So it's been a bit, and though I'm pretty confident no one's reading this, I still feel I should keep up better, because, well, what if someone starts? And being sick is not an excuse...though I did feel icky, and I'm not sure I still don't...anyway...sorry?
Eggs
Chips
Beer
Jeannie clutched the basket to her chest as she repeated those three things in her head over and over. She usually brought a list with her when she went shopping, but she hadn't figured on needing one this time around, what with such a short list. Only that short list was supposed to have a fourth item, maybe even a fifth, and she was completely clueless as to what they might be.
She walked slowly down the soup aisle, hoping whatever it was she'd forgotten would jump out at her. Her hopes began to drift away as she continued to walk around the store, however, and she sighed when she reached the drinks aisle.
She wasn't actually a beer drinker, though her boyfriend thought she was. But the reason she bought the beer in the first place was for something completely different. A friend of her mother's had once told her that she occasionally rinsed her hair with beer to get rid of the chemicals that built up over time. Jeannie didn't know how often 'occasionally' was, and she had her suspicions that it wasn't destroying only the bad chemicals. But every Sunday she would take a few cans and pour the golden liquid through her strawberry blonde hair, and she had to admit, it certainly looked healthier.
She picked up a twelve-pack of Coors Light, not because she knew it worked better than any other brand, but because it was the type her boyfriend preferred, and she felt bad having alcohol in the house if she couldn't offer it to him. Jeannie smirked a little at her thoughts, and decided that the three items in the basket would have to suffice. After all, breakfast was the most important meal of the day, wasn't it? As long as she could scramble eggs and dip her chips in them, she'd be happy. Even if everyone did tease her for her strange tastes.
She took a moment to get her bearings and continued along the aisle towards the registers. And then stopped just before she reached the end. She knelt down in front of the display and frowned thoughtfully. There was nothing particularly interesting about the product, nor was it in pretty wrapping. The bottle, she noted upon tapping it, was plastic rather than glass. As for the price...the liter probably wasn't worth it.
It's not on the list, she thought to herself and her frown grew more pronounced.
Despite all the cons, though, she found herself picking up the item and placing it in the basket beside her other purchases. She rose and continued on her way, and she began to wonder what she might say the occasion was. She recited the list to herself one more time.
Eggs
Chips
Beer
Jeannie began to smile as she got in line at the first register, and added one more item to her list.
Pomegranate Soda
Unexpected...
So I just saw my friend gave me a shout-out on her own blog...
Wow, Emma, wow...Tansy loves you, and laughs at your description of our conversation together...
(For real, that's so not how it went!!)
Anyway, as payment, I will send whomever happens to read this your way...
From the Mixed Up Files of Emzy Rae
And also point out that if I say 'whatever' it's because I'm slightly lacking in vocabulary, so why don't you fill me in?
Gracious...
Also, I shall dedicate this next 'Short' to you and your lovely crazy world you've let me into.
Don't forget to say thank you, my friend.
Secret Song
The radio keeps fizzing in and out. You can only hear fragments of songs before the station kicks out.
"Bounce, baby, out the door..."
"Pink, it's my new obsession..."
"Always love you but right now I just don't like you..."
"I hate everything about you, why do I..."
"Please don't stop the music..."
"Just in case they're wondering..."
"I tell you what I want, what I really really want..."
"Baby, baby, where did our love go?"
"Can you feel it..."
"You're so ridiculous, I can barely stop..."
Needless to say, you're a bit frustrated and wish Avril would stop, especially if she's not going to finish the song in the first place. But you just ignore the snippets and continue working on the psych paper that's going to put your grade through the roof so you can actually pass your class. And you have to admit, you're quite brilliant when you put your mind to it.
But then another song comes on. One you haven't heard in ages. And it's not stopping or fizzing out at all. An internal debate starts. Get up and dance? Turn the music up? Or just ignore it...but you can't do that, not for your favorite song. And you're all alone with no one to see you, so what's the risk?
You start to smile as you rise from your seat. And soon enough you're bouncing to the music, letting the rhythm pulse through you as you belt out the words...
"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world..."
Tansy loves you, Emma!!
Wow, Emma, wow...Tansy loves you, and laughs at your description of our conversation together...
