It's Mythical Reality.

Here, I'll take my feelings and emotions. My dreams and nightmares. Real life, imaginary life, and sleep life. Days in, days out. It may not make sense ,or, may be too simple for appreciation. The beautiful and the horrid, the clean, the nasty. Pointless ramblings and important lessons. This is my life in a never-ending story, documented for all to read.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

My Goals of 2012.

1) Get a job!
I mean, seriously, back in highschool I never imagined finding a job would be so difficult. I'd probably be able to create a business that helps qualified applicants find jobs. Haha! My first goal is definitely to make enough money to support myself...and then perhaps have a little money left over ;)

2) Get Married!
I'm so excited to commit myself for a lifetime to a man I'm ridiculously in love with. A love tight ceremony with only family and close friends, my heart always speeds up in anticipation. <3

3) Get my own place!
By January of 2013, if I'm not out on my own (with Charles of course.) I might just fall down and die...well not die. But I'll definitely be kicking myself in the ass.

4)Survive December 21, 2012.
The day that is supposed to end the world as we know it. Do I believe? Not really; but I'm a believer in you can never be too careful. This should be on everyone's New Years Goals list.

5)Start a little side business.
I need a way to let my creative juices flow and make some extra cash. My problem is my mind and hobbies are so varied, its hard to narrow it down.

6)Volunteer More!
I love helping people and animals alike. And with all this extra time on my hands, why am I not helping? If I was down and out I'd want someone to help me. So, I want to volunteer with at least two groups and start an organization of my own. I'm hellbent on this one.

7)Get back into school!
Unless something else in my life seriously takes off. I think I want to go back and get my associates of science in nursing. (Although the free-spirited artsy Brit screams NO!)

8)Lose weight!
Isn't this an ideal for almost everyone every year? Or to at least change something about their body?

9)Write a book!
It's time to actually commit to a concept and run with it. No use being scared at everything in life.

10)Find Religion!
I know this is random, and I think I've "found" religion, I just need to make it a bigger part of me.

Well, I know alot of changes will come next year. I'm not a mind reader. I'm simply a logical individual, and with every year comes loads of change. I just hope this is one of those years I'll be able to successfully fulfill all my goals :)

Dead End-It's a Personal Jot Down

This is unlike most of the posts I write, but I was feeling inspired today.

Some people spend days upon days, years upon years, looking for that one special person that will complete them. That one person they can't live without. The singular being that will make them wake up every morning and be happy to be alive.
I'd like to say I  was a skeptic to "true" love. I was amongst those that believed in love but never believed it would happen to me. Or maybe it was that I thought everyone was never destined to be with only one other person. That they're were many people for everyone. If one person didn't work out, you dusted yourself off and moved on to the next best thing.
I still believe in this methodology. In a sense. There's those that lose their other half and decide when the best time is to move on. No one should spend the rest of their lives longing for someone they can never have back. A person is lucky to find true love once, never mind time and time again.
Anyways back to the purpose of this post, to jot down a bit of my personal life. I was the typical teenager, believing my "highschool sweetheart" (even though he was five years past high school! lol!) would end up being my one and only. In fact I was so convinced, I moved in with him and gave my whole self to him. Little did I know, that wasn't what real love was. I ended up changing into someone I found that I didn't recognize anymore. I had to work so hard at making him happy and myself happy at the end of the day, just to finally realize that neither of us were really happy when we went to sleep at night. One day, I made the drastic decision to move out of his house and end the relationship, and bought a one way ticket to New York. (I didn't end up going, but that's another blog entirely. Which can conveniently be read here http://huntinghobbits.blogspot.com/2011/06/dear-new-york.html

After my aunt passed away (who you can also read about in my previous posts) a part of myself died right along with her. My Ex would try his hardest to make me happy in my times of sadness, but I never felt complete. I always felt like I could never really be content or happy because that part of her that had filled my heart was now missing.
And that's when I met Charles.
Our meeting was one to be laughed at, through a friend on facebook and unintentionally. Being both shy and a bit introverted, I never opened up to anyone. And he was definitely not my "type" (although, I can never remember really having a type haha.) To be blunt, he was loud, obnoxious, full of himself, and a HUGE flirt. Haha! It still makes me laugh today that such different people were able to cross paths at just an off chance.
But we started talking and literally couldn't stop. A few weeks later we met for the first time, and that night was the first of the rest of my life. It seemed as if Charles and I had known each other in perhaps another life, or we had been destined to meet. Something of that philosophical nature! Haha! That night I told him things I  had never told anyone else, and he did the same with me. It seemed as if we had not just barely found each other, it just seemed as if we had found each other again.
The next couple months, we continued to be friends. Being an avid believer that true love rarely occurred, let alone at a fast rate, I lied to myself. Telling myself he was like any other guy that would come and go. But, as evidence of the past nine months has proven, I'm pretty sure he's not going anywhere. And for the first time, I actually believe a guy when he says he's going to stick around.
I never thought that I would be able to describe my perfect match, but now I can eagerly do so. It's someone who will take care of me, but is smart enough to know that I'd rather take care of myself. Someone who will let me be independent but catch me when I stumble over my stupid mistakes. Someone who will jump head first in with me over and over again, no matter how many times we crash and burn. A man who will never tire of my constant chatter (and believe me I talk ALOT) and someone who will argue WITH me instead of against me and someone who will stick up for himself even though it'd be easier to just agree with me. But most of all, someone I'd actually say "yes" to when they ask to marry me. And Charles is all these things and more.
I'm not one to let my feelings show or share my emotions often, even with my fiance. I've always thought that being strong meant not losing control of where my heart takes me. But for the first time, here I am. Letting who ever and their mother who may read this blog see how I feel about someone personal in my life. And for once, I don't care!
So to Charles, I'd just like to say thanks. For showing me that I could trust after being let down so many times, by both people I thought I loved and friends. For loving me for who I am instead of trying to make me into what you might've been looking for. For sticking by me even though I can be insecure and headstrong. For teaching me that I can love another person as much as they love me, and finally letting myself be weak around them. For letting your pride go, so that I could let mine go, and we could be real with one another. Thank you for bringing happy tears to my eyes again and again.
But most of all, I'm happy my aunt has sent you to me. Since you've come into my life, the emptiness that left my heart sorrowful is now filled with the love you've given me and continue to give me every day. I hope I never have to feel that emptiness again, and I hope I can bring you the same amount of happiness you bring me.
So for me, my love life has come to a dead end. But not one of those dead ends you accidentally end up having to turn around, retrace your path and find the actual place you're supposed to be. It's one of those stops were you get out of your car and take a breather, letting the surroundings engulf you. Content of where broken roads and wrong directions have brought you.
To everyone who has yet to find their dead end, take some turns of faith and u-turns of screw ups until you do find it. You'll be surprised how good it feels to stretch your legs after a bumpy trip.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Untitled

It's a little rough, bear with me.


