Laila's Fictional World

Testing mobile blogging

2010-12-12T14:30:00.001-08:00

I'm set to revive this blog of fiction, I have some plans and now that my internet is with me at all times, I just wanted to briefly test this blogger tool before composing a big story ;)

Merry Christmas all!
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Eulogy to an old Friendship

2010-03-11T20:40:00.000-08:00

I haven't posted any stories in awhile. I guess I've just been too busy drooling over big rigs (18wheelbeauties.blogspot.com) to come up with fiction ;) There is a lot of fiction yet to be posted ... and even more so, there is a lot of fiction yet to be written!

The one I'm posting now is kind of a simple story that I wrote a few years ago. It wasn't my first short story, but it was certainly one I wrote at a time when my stories were simpler and my critical eye was a bit more blurry ... or untrained :). I could probably go through it now and update it, make it better ... make it less cheesy (cause it is full of cheese...), fix grammar and other errors that I couldn't spot then but I can spot now .... but I won't. It's kind of neat for me to go back and read my old stories, I like to keep them the way they were ... if I want to mess with it, I'd rather write something new.

So anyway ... certainly not a masterpiece, but I still hope you enjoy it .... :)

****************************************************

Eulogy to an old friendship

The big menacing airplane rolled out onto the runway and Kathleen’s eyes were tearing up as she looked out the tiny window. It was a sad day. The gray sky was a reflection of her inner self. Big, heavy tears were dripping from the sky and as they collided with the black asphalt, each drop shattered into another thousand tears as if this sorrow would never end.

As the plane distanced itself from the terminals, it picked up the pace. She was brutally pushed back in her seat and finally they broke contact with solid ground, only to soar with the mist and the black clouds in the hazy sky, hundreds and thousands of feet up in the air.

Next to her sat Alex. His face was pale like an undead and stood in deep contrast to his raven black hair. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, knowing that there was no way she could provide comfort for his broken heart at this time.

She had just buried her best friend and he had buried his fiancé.

It was possibly the worst day in their lives.

Neither of them felt like talking much, so they sat in silence the whole way from Florida to Seattle. It was a long ride, but it seemed to be over much too soon.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

She was lost in daydreams and jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What are friends for,” she smiled. “Besides, it’ll be fun to try something new.”

“I just couldn’t stand staying there anymore, I had to get away,” he said.

“I understand,” she nodded.

“You understand everything,” he smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes.

The “fasten seatbelt” sign lit up, and she knew they were approaching their destination. She heard a soft thump as the wheels on the plane hit the asphalt. They were taxing in towards the terminal, and all the passengers started milling around in the narrow aisles, making the huge Boeing feel entirely too small.

Kathleen looked out the window, and was facing the same view she had just left behind, a gray and rainy day.

They hailed a cab and headed for the hotel, where they would be staying until they had found somewhere to live.

She hugged Alex tightly before they went to their rooms.

“Try to get some sleep Alex, you look awful,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me?”

He shook his head.

“I need to be alone with her,” he said.

She was left standing in the hallway, watching him walk down the corridor towards his room. His shoulders were shaking and she knew he was crying. She felt helpless.

*********

After three weeks staying in the hotel, Alex had finally found an apartment he liked. Kathleen was still on the hunt.

Alex teased her one morning at breakfast.

“You’re just being picky,” he stated.

“I am not!” she grinned.

“Well, I’m moving in tomorrow, do you want to stay with me until you find somewhere to live?”

Kathleen looked up at him.

“Are you sure?”

He nodded. “I’m sure. No sense in wasting your money on hotels.” Then a sly grin spread on his face. “Besides, I need someone to help me decorate and carry furniture.”

“Oh you bully,” Kathleen laughed and hit him gently with a cloth napkin.

She got serious and grabbed his hand.

“This is going to take a long time you know,” she said and looked him in the eyes.

He nodded and knew she wasn’t talking about the apartment.

“I miss her so much,” he lowered his voice and swallowed hard; she knew he was constantly on the verge of tears.

“Me too Alex,” she whispered. “Me too.”

**************

“Watch it so you don’t drop it!”

Kathleen was standing on the top of the stairs carrying one end of a loveseat and Alex was at the bottom, lifting the other end. Luckily he lived on the first floor.

“Ok, you can move now,” he hollered. “Let’s get this sucker in.”

They had been visiting furniture stores all day. Since they had both sold everything before moving to Seattle, there were no boxes to carry and unpack, but they had to do a lot of shopping. Finally the last piece for the day was in place. Alex had a bed, a couple of couches and a TV. The rest would slowly get purchased as needed.

“Thanks for helping me out Kat,” he said and ruffled her thick blonde hair.

“Oh like I had a choice,” she grinned but they both knew she would have helped him regardless, just like he would help her once she found her place.

“I love you Alex,” she said.

“Love you too Kat,” he smiled and gave her a big warm bear hug. “How long has it been now? 10 years?”

“Let’s see, I hit you in the forehead with that baseball in seventh grade. I hate to break it to you but we’re getting old. It has been more like 15 years,” she stated.

“Oh geez,” Alex laughed. “That hurt!”

“What, you only got 3 stitches you sissy,” she teased him.

“Not that,” he said. “The 15-years-not-10-years thing you just mentioned.”

“Oh you old grumpy man,” she chuckled.

“Hey, that means you are old too,” he grinned.

They had bantered back and forth like this for as long as they had known each other, and they loved it.

“So I’ll inhabit this couch for a few days then,” she said. “Let’s get some food then we can kick it with the TV till we get tired.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alex agreed. However, after having moved couches and TVs all day, they had barely turned on the new TV and eaten about three french-fries, before they were both curled up and sound asleep on the couch.

Seattle was starting to feel like home.

Kathleen woke up early the next morning, and Alex was still asleep. Gently she ran her fingers through his soft hair. He mumbled something in his sleep and she quietly got up from the couch so she wouldn’t wake him. She walked across the floor and sat down in the windowsill. It was still dark outside. Cold morning draft was seeping in through a crack in the window, giving her goose bumps. A car was coughing in the distance as its owner desperately tried to start it up to get to work. The echo of a loud car alarm sounded from a nearby garage, doing its best to wake up the neighborhood, while outside the window, a group of crows was debating loudly over who would get the first morning worm. The streetlights were still lit, but it was getting brighter outside by the minute, and soon a hazy fog had replaced the darkness and the day had begun.

It had been crazy, this decision to move away to a random city and start over. Neither her nor Alex had left much behind in Florida, and neither of them had ever really liked it down there. They had just accepted that it was where they were born, where they grew up and most likely it would be where they would die. However, Suzan’s death had sparked some thoughts and they had concluded that they did not want to die in Florida. They would rather live somewhere else. One night they had pulled out a map of the USA and studied all 50 states and hundreds of cities to see where they would like it the best. Although Hawaii had been tempting, they had finally decided on Seattle. Like Alex had said: “If we move to Hawaii, then where would we go on vacation?”

Kathleen sighed and got up from the windowsill. She stumbled in to the kitchen and started cooking up breakfast. The smell of eggs and bacon cooking on the grill woke Alex up, and soon they were having their own breakfast feast in his new apartment.

“This is nice,” Alex smiled. “I love this place already.”

“It’s a little better now that the “new” smell is gone and we have added food scent to walls and ceilings,” she grinned.

They finished up their breakfast, then scattered for the day to do their chores.

Two months went by and one night Kathleen came home very late. She slammed the door shut and ran inside, excited to tell Alex her good news.

“I found it, I found it, you won’t believe…” She came to a halt when she saw Alex curled up on the couch.

“Alex.” At the sound of his name, he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Sometimes I just miss her so much.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kathleen said and sat down on the couch next to him. “Just cry. It’s good for you.” He put his head on her shoulder and she felt his tears soaking through her sweater, making it wet.

Deep inside, Kathleen felt slightly selfish. She kept thinking that this moment had ruined her good news. Not only had she found a place to live, but also she had found a job in a pet store nearby and had been thrilled. However, the moment had passed, and yet again they were wrapped up in tears and depression all night long.

***********

“Kat, this is a palace!” Alex saw her place for the first time. Kathleen had found a quaint little house for rent, and would pay about as much for it as Alex was paying for his one-bedroom apartment.

“See? Does it pay off to be a little picky?” She flew up the concrete stairs and unlocked the front door. This house had a backyard, two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a good-sized living room and a 1-car garage. Of course, neither of them had a car yet but it was good to have a storage place.

“You suck!” Alex said and she grinned.

“So when are you moving here?” he asked her.

“In two days. I’ve got some furniture arriving tomorrow, then my bed arrives on Thursday, so if I can bother you for two more days I’ll be out of your apartment by then.”

Alex rolled his eyes and made a gesture as if he was doing her a huge favor. “I guess so, boy, you’re such a burden too you know,” he said.

“Shut up,” she said. “Come see my place now.”

Wednesday passed, then Thursday came along, and she was getting excited to move in to her new place. It was their last night living together in his apartment, and they went shopping for steaks and red wine to really celebrate their new life.

“I’m going to miss you Kat,” he said as they were cooking the food. He was in charge of the steaks while she was preparing a nice salad.

“I’m only a few minutes away Alex,” she said.

“Yeah but I’m used to having someone here, it’ll be cold and empty.”

“I know,” she said. She put her knife down and turned around. “I’m going to miss you too,” she said and embraced him from behind. “But we’ll be alright.”

He left the steaks cooking and turned around to face her. She looked up into his deep brown eyes. His face approached hers and she closed her eyes. Seconds later she felt his lips touching hers in a soft kiss. When it was over, she opened her eyes again and looked at him.

“Wow, did you feel that?” he said.

“No, not really,” she said.

“Neither did I,” he continued and gave her a confused look.

“Like eating cardboard,” she laughed.

“Nothing, not even a tingle.” He sighed and continued with his steaks. “It just goes to prove, we’re meant to be friends for life you and I Kat,” he said.

The meal turned out great and they were chatting and having a great time.

“You’re the best, Kat,” he said.

“No you are,” she replied with laughter.

“You are!” he tossed a piece of lettuce at her.

“Don’t argue with me, you are,” she grinned and tossed it back.

“Actually… she was,” he said and that ended the banter and killed the mood.

“Alex…” Kathleen had finally had enough.

But he was already zoned out and his eyes were misty.

“Alex! Stop! Enough already,” Kathleen was getting frustrated. “She’s dead! She’s gone! We all miss her. I wish every day that she wouldn’t have gone out for a drive, but she did, and she got hit and killed. It happened! She wants us to move on Alex, you and I are still alive.”

“So you just want me to pretend that I don’t miss her and just be happy? You don’t want a crybaby along on the ride?” His words were harsh and made no sense.

“I look at you, and I want Suzan to be here. Why did she have to die and not…”

“Not me? You’re angry at me for being alive?” Kathleen was appalled at the insinuation. He didn’t say anything more.

“That’s a low blow Alex, I’ve been here for you, comforting you, going out of my way trying to make you feel better. Never once did you stop to comfort me, you act like you’re the only one in the world who is allowed to grieve! She was my friend too you know, I miss her too. We all have bad days and good days, but every time we’re having fun you seem to be feeling guilty, and then you ruin it, you poke a hole in the balloon.” She paused for a moment then she continued.

“Now we moved out here to break up and get away. That doesn’t mean we’re not thinking about her, but we’re alive and she’s dead Alex, we need to move on. Now if you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll leave this hole of depression, walk over to my own place and let you wallow in self-pity. I’ve had it!”

Alex left the table, knocked a chair over in the process and stormed in to his bedroom, where he slammed the door shut. He yelled at her through the door, but she didn’t answer him.

Blinded by tears she fumbled around the apartment for her keys and some clothes, then she left. Slowly she walked along the sidewalk, sobbing and wiping her eyes. After having walked around for a while, she realized that she was lost. She found a payphone and called for a cab, which took her to her new house. Finally she was home. She was in her new house and she should feel ecstatic. Instead, Alex had yet again destroyed her moment, and it was the last time she would let it happen.

**********

Harsh words had been spilled that night, and their relationship never turned back to the way it had been. Alex never said he was sorry, never admitted that maybe he had been a little selfish and eventually they drifted apart. Kathleen knew she had been brutally honest with him, but she wasn’t taking it back. Maybe being apart for a while was for the best. Maybe she had reminded him too much of a happy past, when Suzan had still been alive. Maybe he subconsciously had waited for their friendship to fall apart so he wouldn’t have to be reminded of Suzan every time they were together. Even worse, he had implied that he wished Kathleen could have taken Suzan’s place. It had hurt her incredibly, and she had not been able to wipe that comment from her memory.

Almost a year passed by and despite their fight and the angry words they had thrown at each other, Kathleen missed Alex deeply. Whether she was out having fun with her new friends or sitting home alone, she wished he were there. She had no clue what he was doing, who he was with, if he was with anybody at all. However, she was determined on leaving him alone. When he was ready, he would call.

But she waited and waited. He didn’t call. Not for Christmas, not for her birthday and not for Valentine’s Day. It was the loneliest year she could ever remember.

One night while walking some garbage out to the alley, she heard strange noises coming from her trashcan. She didn’t know if she dared to open the trashcan, but in order to dump her trash she was forced to open it. She saw nothing unusual at first. Then she must have jumped about ten feet in the air when one of the bags started moving around. Carefully she picked it up and replaced it with her own garbage bag.

It was dark already, so she brought the bag inside. As she peeked into the bag, she started to cry. Gently she pulled out three tiny adorable puppies. One was all white while the other two were black and white.

“Who did such a thing to you,” she sobbed. “Look at you three.” She couldn’t believe how cruel some people were.

One of the puppies started whimpering, and soon the other two followed his lead. “You must be starving,” she said and felt terrible since she didn’t have anything for them to eat. She found some chicken broth, which she heated up and fed to them, and it seemed to satisfy their appetite. Then she found a cardboard box where they could sleep for the night.

“I’ll take you to work tomorrow. I’m sure I can find all three of you a good home,” she whispered while tucking them in. “Good night guys.”

She must have been asleep for five minutes when she heard some ruckus outside her bedroom door. She flew out into the living room, only to discover the white puppy sitting in the middle of a dirt pile, as he had torn one of her plants down from the table. His white paws were dirty as was the tip of his white snout, and his dark beautiful puppy eyes looked pleadingly at her.

“Aw shucks, I forgive you,” she muttered as she scooped up the puppy and carried him in to the bedroom with her. Gently she wiped his paws off and they curled up in her bed and fell asleep.

The next day she brought two puppies in to work, and succeeded in finding them both a good home. She had conveniently forgotten the third puppy at home.

“Sure you forgot him,” one of her colleagues teased her. “You better take some dog food home. Judging from the size of their paws, you can be glad you work for a pet store.”

“What breed do you think they are?” Kathleen asked her.

“I have no idea. Something big,” her colleague replied and Kathleen sighed. There was no way she had the heart to part with the white puppy, it seemed like the two of them were meant for each other. They had been brought together for a reason.

On her way home from work, Kathleen stopped by a bookstore to find a book on raising puppies. A cozy smell of paper and new books greeted her warmly as she walked in the door. She took a deep breath and let the scent sink in. It felt soothing and relaxing, and she fought an instant temptation to sit down with a book and a Starbucks coffee. Casually she started browsing through the shelves, pulling out an occasional book to read their back covers.

“Are you finding everything okay?”

A deep voice made her look up from the book she was examining, just to find herself drowning in a pair of dark brown eyes. Then she zoomed out to get a better look at the whole figure standing in front of her.

“It’s you!” they exclaimed, both at the same time.

“How have you…” They both started talking simultaneously again then they stopped and burst out laughing.

“How have you been,” he said with a warm smile.

“Good,” she replied. Alex looked great. He looked better than she ever remembered seeing him.

“Still no regrets on moving here?” He was curious.

“No I’m glad I stuck to my guns in the beginning and resisted temptation to move back, even when things fell apart with you and I. I’m happy here and I love the weather. I really think they exaggerate about the rain here. Do you think it rains a lot? But then again I don’t mind it when it rains…” Kathleen was going on and on about her thoughts on Seattle, before she interrupted herself and turned slightly red.

“I’m sorry,” she said with a smile. “I’m sure this is not very interesting.” She had no idea why she all of a sudden felt so awkward. This was Alex, her old friend… at least she thought they were still friends, even though they hadn’t seen each other for a long time.

“Don’t be sorry,” he smiled.

“So you’re looking for something to read, are you?”

He reached over her and grabbed a book from the shelf. His arm brushed against her shoulder, and they both paused, only for a millisecond, but it seemed like a lot longer.

He cleared his throat and continued reaching for the book.

“This is a good one,” he said and she looked up at him, only to discover that he was actually blushing.

“Listen, Alex…”

“Listen, Kathleen…”

“Go ahead,” she said.

“Well, would you maybe like to join me for dinner?” He fumbled with the book he was holding, letting his strong fingers run up and down the book cover, suddenly busy studying its colorful designs.

It was obvious that he just had swallowed a big chunk of pride.

Kathleen’s face lit up in a big smile and she replied,

“I would love to Alex.”

“Let me see if I can leave early,” he said and quickly walked away.

Moments later he returned.

“Let’s go,” he smiled and she followed him out.

“You bought a car!” She was excited when he held open the door to a dark blue Volvo that had been parked right outside the store.

“I bought a car,” he said, beaming with pride as he let his hand slide across the dark blue finish, before he walked around the car and got in.

He drove them out to a quaint little seafood restaurant by the lake. From the window they could look out on the water. Small boats and yachts were slowly passing by out there. Occasionally a passing speedboat would interrupt their peaceful pace, leaving the slower boats bopping up and down in its wake. As it got darker, lights came on, casting coruscating reflections on to the water surface. It was beautiful.

The food was excellent and they thoroughly enjoyed their meal, as well as each other’s company.

“So what have you been up to,” he said, between two mouthfuls of Norwegian salmon. She finished chewing her shrimp and told him all about the job at the pet store.

“Did you take half the pet store home with you yet?” he smiled and she laughed.

“You know me too well,” she teased him.

“Actually I did get a dog, but not from the store.” She told him about the bag of puppies she had found in her garbage.

“How cruel some people are!” His eyes softened as he glanced over at her and he took a deep breath.

“Kat, I’m sorry…” He started to say something when the waitress interrupted him.

“Would you two like some dessert?”

“No…” she started to reject the dessert offer, but he convinced her that she had to try a very special chocolate fudge pie.

“Only if we share it, I’m about to pop as it is,” she said and patted her waistline.

“One chocolate fudge pie and two spoons then,” he nodded and the waitress vanished to fulfill his request.

Kathleen studied Alex across the table. His thick black hair looked soft, and she felt an instant urge to run her fingers through it and ruffle it up. He was wearing a black sweater, which enhanced his handsome features. She had never before thought of him as sexy. Tonight he was. As her attention wandered to his dark brown eyes, she found him staring back at her, and instantly she knew that he had read her mind. He seemed amused by the incident, and she turned deep red and quickly looked away, all of a sudden concentrating intensely on her wine glass. Luckily the dessert was brought to their table right then and salvaged the awkward moment.

“Try this,” he said and scooped some cream, some fudge and a piece of chocolate cake on to a spoon and he fed her the treat.

“Amazing,” she said. “That’s sinfully good.”

“I told you so,” he said with a smirk and she reached for the second spoon. Eagerly they dug into the cake and in a few minutes, only the plate was left behind.

The check arrived and he insisted on paying.

“Let me at least pay for my half,” Kathleen said but he shook his head.

“No way,” he said. “This was my treat.”

