've done a few costumes in the past for friends, not in the least bit excluding my work on a Final Fantasy costume extravaganza. My interests in costuming have deep roots in my love of theater and the ability of clothing to transform a person. Sometimes all it takes is a new hat to make an outfit a thousand times better. Ok, maybe not a thousand times, but pretty darn close. Beyond a simple outfit change is the mental change that's taken on by the person to sort of become that figure that they're representing.

My personal experience in the world of costuming has been short but entirely fulfilling. A few years back I created the aforementioned final fantasy costumes for myself and two of my friends for Halloween. My costume alone took about 72 hours of almost non-stop work, and countless hours on the other two. By the end, Cloud, Tifa, and Lulu emerged to a Halloween party, with rounds of compliments and a ton of congratulating. I even got mentioned in Cloud's Best Costume acceptance speech. It was all a lot of fun and to be honest something I wouldn't mind repeating. I work on costumes for Ren Faires on the side, mostly for myself. Occasionally I'll work on something for someone else, with no pay, but entirely for the love of working with the fabric and seeing the 'customer's' thrilled face at the end of it. Watching them go through fittings and adjustments, so it fits them perfectly is great.

I've always be fascinated by this sort of change. Just watching shy individuals go from their day to day to these amazing characters all because of some make-up, hair, and wardrobe. This sort of change is expected of actors and stage-folk, however the change is most remarkable from those that you have friends of, most likely. Or at the very least, you've heard them whispered about in the shadowy corners of the gaming and convention worlds. Cosplayers and LARPers. No? Oh ok, just no idea of what they are. Time for a brief explanation.

Cosplayers are “short for 'costume play',is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.” This sort of performance (and yes, it is a performance) can range from Halloween to any particular convention you attend. Often times at these conventions there are prizes for best cosplay for the weekend, with many contests and events for the costumed to parade around and show off their handy work.

LARPers are “Live action role players”. These individuals dress up in costume, must like the cosplayers , but take it a step further acting out their characters and recording their hits, misses, successes and failures within the game environment. More often than not these people can be found in groups over the weekends in the woods with their friends, practicing their craft. I should say right off the bat, that while most people have some degree of disdain in the gaming world for these people, I don't share in that opinion. Hell, I think it's great! Have I done it? No. Will I ever? Probably not. Why, you ask? Why don't you?

Regardless on your feelings on either of these categories, the idea of dressing up and acting is not a new one nor a terribly novel concept. It's trans-formative powers are amazing and quite well known throughout the world. Another wonderful example of the costuming art? Drag Queens. Love them! No really. I think it's amazing. I really do. I've watched a few on tv and then so many tutorials online about how to cover and fix and conceal things that, if I were a man, I'd have tried it by now. Helps that I have a ton of makeup. Another one of those; if you know me, you wouldn't be shocked moments.

Costuming and makeup offer the world a chance to see yourself in a different light, potentially a more positive one that will drive you to bring these sort of behavior that you may want to make slight changes in in your day to day. So think about it the next time you start your day on a sour note. Maybe throw on your favorite shirt, or spend a minute or two extra fluffing your hair. Something little that can help transform your attitude and the attitude of those around you.

Namaste,

Jessi

I am only responsible for three of these costumes, but
the party was amazing. Great memories.

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.

To Write From the World of Dreams

“Dreams are a succession of images, sounds or emotions that pass through the mind during sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, though they have been a topic of speculation and interest throughout recorded history”~Wikipedia

The idea of writing from your dreams is not a new one. In fact there are several books on the topic, prescribed through many creative writing courses all over the world in modern curriculum. With that being said, I'd like to take this Monday's blog post to discuss just that.

The Imagination Unbound

One of the lovely things about dreams and the lucid state, is that in parts, things flow together. They cause one to almost feel as though there is nothing more natural than a potted petunia floating through the dangerous purple sky. It doesn't matter that it simply doesn't make sense, but allows the mind to meander in and out of the lovely absurdism that is created when our minds relax. The simplistic Dali-esque version of our brains actually speaks volumes as to who we are as a person. No. Stop right there. I'm not telling you that Freud was right and that you have an inherent crush on your mother/father and there's nothing you can do about it. I'm more getting at the fact that, the things you dream about are relevant to your life. These images can often be helpful reminders to the things that populate the waking world as well as our dreams.

Let your imagination that populates your dreams, flood into your writing, whether it be a journal (dream journal, for example) or your works of fiction. Especially your works of fiction. Imagination is your greatest tool. Use it!