She laid in bed face down. Ignoring the noises and lights from outside, the girl tried to force herself to sleep. Midnight crept closer and closer, its darkness enveloping the little town. The young woman tossed and turned, threw the blanket off and on, but to no avail. Finally, she sat up and exhaled dramatically. Deciding she would be unable to fall asleep, she decided to take a quick walk around the house.
Now, to the typical person this may sound odd. Someone walking around a pitch-black house in the middle of the night, exhaust-ridden and a little dazed; but this was a nightly routine for her. The three other occupants of the house, her parents and older sister, slept upstairs with closed doors in order to keep the sounds of her stomping feet at bay.
She checked outside the shades and made sure all the windows and doors were locked. After making sure the house was satisfyingly secure, she tiptoed back to her room and shut the door. Off came the slippers and there she went jumping into bed. But she did not lay down. Instead she sat straight up, listening and waiting. That's when she heard it.
For the past year of her life, she had heard the same raucous over and over. A knock on a far window, then on another, and another. Until finally it would arrive at her own. A soft...pit pit patter patter. Then it would circle the house again. Pit pit patter patter. And on and on it would go until soft rays of sunshine would begin to hit her lavender comforter. Only then would the girl be able to sleep.
Her parents could find no solution. They took her in for psychiatric help, thinking maybe the stress of adolescents was taking it's toll on the then pre-teen girl. Doctor after doctor had different diagnoses and different treatment. Medication didn't work, the girl would still sit awake at night, telling the parents and sister of the pit pit patter patter only her ears could hear. Then therapy came along, but the girl would go in again and again, exclaiming she just wanted to sleep. That the pit pit patter patter was real.
Finally, at a loss for options, the family decided to uproot and move away. 40 miles and a new mortgage later, the family was in a different house. The first couple years after the move, the girl slept soundly, the pit pit patter patter far behind her, in both time and distance. Then one night, while relaxing for sleep, she heard the all to familiar noise. When she told her parents they banished her downstairs, telling her that she was now old enough to deal with her childish fears.
It was a year since the noise had returned. The girl would try to reason with herself, thinking it was all in her head. Some nights she would race to keep up with the noise, only to find when she reached the window the noise was coming from, there was no one looking back at her but her own reflection. She'd touch the glass, astounded at how she could be so crazy, and so sane at the same time.
So the night before this one, she had tried something new. She didn't get out of bed and she didn't sit straight up as she usually would. Instead, she laid very still, eyes closed. Acting as if she was asleep, but with a wide-awake mind. She knew she couldn't be crazy, that whoever she heard must have been following her during childhood, and returned this last year to continue his stalking plans. Tonight there was only one difference in the house. She had left her curtains slightly opened.
At a little past midnight, the pit pit patter patter began. She listened carefully, counting each window as it was passed. One...two...before she knew it she was at window fourteen. Slightly opening an eye, she waited for the stalker to confront her window, count fifteen. With a mixture of anticipation, anger, and fear, she stared and stared at that sliver of glass exposure. And that's when she saw her tormentor. Little did she know, they had seen her watching.
Tonight, she sat up in bed, alert and afraid to sleep. Fear swallowed her whole as a cold sweat developed upon her brow. She cowered under the covers, double checking to make sure her door was locked and the curtains securely shut. That's when an unfamiliar sound filled the air.

Click. click. Click.

A shudder fell over her. She recognizes the click noise all to well. The front door being unlocked, opened, and then shut. Closing her eyes, she began to reason with herself. What she lost last night would have no concept of how to unlock a door, would it? Could her sister barely be getting in? Had her parents snuck out for a late date night?
She reached for her cell and dialed her sister's number. Crossing her fingers that she could possibly still be awake, she heard the girl answer. Before the sister could start to yell about how late it was or how soundly she was sleeping, the girl whispered into her ear...to run to their parents room and lock the door behind her. Then call 911. The sister hung up, deducting that the girl was having one of her childish fantasies again.

clunk. clunk. clunk. clunk.

Heavy footsteps upon the stairs. She called her sister again, and before the other girl could speak, she begged her again to rush to the parents room.
"He's coming, he's coming. He's coming for you"
The sister heard the urgency in the girl's voice and decided to appease her fears for a night. She hung up the phone. The girl listened for the thumping of running steps on the floor above her own, but they never came. All she heard was the clunk...clunk..clunk. Of someone going up the stairs, and down the stairs, over and over again.
Finally the noises ended. The girl heard the front door open, close, and lock from the outside. Shaking from fear, she rose from her bed and stumbled to the door. Only now did she notice her sweat stained sheets and her newly bitten down finger nails. Nerves had gotten the best of her, and she thought maybe this all really could be in her head.
She looked at the clock and saw that it was 4:00 A.M. A safe enough time she supposed, so she wrapped herself in a robe and emerged from her room. She was met by the house just as she had left it. The curtains firmly over the windows and the front door locked. She walked quietly up the stairs to her parents room. After opening the door and seeing for herself that they were safely sleeping in bed, she continued to her sister's room.
'Maybe I am just crazy,' she thought to herself.
The door to her sister's room was open. Odd, considering she always slept with it closed. The girl looked inside and saw her sister stuff under the covers. Just to reassure herself, she walked to the edge of the bed and poked her foot. But there was no foot. She then proceeded to poke her leg, then stomach. But all of these body parts were missing. She ripped the blankets off, and realized someone had replaced her sister with pillows.
The girl began to hyperventilate, the room spinning and her mind crashing slowly. She ran to her parents room, throwing the door open and ripping their covers off as well. Pillows replaced where their warm bodies should've been.
She collapsed to the floor, unable to comprehend what was going on. She heard the noise...pit pit, patter patter. She looked at the clock , hoping for a time that would indicate sunshine. But all she read was: 2:21 A.M. Her jaw dropped. Had she not read her clock correctly? Maybe she was dreaming, maybe her parent's clock was wrong, maybe this was her family playing a mean trick on her. Whatever was happening, she wanted no part of it.

