My next writing assignment is actually to write a love story, but it's special to me, so I'm working on it. In the meantime, I'll do number 11, which is to write about anything currently on my mind. There's a dilemma that's been on my mind for a while. I'll write about that.
It's about that stalker guy I wrote about a couple of blogs ago, George. See, he goes to the same water aerobics I go to in the summer, that's where I met him. Now I'm afraid I don't really want to go because I would feel so uncomfortable, even though I loved it the last three years I've gone. It's a real dilemma and it's sensitive because people will wonder why I'm not going, especially the instructor, who is also my friend and George's cousin. I even filled in for her when she couldn't be there a few times the last summer or two.
On one hand, I want to be brave and just go and if he says anything to me, I'll call him out. On the other hand, I don't really feel like dealing with it and I wonder why I should have to in the first place. I'm pretty pissed off at the whole situation. I have two weeks to decide if I'm going to be brave, yet uncomfortable, or if I'm going to protect myself and not face it.
* * *
Here it is, a couple of weeks later. I put this down when I puppy sat and I'm just now getting back to it. Swimming officially started yesterday and I had every intention of going, but it's just too cold still. I won't back down and I'm surprised at myself for even considering it. The water aerobics will now start a week from now and I will be there, with bells on. Have a good day. Remember the days when I called you my chickadees? Well, have a good day. ;)
Tuesday, June 02, 2015
Thursday, May 07, 2015
420 Festival
420 FESTIVAL
My next writing challenge is to write about anything I want. So, I'm going to describe the festival my brother and I went to a couple of weeks ago.
My brother and I went to a 420/music festival and it was freakin' awesome. We paid ten dollars each to get in, then got the best parking spot in the place, right by the entrance. I thought ten dollars was high, but I would find out soon that it was a bargain instead.
It had rained hard that morning and the road was muddy. I was wearing my baby doll shoes and they didn't stand a chance. The first things we saw were lots of food vendors, mostly barbeque, on either side, and on the right was an incredible bonfire pit, waiting to be lit. That sucker was huge and I could imagine what kind of party that was going to be after dark.
We wandered by the food stands and I was disappointed that there weren't any vedors with items to sell. I was hoping for lots of hippie stuff. We continued on our way and saw a lot of interesting things. See, I thought this was going to be a park but it wasn't. It was one guy and his wife's property. We (my brother, Thomas, his puppy, Oswald, and I) saw shoes hanging in the trees, old, dilapidated school buses and trailers, complete with graffiti and art. There were small tents pitched here and there where people were camping out.
We came to a widening in the road. We passed two more food stands, then saw the music tent to our left, and behind it, a field where people had parked their cars in a large circle and were playing frisbee inside the circle. There were more tents pitched all around. There were Peacocks all over the place. To our right was a structure that turned out to be the owner's home and art studio. It was a quonset hut sprayed with polyurethane foam, so it was bumpy. There was a winding staircase leading up to a deck and the front door.
Thomas got to talking to an old guy who was drinking a beer and it turned out that he was the owner and wanted to give us a tour of his studio. The guy really liked to talk and to show off his place and he was a great story teller. He had painted the floors of his studio, which was the whole downstairs of the house, and painted the other side of the outside. One wall was made of different colored beer bottles. He showed us a lot of his art. There was a forklift that served as an elevator that lead upstairs. I was dying to see the upstairs but did not get to.
When we were finished with our tour, we wandered down to the music tent. There was a great band playing. It was kind of bluegrass/country with very comical lyrics. The frontman was pretty funny. I was impressed that this was the five o'clock band. They really were good. Next up was a three piece band called The Punknics. There was a washtub bass, a tattoo-covered singer/guitar player, and a bad-ass girl on a snare drum and vocals. They were rock/punk/country and they were really good too.
After standing in the music tent for a couple of hours, my back began to hurt, so we decided to make our way back to the car. We stopped on the way out so that Thomas could order a Philly cheese sandwich from one of the vendors next to the music tent. I wasn't hungry but it sure looked good. Across the way, there was a fry bread stand and I vowed to get a fry bread next year.