Dream a Little...Awful Dream

Like dreams, sometimes there are bad stories. Bad dreams leave us rocked with an uneasy, fearful, and sometimes dumbfounded. These however can be launching points for some great stories. Why not take that moment in your dream where everything went wrong and use it as a pivotal moment in your next short? Or take the moment where things came to a sudden head and then you were left sitting on the side of the street, eating ice cream as a moment of peace within your storyline?

All of the oddities and awful things that happen in dreams can be used. Bad stories, give us things we can use, even if we have to trash the world around it. Why not use our awful, very bad, no-good dreams in a similar fashion?

Tell Your Inner Critic to 'Put a Sock In It'

Another of the great aspects about dreams and the dreaming, is that very rarely can you stop the dream. You can't just grab the reins and suddenly you're in control. Sometimes you can, but not often.

The lesson here is that sometimes, you just need to get that voice of doubt and your inner critic out of the way. These are the voices that keep you from achieving the impossible within the confines of your story. Take the story and just write. In the spirit of many writing competitions, like NaNoWriMo; just write. Ignore that inner voice. Seriously. What does that guy know anyway? You want a wombat themed race of semi-sentient individuals to overthrow the piranha pirates of Bangladesh? Do it. Flying naked mole rats. Why not? A lazy ferret to motivate your main? Ok well for some of us, that's a little closer to truth than fiction.

So write. Write all you can. Use your dreams and your imagination to guide you. Step back from the rules set forth by grammar and good taste, and begin! Those rules will be there when you're done. You can always go back through after and begin the refining process (psst it's called editing for a reason). Don't take all of your wackiness out of it. Be your crazy, dream possessed self and write what ever comes your way.

~Writing Task for the Week~
Are you an avid dreamer? Do you only dream once in a blue moon? Either way, keep a notepad next to your bed, and anything you find intriguing about your dreams, jot it down as soon as you wake up. Story seeds come from interesting places, and your dreams will often be the source for more than a few, whether you realize it or not.

Cheers,
Jessi

A Word War!

So I was going to try to stream myself writing and responding to comments, however, Shockwave flash kept dying on me. X_x So, instead I decided to film my writing, during a word war, and this is what came out. It's sort of a glimpse into my creative process and the writing that one engages in while frantically getting your word count as high as possible in the allotted time frame. It's certainly an experience if you've never done a word war through the Dr. Wicked site. I tend to go with the settings at 15 minutes, no word count, Kamikaze Mode in the consequences (eep!), and the Evil Grace period. It seems to work fairly well and it's what gets me through most of my daily word counts.



Enjoy! <3

Jessi

Inkwell Recap for 8/01/2011 : A Guest Speaker

Good Monday All!

Hello and welcome to the first Inkwell Recap in a .. month or so. That's partially my fault, with being completely and utterly creatively exhausted with my attempts at the first attempt at Camp NaNo eating up all that my muse could offer, and it wasn't enough. That is to say, my first months' attempt failed completely and utterly. That however is neither here nor there. This is about what went down at Inkwell tonight.

Zack, one of our younger members, and easily one of the more talented, offered his views on the writing process and his helpful tips, along with the writing exercise I'll provide you with at the bottom of this entry. His advice was insightful and above all gave all the writers permission to suck. Look, this isn't new advice, but to someone, somewhere it's actually fairly radical. The ability to let yourself suck in order to get your first draft out is something that not a lot of writers allow, or even let themselves do. Below is the video to the Vlog Brothers entry by Maureen Johnson, a well known author in the YA Genre.



In addition to this bit of insight, he offered a writing challenge that has been deemed one of the hardest to do given the subject matter and the delicacy with which it has to be handled. With that being said, I leave you with the classic T.S. Eliot/John Gardner writing prompt.

This exercise is quite possibly the most difficult, demanding and important exercise a writer can ever do. The poet and critic, T. S. Eliot, coined the phrase “objective correlative” to designate what he believed was the most important element in writing: Rendering the description of an object so that the emotional state of the character from whose point of view we receive the description is revealed WITHOUT ever telling the reader what that emotional state is or what has motivated it.

The late John Gardner, recognized in his lifetime as the leading creative writing teacher in the United States, developed the following exercise for students:

A middle-age man is waiting at a bus stop. He has just learned that his son has died violently. Describe the setting from the man’s point of view WITHOUT telling your reader what has happened. How will the street look to this man? What are the sounds? Odors? Colors? That this man will notice? What will his clothes feel like? Write a 250 word description

Respond with your flash fiction in the comments section if you feel so compelled. This was my response.

