Two, and three.

So when I'm writing in the evening, I listen to music.  It helps me get mentally away from the day and drowns out distractions.  And occasionally the music will create a story as the emotions wrapped in the lyrics lift me and enable me to carry a feeling through.  The following story was oddly the result of these songs: Iggy Azalea, "Black Widow" Selena Gomez, "The Heart Wants What It Wants" Ariana Grande, "Love me harder" Sia, "Chandelier" Jessie J, Ariana Grande, and Nicki Minaj, "Bang Bang" After I got done and looked at the play list I wanted to laugh. Here's my story: Day-fall. Rise from the grave of light. Scales dripping with grains of forgetfulness.  Taste of the desert on your tongue.  Fires of a midnight sun in your eye.     Standing firm on a shifting pile of time.  Watched by the bones of the earth.  Hugged by the chill of the wind.  Blink against the spines of the vanishing star

February 22 was the anniversary of Cayden's funeral. I spent the day not thinking about it, forcefully turning my mind from memories and images. I had to do this, to keep from moving into a state of utter panic. There was a GurgleOrc waiting to be born. His due date was February 27. He was moving consistently, but I still poked and prodded him if he went longer than an hour or so without adjusting position. He was late, as all mine have been. He made his appearance on March 2. I spent the entire labor refusing to believe that it was actually happening, that what I was feeling weren't Braxton-Hicks contractions. By four in the afternoon the pain was intense enough that I decided I needed that blessed epidural. So we went, were admitted, I was praised for my calm demeanor and asked if I was sure I really needed the epidural? I assured them I did, that I was only calm because I knew it was coming. Around nine that evening the nurse announced it was time to push. We spent a few m

Oh and on the south pacific.  I was trying to describe to my brother today the longing.  And failing.  Terribly.  Stupid walter, mitty and stupid nim and her stupid island. Six years ago when we were first writing this blog as a WoW blog and as an experiment it trying to make friends on the internet and moving into a new internet neighborhood of blogging myself and herself were in serious talks about our dreams and hopes in life and what we "REALLY" wanted out of life and how to get it.  Very SRS-BZNS all around.   So after a bit we realized that all of our dreams kept coming back to "get a degree and then...." So I suckered convinced her into moving to Las Cruces, NM so we could go to school because it would be sooooo much cheaper and we could live with my parents(HAHAHHA*).   But regardless for the past six years all of our life efforts have been solely focused on one thing.  Get degree.  Get job after.  Start life part 2. *We lasted 3 months with them**

Okay wow.  It sure has been ages since I've posted anything here. I'll have to do a life-story-recap but what reminded me to post was someone harassing me about Payment a story that I wrote almost four years ago now.  So, since it has been so long I"m putting the first two bits and the latest bit together and posting it here. ======================================================================== Alice was 33. She was the head personal maid to her Ladyship the Duchess. She obtained this illustrious position because she was clean, organized, neat, and prompt about her duties. She obtained those attributes by always looking forwards to the next task. Never daydreaming, never being distracted by life's hopes. Always anticipating what would happen next. That was why she was at the ball. As a young girl she used to daydream of princes and castles. That ended when her parents disappeared one night. After a week of waiting the uncaring town officials had her packaged

This paper came from my time at AHPCRC this summer.

I don't know why I didn't think of this sooner but drawing with the kids is all kinds of cool.