Today

Can I just say, I love my life? What more do I want?

Memories

THREE MEMORIES:

Anyone remember their earliest memory?

Mine was this:

Having the coolest plastic airplane with white exterior and red interior in hand while being pulled in a little red wagon down a white tiled, white walled hallway. There were a lot of knee caps and then darkness.

That was when I was two or three, my tongue was too short for my mouth, so they had to clip the skin connecting my tongue to my mouth, that way I was able to stick my tongue out and lick my ice cream or even say my sister's name: Melissa.

Now days people have to tell me to slow down when I talk, funny eh?

One day I remember walking down the street to my friends home. While passing a particularly large and spiky yucca plant (its stalks seemed to touch the sky), a yellow jacket landed on my arm and climbed up my sleeve. As any normal four year old would do, I panicked.
The sensation of the sting has since fled my memory, but I will never forget screaming at the tops of my lungs, until my mother came running down (mind you 5 houses down the block) to come and comfort me. Some how she knew it was my scream, and probably thought I was being killed or something.

When growing up, there was a beautiful lady in the neighborhood that called me her sunshine. She looked exactly like a barbie, with the long straight blond hair, tan skin and beautiful smile.
I was hooked,(mind you I was four at the time)I'd get my best smile ready for her to see along with my chest all puffed out, trying to be as impressive as a four year old could.
I remember always seeing her at our church, when going through the front doors. She give me her dazzling smile and a hug. I'd probably go all bright red and crack my face in half just grinning about it.
A few years later she passed away unexpectedly. It turned the neighborhood upside down, and shook many lives. I was one.
Who was I going to smile for now?
I decided from then on to give my smile to everyone I met.
Along with my sunshine.

Today was cold! I didn't think much on it as I ran out the door to catch my bus this morning. But when a particularly severe breath of Old Man Winter found its way down my throat, it promptly frumpled and wizzled away. Of course I had to breath again, so my throat reinflated, if not begrudgingly.

Today has been. . . . interesting to say the least.

BUT before I go on, I just have to mention the milestone (Not millstone) in my life has come and gone. I hit 6 months being married to my amazing wife! The good new is that she hasn't killed me yet! Naa, just kidding. But seriously.

We had an awesome time, eating sushi and then laughing so hard it almost came back up. To you my love, here's to the future.

Today,the climax of my day came and went before 1:00. Now its kind of on the downward slope. I had a physics test today. It ended up being a bit more. . .how should I put it, digestable(?), than I thought. I made it out with all fingers and toes accounted for.
Boy, its going to be a great day when that class ends!

What was the last creative thing you've done?

A Quick Minute

How busy are you in a day?
Do you have a little time to stop? To breath?
Can you stop and sigh that sigh?
Enjoy the view for that split second, or meditate for that infinitesimal space of time?

If or when you get a pause, how do you spend it?
FOCUSED? Disjointed? Unconventionally? Unproductively?
Are you selfish with your moment, or do you think outside your box?
Who do you think about?

I am a focused, disjointed thinker that is selfish most of the time.
Missing a bigger picture, another view, or a more important person.
How busy am I today?

Will I say: too busy for you?

Just enough time for me?

Or do I think of you?
How you feel in your moments?
What is your view of?
Do you feel disjointed?

Today in my quick minute, I'm thinking of you,
where you are,
what your doing,
and how much you mean to me.

In this quick minute, I just want you.

A SPLENDIFEROUS DAY

This morning the sky was blue! I practically ripped the blinds off their strings in an attempt to get a better view. Pink fluffy clouds, and blue, blue skies!

On the bus, the sun was blasting over the tops of the mountains, setting buildings, air and people on fire. . . .figuratively, not literally, although that would have been interesting.

My favorite part of this morning was waking up next to my wife cuddled close to me.

Walking to class, leafs crunched, not squished, beneath my feet. Light from the sun made the different colors glow. And it helped that the ground crews of the University were piling up huge mounds of leaves to be bagged. I had to restrain myself from kicking up a few piles. I think I would have become Utah's most wanted.

I'm looking forward to what the rest of today has in store for me. I have found my positive-link to this day and I'm not letting it go.

The other day I was talking to my sister on the phone. In the background I heard barking and barking, I thought she had gotten a dog, and had terrible flash backs of her first dog: LUCY.

But no apparently its the dog next door, her living room window looks out into their backyard. Every time she opens the window, the dog barks its brains out. It's a big fluffy Akita. Every time I see those dogs I just want to give it a big hug, but then it might just bite my face off.

If that happened I would just say: "Its not my dog!"

Yesterday my pen connected with paper,

and the ideas flowed out.

I wrote some pretty interesting things,

and the most amazing store came out of it,

it almost had a mind of its own,

writing itself there in my notebook.
I'm excited to see where it will go.

Erer-Ishk-Noriska

I wish you could see my city, on the top of the world. I hear it was founded by explorers that were following the North Star. They sought to bridge the gap between our world and there, where ever there is. They failed, of course, but in remembrance of their struggle, loss and quest for that star, they named the city "Erer-Ishk-Noriska" or "Jewel of the North".
The first city was rumored to be built entirely of Ice and Snow, many of the explorers stayed to live, others left to explore more, still others strove to find that bridge. Those that chose to were never heard from again. It is said, they were taken in the Lights of the Sky, to Iosto Noriska, the North Star, to dwell with those who came before.

But I do not believe that fairy tale, Byorna Babista says there was no bridge to begin with, she says they were fools to even come here. Of course she says that about any human, well begin a bear will do that to you. Grandmother Bear has been with us since before I was born, she is the oldest of the Byorna-myst, or Bear servant, for lack of a better word.
We have about fifteen in our home. They tend the fires, care for the grounds and guard the gates to my families estate. Father says we live symbiotically with them. Father says we provide the bears organized shelter, society and work, they in turn provide information about the North, workers for our foundries and guides through this frozen wilderness.

I think Father likes to confuse me with the big words he knows, Father does that because he is a scientist, the greatest ones that has ever lived. He's traveled around the globe over fifty times. Father thinks there once was a bridge to Noriska, that is why we are here, but I don't think so.
Father says I think more like a bear than a human. Father leaves for his great expedition today, I guess we will see soon enough.

Father has given me this book to write in. I asked him what I'm suppose to write about, he said, "Your dreams, your experiences, and your thoughts. When you look back on your life you will want to remember these things."
So I guess that's what I'm going to do.
Right now, being the son of world famous explorer, I want to be one to. Just like my Father.

Wintery Adventure

Today I want an adventure.
One preferably in the snow.
I saw it falling from the sky today and couldn't help but smile, of course I was looking out from the warmth and comfort of my home and a hot cup of cocoa.

But I yearn for adventure, a white blizzard, a silent wall of white, a sea of ice, a mountain of cold, a valley of frozen depths, a tundra.

I need a compass, an armored bear, and my demon at my side.
Where is Iorek Byrnison when you need him?