I plan to make the festival a yearly tradition. In fact, next year, I plan to go early and camp out the whole weekend, really get my money's worth. I'll pitch a tent near the music tent and walk around all weekend, getting to know people. My sister's even talking about coming here from Arizona next year to check it out. There was a very nice vibe and I think that next year I could even perhaps have a magical weekend. We shall see.
My next writing challenge is to write about anything I want. So, I'm going to describe the festival my brother and I went to a couple of weeks ago.
My brother and I went to a 420/music festival and it was freakin' awesome. We paid ten dollars each to get in, then got the best parking spot in the place, right by the entrance. I thought ten dollars was high, but I would find out soon that it was a bargain instead.
It had rained hard that morning and the road was muddy. I was wearing my baby doll shoes and they didn't stand a chance. The first things we saw were lots of food vendors, mostly barbeque, on either side, and on the right was an incredible bonfire pit, waiting to be lit. That sucker was huge and I could imagine what kind of party that was going to be after dark.
We wandered by the food stands and I was disappointed that there weren't any vedors with items to sell. I was hoping for lots of hippie stuff. We continued on our way and saw a lot of interesting things. See, I thought this was going to be a park but it wasn't. It was one guy and his wife's property. We (my brother, Thomas, his puppy, Oswald, and I) saw shoes hanging in the trees, old, dilapidated school buses and trailers, complete with graffiti and art. There were small tents pitched here and there where people were camping out.
We came to a widening in the road. We passed two more food stands, then saw the music tent to our left, and behind it, a field where people had parked their cars in a large circle and were playing frisbee inside the circle. There were more tents pitched all around. There were Peacocks all over the place. To our right was a structure that turned out to be the owner's home and art studio. It was a quonset hut sprayed with polyurethane foam, so it was bumpy. There was a winding staircase leading up to a deck and the front door.
Thomas got to talking to an old guy who was drinking a beer and it turned out that he was the owner and wanted to give us a tour of his studio. The guy really liked to talk and to show off his place and he was a great story teller. He had painted the floors of his studio, which was the whole downstairs of the house, and painted the other side of the outside. One wall was made of different colored beer bottles. He showed us a lot of his art. There was a forklift that served as an elevator that lead upstairs. I was dying to see the upstairs but did not get to.
When we were finished with our tour, we wandered down to the music tent. There was a great band playing. It was kind of bluegrass/country with very comical lyrics. The frontman was pretty funny. I was impressed that this was the five o'clock band. They really were good. Next up was a three piece band called The Punknics. There was a washtub bass, a tattoo-covered singer/guitar player, and a bad-ass girl on a snare drum and vocals. They were rock/punk/country and they were really good too.
After standing in the music tent for a couple of hours, my back began to hurt, so we decided to make our way back to the car. We stopped on the way out so that Thomas could order a Philly cheese sandwich from one of the vendors next to the music tent. I wasn't hungry but it sure looked good. Across the way, there was a fry bread stand and I vowed to get a fry bread next year.
I plan to make the festival a yearly tradition. In fact, next year, I plan to go early and camp out the whole weekend, really get my money's worth. I'll pitch a tent near the music tent and walk around all weekend, getting to know people. My sister's even talking about coming here from Arizona next year to check it out. There was a very nice vibe and I think that next year I could even perhaps have a magical weekend. We shall see.
Monday, May 04, 2015
Ready to Call 911
Ready To Call 911
I've had a stalker for the last few months. He's been very subtly stalking me. I met him at my water aerobics class last summer. He's the cousin of the instructor who's also my friend. He's married and I've met his wife as well. I will call them George and Maryann. Not because I need to change their names, but because it's fun.
The guy wants to be friends and he's tried way too hard. He stopped by my house once when I was sitting on my patio, having a cigarette, and after we chatted a bit, he asked for my phone number. It seemed harmless enough at the time. He seemed like a nice guy and he had only stopped by a couple of times. Well, almost immediately I realized I'd made a mistake. He started calling me every day. There's almost nobody on this earth I want to talk to every day. I don't even talk to my best friend that often. So I told him to stop calling so often and he said ok. Then he called me the next day. Twice. I didn't answer his calls. In fact, I decided to ignore him till he got the hint and went away.