(For real, that's so not how it went!!)
Anyway, as payment, I will send whomever happens to read this your way...
From the Mixed Up Files of Emzy Rae
And also point out that if I say 'whatever' it's because I'm slightly lacking in vocabulary, so why don't you fill me in?
Gracious...
Also, I shall dedicate this next 'Short' to you and your lovely crazy world you've let me into.
Don't forget to say thank you, my friend.
Secret Song
The radio keeps fizzing in and out. You can only hear fragments of songs before the station kicks out.
"Bounce, baby, out the door..."
"Pink, it's my new obsession..."
"Always love you but right now I just don't like you..."
"I hate everything about you, why do I..."
"Please don't stop the music..."
"Just in case they're wondering..."
"I tell you what I want, what I really really want..."
"Baby, baby, where did our love go?"
"Can you feel it..."
"You're so ridiculous, I can barely stop..."
Needless to say, you're a bit frustrated and wish Avril would stop, especially if she's not going to finish the song in the first place. But you just ignore the snippets and continue working on the psych paper that's going to put your grade through the roof so you can actually pass your class. And you have to admit, you're quite brilliant when you put your mind to it.
But then another song comes on. One you haven't heard in ages. And it's not stopping or fizzing out at all. An internal debate starts. Get up and dance? Turn the music up? Or just ignore it...but you can't do that, not for your favorite song. And you're all alone with no one to see you, so what's the risk?
You start to smile as you rise from your seat. And soon enough you're bouncing to the music, letting the rhythm pulse through you as you belt out the words...
"I'm a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world..."
Tansy loves you, Emma!!
On Wednesdays We Wear Pink...
Who said that?
I really want to know...
Cuz I saw it on a button, and it's stuck in my head ever since...
Anyway...
I am not wearing pink today. Unless you count my hair binder. And the jewel on my necklace. Okay, so maybe I've got pink, whatever, moving on...
Sleeping in, missing my first class...
It seems to happen a lot lately. Shame on me, whatever, you know, being a university student isn't all it's cracked up to be, okay? So don't give me any lip for it. But it's okay, I made it to second class (ten minutes late) and I took a quiz, only two questions wrong, so still an 89/100, which is great right?
And then I started thinking on the way back to my dorm, I really need to figure out Alice Heart. And I've got some great ideas going for her, but it seems it's coming in bits and pieces, and I don't want to give you that, I want it to be the real thing. So I'm starting to figure out character profiles --how many other people do that before writing?-- and maybe get a plotline or two, just to give me a start, and if I veer off to the side, well that's okay. But I'm going to work super hard to at least give a chapter one or one-A or something like that, and we'll have a real story on our hands...
(Cross your fingers!!)
And then maybe after that I'll actually do my homework...
Ha...
Oh, before I go, I'm writing a character, high-school jock type, smooth, handsome and he knows it...stereotypical perhaps? but anyway, I need a name, and I'm coming up blank, so suggestions please? oh and tell me what sport he should play, that'd be great, too...
Thanks ever so much!!
I really want to know...
Cuz I saw it on a button, and it's stuck in my head ever since...
Anyway...
I am not wearing pink today. Unless you count my hair binder. And the jewel on my necklace. Okay, so maybe I've got pink, whatever, moving on...
Sleeping in, missing my first class...
It seems to happen a lot lately. Shame on me, whatever, you know, being a university student isn't all it's cracked up to be, okay? So don't give me any lip for it. But it's okay, I made it to second class (ten minutes late) and I took a quiz, only two questions wrong, so still an 89/100, which is great right?
And then I started thinking on the way back to my dorm, I really need to figure out Alice Heart. And I've got some great ideas going for her, but it seems it's coming in bits and pieces, and I don't want to give you that, I want it to be the real thing. So I'm starting to figure out character profiles --how many other people do that before writing?-- and maybe get a plotline or two, just to give me a start, and if I veer off to the side, well that's okay. But I'm going to work super hard to at least give a chapter one or one-A or something like that, and we'll have a real story on our hands...
(Cross your fingers!!)
And then maybe after that I'll actually do my homework...
Ha...