Clunk.Clunk.Clunk.

She flew across the room and slammed the door shut, locking it with the old key her parents kept on the bedside table. She heard the foot steps creep closer and closer. The girl shrank up against the wall and closed her eyes, for once wishing that perhaps she was insane. Maybe this was all part of her mind and it would go away. Her parents would yell at her for waking them up and being ridiculous. She'd be forced to return to her isolated downstairs bedroom, and she'd wait for sunlight so she could finally sleep.

The foot steps arrived outside the door, and the knob slowly turned. The key unlocked the door from the inside, so the unwelcome guest could continue to open it. Although she knew she'd regret it, she had to open her eyes. She had to see what was coming for her.

When she opened her eyes, she saw nothing. The door was still locked, the covers on her parents' bed were still thrown back, and she was still curled up against the wall. She frowned at her ignorance and looked around the room for a hint of something different. She found nothing. With that, she slowly crawled to the closet and shut the door behind her. Even if she was going crazy, it made her feel better at least.

She leaned back against her parent's clothes, and suddenly there was someone wrapping their arms around her. She screamed and flung herself forward through the doors, lunging towards the bedroom door so she could try to escape. The hands gripped for her feet and ankles, dragging her back towards the closet. She clawed at the hardwood floors, crying in both agony and fear. The hands clawed their way up her calves and thighs, gripping her sides and flipping her over.
She stared into the emptiness. Into every fear she'd ever known of the night. She scratched into the creatures body and face, screaming for help and mercy. It smelled at her neck and chest, shuddering with the scent of her flowing through it's nasty veins.
"What are you?! What do you want?!" she yelled at it, squirming to get out of its grip and continuing to kick and claw at the beast.
"We're the things of thrown out souls!"

With that, the monstrosity of human creation towered above her, with its' dark, dirty fur glistening in the moonlight and blood fresh upon its calloused human hands. And never knowing what the creature was or what his words meant, she was ripped to shreds and strewn across the house. The creature rolled in her blood like a vicious dog, keeping its fur shiny and its senses ready.

And in a psychiatric ward 20 miles away, there was a schizophrenic screaming in his room, waking the other patients and causing havoc.
"The monster! He's gotten her! My monster has gotten her!"
The doctors dismiss it as another episode and continue on. Cause all of "these" types of patients create beings that aren't real. Little do they know, the crazies of the world hold the keys to all the things under our beds, hidden in the dark, and pit pit pattering outside our windows. The girl and her family were just too sane enough to see the creature that had come for them.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Life's too short.

I've heard the saying "Life's to short" since I was old enough to start making my own decisions. Do this, do that, life's to short! A few months ago, someone told me they didn't understand this standard piece of advice. Why? Because 'life is the longest thing you'll ever do'.
Why hadn't anyone thought of this before? And if they had, why had everyone left me out of the loop?
I'll be 20 in two weeks, finally out of my teens years and past the age where I can make excuses for why I can't do something or why I don't chase dreams or aspirations. But really, how is anyone supposed to go off and chase ANYTHING these days? Everyone is barely trying to keep their heads above water, trying to find the good amongst the hard and bad.
Then you have the people who tell you to stop complaining. You don't have it that bad, someone has it worse then you, ect. ect. But while your in that moment, drowning from all the thoughts in your mind and all the pressures of that moment, you're not thinking about everyone else and how they have it bad. You're thinking about yourself and how you have it bad.
Bad things happen to good people. Millions die everyday, and millions are born. We rejoice in birth but push our planet to the brink. Work hard and you'll still get ripped off, by your present employer or later by social security. Millions of people spend their lives working 40+ hours a week and for what? To live a depressing life as an elderly person with loads of regrets and little experiences. Along with only a little bit of money.
I'm a positive person typically. I believe in bad people that can change and everything will eventually work itself out. That you have to hit rock bottom before you know how "good" you can have it. But, sometimes even the most positive person in the world has to say every once in awhile "there's things in my life that really fucking suck." Dwell on it awhile, then you move on.
So with my 20th birthday approaching and the beginning of the new year, I've decided to create the infamous "Bucket List." Might as well do something with myself, life is the longest thing I'm ever going to do.

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Compromise


Lovers break hearts and obstacles break spirits
Mazes are meant to confuse, while life is built brick by brick
A brick of apathy, then a brick of rage. And brick by brick we go.
The maze is full of twists and turns
Small holes to squeeze in and flood gates to open and swim through
Dead ends, tight turns, dropped floors, and broken reflections.
Mazes intersect, passing people...pass, pass, pass
And sometimes people stick together for years, just to split apart
Going into opposite directions to face challenges of their own
Voices that belong to faces you can never see

And when does this maze end?
Or is it simply the infinite labyrinth of life?
When can we choose to simply walk away, forget the bricks we've spent so long laying?
Perhaps only when we are at peace with ourselves, even while at odds with others
Maybe the bricks will just come crashing down
Demolished by the ease of understanding.

The entrance could still remain, all the bricks in it's wake to be rebuilt
All the tears of pain and happiness in the form of buckets of gluey plaster
Used to piece this life back together
What is one to do?

For you, I'll never know. But for me, I'll never piece that maze back together.
I'll turn the other direction, whether it is into a desert with mirages of false promises.
Or a fun house of mirrors that makes me face my insecurities day in and day out.
I may be hallucinating and thirst-stricken in the desert
Alternatively, crazy and broken down in the fun house

But in the end
In the fog of a mirage or the reflection of a mirror
I'll see the person who has stuck by my side and never compromised.
Myself.

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

Dealing With Dawns

To every day, there is a new beginning.
A beginning that is simple and sweat
The friendly gesture to a neighbor or morning coffee
One feeling of completeness or lack of sorrow
Worries are somewhere far from mind
Peace fills us to the brim, overflowing to the people around us.