He didn't go away. His calls got fewer and farther between but then a couple of days ago, he called and left a message on my voicemail and he pushed me too far. He's turned his attention to my next-door-neighbor/best friend, whom I will call Jenny. His message said he had driven by her house and there's always a car parked there and he asked me if that was company or what. Then he asked if she had cut her hair. He's lives right behind us and can see what we do.
I freaked out. It's one thing to fuck with me, but it's another thing to fuck with my friends. I called him and left a message on his voicemail and it wasn't nice. I said that what Jenny has done with her hair and who that is parked at her house were none of his fucking business. I said that neither of us is interested in being his friend and if he bothered either of us again, I would call the cops.
I haven't heard from him since.
I've had a stalker for the last few months. He's been very subtly stalking me. I met him at my water aerobics class last summer. He's the cousin of the instructor who's also my friend. He's married and I've met his wife as well. I will call them George and Maryann. Not because I need to change their names, but because it's fun.
The guy wants to be friends and he's tried way too hard. He stopped by my house once when I was sitting on my patio, having a cigarette, and after we chatted a bit, he asked for my phone number. It seemed harmless enough at the time. He seemed like a nice guy and he had only stopped by a couple of times. Well, almost immediately I realized I'd made a mistake. He started calling me every day. There's almost nobody on this earth I want to talk to every day. I don't even talk to my best friend that often. So I told him to stop calling so often and he said ok. Then he called me the next day. Twice. I didn't answer his calls. In fact, I decided to ignore him till he got the hint and went away.
He didn't go away. His calls got fewer and farther between but then a couple of days ago, he called and left a message on my voicemail and he pushed me too far. He's turned his attention to my next-door-neighbor/best friend, whom I will call Jenny. His message said he had driven by her house and there's always a car parked there and he asked me if that was company or what. Then he asked if she had cut her hair. He's lives right behind us and can see what we do.
I freaked out. It's one thing to fuck with me, but it's another thing to fuck with my friends. I called him and left a message on his voicemail and it wasn't nice. I said that what Jenny has done with her hair and who that is parked at her house were none of his fucking business. I said that neither of us is interested in being his friend and if he bothered either of us again, I would call the cops.
I haven't heard from him since.
Sunday, April 26, 2015
My Special Someone
My next writing challenge assignment is to write about my feelings for someone. So, I decided to write about my current love.
Smitty. Yes, my cat. We love each other to the point of ridiculous. I haven't felt such pure love from any being in my life except from Daisy, my beautiful Persian girl who died two years ago.
Smitty came to me in the same manner that my two older cats did. Out of nowhere. I was sitting out on my patio, in the dark, when I heard a mewing sound coming out of the blackness. Naturally, I stopped what I was doing and followed the sound. It was starting to get light when I saw a kitten run behind my neighbor's trash can. When I tried to get it to come out, it ran next door, to another neighbor's house, and onto their porch. I could see it well now. I guessed it to be about twelve weeks old, with light, Siamese markings. Once more, I tried to catch it, but it got away from me and I lost sight of it.
As I started to walk back home, the neighbor came out. I told him I was trying to catch a kitten, and asked him if he could try to catch it if he saw it. He said that he would. That evening, the neighbor brought the kitten to my door.
He was a male, pretty calm, but a little scared too. He was beautiful, with his Siamese markings and big blue eyes. He spent his first night under my bed, waking me up every so often with loud mews. By the second night, he was sleeping quietly with me. I went to our park office to ask if anyone had called, looking for a lost Siamese kitten, and she told me no, and that I could keep him if I wanted him. I went home and named him. It didn't take long to think of Smitten Kitten, shortened to Smitty. I was in love.
Smitty is now eleven months old, and definitely a Mamma's boy. He's still growing, but he's bigger than seven year old Susie already. He's very friendly and loves most people. He's twenty-five percent brat, and seventy-five percent sweetheart. He gets real wild at times, but the rest of the time he's a little love.