“Well, I’ll pay next time then…” she hesitated for a moment, realizing that she was falling back into old habits, the habit of having him around at all times.

“That sounds good,” he said with a reassuring smile.

“I get my paycheck on Friday,” she said. “Maybe we could… well you probably have other plans,” she interrupted herself with a dismissive gesture.

“Friday is fine,” he said. “I don’t have other plans, and even if I did, what makes you think I wouldn’t cancel them to go out with my best friend.”

They smiled at each other across the table. It felt as if they had found each other again, even though some things had changed.

“Ready?” he asked as he got up from his chair.

“I can’t move,” she replied and his warm chuckle gave her goose bumps.

“You can either move or I’ll carry you out, which one will it be,” he teased her. She didn’t doubt that he would do exactly that, so to save herself from embarrassment she left the table on her own.

“Let’s take a walk on the pier,” he said and grabbed her hand.

There was a wooden dock sticking out into the water and they walked in silence for a while, listening to the tranquil sounds from the water and the mellow music seeping out from the restaurant. Their footsteps against the wooden planks were a loud contrast to the otherwise quiet night.

“I’ve missed you Kat.” His quiet voice blended in with the soft atmosphere. “You were right you know. I was impossible to be around.”

Kathleen fought her tears back.

“I’ve missed you too Alex,” she admitted. “I just… I couldn’t… You were just…”

He silenced her by gently pressing a finger against her lips.

“I needed you to do what you did,” he said. “At first I was angry at you, mad because you didn’t understand… or so I thought. It turns out it was me who didn’t understand.”

He sighed. “I’ve been seeing a psychiatrist for a few months now.”

He lowered his voice as if he was ashamed of it.

“That’s great Alex,” she smiled. “Has it helped?”

He nodded. “It helped me come to terms with myself and my grief. It was easy to leave Florida and I imagined that I could just leave everything behind and start fresh. What wasn’t easy was dealing with the fact that my grief and my emotions followed me here and didn’t let go until I dealt with them.” He paused. Then he looked at her.

“I wanted to call you Kat, I just had a lot of pride to swallow, and I still do. I’ve treated you horribly. I’m happy we ran into each other tonight. Really happy,” he said. “I never wished that you were dead, I didn’t mean it that way. You’re my friend and my soul mate. I can’t stand not being with you. Although these last months have been the loneliest months of my life, they’ve had the effect of a cold shower.”

“I love you Kat,” his voice was trembling with emotion.

“I love you too Alex,” she smiled. “Welcome back.”

His face approached hers, and she closed her eyes, waiting for the upcoming kiss to be over with, so they could laugh about eating cardboard again and move on with their lives together.

She felt his soft lips embrace hers, and it was as if a lightning bolt shot through her body, only to explode and transform into a thousand tingling butterflies.

When he ended the kiss, they looked at each other, all of a sudden at a loss for words.

Kathleen smiled and finally she got to run her fingers through his dark hair. It was just as soft as she remembered.

“Did you feel that?” Alex said.

“I felt that,” she spoke softly.

“No cardboards?” He sounded as surprised as she was.

“No cardboards,” she replied.

He hugged her tight, before they started walking back to his car in silence, reflecting on what had just happened.

“Friday then?” he said. They were parked outside her house, and she didn’t feel like leaving him yet.

“Yes,” she nodded. “If you want to.”

“I do,” he smiled.

She turned her head and looked at him. She saw a mixture of happiness, hesitance and shyness, and he looked incredibly sexy. She had never looked at him this way before. Her eyes wandered down to his lips. She wanted to kiss him again.

“I’ll pick you up here,” he said quickly and she nodded and fumbled for the door handle.

“Alex, I had a really good time,” she said. “I look forward to Friday.”

“Me too,” he said with a big smile.

She watched the taillights of his car become smaller and smaller until they vanished into the cool Seattle night.

The puppy was waiting for her when she got in. She didn’t care that her living room looked like a tornado had swept through it, she was happier now than she had ever been in her life. Everything finally felt so right.

“Alex is back,” she said with a happy voice and the puppy didn’t quite understand what she was so excited about. Regardless, it drowned Kathleen in little wet kisses, implying that it was excited as well over whatever it was that they were excited about.

Even though it was a busy week for Kathleen, it was possibly the slowest week in her life. She kept herself occupied with the puppy and went to the gym with her friends as usual, but her mind was constantly with Alex and their upcoming dinner. Even though they were old friends, things had changed. They were exploring new avenues within their friendship. She was extremely nervous, because if they went the wrong way and disaster struck; their friendship could shatter beyond repair.

Finally it was Friday. Her boss let her out early, and with a fresh paycheck in hand and a hot date ahead, she went shopping for something new to wear. As she was trying on dresses, she examined herself in the mirror. She was faced by the reflection of an average looking girl, who tonight was radiating. A hint of natural blush was coloring her fair skin and her blue eyes were sparkling with excitement. She ran her fingers through her thick blonde mane, which had grown well past shoulder length by now.

After having tried on a number of dresses, she picked out a smart navy blue outfit, which enhanced all her right curves and concealed all the wrong ones. Kathleen had to laugh at herself. Since when did she care about these things with Alex, who had seen her at her worst with zits, greasy hair and dressed in worn out ugly sweatpants?

It was just Alex!

She came home and got dressed just in time. A car horn honked outside her door just as she buckled her last shoe.

“Hey you,” he smiled as she opened the car door. She noticed that he too had spent extra time on his looks this evening, and she could even detect a hint of cologne as she gave him a warm hug.

“It’s finally Friday,” she blurted out, and turned red as soon as she realized how eager she sounded.

He laughed at her, before admitting that he had been waiting as well.

“Where are we going then?” he said. “It’s your treat right?”

Kathleen nodded. “I’m afraid you’ll need to help me pick a restaurant, because I don’t know a lot of places yet. I know we’ve lived here for awhile, but believe it or not, I haven’t been on a lot of hot dates and most of my meals have been cooked and consumed in my own kitchen.”

“What kind of food do you feel like?” he asked her.

“How about pasta? Are there any good pasta places around here? And don’t go cheap on us, let’s go somewhere nice,” she grinned. “I’ve got a paycheck and I’m willing to spend it!”

“You got it,” he said and they drove off.

He picked out a wonderful Italian restaurant. The atmosphere was very nice and she could tell that great effort had gone into making this place as genuine Italian as possible. They could see the ovens and the grills in the open kitchen, where the chefs were yelling and screaming at each other like hot-tempered Italians. A singer was serenading the guests, touring the tables and taking song requests. Some people were embarrassed by all the attention she brought to their table, while others stared at her in awe and gave her an extra dollar or two for her efforts.

“This is great,” Kathleen commented as she finished her last ravioli and thoroughly wiped her mouth with a napkin, making sure she didn’t have pasta sauce dripping from her mouth.

“I’ve been here a couple of times before but it’s too pricey to be my favorite place. Food wise though, it’s a favorite,” Alex said.

“Have you been on dates?” Kathleen asked him. He nodded.

“I went on a few but they didn’t work out.”

“I haven’t really dated anybody,” Kathleen said. “I’ve been busy settling in.”

“Well, don’t forget, I was busy ignoring certain emotional issues for awhile, and that’s when I went on these dates, to prove to myself that I was doing okay. It all blew up in my face, didn’t it?” He smiled and shook his head.

“And I was so close to losing you, my best friend. Never let me do anything stupid like that again,” he said and she laughed.

“Well, you weren’t listening to me so I’m not sure how I could have prevented you from being an idiot.”

He grabbed her hand across the table.

“Do you want to ride the ferry?”

“What?” She wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

“The ferry,” he said. “It’s still early, we can go for a ferry ride back and forth across the Puget Sound.”

“I haven’t been on the ferries yet,” she said.

“Let’s go then,” he smiled.

“Ok, let’s do it,” she said, and all of a sudden she was excited to ride the ferry. On the way there he made a stop at a liquor store, where he bought a bottle of red wine, which he put on the inner pocket of his jacket.

It was 10 pm when they walked onboard the passenger ferry to Bainbridge Island.

“Let’s go outside,” he said and took her hand. They found a nice private corner that wasn’t too windy. He took his jacket off and placed it on deck, then gestured that they’d sit down.

Hesitantly she pulled her skirt together and sunk down onto the hard, cold floor. The sea breeze brushed across her face, leaving it drizzling wet and a bit sticky from the ocean spray. She untied the braid she had been working on so hard earlier that night, just so the wind could weave her blonde strays of hair back together again. With a deep sigh of satisfaction, she closed her eyes and turned her face in the direction of the wind, enjoying the soothing massage it was offering her.

“Kathleen?”

She heard Alex calling her name. Slowly she opened her eyes, and found a Dixie cup half full with red wine in front of her.

“Ah, so this was the purpose of the wine,” she smiled.

“Cheers,” she said and let the cup touch his before she lifting the cup to her lips, tasting the sweet liquid.

“So are we friends again?” he asked her. He had put his arms around her. She leaned back against his warm body and made herself comfortable there.

“You now it’s funny how someone’s death makes you analyze yourself and your own life,” she said. “I feel bad now for letting you go. I should have been more pushy, I should have helped you.”

“I would have ran in the opposite direction,” he mumbled. He had his face buried in her blonde hair. She felt his warm breath on the top of her head when he talked.

“In fact I did run in the opposite direction,” he continued.

She nodded.

“So what about you. Are you okay? Did you deal with all this?”

She was surprised to hear him ask about her feelings.

“I miss her. I always will,” she said. “But I came to terms with her death a long time ago. It’s all integrated and a part of me now, and I realize that the sorrow will never completely go away. It makes us a part of who we are and we carry on with a little more wisdom.”

“So are we friends?” Alex asked her again.

“I think we’ve gone beyond friendship,” Kathleen admitted. “So do I.” His voice was soft. She turned her head towards him and met his lips halfway. She felt his grip tighten around her and she sat her wine down and put her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His soft tongue was caressing her lips, and she willingly parted them to let him in. He tasted of sweet red wine as he gently caressed her tongue and they were lost in a tongue twirling passionate kiss that seemed to last forever.

They spent the rest of the night drinking wine, talking, kissing and cuddling in their private corner onboard the ferry. They missed getting off it the first time and ended up riding it twice across the sound. After the second time, the ferry stopped running for the night, and they emptied their Dixie cups and headed back to her place.

“Do you want to come inside?” she asked him as he dropped her off in front of her house.

“You won’t mind?” he asked her.

“No, I won’t mind. Don’t get the wrong idea …”

“I know,” he smiled. “I’m just not ready to leave yet.”

The puppy greeted them as they walked in the door, and Alex immediately fell in love with it.

“I can’t have animals in my apartment,” he pouted.

“Well maybe you will…” Kathleen interrupted herself and he laughed, as he very well knew what was running through her mind.

“Maybe I will,” he said and pulled her down on to the couch. He lied flat out on his back and she stretched out on top of him, staring deeply into his dark eyes.

“Never in those fifteen years did I realize how good-looking you are,” she smiled.

“Gee thanks,” he grinned.

She captured his lips in an intimate kiss and his arms tightened around her, pressing her as close towards his masculine body as she could get. They were passionately occupied with each other when they heard the puppy whimpering; obviously feeling neglected and left out. Kathleen hesitantly let go of Alex’ lips and found the puppy sitting next to a suspicious looking puddle on her wooden floor.

Alex started laughing.

“Maybe I won’t,” he said, but she gave him another convincing kiss before she got up to clean up the mess.

“Ok maybe I will,” he grinned and licked his lips before he sat back up on the couch.

“Hey Kathleen…” He sounded hesitant to continue on whatever he wanted to say.

“Yes Alex?” Kathleen replied while cleaning up the puppy’s mess.

“It’s time to take Suzan for a last ride,” he said. “Can you come with me tomorrow?”

Kathleen smiled at him and nodded. Of course she would.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

“I guess I better go home,” he continued and started moving towards the front door. “I’ll pick you up…”

“Alex, don’t leave. I just… I don’t want you to go,” she said.

He hesitated for a minute.

“I guess I could sleep on the couch with the puppy,” he said.

“I’ll share my bed with you,” Kathleen smiled. “It’s an eastern king, it’s big enough for two people to sleep in without getting… sexy,” she finished with a grin.

“Will you just hold me?” he asked her.

“Only if you hold me too,” she replied and took his hand.

They woke up late the next day and drove out to his apartment to retrieve Suzan’s urn, before continuing out to the ferries.

“She would have loved the ferries,” Alex said. “I think this is right.”

Kathleen just smiled and grabbed his arm.

“I know,” she said. “I think so too.”

They walked onboard and as soon as the ferry started moving, they climbed out on deck. Since it was full daylight, it was harder to find a spot where they could be alone, but shortly after departure, most of the passengers moved back inside. Alex fished the urn out from his jacket. His hands were shaking violently and she was afraid he would drop it, but he seemed to have it under control.

“Let it go Alex,” Kathleen said. “Let her rest.”

“I will,” he mumbled.

“Do you want me to leave you alone for a bit?” Kathleen asked him.

“Don’t leave me,” he said. “Maybe just walk over there,” he continued and pointed to the other end of the ferry deck.

“I just need a moment.”

“I understand,” she said. He looked at her, then bent down and kissed her.

“Thank you,” he whispered and hugged her tight, before he let her go and she moved away. From where she was standing, she could see the contours of his lonely figure as he lifted an arm and tossed the urn overboard. It was impossible to see his face, but she could tell by his posture that he was crying.

The cozy ferry continued plowing its way through the waves. The wind caused Kathleen’s eyes to tear up as she looked out on the semi-rough water. It was a new day. The gray sky was no longer a reflection of her inner self; it was merely a reminder of the cycles of nature, life and death. Big, heavy tears were dripping from the sky and as they collided with the hard boat deck, each drop shattered into another thousand tears, as constant reminders of those challenges that life would continue to provide, challenges that they would stand up to and conquer.

The boat kept moving away from the Seattle shoreline. A huge wind gust swept in, and nearly caused her to fall backwards, but she proudly kept her balance. She turned her face up towards the sky, and far above her she could see the mist and the black clouds in the hazy sky, hundreds and thousands of feet up in the air.

Alex walked up next to her. His face was nice and tanned and blended perfectly in with his raven black hair. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently, and this time she knew that it provided both comfort and a nice promise for the future, and their broken hearts were finally healing.

She had just said farewell to her best friend and he had said farewell to his fiancé.

It was possibly the best day in their lives.

Neither of them felt like talking much, but cuddled up to each other and sat in silence on the ride back from Bainbridge Island to Seattle. It was a short ride, but it seemed to last forever.

“Thank you for coming with me.”

She had been lost in his eyes and smiled at the sound of his voice.

“What are friends for,” she said.

“Friends,” he grinned. “It’ll be fun to try something new.”

“I can’t stand staying there anymore, I have to get closer,” he said.

“I understand,” she nodded.

“You understand everything,” he smiled, a smile that finally reached his eyes.

The ferry slowed down. She heard a soft thump as the boat hit the docks and she knew that they had reached their destination.

I wrapped myself in a blanket - A personal memoir from 9/11

2009-09-11T09:43:00.000-07:00

(Some of you may have read this one before as I have posted it before... but since today is 9/11, I wanted to post it again.)

Note: The following story is not a political piece in any way, shape or form. It's simply a reflection of emotions and thoughts I had after the 9/11 tragedy happened. Like many authors and creative beings, I dealt with it through writing.

It's not that I want to remember these bad times so badly... it's just that I think it's important to bring it back now and then so we don't forget the emotions and the unity and everything we experienced as a nation in the wake of 9/11. This is not a master piece. It's just a random blurb of emotions and thoughts.

"I wrapped myself in a blanket and woke up to a war zone."

It was late Monday night. I started yawning louder and louder and finally I brushed my teeth and went to bed. As always I wrapped my big soft comforter around me, fluffed my pillows and sunk my head into them. I snuggled up to my husband and closed my eyes, soon enough I was sound asleep. On the opposite end of the country, someone else was just getting out of bed as I tucked myself in. Performing her usual morning ritual, she made her morning coffee and read the morning newspaper before it was time to wake the kids and her husband and get them all out the door. As her kitchen started populating and coming alive, she watched as her kids fought over the last scoop of cocoa puffs, and her husband was on his cell phone while getting ready for the day's meetings. A car horn honked from outside and he looked at his watch and sprung from his chair. He normally carpooled to work with a couple of friends. They all worked in the same building, so it made sense.
"My ride is here. I'm late,” he said."I'll be back late tonight, who knows how long these meetings will last." He gave his wife a quick kiss on his way out. She was standing on the doorstep, waving until the car had disappeared into the horizon, then she went inside to get the kids dressed and sent off to school.

In a hotel room not far away, a business man was packing his suitcases. His eyes softened as he picked up the bright red fire truck he had bought for his son, the stuffed animal he had picked out for his daughter and the diamond earrings he had gotten for his wife. Gently he caressed each gift and a smile spread across his face as his thoughts went home to them. Then he packed up the last items and zipped up his suitcase.

Two doors down from him, yet another hotel guest was busy packing their suitcases as well. He spoke on the phone in a foreign angry language. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He tried wiping it away with a restless arm, but new sweat kept pouring out. His hands shook violently as he packed his shaving kit and dropped it into his carry-on luggage. He was constantly looking at his watch. A sly smile spread across his dark face as he left the hotel room and flagged down a taxi. With his hand he patted the outside of his jacket to make sure the plane tickets were still there on his inner pockets. Boy, wouldn't it have been embarrassing to forget the tickets. "Master would be displeased with me," he mumbled. "But master will be pleased with me." His phone rang and his stomach turned. He felt like throwing up all of a sudden. His partners were already waiting for him. He waved at them as he entered the airport. They all looked at their watches. Nervously. But they were excited when they headed for the check-in line. They had a flight to catch.

I was sleeping. People were kissing goodbye before scattering in every direction. Some even scattered before they saw each other that day. Friends and families were saying their good-byes at the airport.

"Call me when you get there to let me know you're safe"

And I was peacefully asleep; unaware of how busy our country was in another time zone. I probably had a nice dream. I don't remember. All I remember was quiet. All I remember was the earth shattering sound of the telephone, cutting like a knife into my comfortable world of dreams and relaxation. From a distance I heard the answering machine pick up and I heard our friends’ voice.

"Oh my God!"

The seriousness and desperation in his voice slowly woke me up. I thought he was in trouble somehow. And he was. We all were. Vaguely I heard something about New York being on fire. I didn't understand what was happening. My husband grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, just to see one of America's landmarks on fire. Still struggling to wake up, still struggling to understand what I was seeing there, I witnessed the second tower of the world trade center collapse like a row of dominos pieces. And there were people inside.

People.

People talking on the phones with their clients. People chatting with their fellow colleagues, discussing where to have lunch. People writing up reports while thinking of their wives and girlfriends, fondly remembering what a good time they had last night, making sweet love in the candle light after a nice dinner and perhaps wondering if he should buy her a rose bouquet on his way home from work. Or would she prefer chocolate instead? Fathers thinking about how they have to get out of work early tonight because they have to take their kids to soccer practice. People in meetings, discussing how to get as much money as possible out of their new clients, how to best please and suck up to someone to land that million dollar contract that's floating around and is up for grabs. Women! Some married, some single. Some wondering if he will call them back after last night's date, or if that was the first and last time they saw him. Tourists. Tourists who have been saving up for years to finally be able to visit the United States, enjoying a piece of the big apple before they move on to other destinations. And then. Nothing matters. They didn’t have lunch that day. He never made it home early for his kids’ soccer practice and at home sat his wife, who would never receive his roses. Everybody lost out on that million-dollar contract. She never received the phone call from the guy she was out with last night, or if she did, she wasn’t there anymore to pick up the phone. We were left with terrible grief and a billion thoughts whirling around in our minds.