And in a perfect world every day would begin this way
But people and fate contribute to what is known as a far from perfect planet.
These days people wake to arguing, to buzzing alarm clocks or unwelcome sun.
We sit up in our beds and stress suffocates our new beginnings
Thoughts of losses, struggles, and tasks consumes us

Insecurities and burdens are heavy on our shoulders as we go through our morning routines
Zombies to the modern world and the negativity that surrounds it

Whole days are contributed to these monsters
The creatures that creep up during snapshots of happiness
As a whole we never imagined our parents being right about the boogey-man in the closet or the monster under the bed
Yet here we all are, combating these beings everyday of our lives.
And not until we are old and grey do we realize we are only fighting ourselves.

I'm not afraid to admit
I look into the mirror and see all of these demons trying to over take me.
Sometimes getting out of bed is the hardest thing to do, and the whole day is designated to these demons.
I may hide it with work or smiles, reading and writing, but deep down everyone is battling.
Whether these demons are big or small.

Every night I awake having thoughts upon thoughts, stress upon stress.
And although I cannot see it, I feel the warmth of the sun enter my window.
As I lay there from lack of sleep and a tired mind,
All I ask of myself is for a good and steady day.

In reality, every human being wakes up hoping for something along these lines.
Easy, happy, simple, sweet.
A day with no duties, a day alone, a day to have someone back that you've lost.
But all of these desires are just too far away...so we wait for the next day
Another day for us all to make a deal with the dawn.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Roads

When my cousin was 19, I promised her a poem or short story of sorts as a 20th birthday present. (Yes, I prefer home made gifts, though we all know store bought ones are much faster! Haha) So, even though I'm a few years late (whoops) I decided that I should probably just get around to it. So Lyndsay, I wrote this in the form of a shoulder to lean on. I hope it will bring you comfort whenever your stumbling through the journey of life.
 -----------------------------
Roads

The best aspect of a road is the adventure or familiarity they can portray
Roads to new lives or new people
A road to one's favorite spot, another that leads to home sweet home
Whether these paths are straight or topsy-turvy
Smooth as ice cold water or pothole boulevard
We travel with the knowing of a pleasant arrival
Using maps for some
Memory for others

But for every rainbow, there is also the storm.
It's how the world was constructed
Even all these roads

Roads on the sides of cliffs
Covered in snow
Plastered in mud
And even though we gotta get to where we gotta go
We're gripping the steering wheel and controlling cartwheels in our stomachs

Then there's the endless ones.
The ones that you drive down for hours and hours
Looking side to side, Driving through towns
Or maybe driving through nothing at all

Just fields upon fields
Nodding off from the dullness of your surroundings
Perhaps stuck with thoughts you've been pushing to the back of your mind
Coaxed out from the lack of stimulation around you

There's the dips you can't see and the weather you can't predict
People walking in and out of view
So you have to keep swerving and swerving
Braking and braking
The urge to pull over and rest
Call someone to drive the rest of way, or just come pick you up.
Maybe the desire to lock the doors and just walk away

All the people you call for help
The ones you just need to hear "It'll be alright, just keep on keepin' on" from
Others who you've called to come fix your car or change a tire
In the end you realize who will go the extra mile for you
And the ones who simply make excuses or ignore the call

With all of these uncertainties and insecurities,
It's a wonder we don't all board up our windows
Sell our cars
Turn in our shoes for slippers
But there's moments that make even the worst roads bearable

Turning the volume up on old-time favorites
Falling asleep in the passenger's seat, the wind teasing your cheeks and the sun keeping you warm
Waking up to nature conditioned hair and a California tan
Classic games like slug bug and I spy,
Kids laughing, pointing out silly stuff they spy outside the window

I spy, I spy
A bright shiny sun on the horizon, as blinding and hot as you like it
Kids sleeping in the backseat
Listening to the songs that have made so many memories for the both of us
Looking out the window, as trees make way for the barren fields of California
Holding the hand of the man you love

I spy, I spy
Rainy weather and a depressed looking sky
Bags of clothes hanging out in duffel bags
Rocking out to ACDC
Drinking cup upon cup of coffee
Leading me to the forested border of  Oregon
Holding tight to thoughts of hugging you.

Sometimes these paths aren't what we've been expecting
The detours are mostly long, the two way streets far and inbetween
But.
No matter the bends or curves
Nights, Days, Bumps, or Dips
I know a road that will always be true
And that's the road between me and you.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

Dear New York







 Oh my dear dear New York,

I have been earnestly avoiding this goodbye for months now.  But my stubborn spirit is finally folding.
In less the a month, I should've been walking along your sidewalks, feeling your nastily humid air (lol) and dragging my luggage in your train station. July 4 was supposed to be my ultimate independence day. But alas, life never waits for ones dreams or loves. So I must bid you farewell.
I'll continue to only imagine being far from here, free from these responsibilities but burdened by many others. I wont be able to enjoy your snow-ridden streets, slipping and falling on my ass. Laughing but pissed at the same time. Leaving my loved truck Lucinda behind, trading it instead for the two shoes on my feet. Won't be able to see all the trees that would've surrounded me. The experience of living with a crap load of room mates...or rather dealing with them...is out of reach now.
You, my dear friend, were so close to the grasp of reality. I think after everything I've been through this year: Being let down and letting go. Breaking up and losing. Not being able to fulfill you has been my ultimate source of heartbreak.
People keep telling me I have held false hope in you and all that you have to offer me.. Who knows. I could've moved up there and been miserable. Scraped up the little money I earned to walk the road of shame all the way back to California. Those same people now tell me that I'll have another chance..someday. But these reassurances fall on deaf ears. I needed the new beginning you had to offer me now. And now all that I have given up has been in vain. I have simply been burdened by more.
I hope you and I are able to cross paths one day, my dream is high but my logic is doubtful. If only I could hold the hand of  this which I want so much....but no.
I'll continue to google you and see you on the television. Hear stories of you by word of mouth. Listen to music blaring your name and all the wonderful things you could've offered me. And I'll do all of this from my California room. And soon enough my own place...hopefully.
My heart is where you are, even though I am 3000 miles away.
Your almost lover, Brit.