I need to find a wardrobe, with a witch, a lion and a talking beaver inside.


Oh, a side note. One of my oldest and dearest friends is at this moment boarding a plan, and flying it back into my life. I haven't seen them in three years, and I can't wait to see them. Its been to long, and I am excited to renew our friendship, share experiences and just see each other face to face.
Its almost as if Christmas is here now.

An Ode to Beginnings

What does one think when confronted by a beginning?
When the mountain is before them, or the road twisting onwards, what will one say?
What would you feel for a beginning? Anxiety, weakness or fear?
When would your heart rate speed up? When your feet are in the cradle of the starting line? In the first breath of life? Or the flutter of first wing?
Where will your beginning take you? Left or right? Up or down? This way or that?
How will I make it, what will this profit me, when will it end?

So many glittering shimmering fears, reflected in the light of our own aura, own understanding and sight. The calm before the storm, the dark mouth of the tunnel, the first scratches of ink on paper or first bars of a song sung.

How much do we really fear the beginning, when it is just short of the best part. Our abilities, and talents begin to stretch. Our minds to open and our faith to grow. We are a new day, clear with no mistakes, we choose how to react and think.

The beginning of a week, the start of a job, the first day of school, a first birthday, a new day, a new moon, a new cycle, the beginnings of a storm, the unfurling of a kite, a bubble being blown into life, a firework fuse lit, a love rekindled, true love found in first sight, the brushing of hands or kissing of lips, the turning of a piston, the flick of a switch, the ring of a phone, the pull of a plug, the match to the wick, the needle to threat, the wheat with the water, the rain to a seed, the wish that becomes a dream, the flash that proceeds the boom, the drop before the deluge, the dark before the light.

What will you do for your beginning? Will you squander it in apprehension and fear, will you be pulled by the wind and pushed from your goal? Will you step away from your beginning and back down from that hill? Will you look the other way and say, "Its not my dog."

Or will you step forward into the dark, cry out your faith, your passion and zeal for life. Will you greet the dawn, challenge that mountain and face that fear.

Will you start to finish? Will you claim your end and say with a voice loud and clear:

I have fought the good fight,
I have stayed the course,
I have kept the faith.

Running

The other day I was running round and round a track. My goal that day was to run the mile and get to class. Just as I was about to finish my mile, I had this sudden urge to keep going. My mind had this split second battle with itself as I saw the end in sight, and before I knew it the line was flashing by and my feet were still going. It felt good.

As I kept going I could feel myself growing tired, but not one to back down when my mind gets me into these things, I pushed myself, encouraging, always looking to the end, keeping it in sight.

4 laps to go....

3 laps to go....

I could feel my body working, my lungs pumping, my feet hitting the floor. My rhythm beat itself out steadily with my heart beat and breath. I felt one with my body, my surroundings.

2 laps to go....

Keep going, there's no point in stopping now.

1 lap to go....

I suddenly didn't want to stop running, my breathing was coming more shallowly, and it was harder to push myself, but my feet kept thumping the floor, I couldn't stop. My side was on fire, breathing deeply to get air, I felt sweat running down my back and face.

Don't stop now.

And there it was, the finishing line, the end, and it flashed by.

I reached my goal, Two miles straight. I was gasping, and cramping up everywhere, but I fulfilled, elated, and proud that I stuck to my goal.

Its funny now to think about it, this thought comes to mind:

If I were my own dog, I would have said, "That's my dog."

Complexities of a Simle Idea

It's a new month! Crazy! November here we come. I know Halloween is over and all, but I'm going to continue posting short stories here, for practice and such. So yeah, this should be interesting.

This week I've decided to live Facebook free, it should be interesting. I think I'll feel more accomplished with my focus on real-life relationships (those that are happening face to face or physcially around my body). We shall see.

Anyway, I decided to not wear my headphones on the bus today, in turn I was able to have a interesting discussion involving: Football, Halloween recap and movies.

With the invention of inner ear silence I walked to my classes with the sounds of November Autumn all around me, I had to deviate from my regular routine to crunch through leaves, smell cool grass, look at bare trees, and see the world from a slightly different perspective: two feet to the left.

It was all quite refreshing.

As I'm sure the rest of my walks outside will be.

I also saw a woman who looked like she was blowing kisses at me. After double taking, I realized she was blowing kisses to her car. After two more feet and a tripple take I realized she was trying to lock her car from a distance, pointing the clicker to the left, then the right. Dancing on one foot, while sticking the clicker under her chin, and in front of her mouth.

I wonder if it ever locked.

Morbid-ocity

I had the perfect Halloween feeling today.

It came lurking upon my conscious in a black ragged cape, all sickled clawed and hungering after my soul. I could feel chilled breath on my neck, a tightening of muscles and tendons. I could feel my mortality shrinking, my insignificance expanding and the shortness of all that is on this world.

T'was not a premonition, or a look into the crystal ball of the future, but a reminder, an icy hand on my shoulder to remind me of what will, eventually, happen.

An experience to cultivate wiseness, to expand my experience, and to treasure what I have, had, and may have.

Death, I have been reminded.

Dream 1, Part 6

He’s trying to drug me again, says something about how the force is stronger that attracts them to me when I’m asleep. He keeps slipping me drinks here and there in my drinks but I dump them down the drain when he’s not looking, and drink out of my stolen water bottle.
I can feel my head beginning to clear, but my sense of smell and taste still is gone. It’s horrible. I’m trapped in a death cage with nothing to protect me but glass and machinery, Otis has assured me that the bus can handle anything the Night-Crawlers can throw. I don’t believe him.
Its thirty minutes to show time, the peaks are growing darker, the special force waiting just behind the walls are ready. Now we wait. I think I might snap.
“K.C. you might want to lay down for a bit, conserve your energy. I’m shutting off all lights now, night vision on.” Were being monitored by the task force, so we have to keep the pretence up that were related, I nod and lay down on the bed. Otis probably thinks I‘m going to be out within a few minutes. I do my best impression of falling asleep.
Time ticks by, and I see, through slit eyes that he’s getting his contraptions ready, I didn’t bother to listen when he explained it.
A chill runs through me, the mountains are completely dark. I feel them moving. They are coming. I hear the bus door open, and see Otis walk out with the equipment, fresh air reaches my face, and for an instant I can smell it, faintly. But then he’s back and the door is closed. I feel energized from inside. I close my eyes again, they are almost here, somewhere a censor beeps, notifying Otis of their approach. The Task Force must be securing their weapons. I feel fear rise, like a wave. It’s not my own.
I can’t describe it. Suddenly lights appear on the main street and a car careens out of control and smashed into a wall. Out jump three haggard humans, screaming. They’re waving their arms and running for the protection of the wall.
I can feel their fear, as if it is my own. Something clicks inside of me, I suddenly smell the sweat coming from their bodies, crusting wounds. I smell the oils of the air, the burn wood, flesh and rubble that has surrounded me. In the air around me is the taste of antiseptic and cleansing materials. And for the first time I smell Otis. It is a musty smell, but registers in my brain as delicious.
Otis is cursing into the com about the three figures. The first has made it to the door, and is screaming. I feel and taste something in the air, it is familiar. The last figure, closest to the car disappears. I smile, the second one notices, and I almost laugh at his fear. He will not make it.
The second man disappears. I sit up in bed, and as quiet as a leaf falling I crawl onto the floor. I can sense my prey has no idea what is to come. I taste his frustration and anger. Things slide out of my fingers, I look down in surprise to see I can no longer see myself. I am black as pitch. I raise my claws in the darkness and flex them. Oh it feels good to have them back.
I slink down the walk way to the front of the bus. Otis is waiting, but he has no idea. They have come, not because I attracted them. They have come because I called them.
I slip through the plastic, right behind him before he could blink. I sank my claws and teeth into his back and neck. Oh it feels so good, I revel in his screams.
Now I know.
I am one of them.