I'm angry. I'm angry because someone is so heartless and so evil and such a big coward, that he sends other people to die for him, to kill thousands of people, to break up thousands of families. To break our hearts. I'm angry because he used other human lives as weapons; ingeniously he programmed them and sent them out to kill. These people, because of him, that is all they know. And they think they are doing something good, they think that killing thousands of people gets them in favor with God. And he himself sits in his cave without getting his hands dirty, mastering his puppets. Because it's a puppet show. They are nothing but puppets. He is the master. They are his puppets. He pulls the strings. And they dance.

I'm scared. I'm scared because someone with great intelligence, a great sense of perfection and coordination, was able to plan this and execute this, without anyone knowing about it. They all kept quiet. Yes, hints were dropped. But who would take it seriously. And if anyone took it seriously, who would've known. Just who … apart from the puppet master … would know. Not even the puppets knew. They were nothing but cold steel weapons in the hands of an assassin. And it scares me, because what if he has other tricks like these up his sleeve. No matter how prepared we could have been, can we ever be prepared enough? Is it possible?

I feel privileged. I feel privileged because I still wake up every morning next to the person I love with all my heart. I feel privileged because I can still tell him every night and every day how much I love him. I feel privileged because I have friends around me, who I can talk to, who I can hang with, and we comfort each other. I feel privileged because every morning I wake up and my dog is there, wagging her tail, just happy to see me. She has nothing but good in her heart, she doesn't know evil the way we do. She just wants to love us. And that's a privilege. To be loved.

I'm proud. I’m proud of the way everyone is handling this catastrophe. I’m proud of how fast planes were grounded and how they probably prevented this disaster from growing even bigger. I'm extremely proud of our firefighters, police men and emergency crews. How they faithfully work day and night to find survivors and bodies. How they see horrible things in this line of duty that will haunt them for years to come, yet they keep digging. Faithfully. Hopefully. I can't begin to imagine what their nightmares are going to be for the rest of their lives and I pray that people will never forget to support them and listen to them for the rest of their lives, to help ease the pain. I bow my head in respect. I'm very proud of the President of the United States. The pain he must be feeling inside is as great, if not greater than each and every one of us. Yet he stands strong and firm on his podium, leading the nation through this crisis with a firm and strong hand, while planning on how to respond, seeking to please and seeking to revenge. Yet he too is nothing but a man, flesh and blood, with feelings and emotions like the rest of us. I'm proud of news reporters. They are working day and night, bringing the nation together from east to west, so we are all able to unite somehow, and mourn together. They work 24/7 to bring us the latest, to make sure we know what is going on. They bring us all the emotions and they reassure us that we are all a part of a big and strong unity.

I feel helpless. There is so much I want to do. I want to take each and every one of the victims in my arms. I want to hug them, comfort them, make sure they know that they have support from the entire world. Yet no words can ease their pain, no words can bring back their loved ones. This empty hole they have inside of them will be a part of them from now on. Maybe it will fill up little by little, but it will never fully close. I see the pictures on TV, I see people crying and asking for information on their loved ones. And all I can do is bow my head and cry with them. I feel guilty.

I feel guilty because I'm thinking about myself and mundane situations that I need to take care of, when there's families that have been torn apart for no reason. I feel guilty for thinking about the WebPages that I need to get done, what is a webpage, what is a business, its nothing but cold money. I feel bad for being upset over the fact that my parents aren't gonna make it out here to visit me, yet so many people aren't ever going to see their parents again. Or their kids. Their husbands, their wives, their brothers and sisters and friends. And there's sadness. There's tears threatening to break through every moment I hear the national anthem, every time I hear a memorial song or see another picture of another victim.

I just want to wrap up in my blanket and go to sleep again, just to wake up to a normal Tuesday. But the giant empty hole in the Manhattan skyline is a constant reminder. If I wrap myself in the blanket and go to sleep, I will still wake up to this horrifying sight that has been haunting us for days. The world will never be the same.

God bless America.

© Laila Roknian 2001 - no permission is granted for reproduction in any manner

Waltzing with the Grim Reaper

2009-08-08T10:45:00.000-07:00

It was a grand ball. I was standing in the corner, watching elegant ladies in big fluffy dresses and handsome gentlemen in smart penguin outfits. They were whirling around on the dance floor, apparently having the time of their lives. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing here, I felt nervous and somewhat out of place.
Never in my life had I seen such an elegant mansion, or such a huge ballroom. It was covered from floor to ceiling in black marble. Torches were lit around the room, and the live flames kept the room heated, even though all the dancing already provided plenty of heat.

This was definitely more than just an average party. My past experiences with dances and parties usually involved 20 people crammed into my friend’s smoke filled basement, or hundreds of people milling around in a disco, desperately holding on to their pint of beer while fighting for a spot on the dance floor by waving their arms around as much as possible so that nobody dares to stand close. I had never seen a problem with this sort of behavior, or this sort of dancing, until now. Here it seemed like everyone had their own private spot on the dance floor and there seemed to be plenty of room for others to join in so there was no need to get violent to secure a dance space.
I was watching them all dance, and wished I could dance like that, but I was nervous too.
If anyone were to approach me and ask me to dance, I would have to turn them down.
I didn’t know this dance.

As my eyes wandered around the room, one man in particular caught my attention. He seemed to be very fond of dancing, he had asked virtually every lady in the room for a dance already, and I couldn’t see one drop of sweat on his forehead. Obviously this man had to be in very good shape. He was tall and dark, and I couldn’t get a clear vision of his face, but I knew without a doubt that he would be the most handsome man I had ever seen. His long raven-black hair was flowing down his back like a dark shimmering velvet waterfall. He was draped in a black velvet cape, and underneath it he was wearing a black tuxedo, accompanied by a black silk shirt. He must have noticed me staring at him, because he turned around with a confident, sexy smile on his lips. His eyes were like onyx. They captured me with no intention of letting me go, and as he approached me, I knew that he would teach me this dance, whether I wanted to or not.

“Milady,” he bowed and I didn’t know what I was doing, but found myself curtseying before him. I looped my arm under his and he led me out to the dance floor.
“I don’t know this dance,” I mumbled and concentrated really hard so I wouldn’t step on his toes.
“Nobody does,” he smiled and with a steady hand he twirled me around the dance floor, making me feel like I was a professional dancer. All of a sudden I felt self conscious, and my old jeans and my Black Sabbath t-shirt that I was wearing felt inappropriate for the occasion. He must have read my mind because he pulled me closer and held me in a comforting grip.
“Look at yourself,” he whispered in my ear, and I did, just to find myself draped in a flaming red silk gown. It was a big, beautiful fluffy one, similar to what the other women were wearing.

As he confidently swung me around on the dance floor, I looked around, and to my surprise I recognized several of the ballroom guests. There was my great grandma, whom I had never met before but I recognized her from the picture that was hanging on the living room wall at home. I thought for a second that I spotted James Dean, but that couldn’t be. Why would James Dean and I be at the same party? The dancing must have made me dizzy.

I returned my attention to my dance partner. His eyes were black and shiny, like two smooth marbles under a spotlight. As his fascinating glare intertwined with mine, I didn’t have the willpower to break eye contact, although I realized that I should have done exactly that. His hands held me in a warm, firm grip. Everywhere he touched me, he lit a new flame and I found myself only wanting more. All of a sudden it felt like it was just he and I, all alone on that gigantic ballroom dance floor. From a distance I could hear the violin music playing. He spun me around and around and around on the dance floor, and everyone around me merged together, transforming into a blurry rainbow of dark and abstract colors. I felt like we were riding the fastest merry-go-round in the world.
I could sense his strong body pushing against mine, and I found myself clinging to him, seductively rubbing my own body against his. What was wrong with me?

He had to know that he was deadly attractive. I suspected he got this kind of treatment from every other woman who crossed his path, and I hated to be like everyone else, but something about this man made it impossible for me to keep my hands to myself. I simply couldn’t help it. He was breath taking. He could have his way with me anytime.
My hands were brave now and I started exploring his muscular body. Finally I got to touch his long black hair and it was just as soft as I had imagined. I could hear his soft laughter as he softly planted a kiss on my cheek, leaving me with a soft fuzzy feeling that was spreading like wildfire throughout the rest of my body. I realized that I could burst into flames at any minute, and the cool, marble covered ballroom was a deep contrast to the fire that was raging through my own carcass.

“Open your eyes princess.”
I heard his raspy voice speaking to me, and I opened my eyes again. I was breathing heavy and felt like I was about to explode with passion. I drowned myself in his dark gaze and was waiting for him to bring me back to life with his kiss. His face approached mine. He parted his full lips in a sensual smile and was so close that I could virtually taste him. My lust, want and desire for him were revealed through my staccato breathing and I was aching for his warm mouth to cover mine.
“I usually don’t kiss on the first date,” he whispered. I could feel his warm breath on my lips as he spoke and my quivering body was begging for him to make an exception this time.
He lifted a hand and ran it across my cheek, while smiling his slow sexy smile.
“Until we meet again,” he said.
“How do you know we’ll meet again?” My voice was weak and trembling, just like my knees.
“I will come back for you,” he said with a confident smile and twirled me around for the last time. The music was still playing but he escorted me off the dance floor towards the door.
“Our time for finishing this dance has not yet arrived,” he smiled and kissed my hand before he brushed his fingers across my forehead.
“And please…don’t wait up for me,” he whispered and his black eyes were serious as he gave me a last long look before strutting across the dance floor, heading for another lady who was eagerly awaiting his affection and his dance.

I wasn’t jealous. I knew I wasn’t eager to finish his slow dance or to taste his sweet lips. I would spend time thinking about this dance that nobody could turn down, and I would be preparing for this kiss that he had been so hesitant to offer me, but I would waste no time longing for it, nor waiting for it and with a smile I realized I wasn’t afraid of the dance floor either. There was still a lot of dancing to be done before he showed up again to finish our waltz.

T'risstree - A Tale of Silver, Onyx and Rubies - Part 3

2009-06-09T20:11:00.000-07:00

NOTE:
Before reading Part III of this story (& the conclusion I might add), I highly recommend that you read part 1:
http://lailaroknian.blogspot.com/2009/03/trisstree-tale-of-silver-onyx-and.html

and part 2:
http://lailaroknian.blogspot.com/2009/03/trisstree-tale-of-silver-onyx-and_19.html

Thank you for reading my humble writings & I hope you enjoy the conclusion of my short story about T'riss.

*********************************

-8-
“T’risstree, dalnilnuk, open up!”
Triss popped awake. Someone was knocking on her door.
“Malice?”
“I have to talk to you,” Malice whispered and quickly shut the door behind her.
“How are you?” she asked Triss.
“I’m bored out of my mind and my eyes are sore. I can’t wait to get back. And those humans, oh Malice, they are ugly…and lousy in bed. Don’t you think so?”
Malice sat in silence for a while.
“Don’t you think so?” T’risstree repeated the question and Malice evaded her glare.
“Malice, don’t you think so??”
Malice lowered her eyes and shook her head. It was a minute movement but big enough for Triss to notice.
“That man that I’ve been with, he is… He is wonderful,” Malice whispered.
Triss slapped Malice across the face.
“Wake up! You do not belong here!”
“I thought you’d be happy…” Malice smiled. “…If I didn’t return.”
“No! Not like this Malice! We make a good team you and I! We can both go back.
See how well we’ve played the villagers together? Maybe this is what Matron Viconia wanted us to see? That we can work together!”
Malice just shook her head and started walking towards the door.
“Malice, please think about this. It will pass….”
Malice nodded.
“I’m sure it will.”

As the days went by, T’risstree grew tired of pretending that she was having fun with the humans, and the stronger her boredom grew, the more tricks she played on the townspeople.
She had a beautiful stash of treasure that she had stolen from various stores around town with the intention of bringing it all back to the Underdark. She had seduced several males, husbands as well as unattached ones, and she was just as bored and unsatisfied with every single one of them. She couldn’t understand what Malice saw in these boring, ugly creatures.

“Let’s go into the forest,” Andy suggested one night after dinner, and she willingly followed along for a little rendezvous as usual.
He started kissing her passionately and she pretended to melt in his arms when all of a sudden she found herself with a knife to her throat.
“You little thieving wench,” she heard a voice growling. “You thought you’d get away with this, didn’t you?” The voice belonged to one of the shopkeepers in town.
“Andy?” Triss looked around and found Andy cowardly standing a few feet away, determined not to look at her.
“You tricked me! You tricked me!” She snarled at him.
“You’re about to get what you deserve. I knew we couldn’t trust you dark ones!”
“And what do you want?” She changed her tune and traced her finger across his face. He trembled a little and lowered his knife. “You want some of this?” she cooed and pressed her sexy body against his.
“Trevor, you’re losing it,” one of the other males said and whipped out his knife, but he was too slow. The brief distraction had bought T’risstree enough time to pull out one sword for each hand and before the men even had a chance to notice that she was armed at all, the shopkeeper was lying headless in the grass and she was already aiming for another male.
“Die light-lovers!” she hissed before she buried her sword in his body and watched him gargle up blood before he sunk to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
A third male had snuck up behind her with his knife and she cried out in pain as his knife sunk into her shoulder. The male seemed surprised over actually having hurt her and she realized that this was not a regular army. It was merely a bunch of cowards with knives.
T’risstree grinned at the male who was still stunned by his achievements with the dagger, and a silent swoosh was all the warning he had before she introduced his neck to her lightning fast blade.
“Triss,” Andy said and she turned around. He was holding a bow and the arrow was pointing at her.
“Andy you don’t want to kill me,” she said softly. “I’ll leave. I’ll leave right now if you let me go.”
His hands were trembling and she spotted hesitance in his blue eyes.
“I have to do this Triss,” he said and pulled the string on the bow back even further.
“Please don’t lover,” she purred.
“Will you leave?” Andy said.
“I will leave,” Triss nodded. “No more trouble from me.”
She walked up to him and let her lips embrace his. He started shaking and she unbuttoned his pants.
“One last memory,” she whispered and pulled him down on to the moss-covered ground, and he was unable to resist her advances.
“I’m going to miss you T’risstree,” he gasped in ecstasy. As he was busy climaxing, he never saw the dagger that impaled his heart from behind.
“I won’t miss you at all,” Triss growled as she rolled his heavy, lifeless body off of hers and wiped his blood from her chest.

-9-

Hastily she ran to the inn and gathered all her items in a hurry, before she ran over to Malice’s room.
“Malice!” She knocked on her door and after awhile it opened.
“I’m busy.” Malice was half-naked and flushed. There was no question who she was busy with. “Come back later.”
“I have to leave Malice,” Triss whispered. “Are you coming?”
Malice shook her head.
“No,” she said.
“You know what will happen if you don’t return,” T’risstree whispered.
Malice’s eyes darkened and she nodded.
“You will be declared kill on sight in the Underdark,” Triss reminded her. “Do you want to live the rest of your life being hunted by your own?”
“It’s better than what’s facing me back there if I lose,” Malice said.
“But you may win! We don’t know! We can both win! ” Triss tried to talk Malice out of the big mistake she was about to commit. “We can both win! Look at us! We’re working well together! Dalnilnuk, I think this experience has brought us closer. Maybe it is possible for us to both live in peace? We compliment each other, you have skills I lack and vice versa. We can make it work Malice!”
But she could tell by the look on Malice’s face that she was in love and had no intentions of letting him go.
“Goodbye Triss,” Malice whispered.
“Aluve’ dalnilnuk,” Triss replied and started walking away, and then she turned around one last time.
“Malice, I caused some problems… You know how they blame all drow for something that one did wrong. Just tell them what a horrible wench I am. Tell them…”
Malice held a hand up to make her stop talking.
“Shut up and go,” she smiled. “I’m the actress. I know what to say!”

T’risstree held on to her belongings and ran out of the village as fast as she could. She heard screams and loud voices and knew they had discovered her handiwork.
She fumbled for her brooch that Viconia had given her, rubbed it five times but even before she could say the magic words, she was flying through a dark tunnel and suddenly she was back in the Underdark.
“Congratulations T’risstree, you survived.”
Viconia stood before her with a big smile.
“I didn’t even use the brooch?” T’risstree was confused.
“It was time for you two to return. It has been a week. I won’t even leave my worst enemy up there for longer than that,” Viconia grinned.
Then she looked at the empty space next to T’risstree.
“Malice?”
T’risstree lowered her eyes to the floor and shrugged.
“She didn’t?” Viconia grabbed Triss’ face and forced her to look up.
“She did.” Triss’ voice was genuinely sad.
“That coward. If she ever shows herself here again or you run into her up there, she is to be killed. Do you understand that T’risstree?”
Triss nodded.
“I do,” she said.
“Spread the word,” Viconia sighed.
“This is why I sent you there,” she continued. “To see which one of you would survive and whose minds would get corrupted by the light…”
“They are so boring,” T’risstree complained. “How will she survive with them? Not to mention they can’t please a drow in bed and they’re all...”
Viconia chuckled at all her complaints.
“Oh but look what I brought!” T’risstree interrupted herself and poured her bags out all over the floors, revealing all the goods she had stolen and brought back to Xyldynn.
“Triss! What have you done?” Viconia laughed and picked through the treasure pile.
“It almost cost me my life,” Triss said.
“Oh don’t be so dramatic dalnilnuk. Light-lovers are no match for a drow,” Viconia grinned and T’risstree shrugged.
“Unless they get to your conscience and your heart strings,” Viconia continued and Triss knew that she was thinking of Malice’s betrayal.
“I’m going to miss her Viconia,” Triss admitted. “We found each other out there.”
Viconia nodded.
“I know,” she said. “That was part of the challenge. I wouldn’t have had to pick a winner, would I?”
T’risstree just shook her head, and they said nothing more.

-10-

“Traitor!” T’risstree’s voice was filled with hatred as she lifted her crossbow and with a sturdy hand she pulled the trigger and watched the bolt penetrate its way through flesh and clothing, successfully finding its way to the unfortunate victim’s heart and terminating his life.
Triumphantly she pulled the bolt back out, leaving the dead body behind.
“Waste of a good bolt. Now clean it up,” she ordered one of the males.
He bowed before her and quickly ran off to complete his task.
“The last one made his way out Jabbress,” another male said.
“Out? Where?”
“You know…” He lowered his voice. “Out there.”
“The light-lovers world?” she asked and the male nodded.
T’risstree smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
“Good work,” she said with a smirk. “Let’s go get him and you can please me later.”
“Xas Jabbress,” he grinned.

Triss rubbed her brooch three times and muttered the necessary words and they found themselves on the outside all of a sudden. It was dark.
“I’ve been here before,” Triss whispered. “Several years have passed since then, but I was right here in this very spot. It is stained with their blood...and a drop of my own.”
“What’s it like?” One of the males was curious.
“Boring,” she replied. “No fun in bed, no fun anywhere. Just boring.”
“He can’t have gone far,” someone said. “He escaped this morning.”
“It has been daylight since then. We don’t function well in daylight, it’s too … bright,” Triss whispered. “Spread out and go look for him. I’ll stay here. If you find him, come back to me.”
T’risstree hid in the meantime, and her mind went back to the last time she had visited this place and to the bloody fight that had taken place in this very spot.
The thought of it made her smile. She was proud of what she had achieved back then and in the years that had followed.
She had been an excellent matron for the House of Xyldynn, and realized that the right drow had won the challenge. Triss didn’t know how well she would have liked sharing her power with Malice. Did she miss Malice? Not really.
The only thing she missed was not having someone to harass when she was having a bad day, but there was never a lack of servants who volunteered to be harassed by T’risstree.
Lately, Viconia had left most tasks and chores around the house in T’risstree’s hands and these days she was mostly basking in the glory of being the eldest and the wisest.