When It Rains It Pours


Ah, the age old saying. "When It Rains It Pours." Every year of my life that passes, I always say to myself, "Next round will be better." Guess what? It never is. Whenever I get around to that pivotal point again it seems ten times harder then before and I'm left to wonder, am I the only one who feels this way, or does it happen to everyone in this screenplay we write as life?
Starting a couple years back, I realized the pivotal moment of every year would always hit right around June. This is when it first starts warming up (I'm a fall/winter person, so trust me, the California heat is extremely unappreciated! Haha) June just seems like a month that should be labeled "Changes" on a calendar in my mind. It's in the middle of the year, kids get out of school, summer starts....not sure if all this reason is logical or just irrational.
But the ultimate reason is two years ago my beloved Aunt Renee passed away in, yep you guessed it, the month of June. She was like a mother to me, comforting me when I was down and being a trusted adult to confide in. She definitely knew when to whip out a can of whoop ass on me, don't get me wrong haha, but she always had my best interests at heart. She wasn't like a mother to me, she was my mom. And when we lost her it was gut wrenching.
I remember the news of her slowly dying in the hospital very vaguely, but I do remember the last time I saw her. I helped her to eat and she kept saying how much she loved me and what a good girl I was. Even though the words we're never said by anyone in the room, I knew it was all coming to an end. When I walked out that day I said my final goodbye to her.
The funeral was bittersweet. There we're so many young people there, showing that she had not only made me her adopted daughters, but had all of the kids she had always wanted but never been physically able to have. And in the midst of her family and friends, mixed in with all of the teenagers and young adults, all crying out of the loss of her and memories long lost, I also cried. From sadness and happiness.
Sadness from the act of losing her, and happiness that her pain was finally gone. She was far to great of a person to be in such pain all the time...
For months and months I refused to let go, but put on the appearance that I had. Inside I was selfish, asking whatever God exists why he had to take her, why he couldn't of taken someone less deserving. I cursed the doctors and hospitals that couldn't help her in the end. Resented all of the people who were at her funeral with bleeding hearts, but had never been there for her before. I was among the few people who stayed up late massaging her pain stricken feet, or talking on the phone with her when there was no one else around. Many people did these things too, but not everyone. I thought of them as hypocrites, undeserving of any types of memories of her.
Slowly but surely, the immaturity and sadness melted away, and what resulted was the realization that being bitter towards unpreventable events was simply too tiring. She would never want me to be around lollygagging and constantly thinking about her being around. She'd want me to live as best I possibly could.
One day I simply decided I'd only think of her in happiness. Of all the wonderful times we spent together and all the unforgettable memories we made together. All the lessons and love she has given me over the years will be forever etched into my soul, and her spirit will always be alive inside my heart.
With all this said, this previous year has come and gone roughly. I've had to give up so much in return for what seems like very little. I value the good things in life (or try to at least). But June is always the hardest. I will always see it as a time to look back at the year and see exactly what I have done. I look back at this year and decide that I've pretty much just screwed up haha. But it's okay, because if Nay Nay was here she'd probably be stressed as hell, but we'd end up laughing at the irony of everything that's happening. She always knew how to lighten the mood.
So to my darling aunt, I miss you so. And this is the month you bid us goodbye some time ago, and though it has brought me down in the past, I'll try my very hardest to make this month like any other. In your memory. Perhaps try to make it even happier. Whenever I begin to feel my hope fall, I will think of the inside jokes we shared. Your inspiring smile and gentle pats on my back, telling me, "sis, everything will be alright." I'll hold close the cousin you have given me, that I see as a brother and I know will always be there for me. As I with him. I find solace in the beautiful reality that you have left me with such a great friend, and through that great friend I have gained such inspiration in the form of a baby. I'll never give up on them. Because I know you never would. I always just try to do what I think you would've wanted.
So though it tugs at my heart strings, I have to continue to keep letting you go. You'll never completely slip away, but sometimes thoughts of you weigh heavy on my heart. I can never move on if I can't learn to see you as a string of memories. You are no longer my aunt, but the spirit who watches over me. And i love you.

Giving In

Ok, yall. I'm a writer myself, hence my passion is putting my life,stories, and emotions down on paper (or rather screen haha!) and sharing it with whoever may be reading it (is anybody out there?)
Above all things I love when other people write, and I thoroughly encourage anyone and everyone to do so. For the first time on Hunting Hobbits, I'm displaying someone else's work. I'd like to note that in no way did I alter or edit his writing. If you'd like to get a piece of art out there, but either lack the time or just don't want to do this type of thing everyday, send me a message and I'll be happy to post it on here. Art is good for the soul, and if I can lift your soul, I'm all for it =)
I can be reached here http://www.facebook.com/HuntingHobbits via message. Feel free to send any work you have there =) (Visual and musical art is welcome as well.)
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Disclaimer: This work is in genre called non-fiction. Names have been changed and some parts of the event have been exaggerated for the sake of emphasis. But the gist of the story is true. It did happen. To me. Word for word. So enjoy. A part of my life.
P.S. Thanks to Brittany Lyle for letting me post this on her blog :) 