Dream 1, Part 5

“I can’t let you go." The statement echos in my ears. "I can't let you go."
You see. . . I think you have a special connection with the Night-Crawlers. One that I haven’t seen in anyone, you attract them.” I gasped involuntarily taking a step back, “listen please we don’t have time. I need you for my experiment, tonight were going to park the bus outside the walls, where they’ve had the most Night-Crawler action. I need you to bring them to me.”
That uneasy feeling is back, and behind it is a cloud of fear. Whoever is watching me, I can feel them drawing closer, because of my fear. I look at Otis, his pleading in my eye, I look out the window, a group of soldiers is waiting by the front of the bus; someone tall is walking towards them.
“Please, this could be humanity’s salvation.”
I have to say yes, it’s the only way. I can feel it inside of me. I nod my head, not a minute to soon, the doors to the bus click open and I hear booted feet coming up the stairs. A tall beefy man, with arms the size of my entire body parts the plastic and steps towards us. His demeanor is one that demands respect and fear from all. Surprisingly enough, I feel nothing, just blankness.
The man sneers at me and turns to Otis, “So you and you’re . . . son are here to capture one of the Night-Crawlers. Well good luck. There’s not a chance in hell you be able to. Our gunners have to blast everything outside the walls to get anything. They can’t ever see them. But I guess if you come from the Top Dogs themselves, I’ll have to humor you. You both leave at Oh Seven Hundred, be ready.”
Turning from Otis he sneers at me again, I keep my face blank. He’s gone; Otis turns to me with a grin, “Let’s get rolling.”
The mountains are on fire again. I’m looking at them feeling my own fear. I can feel them coming near. Were outside the walls now, down a small suburban street, dead limbs and leaves have fallen around and blow in the breeze. Several houses still stand looking at us through smashed windows. I have no idea what day it is, or how long I’ve been with Otis, but I know I must escape tonight. I’m not sure how, maybe I’ll make a dash for it before the Night-Crawlers come, but I know they’re close.

Dream 1, Part 4

Everything is crystal clear tonight; I see Otis’s face floating above me, high above me. I realize I’m in a pool of liquid green water, well beneath the surface, all around me are shifting shadows, watching me with a thousand eyes. I hear mumbled words and hissing. Suddenly the shadows reach out to my body, I try to twist, but my body is solid stone. Pain erupts where ever the shadow touches, my arms, legs, sides, head. The shadows move around my body, touching, searing my flesh. When they come away I see the skin is black and blue, with minute holes peppered everywhere. I feel myself being to ooze out of the tiny openings. I try to scream, but when I open my mouth water rushes in. I involuntarily breathe, feeling water enter my lungs, bursting their insides.
I awake with a start and sit up in bed. Morning sun streams through my window. Beyond the streams of sun, silhouetted awkwardly is the largest tank I have ever seen in my life, with its muzzle point right over the top of the bus. I jump out of bed, stumbling over my still weak legs. Otis isn’t in the front seat, I call his name, but no one answers. I look at his chair, noticing a case of water bottles open behind his seat. Some empty bottle sit on the floor, point down the stairs. Following their advice I step down the stairs and push open the folding doors.
I’m greeted with a cacophony of sound and sight. Soldiers bustle around the bus, like worker bees in a giant armored hive. Jeeps and trucks I don’t even know the names of are parked helter skelter. Around me stand three huge buildings, squat square thing that have no windows, naked trees stick out around the buildings, probably once looking elegant. Dead grass mashed into dirt and broken cement paths crisscross around them, like shattered smiles. I cling to the door handle, swaying dangerously, so much to take in.
But there is something missing from the whole scene, and I finally realize what I’ve been missing. I cannot smell a thing. All thoughts of finding Otis are gone, I take a huge sniff, catching the eye of a guard walking by he just shakes his head and moves on. Good worker bee. I feel panic rising within me. I cannot smell. I smack my mouth experimentally, but taste nothing. Its almost like not being able to breath and I fall back inside onto the stairs, gasping.
Somehow I find myself back next to my bed. There’s another tray of food, just like yesterday. I reach out and tentatively grab a piece of bread. I put it up to my nose and sniff. Nothing. I lick the bread, nothing. Shivering with panic, I shove the whole piece in my mouth. How could I not notice this before? Was I just too caught up in what was going on around me? My throat is closing around the piece of bread, I need water. Stepping quickly over to the water cooler, I automatically grab a cup from its shelf. Then something catches my eye for the second time: the opened case of water bottles.
Why would Otis drink out of water bottles if he had a perfectly good sink, and water cooler? My choking momentarily forgotten, I swallow and step towards the bottles on the floor. I’m the only one that has been drinking from the cooler, why? Maybe Otis drinks from it when I’m asleep, I haven’t been the most alert person . . . wait. Asleep.
I feel again, the sense of someone watching me, its faint, but I can still feel it. Outside the bus soldiers march relentlessly by. I can hear a thundering somewhere.
A memory, foggy as it is, flashes through my mine. A syringe, in Otis’s hand, a proffered cup of water just before I fell into unconsciousness, the offer of the water cooler and refusal by him.
“Otis is drugging me!” Out loud, the words seem small, but I say it again. And again. And again, until I’m almost shouting them, “ HE’S DRUGGING ME!” I look down at the close I’m wearing, standard gray pants and a long sleeve shirt. I rip off the shirt to look at my arms, huge black and blue bruises are all over my arms, the nook of my elbows, the tops of the arms, even my wrists. I look at my chest; several white scars lace my sides.
I scream, an anguished scream, but it’s swallowed up in a terrific blast of engine as a huge flying machine swoops over the assemblage, rattling me to the core. I am a prisoner here.
Why? Why am I so scared? What is going on? Where is Otis? I’ve fallen onto the bed, face up. Sitting up I look out the window, there a white lab coat among the green gray uniforms. It’s Otis.
Quickly I put my shirt back on. I run over to the case of water bottles and grab one. Hurrying back to my bed I slip it under my pillow, just in time to hear the folding doors slip open, and footsteps. Casually I turn to Otis, as he pushes through the plastic. He smiles quickly at me, and then drops into a serious tone, “It’s good to see your awake and alright. Sorry I was gone.”
In a mock tone I reply, “I was getting worried, where were you?”
“I had to speak to command; they needed to know what my status was. I haven’t been in contact with anyone since I found you. But we need to be quick, the commander of the Stockade is coming, he’s going to inspect our equipment. I’ve come up with a name for you, seeing that it would look strange that you have no clue who you are.”
I have serious misgivings about everything that Otis is saying to me, but comply with a simple nod. Why a Commander of an Army would think that is beyond me, but who’s to say, I can’t trust anyone now.
Otis continues, suddenly picking things up and rearranging them, “I need you to listen closely, you are my son K.C. you are here on this expedition to help me with catching a Night-Crawler. If you aren’t blood related they’ll ship you off to the orphanage here, then who knows what else will happen to you.”
I nodded, that’s all I could do, but questions burned beneath my skin, what is this guy thinking? A question broke through, “Why not let me go? Won’t that be the best thing?”
Otis looked pained for a second, behind his eyes something flashed, was it fear?
“I can’t let you go."