“Jabbress, look what I found!”
One of the males came back, interrupting her train of thought.
“This is a good catch jabbress,” he said and was dragging something, or someone, along the ground. Brutally he tossed it in front of her feet.
T’risstree gasped as the “thing” looked up at her.
“Malice!”
The male nodded and was beaming with pride.
“Do you want to do the honors Jabbress?” he said and looked at Malice, who was shivering on the ground before them.
“Please T’risstree, please. Let me go.”
“Go on, keep looking,” T’risstree commanded the drow male. “I’ll keep her here in the mean time.”
He spun around and was gone again.
“Please let me go dalnilnuk, please.”
Her red eyes were glowing with fear as she was begging T’risstree to leave her be.
“How is the light-loving world treating you?” Triss asked.
“You left a big mess for me to clean up Triss,” Malice complained. “But I eventually made them see that I wasn’t like you. And I haven’t been… I’ve been good.
I got married…”
“Married??” T’risstree looked like she had tasted something extremely sour.
“You confined to their institutions and nonsense formalities?? And you have sex with only one person forever?” She shuddered out of pure disgust.
“It’s wonderful Triss, it really is. Now we want children.”
“Do you miss the Underdark at all?” Triss asked her.
Malice shook her head.
“No I don’t,” she said bluntly, but her teary eyes told another tale.
“Don’t lie to me wench,” Triss snarled.
“Well… sometimes I wonder… you know. What you’re doing, what it would be like if I had returned with you. But I made my choice and I have to live with it.”
“That’s for me to decide if you get to live with it,” Triss stated.
“Please let me go dalnilnuk, please.”
A few of the drow males had returned with no result.
“He is nowhere to be found,” one of them said. “We’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“Malice??? MALICE!”
Someone was stomping through the woods, crying out her name.
“That’s John,” Malice whispered.
“So that is John,” Triss grinned. “Let’s invite him to the party shall we?”
“Call him! Call him now,” she hissed and nailed Malice with a pair of fiery red eyes.
“What has gotten into you? I thought we were friends?” Malice said.
“Friends,” Triss spit. “That was before you betrayed us all! Maybe we could have been. But we’re not friends. You’ve made yourself the enemy!”
They heard branches snap as John came running through, and at first he didn’t notice them at all, until he stopped to catch his breath and realized he was surrounded by drow.

-11-

“Malice? Are you okay?”
“Triss… please let us go. Nobody will know. These males are faithful to you, they won’t betray you.”
“But would I want to betray myself?” Triss asked her.
T’risstree nodded to one of her males who flicked out his sword and John found himself in a tight grip with a sharp blade pressing against his throat.
“Please don’t Triss,” Malice begged.
“Remember Amalika?” T’risstree wheezed. Her ruby-colored eyes were flickering with cool hatred.
Malice screamed as Triss signaled the one holding John and he slit John’s throat without a word.
“Now we are even.” Triss stared at Malice, who kept stroking a golden band that was clinging to her left ring finger.
“I could kill you now, but killing you seems like an easy way out, doesn’t it Malice? What would you do now, without him, without us… and without them?”
She nodded in direction of the village and doubted they would forgive the drow again for having killed off another one of their friends. Malice would for certain be chased out of town, if not killed.
Nevertheless she would be declared kill on sight again, this time by the humans.
“The sun will be up soon. We have to go boys,” Triss declared.
“Stay out of our way Malice…and I suggest you start running from them if you want to live.”
T’risstree started rubbing her brooch to return home.
“I’m sorry about Amalika,” Malice wept. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’m sorry too,” Triss said. She paused on the forth stroke and glanced at Malice who was readying herself to flee.
“Malice,” she said.
“Malice, look at me.”
Malice slowly turned around to face T’risstree, only to be met by a flying blade.
“I’ll give you the easy way out one last time,” Triss muttered before the sword collided with Malice’s head and they watched Malice’s body sink to the ground next to John’s.
Quickly Triss rubbed the brooch a fifth time and brought them all back to the Underdark.

Viconia met them in the corridor.
“Did you find him?” she asked.
Triss shook her head and the two women exchanged a knowing look.
“Lolth is proud of you,” Viconia smiled and ran a hand through Triss’ silver mane.
“I am proud of me too.” Triss smiled confidently and headed for her room, where she closed the door behind her, hungry to be alone.
She gazed at herself in the mirror and liked what she saw.
“Vendui’ ussta alurl abbil,[1]” she mumbled and looked herself in the eyes.
For the first time, and probably for the last time, in her life, T’risstree shed a tear.

[1] Hello my best friend.

AWOL / MIA

2009-03-31T15:03:00.000-07:00

Sorry I've been MIA lately. I've started a new project that has taken up most of the spare time that I used for blogging. Once I'm caught up with my new project, there will be new blog posts!

So.... hang on everybody! I've got a lot more material to share with everybody! :)

Health - Dropping the Diet Coke!

2009-03-25T11:42:00.000-07:00

I feel good lately. By coincidence, when I’m feeling good, I develop an urge to be healthy.
Is it a coincidence? Probably not. I’m afraid to delve into the depths of that association, but I’m sure there’s a negative connotation there to the days I’m feeling bad & not wanting to be healthy …. Lol.

Anyway. I’ve been performing some self analysis on myself lately and I’ve been thinking back to the way I’ve been on diets all my life, only to fail and gain back all the pounds I lost… The ones of us who have been there, know that failing a diet makes it a lot harder to even try another diet plan again, and if you do, you expect to fail. It’s sad that we’re starting something new without enough confidence to think that we’ll be victorious.

So I’m thinking to myself that all I really want, is to be healthy. I don’t want to go on a diet that’s eventually going to end, leaving me to fend for myself in a non-diet world that’s just bulging with temptations on every corner. I want to be healthy, let’s say 90% of the time. That leaves 10% of unhealthy time, a time where I can indulge in cookies and cheetos if I so wish. (And I know myself well enough to know … that I WILL wish to indulge in cookies and cheetos from time to time….)

I’ve also come to the conclusion that it’s hopeless to drop ALL of your bad habits at once. When I do that, my body goes into shock and complete chaos… all kinds of cravings start bombarding me from every direction. It’s hard enough dealing with one type of craving, but if multiple hits you at once, that’s a recipe for failure. I can stand strong for a little while but then I’ll cave in to one, or all, of the cravings eventually.

So…I’m going to start out by dropping Diet Coke from my diet. Although it has no sugar, I know that there are some side effects associated with diet coke, besides the obvious side effect that is a heavy addiction! Insulin resistance is one of the side effects, which is in fact associated with PCOS, an infertility condition that I was diagnosed with last year.

I need to find other sources of drinks to replace my Diet Coke habit. For dinner and lunch, I don’t always want water with my meal. I have found that seltzer water is a very good substitute for Diet Coke because it has the bubbles & is a bit more exciting than just plain water, but it’s still water, so it’s good for me.
During the day, I have started drinking tea. I do like a bit of caffeine during the day. I don’t drink coffee and I don’t need much caffeine, but I find that tea was a good substitution for the Diet Coke during work hours. I try to focus on healthy types of tea, such as green tea and white tea, but I like a variety so I’ve also got some chai tea in my desk. I don’t use any sugar in it, just a drop of milk.

As of today, I have not had a Diet Coke since Monday 3/23. I want to go 1 month without Diet Coke before I drop something else from my diet. If I’m doing good in two weeks and feeling brave, I may up my game and drop something else from my diet, but we’ll see. The weekends are the roughest ones. If I can make it through a weekend without diet coke, then that’s a big victory.

Let’s hear it for seltzer water and green tea!!!

Tattoo Journey - Part 6: The right cat!

2009-03-21T11:22:00.000-07:00

Here she is...the undead cat who roamed the farm for 20+ years...

So I've got my photos, now I just need the $$ and the courage lol....as well as a trustworthy artist :)

T'risstree - A Tale of Silver, Onyx and Rubies - Part 2

2009-03-19T21:06:00.000-07:00

Note: This is is part 2 of this story. If you haven't read the first part yet, I suggest you visit the following link: http://lailaroknian.blogspot.com/2009/03/trisstree-tale-of-silver-onyx-and.html and catch up on the tale:)

Also, let me remind you that drow are evil in nature... that's all I will say. I will write more about the drow race at a later time, but if you wish to read more about them now, I advise that you google it... it's a fascinating race after all :)

Anyway, please enjoy the second part of this story, there will be 1 or 2 more parts following in the next coming days :)

-4-

If Malice had hoped for T’risstree to show any sign of breakdown, she had to be sadly disappointed, as there was no indication of remorse or sorrow. Viconia brought a new
melee trainer in and T’risstree trained with him faithfully every single day. Malice kept close watch, but soon found it to be a waste of time as Triss cared about nothing but the technicalities of how to best swing her swords in order to do the most damage.

“T’risstree, can you tell me the appropriate formula for shooting off a fireball?”
Viconia was tutoring the girls in their arcane studies.
Triss shook her head.
“It was in today’s homework Triss,” Viconia sighed.
Malice replied to the question and looked at Triss with a wide grin.
“I wont stoop down to her level,” Triss thought to herself, but the sword clinging to her thigh almost felt alive and she had to restrain herself from poking Malice’s eyeballs out.
“T’risstree, you must be punished. You are not paying attention like you should. Our goddess will be disappointed.”
Triss lowered her head.
“Xas jabbress,”[1] she muttered.
“You will be locked in your room without sword practice for a week. Study your books and come back to me with knowledge of magic.”
“Xas jabbress.” T’risstree got up from her chair and bowed before Viconia then headed out the door. As she turned around she locked eyes with Malice. If looks could kill, both would have been out cold on the floor that instance. Instead Triss turned around and walked quickly back to her room.
“Malice will get hers,” she muttered. “She better watch her back.”

-5-

It wasn’t the last time T’risstree would be punished for being lazy. She was known for having a mind of her own, and through the following years she spent a lot of time in her room. She was by far the fastest and the best fighter in the house, and quickly she climbed the ranks to the top. Whether she was a good mage or not, she knew how to get her way, which she often did. So did Malice for that matter, who was keener on the arcane arts rather than melee, and in that way they completed each other.
However, the bitter rivalry between the two did not fade. On the contrary it increased rapidly, and soon the entire House of Xyldynn knew the two were enemies and started taking sides. The rivalry turned into war and the House of Xyldynn stood divided.
Viconia was saddened by the event. The day two females had been born into the house had been the happiest day of her life, yet now the two were bitter enemies, and instead of bringing the house to life like they were born to do, they were tearing it apart.

“Jabbress T’risstree! They killed Zaknafein.”
One of her assassins came running and informed her of yet another tragic murder that had taken place.
“Should we go get revenge?” The young male was eager to please his mistress and was already whirling his knife around while licking his lips at the thought of stabbing someone with it.
T’risstree sighed. This had grown out of proportions and she didn’t know how to end it. The opponents would kill one of her servants, and she would kill one of theirs.
“No,” she finally said. “This is getting out of hand. We can’t keep doing this, it’s leading nowhere but to extinction.”
T’risstree went to her room and started pacing back and forth. This blood feud was starting to depress her.

In an attempt to cheer herself up she tried summoning visions of elven faces as her drow army stormed their camps, tears running down their elven cheeks while they were pleading for their petty lives... her slender hand elegantly twirling her sword around, before burying in their flesh one last time before she would walk away with a victorious chuckle. The thought put her in a good mood for only a short second.
Triss sat down and looked at herself in the mirror, which was one of her favorite pastimes. The reflection of her glistening red eyes was gazing back at her as she picked up a silver hairbrush and started grooming her long, thick silver-white mane. Finally she shook her head, sending her hair cascading down her back like a moonlit waterfall.
She reached for her jewelry box and let her hand slide into it. All the nice golden chains and necklaces she had collected through the years seeped through her fingers like it was water and she sighed. Gold was usually a cheerful sight, but this time she just closed up her box without even picking out a piece to wear.

T’risstree walked across the floor and opened the door out to the hallway.
“Xas jabbress, lu'oh shlu'ta usstan kla'ath dos?” [2]
She was pleased to see her pets come running as soon as she showed herself.
“How can you serve me?” She repeated his question with a smirk and put an elegant finger under the drow servant’s chin, cupping his face between her hands.
“Come with me jaluk,” she purred. Willingly he obeyed her and followed her back inside, where she closed the door behind them and had her way with him.
There was always a cure for boredom, even if it was temporary.

The following day, Viconia sent out summons for T’risstree and Malice.
“Girls, this can’t go on,” she said. “You are causing major conflicts around here. Warriors who once used to be friends are now killing each other.”
Malice chuckled and T’risstree just shrugged.
“Survival of the fittest,” she said and glared over at Malice.
“Well, you either fight it out, figure it out or I throw you out, I’ve had enough,” Viconia snarled. “And may I remind you, once you’re thrown out of here, there is no way back in!”
The words had the effect of a cold shower and T’risstree stood up and drew her sword.
“Let’s do it,” she sneered at Malice. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Not here,” Viconia said. “I will arrange something. A challenge. The winner stays, the loser goes.”
“Goes where?” T’risstree asked her. Viconia just gave her a long look and T’risstree had a feeling she didn’t want to know.
“It will be the end of you,” Malice hissed and pointed at Triss.
Triss just laughed in her face, then spit on the floor in front of her.
“Whore,” she sneered before she spun around and ran out the door, realizing that whore was too much of a compliment for a lowlife scum like Malice.
“You belong with the light-lovers,” she yelled, and her intense voice echoed down the hallways and it silenced them all. They shuddered with fear.
It was win or lose and it was life or death. Actually, it was life or worse than death.
It was life or the abyss of eternal suffering.

-6-

T’risstree spent the next days in her room preparing for whatever would come her way in the contest. At least the killing had stopped for now, but the tension between the two groups was unbearable.
Finally the day of the contest arrived.
T’risstree and Malice were sitting across the room from one another.
“Vendui’ dalnilnuk.” Viconia’s voice broke the stifling silence and they turned their attention to her.
“I’ve been thinking long and hard to find out how to best test you. I know you are both excellent fighters, staging a battle would not be much help as I suspect T’risstree would win the melee battle and Malice would win the arcane battle.”

She walked up to T’risstree and handed her a brooch, then continued over to Malice and handed her a similar item.
“I will send you to the world of the light-lovers. Neither of you can bring anyone from here. We have wounds to patch up thanks to you two. While you’re away, the drow army will be brought back together again. The one of you who succeeds will return to a united house and be matron in the House of Xyldynn.”
“What exactly are we supposed to do there?” T’risstree asked.
“Survive,” Viconia smiled.
“Easy,” Malice shrugged. “I’ve been there before.”
“Your brooches are your teleporters. Rub it three times and act as if you were casting a portal and it will send you up to the surface. Rub it five times, and it shall send you back to the Underdark.”
Viconia sat down in her chair.
“Good luck girls,” she said.
“Can I pack some money and some clothes?” T’risstree asked and the matron nodded.
“Pack some necessities and return to me. I will send you both out at the same time.”

T’risstree was nervous. It sounded like a simple task, but knowing what was at stake, and seeing that the task came from Viconia, she realized it would be anything but easy. She packed some clothes, her swords and a purse with some gold coins and returned to the matron. Malice joined them seconds later and they were ready.
Viconia muttered some words under her breath. A big white light flashed before T’risstree’s eyes and she felt as if she was in the middle of a gigantic explosion.

-7-

When she opened her eyes again, she was sitting on the ground in a place she did not recognize. Malice was sitting next to her.
“They sent us to the same place?” T’risstree wheezed. “I don’t want to see your ugly face.”
“Fine,” Malice said and got up from the ground. She brushed some leaves off her coat and marched off in to the village. Luckily it was dark outside already. Triss knew she needed to find a place to stay before daylight came to blind her.
She pulled a big coat over her tiny body. It had a huge hood attached to it, which she pulled over her head and tied up so that nobody could see her face unless they looked closely. Swiftly she covered her hands with a pair of gloves before heading in the same direction that Malice had gone, towards the village.
She was almost there when Malice came running back out with a horde of angry villagers after her. They were spitting and waving knives at her. T’risstree chuckled and turned around to watch the spectacle just in time to see Malice making a fool out of herself. She blasted a fireball at the crowd that was chasing her and ran into the woods.
Triss knew her rival would be safe in the forest, since Malice, like most other drow, was an expert at stealth and hiding.
“That was one of them dark ones.” She heard someone talking to her. “Nasty dark folk bring nothing but trouble, I assure you.”
Triss looked up to find a hefty pale matron standing next to her.
“I know what you mean,” she spoke softly. “Excuse me, do you know where I can get a room for a few nights?”
“Sure thing honey. You look freezing cold the way you’re bundled up, let me show you to the inn.”
Triss drew a breath of relief and followed behind the woman. The vision of Malice running for her life followed by a group of light-lovers amused her still, and she had to bite her lip not to laugh out loud.

As soon as Triss was settled in, she tore the big coat off and took a deep breath. It had been hard to breath being so bundled up, but well worth it. As soon as she had taken all her outer clothes off, she realized she was hungry and sighed as she started putting it all back on. It had only been a few minutes and already it was starting to get tedious.
“This is no competition with Malice being so brain-dead. I’ll have to go help her,” T’risstree thought. “What fun is it if she’s defeated that easily? There’s no way I’ll have her deny me some good competition!”
She walked back downstairs. Stealthily she vanished in to the kitchen and stole a loaf of bread and some cheese. She knew she could just buy it, but where was the fun in that? After filling her pockets in the kitchen, she headed back out the city gates and into the woods.
“Malice, where are you?” she whispered.
“What do you care?” She heard an angry voice reply.
“Told you it wasn’t going to be that easy,” Triss said quietly.
“So?” Malice came out of hiding.
“Cover yourself up,” T’risstree sighed. “I knew you were dense, but really Malice! I’m not going to give you that many chances to catch up!”
Quickly Triss spun around and headed back to the inn, and by the sound of it Malice was following right behind her, still not covered up.
“I’ll use my own tactics,” she triumphed as she brushed by T’risstree and strutted back into the village. Triss heard ruckus as the villagers spotted Malice once again and expected to see Malice come running back out in a matter of seconds.
However, Malice never came back out and curiosity got the upper hand of T’risstree.
Leisurely she walked over to a corner and watched Malice in action.
“It’s terrible down there,” Malice sobbed. She was a great actress and had the entire village in the palm of her hand. “I can’t stay there anymore, and I guess I’m not welcome here either so I don’t know what to do.”
All the light-lovers were quiet.
“We’ll take you in for a bit honey,” Triss heard a voice say. “You may have lived a sad and pitiful life up till now, but we’ll take care of you.”
“Are they that stupid,” T’risstree muttered to herself and just about jumped out of her skin when someone joined her on the bench.
“Isn’t it terrible,” the newcomer said. “How they treat them dark skinned ones.”
T’risstree decided to take advantage of the situation and pulled her hood back.
“It is indeed,” she said in a sickeningly pitiful voice and turned her head to face the light-lover sitting next to her.
It was a young male, most likely in his late 20s. He had pale blue eyes, fair skin and blonde hair and seemed taken back by the company he found himself in.
“You are a dark one as well,” he stated.
“Nice observation stupid,” Triss thought to herself but nodded at him with an encouraging smile.
Malice had turned around and their eyes met. A glimpse of jealousy flew across Malice’s face until another young man tapped her on the shoulder and took her hand, leading her towards the inn, where it seemed like the young drow would both be staying for a while.
“What’s your name?” The male asked her.
“T’risstree,” she answered him.
“That’s a pretty name,” he smiled. “Mine is just plain old Andy.”
She turned and looked him in the eyes.
“You are very handsome,” she cooed and let a finger run across his face. He turned slightly red under her touch, and was breathing fast and swallowing hard.
“Perhaps… perhaps you would like to join me for a meal,” he stuttered.
“That sounds nice,” she said softly, even though her pockets were bulging from stolen baked goods from the kitchen.
She grabbed his hand and he escorted them to the inn. At a table next to theirs sat Malice with her foolish admirer, and by the looks of it he had swallowed her bait completely.
T’risstree realized they could have some fun with the light-lovers while they were here. There was nothing or nobody present at the moment that couldn’t be used and tossed aside later.