We all do things that we regret, whether that is stealing candy from a store or lying to your parents so you can get out of trouble. I’ve done those before, countless times. It’s whether you learn from them or not that counts. My dad always told me that. The consequence has to outweigh the behavior. That’s what he drilled into my brain every time I do something that I’ll regret later on. There is one thing that in my whole entire life that I regretted. I regret it to this day and I wished I never did it. I gave in to peer pressure.
There’s just something about this topic that gets people riled up. Maybe it’s the fact that everyone went through this at least once in their lifetime. High school seems to be the most discussed place as to where it happens. With all the cliques and groups scattered throughout this taste of the real world, it only feels natural that we get the urge to somehow please our peers whenever we walk through the worn-down walkways of our own high school. Each clique has different images to maintain; they also have different agendas.
The real world works the same. Day in and day out, we make decisions based on the beaten path. Pressure from friends force you to take on habits you know you’ll regret later in life. Pressure from colleagues force you to take actions that you know will have a serious consequence on your future. Yet, you still do it. Why?
It could be the feeling of being part of something. I was part of a rebellious group in high school. Every day before school we held fights in the back of the church as an initiation rite. I was supposed to fight someone from school and beat the hell out of that person. The problem was that I was supposed to fight someone who I considered a friend. Because of my inside connections with the leader of the group, I was able to choose who I would fight. I picked the person who I felt was a complete coward.
It was a bright sunny day. The wind whispered sweet nothings to the trees and the trees responded back with the same whispers. Through the dust-covered hallway, I saw my friend, Francis, drink out of the porcelain water fountain. He was unaware of what would happen to him five minutes from the time the water hit his throat. I felt sorry for the guy. He wore his favorite shirt, a bright yellow tee with a sideways smiley-face referencing an emoticon. One of the guys shoved me from behind, forcing me to walk slowly towards my future opponent. When Francis stood up to look at me, there was a shiny face of optimism genuinely beaming. It almost broke my heart to do this, but I knew I had to do it, for my sake.
“Hey, Robin! What’s up?”
With an internal breath of air, I gave him my fiercest stare and roughly grabbed the cuffs of his shirt. “Fucking dipshit. Just shut the fuck up and listen to what I goddamn say. You; Me; Today; after school; back of the fucking church. ” his eyes widened frighteningly at those words, “you’re gonna get your fucking ass handed to you backwards!” I pushed him roughly towards the brick wall of the hallway, and at that moment, the other guys circled around us. They all snickered cruelly, pushing Francis around like a sack of potatoes. I fed to this whole frenzy like a monkey in a riled-up zoo.
For a moment though, as I watched my friend get tossed around like a salad, my heart felt like a hook tugged on its innards and it was trying to pull itself away from me, as if to trying to disassociate itself with my body. My throat constricted in the way that it does when I witness heartbreaking scene. As of that moment, I was aware of what I was actually doing, but I didn’t care. I was in this situation deep enough that I couldn’t back out of it. Pushing my way through my cohorts, I went straight to Francis and spoke to him in an authoritative and bullying manner, “Remember. Fucker. If you don’t show up there, don’t bother going to school.” With that statement, I walked away from the situation, leaving Francis at the hands of the other guys. I knew I wasn’t doing the right thing. Yet, I still did it. Why? I wanted to feel like I belonged.
But it’s not just that. It wasn’t just the accomplishment. It wasn’t just the feeling of belonging. These guys had something special that I didn’t have. They had something that would explain why they got the girls, the respect, and the It factor. They were also willing to let me be a part of it as long as I did what they told me to do.
As the day slowly went by, it started to rain. Before the bell rang for the end of class, I walked outside and stood in the middle of a grassy patch. Big globs of teardrops from the clouds fell upon my stressed face, cascading down my body into the cut grass of the school grounds. I closed my eyes for a brief moment to engulf myself with the sensory relief the wet rain offered: The temporary lift the cold water gave me as it ran down my back; the fresh breeze of wet wind hitting my face giving off a sense of detachment from the worries of life; the rhythmic plip-plop of the teardrops hitting the ground with the purpose that Mother Nature gave them; the soft tingle that made my hair stand on ends as the chill enveloped me with its cold and comforting embraced; ¬I felt it all.
I knew this moment of respite was short-lived, because then my peers pulled me out of school and onto the weedy ruins of an old church. It is said that a church is a symbol for sanctuary and protection for people in need of it. With all its meaning, this church, for that time, was considered a location for fights. It had an old rotten feeling about it. Thick iron spikes poked out of its walls in a kind of warning for those who go near it. Every single one of the frosted glasses that emblazoned different figures were either smashed by rocks or vandalized with graffiti. The worn-out paint slowly peeled out to reveal damp red bricks that made the foundation of this church. Once poised to be one of the few elegant churches in the neighborhood, it was left abandoned by the government that failed to give it an appropriate amount of funding.
With its neglected atmosphere, it was a perfect place to set up fights. By the time I arrived at the place, there were already other students sitting up at the rusty railings by the church. Others were occupied with setting places for which they can view the fight in a comfortable place. The people around pumped me up, in their own way. One of them mocked my ego and my manhood in a way that was supposed to make me so mad that I would hit someone. Another one continuously reminded me that if I happened to punk out of this fight, I would forever be considered as the lowest of the low at school.
A loud noise emanated from the front of the church and seconds after, out came Francis being pulled by two guys. His eyes were etched in fear as he tried to release himself from the vice-like grip the two guys had on him. As he was shoved into the middle of the area, shouts from the surrounding students grew louder and louder. It felt like I was in a coliseum, the emperor judging me from a throne hundreds of feet above ground. Francis and I were two gladiators, fighting for something that wasn’t worth a damn.
What happened next was a blur of events. I couldn’t remember what happened during the fight. There were lots of red, presumably blood. I didn’t feel anything, just an acute feeling of hesitation and repulsion over my actions. Maybe it’s because I tried hard all these years to forget about that memory. That sickening memory where I laid down my fists upon a reluctant and former friend, stuck with me to this day yet I couldn’t even vividly recreate the events in my head.
They say that a person cannot remember all the details of a fight that he or she got involved in. Adrenaline does that to you. The adrenaline level in a person obviously heightens in a stressful situation. You get tunnel vision, which means that your vision gets much focused. Your hearing gets worse, which could explain the blurriness of sounds that surrounded me that time. Your breathing goes faster, which means that blood pumps through your head faster. Your brain goes to overdrive and works twice as hard as it should be. This could be why I couldn’t the details vividly as I wished. You’re hands and legs get shaky from the blood overdrive. I probably tried to shake off the feeling by forming my fingers to fists and pounding the living crap out of my friend.
There was one thing that I remembered excruciatingly clear throughout the fight. Blood. Lots of it. The next thing I noticed was silence. It was a scary silence, followed by a repeated series of heavings that emanated from my chest. I looked down upon Francis to find him a bloody mess.
His face was blotched with cuts and bruises that was a result from repeated beatings with my fists. The favorite shirt that featured the smiley-face was completely ripped, leaving shreds of fabric all over the floor along with splashes of blood. The chest featured purple bruises and wounds that introduced more blood to the outside world. He was a defeated man, but did he ever really put up a fight?
Ashamed of my own actions, I looked away from the beaten guy and stared down the leader of the group, giving him the message I did it. With the demeanor of a man who had no respect for himself, I walked away from the place. I kept thinking about everything that happened as I walked past concrete rows of houses on my way home. The rain still kept on pouring, producing big brown puddles that overflowed to the drainage pipes. As drips of liquid fell down from above, I looked up at the sky, dark and foreboding and wondered to myself, was it worth it?
Those four words clunked inside my head as I went inside my home, ventured to my dark, littered room and laid down on the dirty, stained bed. This whole series of events changed my perspective in life. I was no longer the guy who would do anything to belong. There was no longer innocence in my heart, nor gullibility towards the world. I did an act to impress my fellow peers, yet at what cost? I lost the genuine friendship of a fellow companion and threw away whatever self-esteem I had in me went out the door. This happened 5 years ago.
Now that I sit here, in my coffee-stained desk with my oversized mug writing about this story that emanated from deep inside me, I still think about the repercussions that followed on that day. As it turned out, my former friend never told anyone about the fight. However, our friendship never got repaired and everyone who saw the fight picked on him until he had to transfer to another school. I never returned to the gang. I never hung out with anyone else. Instead, I stayed a loner through the rest of that year, just cruising by on my classes and not bothering anyone. I didn’t get picked on because they saw what I did to Francis back at the church. When the school year ended, I transferred out of school and moved to the United States.
My past could have been a whole different story if it wasn’t for that event. I kept thinking to myself, Why did I do it? I was being dumb. Peer pressure got to me. My behavior brought a serious consequence which came in the form of my past haunting me. It was a punishment that marked me, but was it harsh enough. The only thing that still comes up to my mind was, if presented with a similar situation, wondering if I would still make the same decision. Probably not. But really, in a world where everything happens with influence and connections, anything can happen.