Dream 1, Part 3

I’m in a pool of black water, there no movement in my body, not even breath. The waters moving now, something’s here with me, I still cannot see anything, just black. Something wriggles past my arm, I try to flinch, but nothing happens. Agony ripples across me, whatever it is, is chewing through my neck. Before my eyes open Otis’s face swims up before me.
There’s sun on my face, and hear Otis whistling a familiar tune, but again I cannot place it. I see a tray of food rattling slightly next to the chemistry set. I devour it instantly, and before I know it, I’m through the plastic door, buckling myself in. How do I miss all that?
“So how went the night? Did I miss anything exciting?”
“Nothing much, Night-Crawlers don’t make appearances on the freeways, they don’t like the openness of it, we think. Or they just don’t like the cars.” I can tell he’s being truthful, ‘cause I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
Were farther into the city now, I can see tumbled sky scrapers and burn suburbs everywhere. The devastation is humbling. I remember what Otis said to me last night, “the Night-Crawlers didn’t do this to us. We did.” I decide not to pursue the matter, seeing that were suddenly swinging off the freeway and down onto a highway.
Immediately I feel something lurch inside of me, “What are you doing?”
“We have to leave the freeway to get to the Stockade; it’s only about ten miles east, towards the mountains. We should get there just before nightfall.”
“What if we don’t make it by then?” The lurching in me is now squirming.
“We have to, otherwise we’re locked out for the night, and we don’t want to be on the other side of their defenses when darkness falls.” There’s more implied to that statement than I can guess at, but the lurching inside me has defined itself as clear uneasiness. Like when someone who watches you the entire time as you’re walking by them, you can just feel their eyes burning into the back of your head.
“Do you feel that?”
Otis looks at me again from the corner of his eye, “Feel what?”
“I dunno, like were being watched.”
I can see Otis grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles are turning blotchy.
Time passes, I don’t bother to count, I’m too engrossed with the dead world around me. Feeling incomplete and uneasy at the same time makes me jumpy. Every shadow seems to be a threat. I can’t target what part of me is missing, but the uneasiness is coming from all sides, almost like a prickly blanket. We better get to this “Stockade” soon.
The sun continues to sink lower in the sky, the mountains grow larger and larger, seems like the fangs of a long dead behemoth. I can see their beginning to turn golden pink from the sun. I turn to Otis, he hasn’t whistled a sling note since I awoke, he’s sweating pretty badly.
“Do you need me to get you something to drink?” I automatically unbuckle myself, and twist to get off the seat.
“No that’s okay; I’ve got my water bottle here.” I shrug and head back towards the sink. Otis calls over his shoulder, “fill free to drink out of the water cooler, cups are in the cupboard above the sink. Sure enough, they’re there and I’m tipping back refreshingly cool water.
The bus sways this way and that as I make my way back, I hold the cup close and deposit myself onto my bench, buckling myself. I think it’s time to find out a little more about myself, “Otis, where did you said you’d found me?”
“I found you inside an old barn.”
“A barn?”
“Yeah, you and about fifty other people, except, well. . .” The sentence hangs in the air for a minute.
I prod, “Except. . .”
“Except everyone one else had been mutilated in one way or another. You just had a gash on your head.” Otis turns up a wide avenue, there are stills houses standing here, some cars, burned of course, still parked in driveways.
“You had no wallet, no I.D., nothing. I’m sorry kid, I don’t know your name, who you are or where you came from. All I knew was that the sun was setting fast and I needed to get you into the bus as soon as I could.”
“Oh.” My voice feels small in my head. Even more that thing that I’m missing is weighing in on my mind. I think the feeling of being watched as turned into more of being followed. I look to the sky, and see the mountains afire with light.
“Almost there, apparently the Stockade is an old University, we’re only two main streets away, take a left then the second right.” It’s a bit too much info for me; my mind begins to over load. I feel my neck growing weaker, and my chin hits my chest. I am growing more tired, more than I should feel. I sense the bus slowing down, and stopping.
We shouldn’t be there already. I feel someone dragging me. I feel myself fall into my bed, but I fall past it into sleep.