Malice’s story spread quickly around town and T’risstree knew she owed her thanks for making it easier to walk around without hiding in the big cloak. It was amazing how gullible these people were and T’risstree had no problems taking cruel advantage of their hospitality and kindness.
“It’s their own fault for being so stupid,” she thought to herself and ignored the pull on the heartstrings every time she pick-pocketed someone or stole another item from a store.

She let Andy off easy the first night. He followed her to her room where she gently kissed him on the lips and sent him on his way.
On the third day, T’risstree finally let Andy come inside with her.
“I want to know what a light-lover is like in bed,” she cooed and his kind blue eyes lit up with expectation.
“Really?” he smiled and ran a hand through her silver-blonde hair.
“Really,” she purred and pulled his head down towards hers. She pressed her lips against his and gently played with his probing tongue while he slowly undressed her.
Triss eagerly reached for his clothes and found his pale, naked body totally unappealing.
“Oh, you’re so sexy,” she lied and his soft chuckle filled the room as he carried her on to the bed and started stroking her dark smooth body.
For about an hour, T’risstree laid on the bed, moaning and groaning, pretending to be having a good time, while he took his sweet time with the foreplay before he finally made love to her.
“You dark elves are tigers in bed,” he panted after he was done.
T’risstree cringed at the word “dark elf” but didn’t say anything.
“You’re not bad yourself,” she bluffed and bit him on the neck, while thinking how she couldn’t wait to get back to the Underdark and to her loyal, feisty lovers that were all waiting for her there.

[1] “Yes mistress”
[2] “Yes mistress, how can I serve you?”

T'risstree - A Tale of Silver, Onyx and Rubies - Part 1

2009-03-15T10:54:00.000-07:00

Note: This is the first few chapters in a short story I wrote about T'risstree, who is a drow character I used to play in various games though the years. For anyone who is unfamiliar with the drow, they are an evil race (although some "good" drow have sprung up through the years), which is why this story is on the darker side.

For further information on drow, you can google them. Some of the language in this story is also drow.

Zebeyana took a last quivering breath. She felt as if she was ripped in half for a second, and then there was nothing but peace and quiet in the room. A sharp cry penetrated the quiet night, and Zebeyana was afraid to open her eyes.
What was it? It had to be a girl. It had to be.

“Ol zhah natha jalil!”[1]

With a big smile, Zeby opened her ruby colored eyes and welcomed her newborn baby girl into her arms. The future of the House of Xyldynn was finally secured, and so was her own life. She peered down at the tiny body that was lying on her chest. The baby’s skin was black like onyx and a pale trace of silver white hair was showing itself at the top of her head.

“T’risstree,” Zeby whispered. “We have been waiting for you.”
She let her fingers run across the tiny face, tracing around her small pointy ears before she embraced the little one completely and hugged her carefully.
The baby was so tiny, Zeby was afraid she would break if she hugged her too hard.

A door flew open, and in walked another dark skinned elf, followed by a cold wind gust. Zeby lifted her eyes to examine the visitor. The only telltale of her current emotion was her red eyes, which were reduced to glowing embers, expressing intense hatred. Apart from that, she kept a cool ice-queen posture.

“Ph' dos kr'athin?”[2] He sounded impatient.

Was she ready? Would she ever be?

Softly she planted a kiss on the baby’s forehead and handed her over to the male. She was determined not to break down in front of anybody, but felt as if she was being ripped apart for the second time that morning, and this time there no remedy for her pain. As she saw him walk out the door, carrying her baby girl, a cold, empty void spread within her and even though giving birth to a girl had saved her from a certain death, she felt as if she had nothing left to live for.

-2-

“Vendui’ dalnilnuk,”[3] T’risstree greeted her fellow study companion with a fake grin.
19 years, in human time, had gone by since she was born and she was now a young woman.
“Vendui’” Malice muttered.
The two exchanged a look that was less than friendly and sat quietly side-by-side waiting patiently for matron Viconia, who normally taught them the ways of the arcane circles.

What Zebeyana had been unaware of at the time of T’risstree’s birth, was that another female drow had been born only minutes before T’risstree entered the world. The matron was pleased to see more females in charge. She had feared for the future of Xyldynn and now she was certain that the House of Xyldynn would continue to grow.

“Vendui’ dalharen,”[4] Viconia strutted into the room and T’risstree focused her attention on her teacher, following her every move with her piercing red eyes.
“Vendui’ jabbress,”[5] Malice smiled and T’risstree rolled her eyes.
“What are we learning today?” T’risstree asked.
“Ladies, I’ve brought along one of our males to teach you how to hand the blade,” Viconia said. A silent movement in the doorway caught T’risstree’s attention.
“Usstan tlun Amalika,”[6] he said with a gleam in his eye. Confidently he pulled two swords out and juggled them around before handing one to Malice and one to T’risstree.
“Showoff,” Malice muttered and T’risstree chuckled.
“Takes one to know one,” she whispered before she got up from her chair, waving her sword in the air.
“Careful jalil,[7]” Amalika warned her and grabbed her arm.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” T’risstree snapped at him.
“If you wish to kill yourself, go ahead and do as you please. If not I suggest you listen to him,” Viconia said and Triss could hear Malice snickering behind her.
“Fine,” T’risstree muttered, angered over having been reprimanded in front of the male.

The next few days Amalika taught T’risstree and Malice how to swing their swords. T’risstree found herself enjoying these lessons far more than the arcane studies, whereas Malice was rather clumsy with the knives. She had cut herself three times already, whereas T’risstree was pleasantly scar free so far.
“You are ready for a second weapon.”
Amalika came up to her one day as she was practicing, and her eyes lit up at the compliment.
“Really?” she smiled.
“Really,” Amalika said.
He brought a shorter sword out and presented it to her.
“Bel’dos,”[8] she purred and let a finger run down his chest. Her red glare looked up at him, glowing with lust. Amalika seemed flattered by her come-on.
She had grown up to be a beautiful young woman. Her long hair was thick and silver-blonde in color, her body was tiny but curvaceous still and everybody had a hard time resisting her sparkling ruby eyes.
Amalika went on to show her how to fight with both hands. He wasn’t unaffected by her advances. She was constantly rubbing herself against him, and he simply wouldn’t have been a man if he showed no reaction.
Quickly she chopped through the air with her swords, then spun around to face him.
“Do you want me?” she cooed.
“How could I not want you,” he gulped.
“Then let’s put our swords away,” she smiled and he could do nothing but obey.
T’risstree tilted her head and glanced up at him with her irresistible smile, and he knew he was lost. She kissed him before plucking her clothes off one by one, revealing her perfect dark-skinned body to him, then she moved on to his clothes, and soon they were naked and passionately committed to one another for the three nights that followed.
On the third night, Amalika exited T’risstree’s room, still in a state of lust and unaware of the piercing look that was following him as he quickly walked down the corridor.
“Whore,” Malice sneered as she turned away in disgust and envy, but the plan that was brewing in her mind made her laugh.

-3-

T’risstree was sparring with Malice. It was a boring task, but someone had to do it. Malice had improved her sword skill, but was no challenge to Triss. To make better use of her time, Triss automatically swung her sword from side to side while daydreaming of what was to come later that night. She had grown fond of Amalika and they had made a habit out of meeting every night.
“Ladies, you’re looking good.”
Amalika emerged from the hallway and studied the two women dueling. For a second he pretended to be interested in the actual swordfight, before he shoved all pretences aside and openly stared at T’risstree as she gracefully swung her petite body out of the way of Malice’s attempted attacks.
“I’m tired,” Malice yawned and lowered her sword.
“Finally,” Triss commented and put on a sexy smile before turning towards the drow male. “Do you have time for some more… exercises?” she grinned as she slid towards Amalika, halting only inches away from him.
“Always,” he smiled and glanced quickly to the side, making sure Malice vanished out the door, before he melted between Triss’ hands and lost himself to her.
They had just gotten dressed again when Malice stormed back into the room.
“I must have lost my amulet,” she excused herself. “Do you mind if I look for it?”
“Not at all.” Triss pretended not to care about the interruption.
“Did you see it?” Malice asked them. “It was silver with a red stone…”
While they watched Malice search for her necklace, Amalika boldly placed a strong hand on Triss’ thigh. She looked up at him with a sensual smile while grinding against his hand.
“I can’t get enough of you,” she purred.
“Yes my mistress,” he pleaded and she locked eyes with him and knew she owned him.
“I can’t find it,” Malice pouted.
“Come with me male,” T’risstree commanded Amalika and he bowed his head and followed her out like an obedient puppy. They reached her room and she started removing his clothes for the second time that day, when an amulet fell out of his pocket.
It was silver with a red stone in it.
T’risstree gasped.
“Amalika?” She looked at him.
“I don’t know how that got there,” he stuttered.
“She placed it there,” T’risstree frowned. “She’s a jealous bitch… she has every right to be.” T’risstree grinned and clung to his body.
“Get rid of it and come back to me,” she said and he nodded and vanished out the door.

Minutes later a scream sounded from the hallway and Triss stormed out of her bedroom, just to see Malice lecturing Amalika.
“Thief!” Malice turned triumphantly to Triss, before quickly replacing her triumphant expression with one of despair for the rest of the crowd to see.
“Thief! He stole my amulet!”
Other curious drow had arrived at the scene when Matron Viconia made a graceful appearance.
“Young lady, what happened?” she asked Malice.
“This thief stole my amulet!” Malice pointed at Amalika.
“No I didn’t, I didn’t take it…” Amalika’s onyx-colored face was drenched in sweat and he was tugging at his white hair in frustration.
“He did take it! I had it before sparring class this morning and all of a sudden it was gone. I caught him with it, he was carrying it in his hands!” Malice was furious.
“What punishment do you wish for?” Viconia asked the young female drow. Malice’s eyes were glowing bright red as she turned and looked T’risstree directly in the eyes.
“Death,” she said. “A lesson needs to be taught!”
Triss gasped.
“He didn’t take it!” T’risstree sprung to his defense.
“You choose to believe the male over me?” Malice sobbed and put on an extraordinary performance, highly believable to everyone else. “Are you insane? He’s scum.”
T’risstree looked at Amalika who shook his head and put his finger to his lips, quietly telling her not to defend him. Her body trembled as it restrained itself from crying.
She would get in trouble if she chose to be on his side over Malice’s. It was his word against Malice, a male drow against a female drow, and there was no doubt whose word carried more weight.
Quietly he sunk down to his knees and put his swords on the ground.
“T’risstree? You’re good with the sword, maybe you could do the honors?” Malice’s cold eyes were staring right at her.

T’risstree looked at the crowd gathering around them. One day she wished to be head of this house. If she walked away from this, her chances would be greatly diminished, and they would have Malice in charge of their lives, which would be worse than death.
Proudly she swallowed her tears and her fear while calmly approaching Amalika, who was kneeling before her. Her voice was crisp and clear as she spoke.
“You shouldn’t have taught me quite as much,” she said as she grabbed one of his swords from the ground. He looked up at her with a smile and winked at her. She wished she could close her eyes, but she had to look in order to aim properly. They locked eyes and with all her strength and great speed she swung his sword, aiming for his neck. She watched in horror as the sword penetrated his skin and heard the subtle thump as his head hit the floor and it was over. Quickly she gathered his remaining swords from the ground before she ran into her room and threw up.

“It’ll be easy from now on,” she thought to herself. “Because from this day and forward, the only emotion that is allowed to penetrate my shell, is hatred. And I hate! I hate! I hate!!”
She was chanting to herself while staring into the mirror. Her eyes never shone so bright before but they were cold as stone.
“I hate…” she whispered.

To Be Continued.........

(Translations for the drow sentences used above:)
[1] “It’s a girl!”
[2] “Are you ready?”
[3] “Hello sister”
[4] “Hello children”
[5] “Hello mistress”
[6] “I am Amalika”
[7] “Girl”
[8] “Thank you”

Red Shoes

2009-03-13T11:37:00.000-07:00

I’m wearing red shoes today.

You may think “so what?”, but to someone who has tried all her life, and succeeded at that, to stay invisible, wearing red shoes is a big deal.

About two years ago, I attended a weekend seminar called “World Works”. I can’t explain how great it was, it has to be experienced, but it is a place where you work on yourself, you are forced to come face to face with yourself, good and bad, and if you are alert and soak up the tools and the knowledge they provide you with during this seminar, it will help you out once you’re released into the real world again. It was exhausting but it felt great.

It was here that I found out, with the assistance of one of our coaches, that I had become invisible. I didn’t realize how hard I had been working at becoming invisible, but apparently I had been very successful at it. Believe me, I had to dig into places I didn’t want to dig to come to that conclusion and expose feelings and hurt that had been locked up for years.
I was forced to think back to happier times. A time where I had not been afraid to raise my hand in class to tell everybody about my weekend. A time where I hadn’t been afraid to have everyone looking at me while I played a part in a school play or played a solo on the recorder. When did all that stop? When was it that I decided that it was better to be invisible?

When I was 12 years old, I was uprooted from my childhood town and moved across the country. If you’ve read my previous blogs, you know I’m from Norway. In Norway, people don’t move much. They pretty much stay in the town they are born, where their parents were born, where their grandparents are born… People don’t move much at all. That makes it very difficult on the few of us who are uprooted like I was and replanted in a new society… a society where nobody needs a new friend because they grew up there and they already have everyone they need. I did make friends eventually, but I was still an outsider. Everyone around me had pretty much grown up with each other, and I had 12 years of internal jokes to catch up on. That truly is a task that is impossible.

My dialect was different because I had grown up in a different part of the country. I’ve also always been bigger than average my whole life, so my weight has always been a sore spot. Physically, I developed as a woman fairly early, and that didn’t go unnoticed by all those adolescent boys that I went to school with. I was constantly teased, squeezed and harassed over all these issues. Maybe under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been so bad, but I was the new kid in school, I was alone and I was different. I was vulnerable and I was an easy target.

I look back now and I realize that the guys who gave me the hardest time were ones that had worse problems on their own to deal with. At the time though, I was a teenager, and I wasn’t experienced enough to understand that much.
So, invisibility became my defense mechanism. I no longer raised my hand in class, even when I knew the answer to questions being asked. No more did I rush out to tell anybody about my weekend. Instead I did everything I could not to get noticed at all. The fear was that if I was noticed by anyone, I’d get picked on. After all, it was better to be invisible than being teased.

I mastered the task of being invisible. Looking back, even to my university days, I didn’t really make as many friends as I could have because I was hiding from the world. Sure I went out to parties and I did make a few very good friends, but I realize now that I missed out on a lot of good people just because of the stealth mode I was in. I even took it a step further and decided on my very own, without even consulting with anybody at all, that I wasn’t worth anybody’s time. If two of my friends hung out together without me, I felt it was because they didn’t want me along, because they were better friends with each other than with me, so I naturally took a backseat. If I had taken the initiative to step out from the shadows and involve myself, I probably would have discovered that this wasn’t the case at all. I just wasn’t making myself available to them and their friendship.
After all, who was I? Just an outsider, an overweight chick with a weird dialect. College, however, was a melting pot of all sorts of people from all parts of the country. We were all outcasts and loners and I didn’t actually stand out at all, except for in my very own mind.

My choice to be invisible has inhibited me in life. Even now, when I’m aware of this tendency of mine to blend in with the walls, I can’t change it overnight. I still head for the rack of black clothes when I shop. God forbid I wear something brightly colored so people can see me or even worse, they may actually stop and make me the focus of their conversation for a minute. Maybe they’ll even compliment the color of my blouse, thereby pointing out the unusually bright color I’m wearing, and I’ll think “damn, I’ll never wear this again!” People tell me I should show some cleavage because “I’ve got it so I should flaunt it”, but how can I show off something that I was teased for through so many years? I like big sweaters and black clothes, but I’m trying to break from that comfort zone, now that I’m aware of why it is a comfort zone to begin with.

I should point out that fate decided to play a prank on me by making me a baseball fan and my team of choice came to be the Anaheim Angels, whose team color is bright red. Go figure! So I wear red, as long as it has a team logo on it. It’s almost as if I have to justify or have a reason to wear red, because I don’t want to make it seem like I’m wearing red to seek attention. I’m wearing it to support my team, that’s all!

So back to these shoes. I saw them last week in an Adidas outlet store. They were on super sale and they were the only ones left of their kind! $15 for a pair that used to be $70 (who pays that much for shoes?). They were red and black with white stripes and they looked really cool, they just really stood out. (See the irony here??)
So I tried them on, they fit like a glllllllllove (any Ace Ventura fans out there?). Here was the dilemma. They were red.
Red shoes! Really unique! They’re really going to show when I wear them! But they looked so cool. I decided that whether or not I would ever wear these shoes, $15 was still a good deal so I ended up buying them.

Today is casual day at work. We’re allowed to wear sneakers.

My red sneakers were glaring at me from the kitchen table when I came in this morning. That is where I parked them last week after purchasing them. I thought “oh what the heck, I’ll just wear my white shoes to work and I’ll wear these red shoes tomorrow when I won’t be seen by people I know”. What a copout!
Then I walked right past them. I had to pass them again on my way to the bathroom and then once more on my way back to the kitchen and I swear, it was as if this pair of shoes exerted their influence on me.
Finally I grabbed them and put them on. All of a sudden I didn’t care if they attracted attention (from people I know nevertheless!). They’re red and they are fabulous. I have literally taken another step away from the shadows, in my brand new bright red sneakers.

So… hey everybody! Look at me!

I’m wearing red shoes today!

Tattoo Journey - Part 5 - a photo is on its way!

2009-03-11T17:35:00.000-07:00

Ok, so my dad dug through some photos and sent me a few, but unfortunately they didn't have the cat I was thinking of for my tattoo. The photos he sent brought a lot of memories back however, and I was tempted to settle for one of the cats I saw on there.... (of course I know and remember them all fondly :-)).
BUT ... I didn't want to do that, unless we absolute can't find a photo of the right cat.

My mom emailed me this weekend and said she had found a couple of photos of Gurimalla. (Reference my earlier tattoo posts for info on this cat...). So granted that these photos show her face well & are of the right cat, I suppose that means that part of the battle has been won :-)

So we'll see.... I'll keep everyone updated on the progress, once some is made... (Mom is coming for a visit in April and I will probably have those photos then....so we'll see.... :))

Flames of Demise

2009-03-11T15:37:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure where the following story came from. There is this fascination I have with personifying the Grim Reaper and writing fantasy stories about him and his encounters with various characters, some end good, some end bad. I don't consider myself depressed or anything, I just have a vivid imagination and I do love fantasy, sometimes on the morbid side.

This story is slightly r-rated, it contains some adult language. Although it's not a lot of it, if that is something that offends you, I suggest you skip this particular piece :-)

Thank you.