Well sh*t, a little late, but this was written by Robin Letim. I thought I had seen him address himself, but I suppose not. Sorry!

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Life is a Chess Board

People never make moves deemed unacceptable or against the rules.
And the ones who do get punished for it, ordered to "shape their lives up."
Each day is exactly the same, moving from space to space
Black white, black white, black white.

One dreams of a life with no limits
An existence without legalities or consequences
A world where people are who they want to be and do what they want
Void of criticism and cynics

We're all wrapped up in our safety nets.
Afraid to jump, scared of what may be waiting at the bottom of this mountain
What you don't realize:
You're safety nets are useless, for most of us have prior obligations

These are the obligations that tie and gag us
So that we have no where to go, no way to speak
And when we finally cut that rope from our limbs, and rip the cloth from our mouths.
We remain with those obligations, for that is all we've ever known.

Either out of naivety or love, we are all held back from our true and utter dreams.
And over and over you ask yourself why and how?
It's time to stop asking questions
Face the truth.

I am but a pawn to everyone, in this chess board of life
Day to day is another movie, pawn to here, pawn to there
I'm just waiting for the players to realize I'm more then an empty object
And there isn't eight of me. Only one.

The Ultimate Apocalypse

*Please keep in mind that this is a dream, so not everything may make sense. And I'd also like to say I don't add on details to my dreams to make them more interesting. This is what I saw and how I remember. What I don't remember, I skip over =)*
The dream began very foggy, I don't really remember it to well. What I do remember, was I was an actress in a low-budget zombie flick. I'm actually pretty sure I was an extra to get specific. All I really recall in about the movie is we were trying to get from California to Vermont. After filming was came to a close, a reporter came to interview all of the actors. I know that I went and sat next to the reporter, and he started to ask me questions about the movie. But his voice and mine went mute. I could see that he was talking, and I could feel myself responding, but I couldn't hear what was being said.
As I left the set, I noticed that there was nobody around. Absentmindedly, I walked to my car and started to drive home I'm guessing. The whole way through town (which I didn't recognize the town either. It wasn't the one that I live in currently.) there were no people on the streets. It was completely barren. The sun was setting, and the street lamps were beginning to go on. Suspecting something fishy, I pulled into my driveway and decided to park my car inside my garage. 'I rarely do this,' I thought in my dream, but for some reason I believed I had to.
I pulled in and turned off the ignition, closing the garage door behind me. I got out of my car and that's when I heard a huge "Thud!" against the concrete outside my home. I ran into the house and locked the door behind me. I sprinted into my dining room where I threw back the thick maroon curtains and felt my jaw drop as I witnessed the chaos that was unfolding before me.
Only minutes before I had been riddled with paranoia from the lack of people on the streets, but now the asphalt was covered with them. Although there was definitely two types of peoples out there, it didn't really hit me at first what Group B was.
I could tell that Group A was definitely running and/or trying to hide from Group B, but it was hard to tell since they were all interwoven amongst each other. In my mind, I was trying to decide what they were exactly. Group A was obviously normal like me, seeing as they were screaming unnecessarily and tripping over themselves over and over again.
But what was Group B? Super humans? I watched them closely. They were fast, and abnormally strong. Even a woman from Group B could send a grown man flying across a front lawn. I could also see that they were talking to each other, point in various directions, then following suit to instructions given to them by whoever appeared to be stronger within the various "gangs."
One looked towards my window, and I dropped to the ground simultaneously. I knew they had seen me, gawking with the "deer-in-the-headlights" sorta look. But still in the back of my mind I reassured myself.
Nope, within seconds I could hear two outside my window.
"Should we break it?" one of them asked.
The other replied "No, we need to sneak in and take her by surprise. You know the brains are ruined when adrenaline courses through their bodies."
There language came out muffled and drawn out, like they had trouble putting the words together into sentences, and furthermore pronouncing those words...like their own brains had a hard time comprehending things.
I waited until their heavy footsteps faded away, then jumped to my feet. I grabbed my car keys off the dining room table, then thought better of it. I doubted my little car would be able to make it through the horde of whatever it was that was waiting outside for adrenaline-free brains.That's when it hit me.
They were zombies! But not the slow stupid ones someone would see in a corny movie. Or even the fast stupid ones shown in corny movies. These were SMART, fast, strong, hardly recognizable zombies. And two were planning on "sneaking up" on me.
Panicking, I shoved my cars keys into my pocket for later, and looked around the room quickly. Straight ahead of me was the living room, and off to the left was what looked like a bedroom.
(Now, what's ironic is in real-life, I'm a naturally paranoid person. Always afraid of someone perhaps breaking in and attacking me, or something else that's equally irrational. I guess dream-brit and real-brit are awfully alike.)
I ran into my bedroom and flew under the bed, where I grabbed an axe that was wedged underneath the carpet. Quietly saying "I told you so!" to all the people who use to tease me about such things, I ran back into the living room. There was a fire place to one side, and i crawled inside of it. Looking back on dream-brit now, I would've called her extremely stupid. that isn't the best hiding place. Seeing as there's, I don't know, nothing to block their line of sight!
But there I was, crouched in the fire place, waiting for abnormal zombies to come and capture me. I heard their groaning first, groans of hunger and lust. I put my hand over my mouth to stifle my breathing, praying to whatever god that they didn't have super hearing along with everything else. Then I did the stupidest thing imaginable. I closed my eyes.
There, in the worst hiding place possible, besides maybe the top of the dining room table or sitting on the couch watching tv, I closed my eyes and covered my mouth. So that I couldn't see if anything was right in front of me or not.