Dream 1, Part 2

Dark waters wash around my ears, I know my eyes are open, but I see nothing. Just dark sloshing all around to me, then a sudden blinding white fills my vision, senses, everything.
I’m awake, my eyes snap open, it takes me a second to see I’m staring at a chemistry set, with a counter, sink and garbage can. Everything on it is rattling slightly. I roll over, feeling woozy, I’m now looking up at a curving ceiling, that has a sign for “-TRANSIT AUTHOR-“ under it is a picture of what looks like the front of a bus. My eyes are draw to what I thought was a wall, it’s a sheet of thick glass, and beyond it. . .
I gasp as colors, objects, things whirl by me: trees, bushes, and what I can only take as rubble, lots of rubble. There are broken things everywhere. I tear myself away from the window and look down past my feet, there’s no door, like my hallucination the night before, but a sheet of plastic, with a makeshift door slit into it, a flap swinging slightly.
I put my arms behind me and raise myself to a sitting position. I’m on a bus, well if you can call it that. All the regularly cramped and uncomfortable seats have been stripped out. And in their place, is equipment, tons and tons of equipment that I can’t even begin to describe, let’s leave it at lots of lights, screens and buttons. I realize that my bed has the only window; every other wall is covered with technology.
I can move my legs, so I slowly poke one, then the other out of the sheets. I feel rough carpet under my bare toes as I touch them to the ground. Then I slide my whole weight onto them.
I’m a bit shaky, but can hold my own. There’s a strut to my right, and before I know it, I’ve moved down the walk way, to the plastic door. I feel dizzy, like just having ran a mile sprint, but I put that aside. The plastic is cool, and easy to lift aside. What greets me, is the man, sitting behind the wheel, gazing out over a vast stretch of field. The road in front of us is like a solid black arrow pointing us in a direction.
The man notices me, “Well it’s good to see you’re up and walking. How do you feel?”
“Fine,” I mumble, looking out the windshield, “Where are we?”
He says the name of a place, but it doesn’t ring a bell, besides I’m not listening, something catches my eye, the burnt out hulk of a car. We pass it in a flash, but just as quickly as it disappears behind us, another one comes into view, then another and another.
I hear the man mumble, but I’m too engrossed, the cars seem to be pilling up, some are on the road, causing our to bus veer left and right. The fields around the road are nothing but burnt stubble, the same as the cars. I can’t believe how many.
I feel the bus moving up hill, and look to the horizon, the road is rising above the ground, and huge mountains seem to grow to our left. All around us are hundreds of rusted and burnt frames. We reach the top of the hill, and both of us gasp.
The horizon is a huge smoking mass. Plumes rise up everywhere. It’s a sight to behold, I don’t think I’ll ever forget it, and our road points to the middle of it all. The mountains disappear behind their smoky veil.
“You might want to strap yourself in, this could get pretty bumpy.” I look to my right, there’s a stairwell to the folding door, above and behind it is a bench with seatbelts. I buckle myself in.
“What happened here?” I ask, taking in the devastation.
“You mean to tell me you don’t know?” The man’s looking incredulous out the corner of his eye, “You don’t remember anything at all, what’s been happening for the past six months, where I found you, how you ended up like this?”
“Coma remember?” I’m irritated. For some reason his surprise scares me and I hug myself tightly.
The man hesitates, “I thought it was bad, but not that bad. Well where do I begin?”
“Six months ago.”
His hesitation is again irritating and for some reason, my insides burns. I want to know everything, now. It’s a strange feeling, I’m not even sure of who I am right now, but I need to know what is going on around me. Oh I’m missing it.
“- government ordered the whole country under attack, everyone was really scared. It started in Mexico then spread North and East. Leaving destruction everywhere, millions died within the first week. Before we knew it, the capitol fell and it had reached coast to coast.”
I interrupt, “What started, what did this?”
There’s an uncomfortable pause, as the bus swerves around the carcass of a similar looking bus.
“That’s just it, no one knows.” He’s distracted; we slide past the hulk of a tractor trailer, somehow looking forlornly burnt.
“What do you mean no one knows, something this big happens, the whole world should know.”
The man lets out a breath, I still don’t know his name, I don’t even remember my own. He starts to speak, but I interrupt, “What’s your name?”
“Otis, my names Otis, sorry I didn’t even bother to introduce myself. I work for the government. Like I was just about to say, I’m here trying to figure out what it is that is attacking everything. You see,” another pause, more debris, “whatever it is, it’s never been spotted because it only attacks at night.”
“And it took the entire country in one week?” I was a little more than incredulous.
“We’ll these things, we call them Night-Crawlers, have a strange effect over electricity and things run by it, we believe it has to do with-“
And he’s off onto technical stuff that I don’t’ understand, typical of a scientist. I’m letting him ramble on, seeing that the good stuff will come soon enough. The clouds of smoke are growing larger by the minute, along with our highway, it’s now four lanes one way. This road is probably going to lead right to the heart of this city. Gosh, there’s burning rubble on either side, as far as my eyes can see. Ash is falling lightly, and I can see smaller forms scattered around empty streets. I hope they’re not what I think they are. Something doesn’t feel right. Almost like I’m missing something, crap he’s wrapping up.
“So within those first few hours, security, communications, military, everything was down, and in total darkness. What’s left of the government has turned into stockades, heavily guarded sections of cities, with people held up inside, waiting for this war to end. That’s where we’re headed now.”
“Will the war ever end?” To me it sounds like something that will end once everyone runs out of food and guns, but I can’t really voice this to Otis, it might snuff out his hope.
My head shoots up at his next words, “My hope is that it could end within a few weeks.”
“But how? Whose going to do it, how many of them are out there, what kind of military do we have?” I want to say more but he waves me silent. Were driving over a cracked overpass, I can feel the ground shift slightly beneath us. I wonder how long it will take to get where were going.
There is still something I feel missing from my body, mental check shows everything is there, but still.
“I’m going to capture one of the Night-Crawlers.” It’s a fact, almost as if Otis has done it already. My mouth drops open.
“But no one’s even seen one.” My protest again is cut through by his hand, it’s kind of annoying, and something stirs in my gut.
“I have my way you’ll just have to see.” He looks up to the sky, “were going to have to spend the night here on the road, the sun is setting fast.’
I didn’t even notice. The sky is turning a brilliant shade of orange, tinted with the brown of smoke. Night is coming on, I suddenly feel too tired to keep my head up, I think Otis notices because I feel the bus slowing down, we pull behind yet another hulking frame of twisted and melted metal.
I un-strap myself and Otis guides me back through the plastic door to my bed. Lying down in my bed, I see Otis filling a cup of water for me.
“Here,” hands me the cup, “this will help you sleep.”
I think nothing of it and immediately feel myself slipping away, I voice one last question to him.
“Otis, how on earth are you going to capture something that’s turned entire cities into smoked marshmallows?”
There is an infinite amount of quiet, and my mind is surrendering itself to sleep, when Otis answers, “The night crawlers didn’t burn us out. We did.”

Dream 1, Part 1

This story comes from a dream I had, it has to be broken into segments, which will be updated day to day (probably at 10:00am every day). So if some parts are boring, stay tuned! It'll prove exciting I hope.


A Nightcrawler's Dream



I feel movement around me, my body shifting left and right. I am accelerating, my blood rushes up to my brain, I can feel bumping, and there’s a roar. Nothing is in focus around me, I am rushing along in complete darkness. I hear something, muffled sounds, like shrieking, yelling. I feel my body jerk, then complete darkness envelopes me again.
“Hey . . .” there is a push on my arm; I think it’s my arm. “It’s okay, wake up, your safe now, wake up.”
The voice is unfamiliar, I ache to open my eyes, but it feels like someone is pressing down on my skull, forcing me into the ground. I twitch a lid.
“That’s it, nice and easy, just don’t move quickly.” The voice is clear and deep, I’ve never heard it before. I finally lift one lid, my left one, though it shouldn’t matter right now. Everything is blurry still, I try to open my right eye, light pours in, and I flinch.
“Its going to be okay, you’re in a safe place.” The voice is in front of me, I can feel breath on my face. I inhale, and the room snaps into focus. I look into the bearded visage of a man, dressed in a lab coat. Behind him is the smallest hospital room I’ve ever seen in my life, and weirdly enough through the door that leads out into the hall has two seats, a steering wheel and a windshield.
“Where am I?” My voice seems to bubble from my lips, I find it alien, like it hasn’t been used in years.
The man in front of me smiles, “You’re in MCL 32, Mobile Chemistry Lab 32. I know it’s a bit disorienting, you’ll probably feel that after the action you’ve seen.’
“Action?”
“Do you remember anything?” His voice grows softer.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been in a coma for a month.”
I know shock should be paralyzing me right now, but all I can feel is numb.
“A coma. . .for a month?”
The man walks over to a calendar on the wall: it reads October 1st 2011. He flips pages back, “Yeah, I picked you up the beginning of September, see, and I’ve been trying to wake you up since then.”
I feel weakness flood into me, my mind is racing over a blank slate in my mind, “Where, how, why?”