Flames of Demise

It was the day she went to the lake. Naturally it was a cloudy day. An odd shade of blue was painted across the sky and a bright spotlight shone through its canvas, causing little beams of light to slash through the dark layer. The intense dabs of light shining through the moody clouds created a mysterious and depressing atmosphere. A total eclipse would have been brighter. The lake had adapted its body of water to the sky, imitating its shades and colors. Light waves danced across the surface as the breeze gently brushed across the water. It never seemed to get tired.

Her mind drifted back to the first time she had seen him. The first time she had wanted him. The first time she had wanted him to want her.
Casually he had entered the bar as if swept in by a wind gust. His overwhelming presence had filled the room, which all of a sudden felt tiny. When his onyx eyes crossed paths with her gaze, she drew a quick breath and sent him a quivering smile.
A look of surprise flew across his attractive face when she acknowledged him, and with a short nod in her direction, he continued pacing through the place, obviously searching for someone else. Although he disappeared out of sight, he never left her mind.
The next thing she knew, she heard his his deep voice ordering a Jim on the rocks from the bartender and she could sense his presence with every nerve in her body.

“Hello.” It was as if she was lost in a trance and she heard her own smoky voice work its way up her throat, exerting the single word of greeting.
Slowly he turned his head, acknowledging her only with a short nod and an unfriendly greeting. His blunt rudeness became him. Nervously she started a conversation with him, which turned out to be nothing but a monologue of unanswered questions.
“Do you dance?” she asked him timidly.
God he was so good-looking. She let her eyes wander along his body, up to his thick obsidian-colored hair, which was gathered in an elegant ponytail, reaching him far below his broad shoulder blades. Handsomely dressed in black from top to toe, raging about 6’8 from the floor, he had to be the tallest man she had ever seen.

“Yes.” His reply was unexpected and caught her off guard and she realized that he had finally surrendered to her persistency.
They merged together on the dance floor. She embraced his upper arms with her fingers and felt his strong muscles bulging underneath his elegant, black jacket. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her close while he gracefully whirled her across the dance floor. The fabric in his jacket caressed her warm cheek while she pressed her groin ever so subtly against his crotch, and she noticed a light yet flattering movement underneath his black slacks.
“Please don’t make me want you.” His whisper against her ear had been brief and quiet.
She wasn’t sure if he had said anything at all. His sorrowful gaze was pitch-black, forcing her to reflect on his few spoken words. She stayed in his arms until the song ended, then he gently escorted her back to her seat, grabbed his Jim on the rocks and left her side.

Longingly she followed his every move while he held another woman in his arms. As she observed the woman’s lips, passionately embraced and wrapped up with his, she felt a sting of jealousy, a sting which only grew more intense when he took the woman by the hand and guided her into the ladies’ room. As he was about to close the door behind them, he turned around and looked at her across the room while slowly shaking his head, clearly mouthing the five words, “Don’t make me want you.”
She leaned her head back, trying to tame the tall flames that were eagerly licking at her inner flesh, realizing that only he who had ignited these flames could extinguish them.

An overwhelming desire and a longing for him overshadowed all her inhibitions as she left her barstool and walked across the floor to interfere with his little rendezvous in the ladies’ room. A sharp odor met her in the doorway and she nearly tripped over a stiff woman lying on the floor, her cold eyes were staring straight up into the ceiling and traces of dried up blood trailed from her nostrils and the corner of her mouth. The man of mystery was nowhere to be seen.

“Oh fuck!”

The sight of the dead woman had made her utter the F word, and she slapped her hand across her own lips before covering the corpse with her jacked. Whimpering, she ran back outside to retrieve help before anyone else stumbled across the body. However, the news about the dead woman in the bathroom traveled fast, transforming the cozy and up till now mellow bar into a dungeon of chaos.

“I told her to stop snorting that shit,” a cold voice sneered next to her.
She understood it was an acquaintance of the deceased and promptly she made a selfish inquiry about the man that the woman had been dancing with before her encounter with death. The stranger next to her shrugged and gave her a puzzled look.
“You need to stop snorting that shit too miss,” the voice stated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

A roaring fire had been sparked that night and she was seeking to have it extinguished. She sighed and picked up a rock, then tossed it in the lake. Her eyes followed the perfect circles that were quickly multiplying, spreading from the core of where her rock had landed. She wondered if the rings ever stopped or if they just kept drifting forever.

After the incident in the bar, her expectations to see him again were extremely low alas she kept her hopes high. The glowing furnace in her stomach was a constant reminder of their brief encounter. Never during her 23-year-old lifespan had she ever desired someone so intensely. Only his smooth, cool hand could suffocate the flames he had torched within her.

Then one night, as she was sitting in a local cafeteria, eating her dinner, and she almost choked on her hamburger when his big, tall figure placed itself on the chair across the table from her. He looked at her with disappointment in his eyes.

“You want me.”

She started denying it but he stopped her lies before they left her tongue.

“Don’t play with me.”
His sentences were short and to the point.
“Do you want to know how I know you want me?”
She nodded in response to his question, but he shook his head. “I can’t tell you yet.”

Her hazel eyes were drawn to his black gaze and she reached out for him, trying to pull him closer. She desperately wanted to taste him. His mouth was hovering over hers, not even an inch away, and she could feel hot bursts of air against her lips for every word he spoke.
“Don’t do it baby.”
He seemed to need all his strength to pull away from her, and all of a sudden she felt cold and even lonelier than before.
“Did you kill that woman?” The question escaped her before she could squelch it.
He shook his head.
“You let her have you,” she commented, blushing slightly as the jealous undertone in her voice had to be obvious.
He nodded and reached out for her, gently playing with her long, black hair, twirling it around his strong fingers before he let his hand run across her pale face, down her cheekbones and across her neck, where he stopped and pulled away.
“Strangle your desires. You’re much too young for me.”
Then, as quickly as he had appeared at her table, he was gone.

She asked the waitress if she could identify the man that had accompanied her just a minute ago.
“No ma’am,” the waitress replied hesitantly, looking slightly amused at the inquiry. Suddenly the food tasted like cardboard and she had become strangely aware of the fact that she was eating alone. As she left the coffee shop she heard the waitresses’ giggling behind her back.
“They’re just jealous,” she muttered. “Because he doesn’t want them. He wants me…”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With a sigh she removed her shoes and buried her toes in the sand.
Despite the cold air, the sand was still warm from the sunrays that had been baking it all day.
She shuddered as the wind carried a drop from the lake in to shore, splashing it gently on to her naked feet. Carefree she leaned back in the sand, just looking at the waves as they were dancing around, playfully bobbing up and down, and occasionally a loud splash would break the silence when a hungry trout jumped up to catch his dinner on the water surface.

“You don’t listen well, do you?”
She was studying her grocery list, making sure she didn’t forget something, when his quiet whisper interrupted her. The sight of him fueled the flame inside her and suddenly she found herself fighting back her tears.
“I need you,” she whispered and he shook his head.
“No you don’t. Please don’t say that,” he begged and pulled her close.
His warm embrace soothed her soul and provided comfort. She wanted to stay in his arms forever.
“You’re making it hard for me to stay away,” he mumbled and buried his face in her soft hair.
Her restless fingers caressed his strong body and she felt his big hands exploring her curves. Then, as if he caught himself doing something illegal, he pushed her away with a frustrated sigh.
“Darling,” he said breathily. “You shouldn’t enjoy my touch like this. I shouldn’t be lusting after you. Be strong and walk away from me.” He left her shivering and sobbing and she left the store without asking anyone who he was, as well as abandoning her basket of groceries. Food seemed redundant all of a sudden.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She didn’t know what she had expected, but she certainly hadn’t expected to see him standing in her apartment, casually and natural, as if he belonged there. She didn’t mind. He seemed distraught.
“How did you get in?” she asked him.
“You let me in.” His frustrated tone of voice told her that he was about to crack and suddenly she felt better than she had in years. “This is my last plea and final warning. I can’t resist much longer.”
He grabbed her by the arms and shook her violently. Her head was bouncing around on her shoulders like a bobble head doll. She didn’t stop him. At least he was touching her, a touch she had longed for since the very second she laid eyes on him.
“I want you,” she mumbled. Her head was spinning and he stopped shaking her. “I really want you.”
Big sobs shook her petite body as she reached out for him.
“Please don’t,” he whispered and closed his eyes, wobbling like a crumbling fortress.
“Don’t you want me?” Her thick voice was barely audible and she stared at him until he looked at her again. She stared deeply into his eyes, looking for answers.
“No,” he sighed, but his gaze told a different tale.
She had pushed him over the edge. “You want me!”
Her whisper was one of triumph, whereas his following confession was one of defeat and despair;
“Yes. Of course I want you.”
He embraced her and she sighed happily. “Kiss me.”
He drew a quivering breath and surrendered at last, lowering his face and hungrily engulfing her sweet mouth while his tongue slithered in between her lips. Her mouth was an inferno as he embraced her tongue with his, swirling it around under the rooftop of her mouth, and his breathy groans exuded a mixture of pain and passion. Her soft body clung to his, taunting him with her feminine delights as they sprung alive under her thin summer dress and his throbbing manhood cringed in protest as he tore himself away from her.

“I am only visible to those whose desire for me is stronger than life itself.”

He sighed and kissed her warmly on the forehead. Her consciousness faded, leaving her in a daze. A warm fuzzy feeling worked its way through her torso, lulling her to sleep, but her desire for more breathed life back into her. She rose again the next morning, desperately lusting for his touch.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The dark sky above her contracted and squeezed out a drop of moisture which landed on her cold cheek, merging with a warm tear that was working its way down from the corner of her eye to her chin. Just minutes ago, the lake had provided comfort and relaxation to her exhausted soul, but now it seemed threatening and alluring. She curled up into a fetal position, wrapping her arms around her knees while rocking back and forth, trying to create enough friction to provide heat for her shivering carcass.

She closed her eyes. A few more drops drizzled from above, but since they didn’t seem to bother her much, they left her alone. Someone was staring at her and with a seductive smile she opened her brown eyes to accept his advances.
He was standing out there, in the middle of the lake. He appeared to be glowing under a grim reflection from above and a spine-chilling atmosphere had wrapped itself around them. With a deep, satisfied sigh she walked towards him. The cold water that was seeping in through her clothes didn’t bother her. Her fiery blood kept her warm. All she could feel was her desire to be with him, and he was standing there, welcoming her into his open embrace.
A wind gust lifted his big coat and it was flapping behind him like a black sail. At that moment he resembled royalty.

By now the water reached up to her chin and she kept walking, even though her feet couldn’t touch the bottom any longer. She just kept walking with her eyes glued to his handsome silhouette, and like a powerful magnet, he was pulling her out towards him. Finally she reached him and he took her breath away. With a last shivering gasp she landed in his arms. His tongue wrapped around hers, teasing it and tasting it while he guided her home, leisurely spiraling downwards through the water at a peaceful pace. He stripped her of her soaking wet dress and she felt his wet mouth on her puckered nipples. She struggled for a moment to get his clothes off, but finally they were both naked.

For a second it occurred to her that she was buck naked in freezing water, yet she wasn’t cold.
On the contrary, everywhere he touched her he lit a new fire and she could almost hear the cool water sizzling as it cradled her blazing body.
“Welcome baby,” he groaned as his big iron rod slid into her dripping melting pot.
She captured his lips with hers and he was bucking against her, eagerly molding her narrow cunt to his widened cock. Lusty groans of passion emerged from the depths of her lungs as he fucked her while they were spiraling faster and faster down towards the base of the lake. Her breath came in loud, short gasps as he let her experience what she had desired since day one; a long, nice, earth shattering release. He plunged into her one last time and with a loud scream he fired thick, hot streams of burning lava into her core. Her pleasure-ridden body was trembling fiercely as he filled her up with his boiling essence, and he surprised her when he kept pumping her, even after he was spent. By now they were whirling around so fast, she could no longer recognize her surroundings. They were bucking and riding each other all the way down, and as they reached bottom, he started pulsing again.
She expected his hot lava to fill her up once more, thus the freezing ice water that he launched into her womb made her scream. It kept shooting from his groin, seeping up through her veins, stifling every flame in her smoldering carcass until she finally reached the bottom of the lake with a soft thump.
“Baby.” He smiled down as she lay on the bottom of the lake.
Her cheeks were turning blue and her teeth were shattering between her dark lips from the freezing temperature that now possessed her body.
“I hope it was worth it.”
She couldn’t see him anymore, but she felt a last ice-cold kiss on her lips and she smiled.
“Yes,” she mumbled with the last of her strength. “I finally got what I wanted. I’m happy now.”

His big black eyes were sad as they watched the young woman drift away. As always, it was depressing when they sought him out voluntarily.
“Feared by most, loved by a handful,” he sighed.
Nevertheless, by the time the sun had erased the dark clouds above and the lake had settled once more, with rejuvenated soul he abandoned his latest desire to fetch another.

I Wrapped Myself in a Blanket

2009-03-10T13:39:00.000-07:00

(Some of you may have read this one before as it's one of the stories that were accidentally deleted a few weeks back...if so, just bare with me, new material is on the horizon!)

Note: The following story is not a political piece in any way, shape or form. It's simply a reflection of emotions and thoughts I had after the 9/11 tragedy happened. Like many authors and creative beings, I dealt with it through writing.

It's not that I want to remember these bad times so badly... it's just that I think it's important to bring it back now and then so we don't forget the emotions and the unity and everything we experienced as a nation in the wake of 9/11. This is not a master piece. It's just a random blurb of emotions and thoughts.

"I wrapped myself in a blanket and woke up to a war zone."

It was late Monday night. I started yawning louder and louder and finally I brushed my teeth and went to bed. As always I wrapped my big soft comforter around me, fluffed my pillows and sunk my head into them. I snuggled up to my husband and closed my eyes, soon enough I was sound asleep. On the opposite end of the country, someone else was just getting out of bed as I tucked myself in. Performing her usual morning ritual, she made her morning coffee and read the morning newspaper before it was time to wake the kids and her husband and get them all out the door. As her kitchen started populating and coming alive, she watched as her kids fought over the last scoop of cocoa puffs, and her husband was on his cell phone while getting ready for the day's meetings. A car horn honked from outside and he looked at his watch and sprung from his chair. He normally carpooled to work with a couple of friends. They all worked in the same building, so it made sense. "My ride is here. I'm late,” he said."I'll be back late tonight, who knows how long these meetings will last." He gave his wife a quick kiss on his way out. She was standing on the doorstep, waving until the car had disappeared into the horizon, then she went inside to get the kids dressed and sent off to school.

In a hotel room not far away, a business man was packing his suitcases. His eyes softened as he picked up the bright red fire truck he had bought for his son, the stuffed animal he had picked out for his daughter and the diamond earrings he had gotten for his wife. Gently he caressed each gift and a smile spread across his face as his thoughts went home to them. Then he packed up the last items and zipped up his suitcase.

Two doors down from him, yet another hotel guest was busy packing their suitcases as well. He spoke on the phone in a foreign angry language. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead. He tried wiping it away with a restless arm, but new sweat kept pouring out. His hands shook violently as he packed his shaving kit and dropped it into his carry-on luggage. He was constantly looking at his watch. A sly smile spread across his dark face as he left the hotel room and flagged down a taxi. With his hand he patted the outside of his jacket to make sure the plane tickets were still there on his inner pockets. Boy, wouldn't it have been embarrassing to forget the tickets. "Master would be displeased with me," he mumbled. "But master will be pleased with me." His phone rang and his stomach turned. He felt like throwing up all of a sudden. His partners were already waiting for him. He waved at them as he entered the airport. They all looked at their watches. Nervously. But they were excited when they headed for the check-in line. They had a flight to catch.

I was sleeping. People were kissing goodbye before scattering in every direction. Some even scattered before they saw each other that day. Friends and families were saying their good-byes at the airport.

"Call me when you get there to let me know you're safe"

And I was peacefully asleep; unaware of how busy our country was in another time zone. I probably had a nice dream. I don't remember. All I remember was quiet. All I remember was the earth shattering sound of the telephone, cutting like a knife into my comfortable world of dreams and relaxation. From a distance I heard the answering machine pick up and I heard our friends’ voice.

"Oh my God!"

The seriousness and desperation in his voice slowly woke me up. I thought he was in trouble somehow. And he was. We all were. Vaguely I heard something about New York being on fire. I didn't understand what was happening. My husband grabbed the remote and flicked the TV on, just to see one of America's landmarks on fire. Still struggling to wake up, still struggling to understand what I was seeing there, I witnessed the second tower of the world trade center collapse like a row of dominos pieces. And there were people inside.

People.

People talking on the phones with their clients. People chatting with their fellow colleagues, discussing where to have lunch. People writing up reports while thinking of their wives and girlfriends, fondly remembering what a good time they had last night, making sweet love in the candle light after a nice dinner and perhaps wondering if he should buy her a rose bouquet on his way home from work. Or would she prefer chocolate instead? Fathers thinking about how they have to get out of work early tonight because they have to take their kids to soccer practice. People in meetings, discussing how to get as much money as possible out of their new clients, how to best please and suck up to someone to land that million dollar contract that's floating around and is up for grabs. Women! Some married, some single. Some wondering if he will call them back after last night's date, or if that was the first and last time they saw him. Tourists. Tourists who have been saving up for years to finally be able to visit the United States, enjoying a piece of the big apple before they move on to other destinations. And then. Nothing matters. They didn’t have lunch that day. He never made it home early for his kids’ soccer practice and at home sat his wife, who would never receive his roses. Everybody lost out on that million-dollar contract. She never received the phone call from the guy she was out with last night, or if she did, she wasn’t there anymore to pick up the phone. We were left with terrible grief and a billion thoughts whirling around in our minds.

I'm angry. I'm angry because someone is so heartless and so evil and such a big coward, that he sends other people to die for him, to kill thousands of people, to break up thousands of families. To break our hearts. I'm angry because he used other human lives as weapons; ingeniously he programmed them and sent them out to kill. These people, because of him, that is all they know. And they think they are doing something good, they think that killing thousands of people gets them in favor with God. And he himself sits in his cave without getting his hands dirty, mastering his puppets. Because it's a puppet show. They are nothing but puppets. He is the master. They are his puppets. He pulls the strings. And they dance. I'm scared. I'm scared because someone with great intelligence, a great sense of perfection and coordination, was able to plan this and execute this, without anyone knowing about it. They all kept quiet. Yes, hints were dropped. But who would take it seriously. And if anyone took it seriously, who would've known. Just who … apart from the puppet master … would know. Not even the puppets knew. They were nothing but cold steel weapons in the hands of an assassin. And it scares me, because what if he has other tricks like these up his sleeve. No matter how prepared we could have been, can we ever be prepared enough? Is it possible? I feel privileged. I feel privileged because I still wake up every morning next to the person I love with all my heart. I feel privileged because I can still tell him every night and every day how much I love him. I feel privileged because I have friends around me, who I can talk to, who I can hang with, and we comfort each other. I feel privileged because every morning I wake up and my dog is there, wagging her tail, just happy to see me. She has nothing but good in her heart, she doesn't know evil the way we do. She just wants to love us. And that's a privilege. To be loved. I'm proud. I’m proud of the way everyone is handling this catastrophe. I’m proud of how fast planes were grounded and how they probably prevented this disaster from growing even bigger. I'm extremely proud of our firefighters, police men and emergency crews. How they faithfully work day and night to find survivors and bodies. How they see horrible things in this line of duty that will haunt them for years to come, yet they keep digging. Faithfully. Hopefully. I can't begin to imagine what their nightmares are going to be for the rest of their lives and I pray that people will never forget to support them and listen to them for the rest of their lives, to help ease the pain. I bow my head in respect. I'm very proud of the President of the United States. The pain he must be feeling inside is as great, if not greater than each and every one of us. Yet he stands strong and firm on his podium, leading the nation through this crisis with a firm and strong hand, while planning on how to respond, seeking to please and seeking to revenge. Yet he too is nothing but a man, flesh and blood, with feelings and emotions like the rest of us. I'm proud of news reporters. They are working day and night, bringing the nation together from east to west, so we are all able to unite somehow, and mourn together. They work 24/7 to bring us the latest, to make sure we know what is going on. They bring us all the emotions and they reassure us that we are all a part of a big and strong unity. I feel helpless. There is so much I want to do. I want to take each and every one of the victims in my arms. I want to hug them, comfort them, make sure they know that they have support from the entire world. Yet no words can ease their pain, no words can bring back their loved ones. This empty hole they have inside of them will be a part of them from now on. Maybe it will fill up little by little, but it will never fully close. I see the pictures on TV, I see people crying and asking for information on their loved ones. And all I can do is bow my head and cry with them. I feel guilty. I feel guilty because I'm thinking about myself and mundane situations that I need to take care of, when there's families that have been torn apart for no reason. I feel guilty for thinking about the WebPages that I need to get done, what is a webpage, what is a business, its nothing but cold money. I feel bad for being upset over the fact that my parents aren't gonna make it out here to visit me, yet so many people aren't ever going to see their parents again. Or their kids. Their husbands, their wives, their brothers and sisters and friends. And there's sadness. There's tears threatening to break through every moment I hear the national anthem, every time I hear a memorial song or see another picture of another victim.