I sat, cell phone dropping from my hands in perceived slow motion. I had no strength. Nothing left within me to propel me forward; to get me to care about what was going on. The air was silent and the music that played a continuous theme to my life seemed to come crashing to a halt, jumbled up behind the last sentence I had heard. A screech filled the deadened air and I looked up, seeing a bus pull towards the curb. I glanced to my side at the man sitting with me on the bench. He was saying something. What I couldn’t tell, but from the lip movement, he seemed to be asking if I was ok. I shook my head; in a sort of gesture I could hear him. His ragged gloves hand, gripped my shoulder and I looked to where the cell phone had fallen. I went to go pick it up and someone handed it to me, their cool blue eyes meeting my own. All at once, the noises of the day to day world came rushing back. The cars, the voices of the people around me, and my wife’s voice on the other end of the cell phone, seeing if I was still there. It had started off like any other day, and now the world seemed to have settled into cooler shades of black and grey. The concrete seemed darker, and the bus that pulled up in front of the stop wasn’t its normal vibrant blue. The sour smells of the city, seemed more pungent. The sky had clouded over, shadowing all that surrounded, as if to echo my mood. The whoosh of the doors to the bus opened with a gust of air, blowing what was left of my hair backwards.

“All aboard, last stop approaching” The shock of the moment seemed to wear off and in that moment I simply cried. Collapsed onto the bench and cried. This street would be forever changed.

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

Just a Quick Thank You and a Poem

I just wanted to say a quick thank you to my readers. You guys have made it a record setting month for blog traffic (even beating out the November with all my NaNo related posts!). I can't say 'Thank you' enough! I truly appreciate your readership and look forward to more feedback. Surprises are in store for June, so just hold on and stay tuned!

There will be a writing challenge up for the week in lieu of an Inkwell recap, given tomorrow is Memorial Day, and we're not meeting. With that in mind, below is a poem on the holiday. Take a second and read it over if you have the time.

Until later,
Jessi

For Our Troops
© 2007 Brooke O'Neill Emery

MEMORIAL DAY, 2007

FOR OUR TROOPS (both past and present, but particularly in Iraq and Afghanistan at present)

Though I don't know your name
And I have never seen your face
I shed tears for you.

Though my memories don't contain a time
We shared together
I miss you.

Though we are not related
You are in my thoughts.

When I'm eating, or taking a shower, or doing housework,
I think of you, knowing how much you wish you could be at home,
Your stomach full, doing mundane chores such as cleaning your house,
Clean from a fresh shower.

Though you are at terrible risk, and perhaps may not survive,
You are NEVER ALONE, and will always be alive
If only in our spirits, hopes and memories, our dreams for your future.

There are MILLIONS of people praying for you tonight
And throughout the day.

Praying for your safely and return as a whole person
In mind, body and spirit.

We are crying because we know. We know you are scared, and lonely.
And that you'd give anything to see your family, to hug you mother, father.
Your child, sister, brother, aunt, uncle.

To be showered with love and comfort,
Instead of sand and shrapnel.

We long for you too, with an ache so desperate as to make us insane.
To touch your face, see your smile; share your laughter and your tears.

We love you so much soldiers, you cannot know. You cannot fathom the swelling of pride in our chest as we think of you.
Of your courage and your sacrifice, the hope that you can come home soon.

And those that have returned, we have not forgotten you; you are in our prayers,
That you may recover from your experience and be healed.

No matter what anyone says, not matter the reason you are there,
You are a UNITED STATES SOLDIER, and you make us PROUD!!
Every day for that beautiful flag, for our great fortune to be Americans.

There are no politics, no scandals, no mistakes, NOTHING, which can diminish the sentiment we have for you.
And even as democracy permits free speech, as it should, which some may use to make judgments or cast aspersions,
Remember always, we know you'd rather be on the couch debating it with us than spending your days trying just to stay alive.

Let no "freedom of speech' EVER make you doubt the American people's faith in and love for you.
We are PROUD!

I've never met you, but I want you to know that I love you.
I'm praying for you.
I honor you.
I'm waiting for your return.

On this Memorial Day, 2007, and every day,
Please know that you are being though of.
WE MISS YOU.
GOD BLESS YOU and keep you until the day we can celebrate face to face.