Oh, before I go, I'm writing a character, high-school jock type, smooth, handsome and he knows it...stereotypical perhaps? but anyway, I need a name, and I'm coming up blank, so suggestions please? oh and tell me what sport he should play, that'd be great, too...
Thanks ever so much!!
Define Unoriginal
*So some lame friend read my work and then, after saying it was good, asking if I had something original...
First, ouch. Second...well, no I'm not that mean to cast you away. But you better watch it kid.
Anyway, to show how 'original' I can be, I will now compose off the top of my head...
The bass keeps pounding through my brain. I'm not sure if I want it to stop or to go on. I like the rhythm; it keeps me on track, keeps me focused, and I find it easy to work to. But at the same time, it's jarring, and I want to curl up and cover my head so it doesn't explode from the pulsing, pulsing, pulsing...that's just what I've done, I realize, as I find myself on the floor, sheet pulled over my head--why did I think that was substantial enough to block it out? But even as I block it, I embrace it. There's a certain calmness, a certain numbing quality that I desire to sink into. Just forget the world, flow with the music that doesn't quite exist; it's just the rhythm and nothing else. And yet, even as I sink, I feel myself floating above it. There's a certain point where I find myself throbbing not just with the rhythm, but with the desire to actually do something. And there's so many things I can do. Get up off the floor for one. But always in time, keeping tempo, don't speed, don't slow, just move. And somehow it's almost easy. Any other day I'd be stuck, and unfocused, but now with the bass...I can concentrate on what I want, what I need, what I have to do. I may still be jarred from the vibrations, but I'm finding myself inside them, and I'm embracing the sudden freedom the beat brings. Perhaps I'll do something worthwhile, as long as I can work to this sound, just keep it playing, press repeat and let it go on and on and on...only suddenly it stops. There's a stillness in the air now, and something's creeping up on me, something I forgot when I was inside the bass. I feel out of sync, confused, and I'm not quite sure what it is that I was doing before. Turning around, making myself dizzy, I stop on a dime at the picture on the wall, and it all comes rushing back. And I've returned to the floor where I started from, and I only hope the bass will start up again.
First, ouch. Second...well, no I'm not that mean to cast you away. But you better watch it kid.
Anyway, to show how 'original' I can be, I will now compose off the top of my head...
The bass keeps pounding through my brain. I'm not sure if I want it to stop or to go on. I like the rhythm; it keeps me on track, keeps me focused, and I find it easy to work to. But at the same time, it's jarring, and I want to curl up and cover my head so it doesn't explode from the pulsing, pulsing, pulsing...that's just what I've done, I realize, as I find myself on the floor, sheet pulled over my head--why did I think that was substantial enough to block it out? But even as I block it, I embrace it. There's a certain calmness, a certain numbing quality that I desire to sink into. Just forget the world, flow with the music that doesn't quite exist; it's just the rhythm and nothing else. And yet, even as I sink, I feel myself floating above it. There's a certain point where I find myself throbbing not just with the rhythm, but with the desire to actually do something. And there's so many things I can do. Get up off the floor for one. But always in time, keeping tempo, don't speed, don't slow, just move. And somehow it's almost easy. Any other day I'd be stuck, and unfocused, but now with the bass...I can concentrate on what I want, what I need, what I have to do. I may still be jarred from the vibrations, but I'm finding myself inside them, and I'm embracing the sudden freedom the beat brings. Perhaps I'll do something worthwhile, as long as I can work to this sound, just keep it playing, press repeat and let it go on and on and on...only suddenly it stops. There's a stillness in the air now, and something's creeping up on me, something I forgot when I was inside the bass. I feel out of sync, confused, and I'm not quite sure what it is that I was doing before. Turning around, making myself dizzy, I stop on a dime at the picture on the wall, and it all comes rushing back. And I've returned to the floor where I started from, and I only hope the bass will start up again.
Long Shower...
* I had this idea while I was, duh, in the shower...
She leaned her head against the tile wall and sighed. Showers were supposed to be energizing, but one just wasn't cutting it. She felt closed in and breathless and she wondered if she had the courage to take the razor and...
"Stupid," she slapped herself and half-laughed.
Just because everything was going wrong...