I just want to wrap up in my blanket and go to sleep again, just to wake up to a normal Tuesday. But the giant empty hole in the Manhattan skyline is a constant reminder. If I wrap myself in the blanket and go to sleep, I will still wake up to this horrifying sight that has been haunting us for days. The world will never be the same. God bless America.

© Laila Roknian 2001 - no permission is granted for reproduction in any manner

New blog

2009-02-25T12:19:00.000-08:00

I started another blog, specifically about big rigs.

Odd? Perhaps. But that’s me.

So if I’m not here… I’m probably over there :-)

http://18wheelbeauties.blogspot.com/

11 Years and 1 Day!

2009-02-24T14:57:00.000-08:00

11 years ago today, I woke up and I realized that I had abandoned single life. The previous evening, in the romantic chapel at the Flamingo Hilton in Las Vegas, I had stepped in to the world of marriage with a man that I had met only a month and a half ago, although I had known him for almost 3 years.

I met my husband via a chat program called IRC. I was in college at the time, and I used IRC to stay in touch with friends from home. I frequented a chat room called #Norway and so did he. Initially I was happy to chat with him because he was American. A few years back, I had spent a year as an exchange student in Seattle and had fallen in love with all things American.
(Seriously….no matter what you think or how many of you want to move to Canada every time there are some challenges to overcome here in the US, we really are living in the greatest country in the world…)

It probably doesn’t sound very romantic when I say that we fell in love due to American politics. I had a class in college on American politics and I was writing a paper on political campaign ads. I found my best resources for this paper to be the Americans themselves, so I consulted the ones I knew, including him. We started discussing other aspects of American politics, and I realized that the teacher I had was leaning towards a certain end of the political spectrum and our education in politics has been very one-sided.

Of course, it wasn’t the American politics subject itself that drew us closer together. It was more the fact that we were able to discuss a topic like politics with each other on an intelligent level. I had already concluded from my experience with past relationships, that if I were to enter a lasting relationship, it had to be with someone who was of the same or higher intellect as myself otherwise I’d get bored.

American politics eventually led to discussing other topics, topics which gradually became more intimate until there was no denying that we were more than friends.
After awhile we started planning for me to come out here once I was done with college, and on January 15th 1998, I landed on American soil. Once we met in person, there was really no question that this was it for us.
February 14th that year I accepted his proposal and February 23rd we eloped to Las Vegas and got married. This wedding was to be followed by 2 more weddings later that year; one in Norway for my Norwegian family and friends and one official wedding in California for his family and friends.

A lot of people ask us how we did it. How did we manage to find the right person via chat and how have we managed to stay so happy for 11 years. I think our answer, to put it bluntly, is “No Bullshit!”
It’s easy to pretend that you are somebody else when you chat with people online. You can make yourself prettier, smarter and seemingly more perfect because chances are you’ll never meet the person. That was never the case with us. We were always up front about who we were, we would even openly discuss bad habits and traits that we possessed.
A great thing about chatting “monitor to monitor” is that you cover topics that it’ll take years for some people to approach if they are talking face to face. Since we were honest & upfront about who we were – aka no bullshit – we knew each other inside and out by the time we met. Also, we never even exchanged photos until we had been chatting for at least a year or so, simply because we didn’t really care what the other person looked like. We fell in love with each other’s minds & personalities, by the time we exchanged photos, there was very little that could have scared us off.

We’ve continued practicing the “no bullshit” routine in real life. We are who we are. First of all, there was no bullshit to uncover once we met. Everything about me was what I had told him already and vice versa. There were no ugly surprises. There were surprises, but they’ve all been positive :) Another big thing in our relationship is communication. There are no secrets (except for the nice ones, like Christmas presents….hee hee….). And I guess the most important thing is, there is so much more to our relationship than just love.

I’m not a believer in love at first sight. I believe in attraction at first sight. I also believe in the possibility of love at first sight. But to truly fall in love with a person, you have to know that person first and then you decide whether or not you can love him, bad qualities and all. That instant puppy love we feel when we fall in love, it will eventually fade away some. In its place is another form of love, a love that will help us overcome the obstacles we’ll encounter throughout our relationship.

Love is important, but it shouldn’t be the only thing a relationship is based on. Included in a relationship there should be a certain level of commonalities, there should be friendship, there should be and understanding that we’re not perfect. Life has its ups and its downs, but as long as all the things you love about a person exceeds this person’s bad habits, we’ll be OK.

A perfect romance is what happens on big screens and in Harlequin romance novels. The rest of us have to work at a relationship to make it perfect. When the priest says “for better or for worse”, it really means exactly that. But I guess the point is that the relationship you have with the person you marry needs to be important enough to make you want to stay and fight when things get “worse”.

So… no secrets. Just be yourself. That’s all you can be and when you meet that special someone, that’s all he will want you to be as well.

No bullshit.

5 reasons why I love big rigs...

2009-02-23T16:28:00.000-08:00

.... apart from the obvious parallel to a strong and virile man pulling a cart full of bricks, his muscles bulging and a sheen of sweat covering his lean body as he faithfully pulls the bricks along towards their destination. Yummy. Yes?

Those that are observant will notice only 2 types of trucks in these photos... simply my favorites...

The above pictures were found on the web, I will have to take my own camera for a spin for some photos of my own :-)

Bret Michaels

2009-02-20T16:10:00.000-08:00

A couple of months ago, I completely revamped my iPod. I wiped it clean of all the music I had loaded on to it. Every song I no longer wished to listen to were left behind on my computer and I loaded all the songs I still hadn’t grown tired off on to my iPod, along with some new music. Once I took a glance at my new iPod, I realized how much my taste in music actually said about who I was and who I had become.

I’m going to dedicate this blog to my relationship with Bret Michaels. It’s a relationship that exists only in my head, and one that he most likely wouldn’t be very interested in, seeing as it would only involve talking.

To quote him from one of his songs: “I am good at one thing and believe me it ain’t talk!” (from “Look but You Can’t Touch”)

Growing up, my taste in music was pretty much influenced by three things: My parents, my peers and the radio.

In my family, my dad was mainly the one listening to music, so I grew up listening to his country music. I’d say my parents’ taste in music accounted for a 50% influence on my own taste in music.
As I grew older, my peers’ taste in music became a factor. I think however, that when I analyze the way I was back then, my peers’ taste in music only accounted for about 20% of my musical influence. Sure I may have pretended to like their music so I wouldn’t seem like such a country-music loving geek. I was a teenager after all and had no desire to stand out. I did enjoy a lot of that music though (hey I grew up in the 80s…what’s not to like...) but at the end of the day, when it came time for me and me alone to pick a tape to listen to (this was before CDs), I went back to country.
A third factor that I guess by logical math would account for about 30% of my taste in music would be the radio. The top hits, whatever was played over and over and over again on the radio, stuck to the brain until you couldn’t stop yourself from whistling these tunes or singing them in the shower because you just couldn’t clear them from your memory.
These songs were the very same ones that were played at school dances and fun functions I attended as a teen, so naturally a lot of fond (and some not so fond) memories became linked with the tunes so I cherish these songs for many reasons.

11 years ago, I moved from Norway to the United States and it opened up a whole new array of bands and musical talents that I had never listened to, or even heard of. Until then, I was familiar with the most popular hit songs which had made their way across the pond and had been played on the Norwegian radio, but there was a lot of music that never made it that far.
Luckily for me, I discovered that it is never too late to catch up.

My first real insight into the world of Bret Michaels happened when he appeared on Nashville Star as a judge one season. As a fan of country music, the world of rock was fairly unexplored by me, so Bret Michaels had a clean slate with me. I knew very little about him, about his “bad boy” past or about his being as a whole, but by the end of the season, I had become thoroughly fascinated by the man. Despite knowing nothing about him, I learned a lot just by listening to his comments & watching his general appearance on the show. From stories I’ve heard and articles I’ve read after the fact, I know that I got a fairly accurate perception of him.
One of the qualities that really made me like him was his uncanny ability to just be himself! It doesn’t seem like this is something that should require a lot of effort, but the truth is, it’s a quality that is sorely lacking in a lot of people. Bret stood out because he had this attitude of “Hey, this is who I am, take it or leave it.” Well, I took it.
During the course of the show, he also performed a few of his songs and I really liked what I heard. He wasn’t performing as Poison that time, he was singing songs from his solo albums.

Well, the show ended and Bret & I parted ways for a while. I had gotten to know him and I liked him but musically, I was still stuck in the past.

Then I discovered this addicting game called “Guitar Hero III” and I immediately fell in love with the song “Talk Dirty to Me”, even before I realized who was behind that song. Once I found out it was a Poison song, it was as if everything came full circle and I was hooked, not just on the song, but to Poison and to Bret Michaels. I started rifling through my husband’s CD collection to retrieve his old Poison CDs, and I quickly became a Poison addict, constantly craving more and more of their songs until I was in possession of them all. (I’m sure there may be some out there that I haven’t heard….)
Of course, I was already familiar with the biggest Poison hits, such as “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” and “Something to Believe In” because they did make it across the pond, but as I started listening to more of Poison’s albums, I discovered all these musical gems that had never been recorded on a “Greatest Hits” album. Most of these songs were written by Bret Michaels, some in cooperation with the rest of the band members.

As I started wandering through the world of rock, I discovered other great bands along the way, such as Motley Crue and Skid Row. Although their songs were catchy and really good, I found myself getting bored with their songs after listening to them a few times. To me, they lacked a depth and a lyrical diversity that I seemed to have found in Poison’s music. (I'm sure some people will disagree with me, and I would expect nothing else... Music is like tattoos, they mean something different to every single person.)

And yes, I know there are some tunes in the Poison discography that aren’t that great, but the blunders are few, the diamonds are many.
(Note: I’ve had the same Poison CD on “shuffle” in my car stereo for over a year now… It doesn’t get old.)

Once I had familiarized myself with Poison, I started delving into Bret’s solo work and found it to be just as good as his Poison work, maybe better. The man’s still got it, not just physically (because let’s face it, he’s sexy as hell), but also as an artist.
I find that Bret is a true bard in a modern sense of the word. He is a word smith, a lyricist and a musician and his solo songs are amazing. It seems like his current songs are more a part of him, they are more personal and it gives a greater insight as to who he is as an individual, where he came from and who his musical influences have been.

A couple of his songs brings up his bout with diabetes. Bret was just a child when they found out about his disease, and I can’t even imagine how heartbreaking and difficult and depressing that must have been. I knew a couple of kids from my childhood who had diabetes and it was no picnic for them (literally…). Back then, the only sugar free soda was Tab (Come on, all at once: Ewwwwwwww!) and sugar free cakes & candy were non-existent. Well, that’s not true. They had a couple of sugar free treats that tasted just as good as that pink-labeled black-colored watery drink they named Tab. For birthday parties and picnics, these kids could pretty much just sit and watch everyone stuff themselves with cake and soda. That has to be so tough on a kid. (Heck most adults would find that difficult….).

During this entire time though, throughout sex, drugs & rock’n roll, Bret has somehow managed to keep himself healthy & keep the disease at bay. Who knows, the diabetes may have been a factor as to why he’s still such a great artist and so talented, because no matter what he has done throughout his career as a rocker, the disease may have been lingering vaguely in the back of his mind throughout the journey.

However, as I said before, what I do admire the most about Bret Michaels is his bluntness and his ability to just be himself. He has no qualms about airing his dirty laundry for everyone to see. I remember this one article from an interview with a “Rock of Love” reject where they gossiped that his long hair is not his, they are hair extensions. Bret’s response was simply “Yes they are, I get the finest European hair that money can buy!” I just loved it. I mean…who cares? If I earned millions of dollars, I’d probably get the finest extensions money could buy too. And as for Bret’s bad-boy past, sure I know about it, I know it’s real but heck, he has never denied it. There are people out there who have done far worse things in life and who sit high and mighty upon their pedestals, their images are squeaky clean but their souls are not.

Despite being a Bret Michaels fan, I’m not a fan of “Rock of Love”. I’ve watched a couple of episodes, but it’s not my thing.
From what I can tell, “Rock of Love” has served as an advertising campaign for Bret Michaels. He has been able promote himself as a solo artist, so that people will look at him and think “Bret” instead of looking at him and thinking “Poison”. As far as I can tell, he has pulled this off. It’s a really brilliant business plan and Bret is an amazing salesman. And contrary to what he stated in the song I quoted above, I believe that he must be very good at talking because otherwise he wouldn’t have made is this far in his career.

So…

Gone from my iPod are all my country songs. (Well, I take that back. Bret has a few country songs that are very good, and they are still on there.) It’s kind of sad. It is as if I’ve said goodbye to a part of me that has kept me company most of my life. But then again, while the songs are gone, the memories are still there and they always will be.
I’ve just moved on is all. It feels as if I’ve finally found myself and the music taste I’ve developed is one that I have developed on my own, without caring about anybody’s input or influence.
The music I publically say that I love and the music I play when I’m on my own is finally the one and the same! That must be a good sign?

As far as Bret Michaels goes, I’m probably the only woman in the world who, if stranded on a deserted island with Bret, would spend the time talking with him. (I think I can hear him praying out loud right now….). Perhaps someday, I will write a biography.

Maybe someday, I too can find the courage to be myself. Perhaps the next time I waver between being true to who I am and being someone who other people want me to be, I should simply ask myself….

WWBD?

All photos in this blog was taken by me during a Poison concert
at the Universal Amphitheater in LA.

All I can say is.... Bret's still got IT! (They rocked!!)

To Error is to Learn....

2009-02-19T15:27:00.000-08:00

I play the tuba. I’ve played the tuba since I was 13 years old and I’ve been in band for just as long. In Norway, playing in band is a much bigger hobby than it is here in the US. I’m not talking about rock bands, I’m talking about concert/marching/brass bands. In every city across Norway, there is at least 1 such band (usually more if you count the junior bands, school bands etc), and in the larger cities you find multiple adult bands as well as the ones for younger musicians.

People who aren’t familiar with bands tend to think that we only play once a year, which is on May 17th. May 17th is Norway’s equivalent of July 4th, all the marching bands play in parades across the country, big parades, small parades, it’s really a sight to be seen.
We do, however, perform a lot more than once a year. In between Christmas concerts and May 17th parades, a large portion of our time goes to rehearse and compete in regional as well as national band competitions. The big competition is the Norwegian Championship, where stakes are high, our nerves are on edge and we’ve practiced our pieces so much, we basically know them by heart.

I’m bringing up my background in band because after my accidental deletion of my blogs yesterday, I have been reminded of a very clever statement that one of my music conductors once told us prior to a competition.
It’s a statement I’ve carried with me ever since and that has been useful in so many situations, not only in music, but in life.
He said something along these lines:
“If you play a wrong note or make a mistake, don’t dwell on it! The mistake has already been made, it can’t be fixed, just think forward and concentrate on playing the rest of the piece.”

And he is right. What can you do? You can’t go back in time and fix it. And if your mind is stuck on that error you made, then the rest of your performance will also be a disaster. Instead of beating yourself up over the mistake you made, try learning from it.
You won’t move forward if you keep looking back.

Let’s say you’re visiting a friend who lives in an area you are unfamiliar with.
You miss the freeway exit that leads to your friend’s place. If you keep staring back at the freeway ramp you were supposed to be exiting, thinking of nothing but how you missed your exit, you will most likely end up in a car accident because you are unfocused and not looking ahead. Most likely, you will also pass the following freeway exit and maybe even the one after it, constantly moving further away from your intended destination and making things a lot worse than they could have been.

Instead of this chaos, you could stop thinking about the exit that has already passed and start looking ahead to the next one. In the process, you will familiarize yourself with a new geographical area that reaches beyond your intended destination. If this is the first time you’ve ever missed a freeway exit, it most likely will not be your last, so you are now learning how to handle that situation should it arise in the future. Once you focus forward, several possibilities to remedy the situation will appear before you. Will you drive on to the freeway leading in the opposite direction to catch the right exit? Will you try to parallel the freeway through side streets to find your way back? Either way, your mistake can be nothing but beneficial to you and in the end, I’m sure you’ll still manage to find your friend’s house. (Also, you’ll probably never miss that exit again!)

Over the past 24 hours or so, I’ve remembered several great blogs that I wrote & that were lost due to yesterday’s moment of blondness (I can say that, because I’m actually blonde….lol)
When I think of these posts, I groan and sigh and tear my hair out for awhile. But why do I go back there? It’s done! I’m in this situation right now, there’s no going back.
Can I rewrite the blogs that I remember the topic of? Sure! And who knows, they may even turn out better the second time around. And many of those blogs may not be worth rewriting, in which case they probably not have been posted in the first place.

When all is said and done, I blog because I love to write. Now I’ve created an opportunity for myself to start from scratch. That may not be a bad thing.

So why do I bring up freeway exits, band competitions and clever words of wisdom? I needed to attach a positive connotation to blogging, as opposed to the negative one that was currently overshadowing everything else. Several times today I’ve been staring at a blank page with a blank mind because all I could think of when the word “blog” came to mind was all the blogs that are gone and that’s not the way I wanted to proceed.

Now I’m back on the fabled horse. It’ll probably try to buck me off again, but the fall should be a lot softer next time.

And although I’ve vowed not to look back, there’s one back I definitely should be focusing on moving forward… and that would be the backup.

(Cheezy? I thought so…. ;-) )

F*****CK!!!

2009-02-18T15:10:00.000-08:00

As you can see, my last 7 posts are dated 2/18/09… It didn’t always use to be that way.
Also, as you can see, there are no posts dated prior to this date... Again, it didn’t always use to be that way.

I mean, can’t you even get a popup that says something like “Are you sure you want to delete ALL (I repeat…ALL!!) your posts?” before they’re gone for real? I’m really frustrated right now.

I went to delete a label. A freakin’, stupid, insignificant to most, label.
And oh boy did I do a thorough job.