A few weeks ago, I was lying in bed, on my side, when Smitty jumped up on the bed and laid next to me in the spoon position. I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around my arms, and we laid perfectly still for forty-five minutes. I had my eyes closed and I was so absorbed in the love passing between us that I didn't think of anything else the entire time. Not even a cigarette. We didn't move a muscle. I felt pure, unconditional love.
I've lost count of all of the special moments we've had together. He's smart, funny, and adorable. Everyone who meets him wants to take him home. One time, when I was in the beginning of a severe depression, I laid down, and Smitty came to me and loved me up. I felt better immediately. No medication has ever done that.
He's my little angel baby. He's my handsome young man, my sweet prince. I love Smitty as much as I've ever loved anyone. He has my heart.
Smitty. Yes, my cat. We love each other to the point of ridiculous. I haven't felt such pure love from any being in my life except from Daisy, my beautiful Persian girl who died two years ago.
Smitty came to me in the same manner that my two older cats did. Out of nowhere. I was sitting out on my patio, in the dark, when I heard a mewing sound coming out of the blackness. Naturally, I stopped what I was doing and followed the sound. It was starting to get light when I saw a kitten run behind my neighbor's trash can. When I tried to get it to come out, it ran next door, to another neighbor's house, and onto their porch. I could see it well now. I guessed it to be about twelve weeks old, with light, Siamese markings. Once more, I tried to catch it, but it got away from me and I lost sight of it.
As I started to walk back home, the neighbor came out. I told him I was trying to catch a kitten, and asked him if he could try to catch it if he saw it. He said that he would. That evening, the neighbor brought the kitten to my door.
He was a male, pretty calm, but a little scared too. He was beautiful, with his Siamese markings and big blue eyes. He spent his first night under my bed, waking me up every so often with loud mews. By the second night, he was sleeping quietly with me. I went to our park office to ask if anyone had called, looking for a lost Siamese kitten, and she told me no, and that I could keep him if I wanted him. I went home and named him. It didn't take long to think of Smitten Kitten, shortened to Smitty. I was in love.
Smitty is now eleven months old, and definitely a Mamma's boy. He's still growing, but he's bigger than seven year old Susie already. He's very friendly and loves most people. He's twenty-five percent brat, and seventy-five percent sweetheart. He gets real wild at times, but the rest of the time he's a little love.
A few weeks ago, I was lying in bed, on my side, when Smitty jumped up on the bed and laid next to me in the spoon position. I wrapped my arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around my arms, and we laid perfectly still for forty-five minutes. I had my eyes closed and I was so absorbed in the love passing between us that I didn't think of anything else the entire time. Not even a cigarette. We didn't move a muscle. I felt pure, unconditional love.
I've lost count of all of the special moments we've had together. He's smart, funny, and adorable. Everyone who meets him wants to take him home. One time, when I was in the beginning of a severe depression, I laid down, and Smitty came to me and loved me up. I felt better immediately. No medication has ever done that.
He's my little angel baby. He's my handsome young man, my sweet prince. I love Smitty as much as I've ever loved anyone. He has my heart.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Lust Letter
My next writing assignment is write a short poem, and since I haven't been inspired to write any poetry lately, I'm posting an old one.
big
sloppy
stinky
brilliant
sweet lover
that my mouth could be bigger
to take a bigger bite of you
I like your aftertaste
walk down this road
and bring it back
I want to give you me
clean and soft
I want to see
the transformation
in your face
I love your face
and I like your tattoos
you are to me
life itself
bumbling and perfect
and unafraid of death
don’t be afraid of me
I’ll only hurt you well
come let me bathe you
and feed you
and fuck you
and make you strong
then I will
send you back down your road
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Dear Ewan
My next writing challenge is to write a letter to anyone. So, I wrote a short and sweet letter to my Ewan McGregor.