Sex, sex, sex, oh yeah and some real life events... in a City

I love to hate Sex and the City. The television show. You know the one with the overly perfect group of four friends, struggling through their late 20's into their mid-40's that have too much sex? Yeah that's the one. I think it's bad for women. Not in the 'everyone should strive not to have as much sex as they do' kinda way. You want to have that much sex? Go for it. I'm not even going to go into the fact that there are so many inconsistencies in the show that don't ever add up, that the show might as well have been a horny teenage virgins dream about what her and her friends would be like, if they owned a good bra and great shoes. Because shoes fix everything, don't you know.

I hate Sex and the City and all the shows like it because they're spot on in places and it infuriates me. I'm a fairly strong woman, with a decent amount going for her. So why am I single? Oh right. Because I'm a neurotic mess compiled with a slew of walking contradictions. Where the hell are my Jimmy Choos?

Of course all of this was brought up by the fact that I was being a stereotypical 20-something woman, sitting on the couch, talking to an ex about what went wrong, and halfheartedly watching a rerun of, you guessed it, Sex and the City. All I needed was my Northface jacket and a yogurt.

So there I was, at midnight on a friday night, house bound, mostly because of allergies; admittedly, watching a show entirely aimed at people like me. Just like a shot to my heart the nightly question Carrie asks herself is raised. “Soulmates: Reality or Torture Device?” So I bring it up to my ex. He says reality. Of course he does. I had to roll my eyes. It wasn't that I didn't think his answer was genuine, simply that for me, the idea of running across the one person I would spend the rest of my life with is an absurd concept. I've already come across two men I could have married. One of them even had a good job. Maybe I'd have my Jimmy's if I'd stayed... (I jest, of course). And then the thought occurred to me, I'm just not ready. Not an unusual thought of late, simply one that happened to meander through my brain at the wrong time. Hell I don't know if I'll ever be ready, I convince myself. I mean just reently I learned that I could legitimately be attracted to someone again. Sparks and all! Well no fireworks yet, or maybe ever. I really don't care. Is it odd though, that even as unready as I am, I still want to be able to come home to someone?

Once more my life seems to brush up on the edge of cliché and passe. I'm sitting in my pajama shorts, wrapped up in a blanket, typing this all away, with a distinct inner monologue playing, guiding my fingers to the right keys. Ultimately, my life is my own. Cliché or not. But man is being single getting old fast. I don't want Mr. Right-Now anymore. Then again I'm not ready for Mr. Right. Or who knows. Maybe I am and he just hasn't shown up with a white horse in shining armor yet. Maybe if I hold up a sign... Nah. I'd be allergic to the horse anyway.

At the heart of the show, Sex and the City is a feel good mostly romcom that tries to emulate real life as little as possible while still making a passable facade. The women are stereotypical and for the most part, fairly 2D. Doesn't mean I don't love them any more or less. The thing I love about the show? Knowing that if the ever crazy women of tat show can find love... maybe it's not a lost cause. But until that knight of mine shows up, I'm going to keep wandering in no-mans land blindfolded. I really hope they deactivated most of the mines.

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.

On love, infatuation, and lust

It's funny that the longer I'm single or even just dating, the more I tend to wax poetic about love, lust and the feelings of twitter-pation (no it's not a word, but yes I'm using it anyway). Recently I ran into someone that made my heart skip. I can't tell you how long it's been since that happened. This realization that I'm still alive in the romantic sense, kind of made me happier than anything else in the world could have. And then there's the crushing reality of the potential relationship. There's the fear. There's the anxiety. There's the potential to be hurt. Again. Most of all it's probably best summarized in this quote by Neil Gaiman.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love."
— Neil Gaiman (The Kindly Ones)

I don't hate it. I just severely dislike it's unpleasant effects on my thought process. Like many, I tend towards stupidity in that I can't stop thinking about the other person I'm with. I don't even have to be with them constantly for it to happen. Heck the more I'm apart, I wonder what they're doing, hoping that they're having the best day possible, but knowing that something minor has gone wrong somewhere. I can't help but smile thinking I'll hear about it and try to fix it.

But gods be damned, when they let go, or you let go, and things begin to slip through the cracks... love is one of the most painful experiences. My heart breaks when I heard those words, or I had to say them.I cried for days when I realized I couldn't stop the inevitable. There's something about being faced with an oncoming train that makes me crumble in front of it.