It was all her fault, though. She'd long-since stopped going to her psych class, and her art history project was a goner. Not to mention, though she'd attended every class, she hadn't handed in a single English paper all semester. And 'Dead Week' was in less than two...
"You screwed up, dipshit," she muttered to herself. "Royally."
She let herself slip to the floor of the shower stall and began the arduous task of shaving her legs. Despite her earlier thoughts, she was an expert with the razor, and there wasn't even the slightest scratch as she worked. But she figured, if her brains were shot, at least beauty counted for something.
She just wished she could do it all over again. Start back at the beginning of the semester, get focused, do it right...she considered praying, but though she believed God capable, she also believed he wouldn't change the way he did things just for her. Maybe if she were a prophet...but a dumb college kid? No way...
She felt the water begin to cool and she laughed again. Clearly she'd been in too long. But strangely enough, she now felt like she could take on the world.
"Maybe showers do work," she said to herself.
She shut off the valve and grabbed the towel to dry herself off. She would let her hair drip-dry off the back of her chair as she worked today, and she'd be right as rain by lunch time, and then she could have everything finished by supper...hopefully, she winced.
She opened the bathroom door and then jumped.
"Oh, hi."
"Hi, yourself," her roommate smiled, and turned back to the mirror. "You were in there quite a while."
"Ah, just shaving my legs," she murmured, feeling awkward, but paused as her roommate laughed.
"Waste of time, girl."
"Excuse me?"
"It's snowing out."
"What?" she gaped and shook her head. "That's nuts."
"It's winter, hon. You won't need to shave until at least April."
She opened her mouth and then shut it, suddenly confused.
"April?"
"Yeah, you've got two and a half months about," she replied and smacked her lips. She grinned at the mirror and then turned back to her. "My make-up look okay to you?"
"Ah, yeah, I..." she frowned and shook her head. "What's the date?"
"The eighteenth."
"Of?"
She gave her a weird look and answered, "January? You feel alright, girl? Don't tell me school's already too much for you..."
"No," she started to smile. Go figure, she thought, and continued, "No, school's just enough...I have a feeling things are going to be just great..."
She leaned her head against the tile wall and sighed. Showers were supposed to be energizing, but one just wasn't cutting it. She felt closed in and breathless and she wondered if she had the courage to take the razor and...
"Stupid," she slapped herself and half-laughed.
Just because everything was going wrong...
It was all her fault, though. She'd long-since stopped going to her psych class, and her art history project was a goner. Not to mention, though she'd attended every class, she hadn't handed in a single English paper all semester. And 'Dead Week' was in less than two...
"You screwed up, dipshit," she muttered to herself. "Royally."
She let herself slip to the floor of the shower stall and began the arduous task of shaving her legs. Despite her earlier thoughts, she was an expert with the razor, and there wasn't even the slightest scratch as she worked. But she figured, if her brains were shot, at least beauty counted for something.
She just wished she could do it all over again. Start back at the beginning of the semester, get focused, do it right...she considered praying, but though she believed God capable, she also believed he wouldn't change the way he did things just for her. Maybe if she were a prophet...but a dumb college kid? No way...
She felt the water begin to cool and she laughed again. Clearly she'd been in too long. But strangely enough, she now felt like she could take on the world.
"Maybe showers do work," she said to herself.
She shut off the valve and grabbed the towel to dry herself off. She would let her hair drip-dry off the back of her chair as she worked today, and she'd be right as rain by lunch time, and then she could have everything finished by supper...hopefully, she winced.
She opened the bathroom door and then jumped.
"Oh, hi."
"Hi, yourself," her roommate smiled, and turned back to the mirror. "You were in there quite a while."
"Ah, just shaving my legs," she murmured, feeling awkward, but paused as her roommate laughed.
"Waste of time, girl."
"Excuse me?"
"It's snowing out."
"What?" she gaped and shook her head. "That's nuts."
"It's winter, hon. You won't need to shave until at least April."
She opened her mouth and then shut it, suddenly confused.
"April?"
"Yeah, you've got two and a half months about," she replied and smacked her lips. She grinned at the mirror and then turned back to her. "My make-up look okay to you?"
"Ah, yeah, I..." she frowned and shook her head. "What's the date?"
"The eighteenth."
"Of?"