I feel disjointed, and I can see darkness trailing the edges of my vision.
Something somewhere beeps, and I feel several forces pulling me into the bed, the wall, the floor and the ceiling. The darkness seems to keep threading itself into my eyes.
I feel pain, lots of pain, and I hear something, a low hissing that swallows itself into darkness.

Pause and Think

Okay this isn't scary stuff, so don't worry.
I just have a lot on my mind today and had to start writing somewhere about something. The other day I just sat on my bus the entire ride and watched the world rush by my face. There was so much, so much to see, hear and smell. My eyes couldn't take everything in. Sometimes that's just how life is, you try to see the big picture and its just too much to take in. Sometimes you just need to take it a detail at a time. I feel like I'm at the top of a diving board, looking down at a pool that has the painting of my life on the surface, and if I just dove of, I would splash all the parts across the world. Then something new would come of it, forming and shaping around the gaping hole left by my body.
Of course, logically I probably would need to come up for air before I suffocated, but have to be careful about not breathing in any of the paint.

But that's just logic.

I feel the storm around my life now, I look at my hands and think what they are made for. What am I going to do with them, what will they create, discover or destroy. I look at all the cross-roads of life and want to travel each one, see where it will lead.
What opinion will I grow, harvest and share? Whose life will change me? Whose life will I change? Who am I, what am I going to do on the face of planet earth that will enhance the stay here. What greater purpose do I serve?


I feel like a five year old in his fathers shoes.

9-1-1 Emergency Call October 13, 2001 9:01p.m.

THE CALL


"911 emergency-"
"Please you need to help me!"
"What is the situation ma'am?"
"I'm stuck inside of an elevator."
"Is security on their way?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then all you have to do is sit tight mam, they should be there in a few-"
"I don't have time! Somethings in here with me."
"Sorry miss did you say someone is there with you, are they hurt?"
"NO, its not with me, its outside."
"The person is outside? Are they leaving the elevator?"
"Oh my gosh you don't understand."
"Ma'am, where are you?"
"Oh gosh, its close. I can hear it crawling towards me."
"Ma'am, where are you?"
"A hotel."
"Which hotel?"
"Its sniffing, oh, it can smell me. I GOING TO DIE!"
"Ma'am, which hotel?"
"What hotel?! It doesn't matter, freak I'm going to die!"
"Ma'am try to stay calm, you aren't going to die. What hotel are you in?"
"Oh my- its going to crawling inside. Oh Gosh, help me!"
"Ma'am, try to remain calm."
"Are you still there?"
"Yes ma'am, just tell me where you are and I can get our guys to you."
"Where am I? Where am I! Freak its getting closer."
"Focus,okay whats your name?"
"My name? Lisa, its Lisa."
"Where are you Lisa, whats the name of the hotel."
"I'm Lisa,I'm in the.... Oh my its climbing around. . .the Radisson! I'm here in the Radisson."
"Which one?"
"How'm I suppose to know that? Oh freak, I think its chewing through."
"Lisa stay with me girl, Focus! Where are you?"
". . . . .its the one on north and 36Th, by the freeway."
"Perfect, were calling there now, just stay with me-"
"OH GOSH, EVERYTHING IS SHAKING! ITS SHAKING!"
"LISA stay calm, LISA I'M HERE!"
". . . "
"Lisa?"
". . . . ."
"Honey, are you still there?"
". .the lights are out, I can't. ."
"Don't worry help is on the way."
". . .its. . .its. . ."
". . . ."
"Its inside. . ."
". . . ."
". . I- somethings moving on the ceiling. . "
". .I . .don't. . ."
". . .hsssssss."
*Click*

THE HUNT

Hi y'all. To celebrate the coming of October and Halloween I have decided to post scary stories for the month. Some may be from my dreams, others from split second inspiration, but all will be for you to enjoy. Some may have to be broken up in three or four parts, so watch for the headings. And please give me feedback! I'd love to know if I gave you the chills.


THE HUNT

The Hunting

I can feel them near. They are coming.
I urge myself to run, to hide where somewhere they are not.
The world is dark around me, rushing madly by my feet.
I hear the snapping of leaves, the growls, and howls of the ungodly.
Quick to my hideout, my safety, my salvation. They are coming.
Wet plants slap on my bare skin, stinging me.
My heart rises in my throat, my feet burn with pain, I'm covered in something. Blood.
The trees are mist shrouded, and the air is cool.
I feel the moon bright behind its clouds.
Howl's are growing louder, slashing and gnashing sinking closer. They are coming.
Up the slippery slope, to my dark hole I must go. Safety is within reach.
I'm in the open, the home stretch, they will not find me.
But too late I hear the crack of fire, the boom of death.
They have found me.
I have no where to turn, left right, up, down, all bring death. They are coming.
I pause in fear, looking behind me, their figures larger, more distinct.
They are gaining.
I look to the ground for a weapon, even a stone.
Then I feel it, like white hot coals all over my body.
I look to the sky, see the parting clouds, I am too late. They are here.
I scream in rage and pain, the figures are a stones throw away.
The moon is full, bright almost as the sun.
I'm afire with my true self.
I try. . .to. . .scream.
Pain. .all. .pain. . . .Men. .screaming. . .
. . .Must hide. . .self. . .growling.
Bones. . .cracking. . .growing. . .changing. .
. . .I. .am. . . .new. .creature.
. . . Kill. . .
Must. . .kill.
The burning has ceased, I feel my skin.
It's course, and taught, streched thin. . .
My muscles are lean, my limbs are long.
The moon is bright in my eyes, I shade it with a hand. No, paw.
I flex my claws, glistening and razor sharp.
I growl deep in my throat, reveling in the fear I suddenly smell.
Yes, I smell their fear, and it is good.
I . . am . . here.

October Ushered in!

Yay its October!!!!! Autumn, leaves changing, chili season, corn bread, corn mazes, pumpkins, costumes, haunted houses, scary movie nights, jack-o-lanterns, candy corn, Halloween!!!!!!!!

This is the best month of the year! I'm so excited. But to back up a bit into September. I had a great going away present from the month. It took the form of:
SUPER NOVA GIRL!



Not kidding. My quiet library world was SHATTERED, not kidding you, SHATTERED into an oblivion when (we'll call her Super Nova Girl) walked into the door, actually I think she flew in, from her bike's seat, humming with energy all the way there.
Immediately she started to talk to me in Spanish, like she knew exactly who I was and that we had a friendship since our birth. In fact the intensity with which she talked to me seemed like our mothers allowed us to communicate through their pregnant bellies, no exaggeration there.
My co-worker and I were trying to figure out if I really did have any kind of "relationship' wither. IN 14.2 MILLISECONDS I figured I'd never seen her in my lifetime, and thus sat back for the experience of a life time.