So here I sit, after midnight, typing away at the things that have earned my ire. Are the relationships worth it? Yes. All the pain in the world is worth hearing someone sigh genuinely, and say "I love you". And for that... I'll eternally be a fool.

Namaste,
Jessi

Thoughts on the idea of 'Quitting the Day Job'

Sitting quietly at my computer desk, sequestered upstairs on the third floor, still at my parents house, I'm reading a fellow bloggers', somewhat smiling, religion-filled, post (I'd say rant but in general she's too happy to rant, always picking and choosing her words that will have the least negative impact on her audience) where she's ultimately decided to quit her teaching job and live off her husbands income and the 'bonus' income of her newly minted contract with XYZ Publishing. And though her writing is simple and sweet, I can't help but snarl at her post and want to reach through my computer to hers and shake her violently, growling "What the hell is wrong with you?!" over and over again until she realizes just how lucky she is.

I want that contract. She can keep her husband, 2 year old son and hell, even the day job that I wish I could quit. I'm envious, and while I don't think religion would look highly on it, hell, that's where I am. I work, and work, and work, some more waiting for that magical day when all of my problems will be solved by writing.

But I unlike some of my fellow aspiring authors, won't ever quit my day job. It's awful, of that there is no doubt. I'm fairly convinced that by 26, I'll have my first few grey hairs, and I'll be able to follow through with my threat of billing Wal*Mart for my salon costs. My direct supervisor thinks it's funny. I think it's a real issue.

The truth is though, that even if I'm working elsewhere by the time I get my magical 'fix-it-all' contract (which it won't), I won't quit. I can't. There's a piece of me that thinks I should be working more than one job while writing. That same piece of me, also doesn't seem to think that time away with friends is important. So I routinely kick that piece between the eyes, to keep it down, like a good little ho. It keeps me sane, but still the bruised figment drives me to work like a crazy person. I have volumes of work that have never been seen. Why?

Fear. That is where this particular woman and I split. She doesn't have fear, because she trusts in the big invisible man in the sky. She lives a biblical life, for which I'm sure they've saved her the very best, white chair to do all of her afterlife writing in. Me? I'm probably going elsewhere in the afterlife, to slave away as some poor souls, decrepit muse. I feel bad for the poor slob already.

But I digress. My issues with the bloggers' pseudo whining and amazing faith in the unknown aside, fear; and all it's lovely pitfalls, is what stands between us. She's overcome it. I have not. And ultimately I am the only one to blame for that. But hold the phone if you think I'm going down the path of the whiny, empathetic sap that sits at home and writes blog posts with nothing greater than the tears of my readers to fuel me. Hell, I hope you don't ever cry at anything I write. I know this probably won't be the case, but even if you do, I promise I won't collect your tears.

Quite to the opposite, all it does is make me want to work harder. I've never been the kind of person to just let life happen. And far too often, that's what happens. Recently there's been someone in my life, recommending the teachings of Zen and how my life would be improved if I followed them. I had to half choke back a laugh, thinking 'I'm really not very good a my own faith most of the time, you want me to add daily meditations and the belief that we live one moment at a time to that? Good luck'.It seems to be doing wonders for him, but honestly, I'll stay angry and cynical, thanks. It fuels my need to be better. My drive to push past all of this and finally say "I'm published".

I'm waiting quite impatiently for a decision on a submission I sent out about a month back. One month down. Two to go. It's not about the money that the piece would provide (because flash fiction submissions never pay well, allow me to reassure you) but because I want to be able to hold out the book and open it to my page and say "Ha! Someone thought I was worth publishing!".

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter who made it in the industry. I'm envious of them. There's just something so smug about the post that made me angry. I'm happy for her, truly. But honestly. Don't take the writing world for granted. It's a cruel mistress. One that could replace a God abiding good woman with someone like me, who goes to church once in a while, and in general wouldn't make much of an angel. I'd use the halo as a Frisbee, starting up heavens very own ultimate Frisbee league. I'm a strong woman, who says fuck way too much, used to smoke, drinks with friends, and raises a soliciting eyebrow to most religious folks, wondering how they won't ask all the wrong questions to get to where they are.

Religion and writing muses are odd bunk mates in my head.

So good luck to all of you that think that writing will be a magic fix all but, thanks; I'll stay over here in reality, where I'll work just as hard if not harder to keep myself and myself afloat. I'll write until my fingers bleed and work until my feet are ready to give out. And I won't regret a moment of it.