She gave her a weird look and answered, "January? You feel alright, girl? Don't tell me school's already too much for you..."
"No," she started to smile. Go figure, she thought, and continued, "No, school's just enough...I have a feeling things are going to be just great..."
The Story of Alice Heart, pt1 (introduction)
* The beginnings of a story, inspired by a comic I read...
"It's a girl."
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"I specifically asked for a boy."
"The contract only says 'child,' sir, it does not specify the sex of the child."
"Well, God damn, Potter, didn't you see that before?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Howard, it was an error on my part."
"Son of a..."
The two men turned to look at the small girl sitting politely on the bench by the door. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her ankles crossed, and the dress she wore, though clearly hand-me-down, was neat and clean, and a lovely shade of pink. She looked like a little lady.
The older of the two sighed and shook his head.
"Grace is not going to be happy about this."
"Indeed not, sir."
"You don't suppose we could..." he paused and frowned, contemplating.
"Sir?"
"What's its name?"
"Excuse me?"
"The child," he huffed. "The child, Potter, what's its name?"
"Ah," he fumbled with the papers in his hand, and read off, "Alice Heart."
"Hmm..." he started to smile and nodded. "This just might work."
"Sir?"
"I'm leaving this in your hands, Potter. You fix this well and I'll give you a raise."
He raised a brow in surprise, but remained otherwise expressionless. A raise was rather unheard of in this household. But if there was a chance, then...
"And where do you propose I should start, sir?"
The man laughed and began to walk away, but replied, "Grace wants a boy, Potter. And what Grace wants..."
"She gets," he finished, and gave a small bow as he exited the room. "I'll get right on it, Mr Howard," he said, and turned back to see the little girl staring at him with those big blue eyes, a raven lock falling over them, the rest of her curls framing those rosy cheeks... "What the hell am I doing?" he murmured, and pushed up his sleeves.
This was going to take some work...
"It's a girl."
"Yes, sir, that's correct."
"I specifically asked for a boy."
"The contract only says 'child,' sir, it does not specify the sex of the child."
"Well, God damn, Potter, didn't you see that before?"
"I'm sorry, Mr Howard, it was an error on my part."
"Son of a..."
The two men turned to look at the small girl sitting politely on the bench by the door. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap, her ankles crossed, and the dress she wore, though clearly hand-me-down, was neat and clean, and a lovely shade of pink. She looked like a little lady.
The older of the two sighed and shook his head.
"Grace is not going to be happy about this."
"Indeed not, sir."
"You don't suppose we could..." he paused and frowned, contemplating.
"Sir?"
"What's its name?"
"Excuse me?"
"The child," he huffed. "The child, Potter, what's its name?"
"Ah," he fumbled with the papers in his hand, and read off, "Alice Heart."
"Hmm..." he started to smile and nodded. "This just might work."
"Sir?"
"I'm leaving this in your hands, Potter. You fix this well and I'll give you a raise."
He raised a brow in surprise, but remained otherwise expressionless. A raise was rather unheard of in this household. But if there was a chance, then...
"And where do you propose I should start, sir?"
The man laughed and began to walk away, but replied, "Grace wants a boy, Potter. And what Grace wants..."
"She gets," he finished, and gave a small bow as he exited the room. "I'll get right on it, Mr Howard," he said, and turned back to see the little girl staring at him with those big blue eyes, a raven lock falling over them, the rest of her curls framing those rosy cheeks... "What the hell am I doing?" he murmured, and pushed up his sleeves.
This was going to take some work...
Introduction to Destruction...
my name is Tansy
I hail from parts unknown
drinking tea keeps me sane
writing is my life
(and sometimes my downfall)
fairy tales are cute
though I prefer a bit of mystery to the tale
I'm a firm believer in vitamins
and I currently love the sounds of Lesley and Stephanie
(though that may change within the hour)
I'm here to share my words with you
please treat me nicely
I hail from parts unknown
drinking tea keeps me sane
writing is my life
(and sometimes my downfall)
fairy tales are cute
though I prefer a bit of mystery to the tale
I'm a firm believer in vitamins
and I currently love the sounds of Lesley and Stephanie
(though that may change within the hour)
I'm here to share my words with you
please treat me nicely