Apparently SUPER NOVA GIRL had ridden her bike, with her significant other and followed by her father in a Mercedes that apparently she was not entitled to ride in because of an "unmentionable phrase' of a father that she had, from Bountiful to Farmington.
Where upon she had come to called upon the vast resources of the Library to find all the books written by one author. (Confused yet? So was I.)

So I did the only logical thing: diplomatically placing her in the capable hands of the Reference Librarian. Bless her heart. I ran for cover after that.

I hid in the back room, giggling to myself from the exchange and surfaced to find SUPER NOVA GIRL waiting for me at the checkout counter with exactly 15 books written by the same author. And one book for a coin collection that had coins from around the world, ranging in date from the late 1800's till now, which was more than me or my button shoes could be worth. (I don't have buttons on my shoes, just laces).

The counter was slightly vibrating from the excess aura reverberating off of SUPER NOVA GIRL and my hands shook from the energy as I check out each book and placed it into doubled up plastic sacks.

All the while SUPER NOVA GIRL was rambling about Farmington government officials coming after her, her father's car, books by the same author, and coin collections.

The minute her card passed from my hand back to her, she was off again with all sails flying. She leapt onto her bike, with her significant other in tow, and father's Mercedes following.

With all the gusto of a Red Dwarf Star imploding in on itself, she promptly ran her bicycle into the retaining wall just outside the front steps and flipped over the handle bars.

Unshaken and with sturdy resolve,SUPER NOVA GIRL pounced on her bike once again and was off. By which time I had retreated to the back rooms of the Library doubled up in a fit of laughter that I count not contain nor control.

This whole experience can be summed up in one phrase: Like drinking gasoline straight from the hose, while the hose is on fire,while the pump pumping the fuel is melting and expanding, and the whole gas station itself is exploding into a roiling mass of destruction.



Thank goodness its not my dog.

Dear Mother Nature:

We walked throught your backyard last evening. We were surrounded by your silence, your peace and your touch. We saw snow white egrets, Great Blue Herrons, and one or two Pelicans.

There were lakes full of life, fish, algea in artistic swirl patterns, and diving ducks.

We loved the songs of each bird, and cricket. Thank you for them, my mind was stilled and my eyes were opened.

You set the sky on fire.

We danced in the setting rays, and held them in our palms. We felt your cool breath on our necks and arms as you fell asleep.

Thank you.

Sincerely,
Us

SOMETIMES ALL THE TIME

Sometimes.

Sometimes I feel like I need to be noticed by everyone
Sometimes I feel like Jim Carey
Sometimes I look like Tim Curry. . .
Sometimes . . . I like to miss my bus.
Sometimes I feel like a fly on the wall, listening to things I don't want to hear.
Sometimes. . .
Sometimes I am a fool. . . Okay a lot more than sometimes.
Sometimes I want to build a rocket.
Sometimes I just want to be silent.
Sometimes I feel like the most insignificant speck of nothing.
Sometimes I want to flip my boogers on tailgater's windshields.
Sometimes I feel dark.
Sometimes I just want to be alone.
Sometimes I love rap.
Sometimes I want to shrivel up and die.
Sometimes I trip on flat surfaces.
Sometimes I get the point across
Sometimes I laugh and cry.
Sometimes. . . I stub my toe.
Somteimes I misspell everything.
Sometimes I get angry.
Sometimes I taste happy.
Sometimes I don't act.
Sometimes I look both ways.
Sometimes I get stung by a bee.
Sometimes I feel trapped.
Sometimes I just need a good friend.
Sometimes I wish I could fly.
sometimes bad things happen.
Sometimes I'm caught off guard.
Sometimes I don't sometimes.
All the time I am who I am.

On the hunt for a Ginko Tree

Today I had a face off with a mourning dove.

I was peacefully meditating on the world around me, and the secrets to life, in the courtyard of the engineering building when there was a fluttering of wings and my nemesis MOURNING DOVE flew onto a near by railing.

He looked at me first with one eye, then with the other. I stared back, my concentration focusing like the gamma-rays from the sun. MORNING DOVE continued to switch gazes from one soulless black pit to the other. Then he stopped, his head cocked to one side, the emptiness of his eye opened wide, nothing but not breaking our eye contact mattered. I vowed upon the souls of all the dead squirrels buried on campus that I would not look away.

We looked on.

A single drop of perspiration trickled down my temple, a feather quivered at the tip of his tail.

I knew I had him.

He was beginning to quake slightly, I knew that my razor sharp sight would soon cut him into a raging inferno. (Yes I know that doesn't make sense, but its what was said on the fine-printing of my contact-lens box.)
Alas it would not be so.

At the last moment, the first of the early morning engineering students appeared on the scene, innocently calculating the equations that would one day save the world from an invasion of bridge fearing Theropods.

MOURNING DOVE knew too much was at stake, and a split second before he, the student and half the building would have been blown away, he turned tail and headed for the trees.

Until we meet again, MOURNING DOVE, watch your tail feathers, cause I'm watching mine.



??

Big Sisters

Thoughts on a little big sister.

I remember when you would make me play barbies with you.
I would be the dog(a sheep dog with real hair)and I would loyally fallow you and Barbie through dinner, parties, Ken dates, and even being left alone in the huge "Barbie mansion" waiting by the door till you came home.

Then you would say that the dog died. Barbie would mourn and I would sit back and watch you till you were done, as "advised" by you.

Singing Phantom of the Opera at the tops of our lungs. Jumping on the tramp, Rob bouncing us till we were speechless and screaming without sound.

Watching you recover from a car accident involving our red 94 Toyota Corolla, and a 30 point buck. I never knew that singing opera could be so therapeutic.
Oh dear chicken-bones.
Muldoon
Strawberry........you know.
Seester

I remember the day you were engaged. Well it was more like night. You came and jumped on me screaming you were going to get married. I bawled like a baby at your wedding.

When you listened to Vivia La Vida and cried your eyes out missing me.
Reading the experiences of your life, wishing I could hear you laugh.

Getting phone calls about crazy old women with no teeth and crazy hair, talking to themselves.

Laughing so hard you almost pee your pants.

Re-hashing pretty much every movie we've seen in our life times.

My little big sister.

I love you.

Falling Potted Plants and Biology Class

Last night I had a two hour biology class. It was pretty interesting, we talked about cells, mitochondria, prokeriotes, bacteria, hydrogen peroxide and other related subjects.

I accidentally laughed out loud when my teacher told us a story of how his friend died of hemorrhaging. Okay I'm not sick! But he was telling us how his friend would always grab his nose under the nostrils to help relieve cramps in his legs, apparently there's a pressure point under you nose. Well I thought he was joking about his friend hemorrhaging... yeah not.