Dear Ewan,
I love you. If there were such a thing as the perfect man, you'd be it. You're a great actor, husband, father, and activist for good causes. You're an adventurer. You're so beautiful that I've actually cried while watching you act. You were a wild boy when you were younger, smoking and drinking and having a good time, but you gave that all up to become a family man. You're such a stand-up guy and I love you for that. You're funny and you cuss like a drunk sailor. Is there anything not to love about you?
Yes, Ewan McGregor, I love you.
All My Heart and Soul,
Kelli
Dear Ewan,
I love you. If there were such a thing as the perfect man, you'd be it. You're a great actor, husband, father, and activist for good causes. You're an adventurer. You're so beautiful that I've actually cried while watching you act. You were a wild boy when you were younger, smoking and drinking and having a good time, but you gave that all up to become a family man. You're such a stand-up guy and I love you for that. You're funny and you cuss like a drunk sailor. Is there anything not to love about you?
Yes, Ewan McGregor, I love you.
All My Heart and Soul,
Kelli
Thursday, April 16, 2015
Christina Perri Review
Ironically, the next writing challenge assignment I'm doing is a review. Having saved the best for last, my friend and fellow writing challenge partner, Toni, chose Christina Perri from three choices and I'm glad she did.
CHRISTINA PERRI
I listened to pop radio for two years and only came away with only two favorites - Ed Sheeran and Christina Perri.
Christina Perri is my newest favorite music artist. She writes her own songs and she uses cords that give her music that atmospheric, haunting quality that I love. Her sound is unique. Her voice is beautiful, yet has a little bit of that edge I'm so crazy about. The girl's never written a bad song that I've ever heard. She moved to L.A. from Philadelphia and struggled to pay rent while also trying to get her songs heard. Her song, Jar of Hearts, was played on So You Think You Can Dance and received a lot of attention and she rose from obscurity to fame in a short amount of time.
Her current hit on pop radio is Jar of Hearts. It's a good song, but not my favorite, which is Tragedy. Before I knew the name of it, I called it the la la song because it's got la las. It's so very Christina Perri. It's reminiscent of something perhaps heard in the late 60s in it's style.
NEWS FLASH:
I just heard one of her songs on Pandora and found it to be relatively lame. However, I have to say that her worst songs are still head and shoulders above all of the other watered-down songs heard on poop radio.
I find Christina Perri to be an extraordinary, gifted, and special talent. Really though, as if that's not enough, she's also drop-dead gorgeous. Though charismatic in her videos, she seems a little shy when performing live. She likes to keep those beautiful eyes almost closed when she sings. I've watched tons of her videos and I never tire of watching her. I've included two videos, so that you can see her live and in one of her production videos.
I think she's extremely endearing. What do you think?
CHRISTINA PERRI
I listened to pop radio for two years and only came away with only two favorites - Ed Sheeran and Christina Perri.
Christina Perri is my newest favorite music artist. She writes her own songs and she uses cords that give her music that atmospheric, haunting quality that I love. Her sound is unique. Her voice is beautiful, yet has a little bit of that edge I'm so crazy about. The girl's never written a bad song that I've ever heard. She moved to L.A. from Philadelphia and struggled to pay rent while also trying to get her songs heard. Her song, Jar of Hearts, was played on So You Think You Can Dance and received a lot of attention and she rose from obscurity to fame in a short amount of time.
Her current hit on pop radio is Jar of Hearts. It's a good song, but not my favorite, which is Tragedy. Before I knew the name of it, I called it the la la song because it's got la las. It's so very Christina Perri. It's reminiscent of something perhaps heard in the late 60s in it's style.
NEWS FLASH:
I just heard one of her songs on Pandora and found it to be relatively lame. However, I have to say that her worst songs are still head and shoulders above all of the other watered-down songs heard on poop radio.
I find Christina Perri to be an extraordinary, gifted, and special talent. Really though, as if that's not enough, she's also drop-dead gorgeous. Though charismatic in her videos, she seems a little shy when performing live. She likes to keep those beautiful eyes almost closed when she sings. I've watched tons of her videos and I never tire of watching her. I've included two videos, so that you can see her live and in one of her production videos.
I think she's extremely endearing. What do you think?
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