I clicked “check all” posts because I was removing this label from all my posts, and then I clicked “delete”, thinking it would delete the label. Wrong! Well, actually, that was correct…the label IS indeed gone…. Along with every blog I ever posted.

Luckily, my “Back” button still worked and the cache still showed my last 7 posts or so, so I was able to copy those over into a word document and repost them all. However, this blog used to be a lot longer than 7 posts :(

I’m so mad at myself right now and very frustrated, but what can I do. They’re all lost & gone forever. All I can do is create new ones and never touch that delete button ever again.
If I stick a stupid label on something, then by George, it gets to stay there!!!

No more lip gloss for today.

A Lip Gloss Kind of Day .....

2009-02-18T15:03:00.000-08:00

It was a bittersweet experience to wake up today, much due to the absence of rain pounding against my window.

I love the sound of rain. It’s a cozy sound. It reminds me of all the things I love about rain.I cherish the trail of cool kisses it leaves across my skin. I love how it completely justifies a need to be lazy because we can say:
“Oh well, it’s raining outside, I guess I can’t go for a jog or work in the garden when it rains…I may as well put on a good movie & stay in bed”. (We should take time to do this anyway by the way, even without the rain telling us to do so…)
I love plowing through big puddles of water with my truck, sending the water rocketing into the air like a huge tidal wave washing over my car, and I love how fresh and clean the air is after being cleansed by the rain.

What I hate about the sound of rain pounding on my window is first of all the fact that I have to leave my bed when all I want to do is roll over and pull the covers up to my ears and sleep some more. Secondly, I hate traffic on rainy days. If I wake up and I hear rain, I know that traffic is without a doubt going to be terrible because some people refuse to believe that wet asphalt can be dangerous.

I also have a dog. I know that when it rains, we have two options. She’ll either go outside to do her business in the rain, which means coming back inside with muddy paws and soaked fur, not to mention that muggy scent of wet dog which has the power to override the scent of any air freshener. Alternatively she won’t go outside in the rain at all. Instead she will save up all her urine until she can save it no more and let it go all over my kitchen floors. Either way, the end result is the same: Floor mopping!

Anyway.

My mixed feelings about the absence of rain quickly vanished once I walked outside and opened the garage door. A beautiful shade of blue graced the sky and there was a healthy chill in the air. A refreshing chill in fact, the kind that nips at your skin and wakes up the senses. I rolled down the windows on my truck because I wanted to feel the fresh breeze blowing through as I drove down the street. Once I reach the freeway however, open windows at XX mph (and by that, I am naturally referring to a nice & legal speed of 65mph…) is no picnic, so that’s where the fresh air ends. Literally. The air is no longer fresh once you reach the freeway.By that time however, I was nice and awake and in a great mood, so in lieu of open windows, I cranked up my Motley Crue CD & thoroughly kick started my heart for the day ahead (pun intended, for any Motley Crue fans that comes across this…).

I arrived at work, nice and refreshed, and my cheerful mood even prompted me to put on some lip gloss before I walked in the door. I rarely wear makeup, so it was indeed a rare occasion.

I’m eating my lunch at my desk today because I have a date with a vampire who I intend to spend my entire lunch hour with, outside in the sunshine. There’s a chill in the air and most California natives are not going to be sitting outside, so it’ll be nice, quiet & peaceful. Just me, my vampire, the blue skies above and an occasional hummingbird fluttering about, seeking nectar from the trees. I know I will truly appreciate my hour of tranquility in the midst of something that has so far proven to be a busy workday and perhaps it will inspire another layer of lip gloss.

The Purpose of Food

2009-02-18T15:00:00.000-08:00

I love food.

If I’m having a bad day, there’s nothing like going home and eating a really tasty dinner to make up for all the crap a person has to put up with throughout the day. It just makes everything better! It calms the nerves, soothes the beast, enchants my world with pretty colors and happy thoughts.Ironically, I also reach for food when I’m already happy. Why is that? After all, I’m already happy, so do I really need to be happier than happy?Sometimes the happy comes from good news, and that’s an occasion to celebrate. Good food is involved. Sometimes I’m happy because of something I accomplished and good food is my reward. Sometimes I’m just happy because I can relax and do whatever I want, and of course, what’s a better companion to relax with than… you got it… good food. Or maybe a bag of chips or some oreo cookies… Boy oh boy.

I’ve been overweight my whole life. Now, I’m a naturally big person through genes, but that doesn’t mean that I have to be unhealthy & fat my whole life. I’ve come to realize that I need to rethink the way I view food.

I’ve always wondered if cooks need to like all food. I’m an avid fan of “Top Chef” and “Hell’s Kitchen” and the bottom line in all those shows is that they all need to taste foods, taste what’s in food, taste veggies and know what they taste like before they drop them into whatever creation they are cooking. They have to taste fish, steaks, poultry…shellfish… do they really like it all, or is it simply that they have a different view of food than I do?I often cringe when I see them taste the foods because personally, I’m a very picky eater. I don’t like most fish, I don’t like tomato, don’t like crab, don’t like lobster (I know… please take that look of horror off your face, I’ve seen it before… I’m not a criminal guys, I just don’t like lobster….). So I’m always thinking “I could never be a cook because I wouldn’t be able to taste all that food to decide how to make it”. To a chef, is food simply an ingredient? Is it just a part or a component that they need in order to compose a dish? Could it be that they don’t actually like everything they taste, but they are able to calculate from the way it tastes, whether or not it fits into a dish? Are food ingredients to a chef the same as computer parts for an IT person?

Anyway, it makes me think that I too have to review the way I look at food. It’s obvious that I use food as reward when I do something good, as an anti-depressant for those days I’m down and as a remedy for boredom when I’ve got nothing to do.I guess the trick would be to reframe the image I have of food and try to stop thinking of food as a reward and start thinking of it ass a pure nutritional need. I should start thinking of food merely as a way to fuel and energize my body. I should think about it in a logical way as opposed to tying all these rewarding connotations to the activity of eating food.Why do we have to eat? To stay alive. That should be the only reason we eat. (At least if we’re trying to lose weight). Granted, I still have trouble eating foods I don’t like, even if they are good for my body. I’m not sure how I can get over that threshold, to start liking foods because they’re good for my body, not necessarily because they are good for my palate.

Food = Nutrition

I guess that means I have to seek out other ways of rewarding myself and comfort myself and retrain my brain to automatically reach out for some other type of reward or comfort when I need it.

Sounds easy in theory. Sounds easy right now, because I’m full from lunch.
But it’s far from easy in real life.

I guess analyzing and coming to this conclusion is a good step in the right direction. Who knows, maybe blogging will turn out to be good for my physical health as well as mentally. At least I see what I need to do. Now I just need to put it into practice.

Food should be better for the body than for the mind.

Tattoo Journey - Part 4 - Finally! The right choice!

2009-02-18T14:58:00.000-08:00

Ok. I’ve changed my mind for the last time. It finally came to me.

There was this cat who lived on my grandparents’ farm. Her name was Gurimalla. Gurimalla lived to be around 25 years old or so. I’m not exaggerating. She kept going & going & going, much like the energizer bunny, and every year up to the very last few, she produced litters upon litters of kittens. She was a true farm cat, hunting mice and having multiple litters of kittens every summer, litters that usually would stay with her until she chased them out of their nest, at which point they either ran off to other farms to start their own families or they stayed at my grandfather’s farm. (There were a LOT of cats running around my grandfather’s farm….)

Suffice to say, most cats running around in that area today are related to this cat.

Gurimalla was a survivor. I believe the story is that she came from a litter that was abandoned by the cat mother, the rest of the kittens died but she fought to stay alive and alive she stayed for years & years to come. This cat always knew what she wanted & how she wanted it. She knew who she liked and she knew who she didn’t like and she let everybody know her thoughts. It wasn’t unheard of that she’d take a swipe at someone she didn’t like and scratch them up a bit. Thus, she gained everybody’s respect. Nobody touched her kittens unless she allowed them to do so, nobody petted her unless she was in a loving mood (which she often was… after all was said and done, she was a friendly cat... she just knew what she wanted and there's nothing wrong with that :)). She was a really smart cat, she was the Queen of the farm for all those years, up to the day when she drew her very last breath.

Gurimalla is at the core of every memory I have from my grandmother and my grandfather and the summers & vacations that we spent on their farm. In a way she is a great parallel to my grandmother. Her strength and endurance, the way she is still around, even though she has been physically gone for years. I think that once I remembered this cat, I knew for sure she would be a natural choice for my tattoo. She represents so much of my childhood, so much of my grandparents and happy memories, and she doesn't just represent my memories that involve the cat itself, but she was the soul & the foundation of the farm for so many years, it’s hard to think about the farm without remembering her.

So now I need photos. I’ve sent out emails to every family member to see if anybody has pictures of this cat so I can get an accurate portrait of her. It’s weird actually, it’s like she is bringing the past back to us at this very moment. If anyone is to find a photo of her, they will have to dig back quite a few years through the photo albums & I’m sure many memories will spring up during this time. Since the cat was around for so long, I hope that I’ll get a few photos that I can look at & that a tattoo artist can see & help create a nice picture of her on my shoulder.

The more I think about it, the more right this feels. I'm really glad that I've taken so long in deciding on this... and I guess if anybody reads this who are thinking about getting their first tattoo, it's a good insight as to how things can change on a dime and as to why it's so important to think this through before going under the needle.

It's really important to me that if I am to do this, the tattoo needs to have a lot of meaning and significance attached to it. I'm not getting a tattoo just because I want to tarnish my body. If that was the case, I'd walk into a tattoo parlor and just pick something from their wall.In fact, like I've stated in a previous blog, I had even discarded the idea of a tattoo until something very significant happened in my life, which was the passing of my grandmother. It spawned the desire to somehow eternalize her and the thought of a tattoo was once again brought to life.

So… forget the horse shoe, the birch and the rune alphabet, which were all good ideas. In fact, I still may add the Berkana rune into the mix. It would be a nice way to incorporate my own name & heritage into the tattoo, that way it would represent both the maternal and the paternal side of my heritage.

So… Gurimalla’s spirit spirit will never die, her offspring will rule the entire region for years and years to come and her face will eventually be carved into my back…

I’m sure I can think of her claws once that needle starts etching my skin ;-)

Tattoo Journey - Part 3 - Pain & Tarnish

2009-02-18T14:56:00.000-08:00

Ok so now that I’m getting into thinking about a tattoo, I’m constantly reminded of two things:

1. It’s permanent
2. It hurts

Yesterday I was standing in the mirror, looking at my shoulder, which currently is pale & smooth with no marks or scarring of any kind. I was trying to picture a tattoo there and was thinking: “Is that what I want to see every time I look in the mirror?”(We’ve got mirror on 2 bathroom walls so you always see your back in a mirror somewhere….)

I figure the tattoo will be a part of me and not some strange, fictional element like it is to me right now. Once I decide on a design, I’ll have it drawn on or something first to make sure I want to tamper with my skin that way, but I think that if I pick the right tattoo, looking at it will remind me of the memories I want that tattoo to represent for me. It’ll be a visual statement to thoughts & memories that are important to me.

So about the pain… I think my pain tolerance is fairly high. I’ve had my eyebrows & eyeliner done through permanent makeup and it was no picnic but I put up with it. It was worth it in the end. And it’s true what they say…. You won’t die!

I looked up options regarding taking Tylenol before going under the needle or even the numbing creams but have decided not to use any of that. From everything I have read, it could lead to unnecessary complications with a tattoo (healing process etc), so I’ll just bring someone whose hand I can squeeze really hard & who can distract me a little.

I’ve never actually had a problem with needles, any shots & blood work I’ve been through over the years have never been a problem, so I figure if I just go in & try to relax, it shouldn’t be too bad.

Still … it’s a daunting task to voluntarily go in for something that’s going to hurt.

It’ll no doubt be the biggest obstacle for me, once I’ve decided what to get.

Tattoo Journey - Part 2 - Birch

2009-02-18T14:50:00.000-08:00

The second part of my tattoo …

Birch

Haven’t yet decided whether it should be the leaves, a branch or perhaps the Norse rune Berkana, which has the meaning of the tree Birch embedded into it, along with other symbolism. Seeing as I love Norse mythology and I am Norwegian, this rune may be a good choice for me. Also, it may be cheaper and turn out nicer than a birch leaf would. The leaves may look nice on a photo, but be too intricate and too detailed to come out nice on a tattoo.

Something to think about…Heres the Berkana rune:

Also called Beorc

Letter: Bold

Norse name: Bjarkan

Ancient Norse word for birch (which is my last name).

Essentially, Berkana is a female rune. It indicates Goddess force, female fertility, and the relationship between a mother and her child, especially the relationship between a mother and her infant. Maternal influence/nurturing is key when Berkana shows in a reading. In readings concerning business or some other non-mother/child situation, it still carries the connotation of nurturing, such as the nurturing one would give a business project in its early stages.Generally though, Berkana is indicative of the domestic situation. When Berkana is reversed, it often indicates problems or frictions between mother and child, especially between mothers and daughters. Unless it is paired with highly negative runes, however, these problems are usually temporary. Think of the frictions of a child becoming more independent versus the mother who is unable to let go of the child, and that is what Berkana reversed is indicating

Tattoo Journey - Part 1 - The horse shoe

2009-02-18T14:45:00.000-08:00

Ok. So I’ve decided that to tattoo or not to tattoo is no longer the question.

The real question is: What to tattoo.

I’ve wanted a tattoo for at least 5-6 years. Wait, let me rephrase that. I've been seriously considering a tattoo for about 5-6 years. I've probably wanted one even longer than that.In fact, I've probably wanted it for even longer than that.

I've always loved looking at tattoos on people. I remember once as a kid, I saw this man with a boat tattooed on his arm. I believe it was a schooner, with a huge sails and everything. I told my mother I thought his tattoo looked really nice but she frowned upon the tattoo, so naturally I discarded the idea of ever getting one myself. She told me all the reasons why a tattoo was a bad idea, and sure, I saw her points, but I was still fascinated with them. I’m glad she told me all the reasons why she didn’t like tattoos, because it has kept me real about them. I know it’s permanent, I’ve figured out which places on my body wouldn’t be a great choice for a tattoo… all because I’ve taken her opinion into consideration. I’m also glad I didn’t run out and get a tattoo in rebellion, first chance I got.

A tattoo to me is a big deal. I realize that I will be branded for life with whatever design I choose.

Once I went with a friend to a tattoo parlor and I almost got one. At that time however I was uncertain of what I wanted for a tattoo so I changed my mind about doing it that day. I wanted more time. I’m really happy that I’ve taken my time because what I had in mind for a tattoo back then is not what I have in mind today. I once considered tattooing a tiger on my shoulder because I really love tigers. But now, it seems like such a cliché to choose a tiger. In the past I also considered tattooing something in reference to favorite artists or favorite sports teams (I will definitely be a faithful Anaheim Angels fan till the end, so the Angels logo wouldn’t be too bad…), but it somehow seems too simple for my personal tattoo.

Believe it or not, I’ve actually learned a lot by taking so long to decide. I’ve learned a lot about myself in that course of time and I’ve learned a lot about tattoos. I’ve learned what I want a tattoo to mean to me, since I’m the one who is stuck with it for life.

I even put the thought of a tattoo to rest for awhile, but when my grandmother passed away in January, it reawakened the urge for a tattoo. Even though I will always remember her, I felt an urge to revisit my thoughts on a tattoo and have something done that will physically make her a part of me. I realized then that a tattoo wouldn’t just represent me on a superficial level, but it should mean something more than that.And please be aware that I’m not bagging on anybody who chooses their favorite artist, band or sports team for a tattoo. I know that a tattoo is a personal experience and such a personal decision and that a tattoo means something different to each and every individual who goes under the needle.

Me, I’m a writer. That means I’m a thinker and I probably think too much, so a tattoo to me, personally, has to have a deeper meaning than the color of the ink or the shape of the design on my back. (By the way, I have decided on a shoulder tattoo, I’ve gotten that far…).

The death of my grandmother brought back every memory about everything I loved about her and how much me and my brother loved spending our vacations with her and my grandfather, on their farm, helping them out or causing them head aches…. (not sure which one we did more…) Because of her, I’m looking back to my roots for a tattoo. And I don’t mean my roots as a Norwegian or as an American or anything like that. I mean I’m looking back to my roots… as me.

I have made progress. I want a horse shoe. I want a rusty colored horse shoe, a worn horse shoe. I don’t want the horse shoe for good luck, I want it because it resembles me and says a lot about me and my past. Once I decide for sure, I’ll let you all know the significance of the horse shoe, but so far I’m still thinking about what I can pair with the horse shoe to make it truly mine.

I will be blogging my decisions and everything regarding my future tattoo for everyone to read.

This blog could possibly go on for another 10-20 years without me going under the needle, but I am not in a rush. More likely though, it’ll be a year or two. Who knows, maybe it will be sooner? There are a lot of cool tattoo expos going on in my area from time to time, so maybe I’ll visit one of those & get it done by one of the artists there.

Finally, anybody who has any kind of tattoo experience, feel free to chime in here and leave me comments. I’d love to hear from people who have been under the needle, people who are thinking about going under the needle but haven’t yet….people who thought about it but decided not to in the end… I want to know all your thoughts!

For now, I’m going back to my thinking cap…

Jury Duty

2009-02-18T14:43:00.000-08:00

Today was the first time in the 4 years I've been a US citizen that I actually had to show up for jury duty. I was pretty excited. I know most people view jury duty as a drag, a hassle, something that keeps them from their job and if they can think up an excuse for dismisssal, they will use it.

To me, jury duty is a privilege. It's an honor to be able to help out the community and contribute to our country in any way I can, including jury duty. I worked hard to become a US citizen, so a jury duty summons to me is a confirmation that I am a citizen of the greatest country in the world. There are plenty of countries whose citizens have no right to a fair trial, and even less of a right to contribute and voice their opinion regarding the legal system.

I thought people would dress up for court. At the very least, I thought business casual would be proper attire, even if it is for jury duty. I even wore heels! I never wear heels!However, as I looked around at my fellow jurors, a lot of them wore jeans, t-shirts & sneakers.Personally, I feel a need to dress up when I enter the court building, no matter what my purpose for being there is. I have the deepest respect for our judicial system, I respect our court and I feel that replacing my jeans and sneakers with skirt & high heels was appropriate for the occasion.

Like many of my fellow authors (don't try denying it), I am a voyeur. I love watching people. And let me tell you...to a voyeur like myself, jury duty is fascinating. My book & my iPod lay untouched in my purse while my baby blues scouted the jury assembly room.Now let me be clear, I'm not a creepy kind of voyeur in any way. I just like watching people, seeing people interact, noticing how they interact with their fellow citizens. It provides for a lot of good material for my writing because I can find a literary character in each and every person I meet. Within this jury assembly room, I saw people from all walks of life, and while I was watching them, it made me realize the point and the importance of jury duty.I thought to myself, "If 12 people from this room, with all their differences in career, finances, life experiences or social status, can reach an agreement about a case, that has to be fair..." The gentleman next to me was studying for an exam in truck driving. The business woman across from me was calling everyone in her office, letting them know everything that needed to be done for the day. A couple of students had their noses buried in their school books. We were all different and if we had been picked to sit on a jury, no matter how different we were as individuals, by the end of the day, all of us would have come together and agreed on a verdict. It's fascinating, isn't it?

The video they showed us made me want to be on a jury. Unfortunately my job doesn't pay for jury duty and my husband is currently out of work, so financially it wouldn't be a suitable time for it. I was still disappointed to be excused so fast. But there will be more opportunities I'm sure, and I'll be more than happy to grab them. It's a privilege, not a duty.