Well after all that interesting stuff, I went to see what one of my friends was watching on his laptop. It was the amazing PBS Sherlock Holmes series and I was about to do a victory dance for it, but my natural grace and poise got the better of me. My foot caught in the laptop power cord, wrapped around the beautifully potted plant (that my friends wife had given him a week earlier) and ceremoniously dumped it, the beautifully positioned rocks around the plant, and a plastic green dinosaur onto the floor.

Of all the things to happen. Don't worry the plant suffered nothing from the encounter, except for being a little shook up. My pride was dented, like always, but everything was great.

The rational part of my mind screamed: "It's not my dog!"

Notes of a People Watcher

What an interesting morning it has been. And its been a while since I last posted...... a couple weeks or so?

Today I ran into a couple that I went to high school with. They were a year younger than me in school, and have been married 7 days longer than I have. Weird.

Oh!!!! Right across from me is a man with a GNARLY mullet! Haven't seen one like it for a long time.

Today I felt like a sponge, soaking up everything that my teachers were saying. The feeling was incredible! But now its wearing off, just when I need it for my physics class. Shoot.

I guess you all are getting the spurting thoughts coming off the top of my head. Lucky you. :)

I love watching big crowds, they have a movement and destination of their own. Like a school of fish, or flock of birds. Each individual has their own thoughts, feelings, desires and destinations, but all must come together at one point or another, communing with each other, even when they don't notice it. They move with or around each other. Entire worlds colliding, smells, sounds, sights. Aura's touching together to form a kaleidoscope of life.



The individual often thinks in just that term. Individual, me, I, one. But do they ever think to look around them, to take in the montage of existence? Do they see the big picture? They are part of a family,community, city, state, country, world? The fact that that world is in the farthest flung arm of an entire galaxy? A small speck of insignificant atoms?



Do you?

Or do I just sit back and say, "Its not my dog" and move on my way, with my earphones in and music blaring.

Coupons & Vacations!

Geeze! Why is it that when you want technology to move fast it slows down, and then when you want things to go slow, it just speeds things up?

Well this summer has been freakishly busy! I love it! I quit hardware and now am seeing employment else where. Lets hope some doors open soon. But now I'm off to an adventure with my awesome wife to MOAB UTAH! Yeah! I'm so excited!
Hello heat, sun and desert! I'm excited for scenery change.




Megan and I found Hooper Utah the other day, just stumbled onto it in our explorations. And fell in love. We have decided that if nothing works out in my schooling efforts, were going to move to this small po-dunk town and start a Lavender Farm. We'll also keep Llamas.

QUESTION: Why is it that people think spending money (by the billions) is going to reinflate our economy? Is anyone alarmed that we have to go through the GOVERNMENT to get our finacial aid for school? When are "We the People" going to realize something is wrong and open our mouths to say something?

OTHER QUESTION: Why do I feel so much like I have been built to inspire goodness, but feel like the ability is just a yell that is turning into a yawn deep in my throat?

LAST QUESTION: When was the last time you read the constitution?


Our basement dwellere moved out last week, he took his pitbull, boxer, fish, iguana, lizards and unmentionables with him. Yay! I'm just glad its not my dog. He's theirs.

Books! Books! Books!

If you read this blog you must check out this book at your nearest local library! If not you will be run over by a MACK truck driven by an armless, legless, stapled-to-a-tree, orphaned african baby.

The book is called: The Mysteries of Harris Burdick


By Chris Van Allsburg.

Seriously I got the coolest brainwaves from this picture book, speaking of which, here are just of few of the pics:





So awesome! Let me know what you think!

And while your at it, look up Into the Land of the Unicorns, great series!

Finding Joy in the Journey

A piece of perfection, a slice of heaven, a lick of sweetness, a BAVARIAN CREAM PIE TO THE FACE! What more could one want??

I wonder what a Bavarian cream pie is......

Anyway! I'm back on the non-existent air waves of blogging! I love it. This week has come and gone, along with the tidal wave. Its the weekend and its time to celebrate right? Tell me that after my 10+ hour shift tomorrow. . .

I find it so funny, the empty lot in front of my hardware store has been an empty eye-sore for my entire life and now, just in the past week someone has decided to build a Kneader's Bakery in front of it. I love the irony of life. :) But no matter what everyone will still need hardware. No matter what.

The other morning at my library job a woman came to the door and with big puppy-dog eyes mouthed that she needed to pick up a book, she looked and me and without a second thought I put up ten fingers, she slumped, and tried to say something else.
You have to know that I am one jaded person when it comes to opening doors up before and after hours, I've had too many annoying customers come in and fasten themselves to a isle like a tick, waiting to suck all the life blood out of the store.

Anyway, the reference librarian opened the door for her and she got the books she wanted. Her reason was to have something for her children to watch and listen to for the six hour drive they had ahead.

It was like being washed with a fire hose of memories in a split second, my dad taking me to the library before a trip to the cabin or bear lake, getting mysteries, comedies, suspense and all sorts of stories. Then all of us would listen intently as the world around us slipped by, we laughed and got scared all together and then afterwards talked about what we thought.

I experienced a moment of longing, for children of my own to have an experience like that with.

I wanna take a road trip.

Today's children's book obsession is: Fancy Nancy! If there ever was a book to illustrate Megan's inner child it would be this:



This is a Bavarian Cream Pie:



This is my inner child:



I wish this was my dog:

Dreamer's Disease

A SHOUT OUT TO:
CREAM CHEESE FROSTING AND BROWNIES,
STARS ON THE CEILING,
NOTES ON WALLS,
SURPRISES,
LOVE,
AND MARRIAGE.

Lets just say that I love my wife and all her creative sweetness, she is the best thing on earth!

I love her to the core!!

Here's to you and strawberry cheesecake. :)



Now its a run and off to work!

Feeling the Sunshine

I can't believe that June is coming to a close! Summer is flying by!

The other day, actually yesterday morning, I started out with the best intentions, but ended up digging my self a hole to the underworld. A woman came into the store looking for staples for her staple gun. She needed in between 6.3mm to 7.9mm, or so I thought...
Turned out that the staples i got her were .3mm too long, so after driving home, she came back to the store and we tried a 7mm staple and that proved to be worse. It got jammed in the gun, and i succeeded in ripping my nails apart on the unscrew-able screws.
This poor lady left three or four times from the store. On the third time when she left and came back she just caved and bought a bran new stapler, with the wrong staples...again.
So, tossing my hands in the air, wanting to be sucked into a black hole, I got her the right staples and sent her on her way. Don't worry I gave her the staples free.
She was real sweet through the whole experience, and said she would come back.
What a way to start a Monday, at least I sold her the new staple gun right?

This week I read an awesome book, mind you it was another children's book, its called: I wanna Iguana by Karen Kaufman Orloff, Illustrated by David Catrow.



Its pretty much the best.

By the way, Keith Urban rocks.




I'm glad this isn't my dog