But my instincts kicked in I suppose, because right when the first one was in front of me, I instantly swung the axe out, catching the zombie right under the knees. I opened my eyes to see him fall to the ground, cursing at his unlucky predicament. I swung the axe downward into his skull, closing my eyes and mouth tightly. I had seen enough zombie movies to know not to get zombie fluids in ANY body orifice. Haha.
I saw the other zombie in my bedroom. He had heard the commotion and was coming out towards us. His dead comrade laid on the floor, and the zombie looked at me. My heart was pounding and blood was rushing to my face. The brain drenched axe was clenched between both my hands and my mind was racing. In that moment I decided I'd rather take my chances with the horde outside, instead of go up against this pissed off revenge seeking zombie in my house.
There was no way in getting past this zombie though. My axe would be useless against him. In a last effort to save my own life, I dropped down as if to kneel to him, but instead immersed my hands into the brains and guts of his undead dead friend. That's when I started rubbing him all over my face.
I moved from my face to my arms, then up to around my neck, choking myself in the stench and immorality of it all. I rubbed it down the front of my shirt and up and down my thighs, brushed it through my hair as if it was any normal day. Either out of confusion or disgust, the other zombie broke my front window and jumped out. In my mind I couldn't believe that it had worked, but instead of sitting their in disbelief, I rushed to the garage and got into my car. Locked the doors and then pressed the button for the garage to open. Zombies surrounded my car, trying to open the doors and break the front windshield....(this is where the dream gets very foggy)....
In the next part of my dream I was in a Dennys. The tables and chairs along side the walls. The windows were boarded up with the material which makes the bar and the cupboards. I looked around to see what was going on, and I realized I wasn't alone. Sleeping under one of the tables was a woman that had also been in the same zombie movie as me. I sat there for what seemed like days, drifting in and out of consciousness, and starving. She finally woke up and came over to where I sat.
"Today, we have to eat. I know you don't like doing this, but we have to do what we have to do to survive."
I merely nodded, not knowing what I was agreeing too.
She took down one of the boards from the door and peeked outside.
"There's a shit load of zombies out there, but I see one survivor. She's hiding in your car, I don't know why they always do that."
She began to scream out the window, begging the woman to make a wild dash to safety, and she did. The survivor climbed through the window and my stomach growled. And all I could think about was how hungry I was...how very hungry I was.
The other actress boarded the window back up, and introduced herself to the woman. The woman said she had become separated from her husband and children some weeks back, and just needed a place to lay her head for a few days to rest. She was low on strength and hope. My mouth started to water. Her name was Annie.
I tackled Annie to the floor, my fellow actress walking slowly to look down upon us.
"Today, we thank the Lord for this meal. All will be forgiven for he knows we do this to live on."
With my friend done with her little prayer, I took a switchblade out of my pocket and slit the woman's neck, leaning down to lap up some of the blood as it came gushing out.
We cut her up into pieces, some larger then others, then we threw diced up meat into a pot of water and began to boil her up. We poured Annie Soup into a bowl and sat on the floor. We took turns drinking from it, enjoying every morsel. And I could've sworn we were the best of friends, gossiping about bullshit and drinking hot chocolate while the world went on outside.
The dream went hazy again..but I know we lived months, maybe even years in that Dennys, luring innocent survivors into our cannibalistic lair. I do remember thinking that we were worse then the zombies though....
For some reason we decided to leave Dennys, I can't remember if we decided to part ways or if we were forcibly separated, but suddenly I was with a big group of about ten people. We were walking up a hill, along a gravel path, in the middle of a forest.  There was a huge blue house in the distance. It was at least six feet off the ground, with a huge wrap around porch and huge windows. And none of them had glass panes in them, just screens. As we approached the house, we looked to the right and a ways down, there was a street with houses and businesses along it. It was basically a town in the woods.
My friends walked up the steps and into the house, but for some reason I inched forward. A part of me felt uneasy about this house, although I was well aware it was more dangerous to stay outside...and that's when I heard the screams.
I looked through the screens and saw a couple of my friends being tied down to pillars that were inside the house. There were three people surrounding them, holding buther knives and acid in their hands....
Slowly, they began torturing my friends, a wild look in their eyes. They laughed when they'd cry out in pain. They started to beg for their lives, then slowly they pleaded for death. I was horrified. In the midst of zombies and cannibalism, there were now people surfacing that got off on torturing the few non-zombies left in the world. I asked myself if this was a one-time occurrence, of if I'd see this again.
I ran down the steps and dove into the bushes. Suddenly, I tried to stay very quiet. (Keep in mind this is a dream lol) I remembered that there were werewolves in the woods surrounding this little town, so I tried to be silent. My hands started to shake out of fear of what would get me first: the psychopaths, the zombies, or the werewolves. That's when my foot slipped from under me...a rock scuttled along the ground. A howling echoed through the tiny town. More howling followed, ricocheting among the houses and street lights, between the streets and into and out of my nerves. I screamed for the first time in my nightmare and went back up the stairs. I ran past my barely-alive mutilated friends and into a bedroom.
I was amazed to see the rest of my friends just laying on the bed trying to rest! I merely stood there waiting for what was to come, not know whether I should get out of the house or remain. All of a sudden, zombies came through the door, my friends on the bed freaked out but they were at a point of weakness, caught between slumber and shock.
Not me. I kicked out a screen with one shove of my foot and jumped the six feet to the hard dirt ground. Instead of breaking my ankle or something, which is what would logically happen, I landed on my feet like a cat, then proceeded to run up a huge hill. When I got to the top, I saw a truck resembling the one I have in "real-life." Except it had a backseat. The streets and sidewalks were lined with regular people. They were all trying to hitchhike out of this middle-of-the-woods town.
The man who was driving the lucinda (my truck)-look-alike was also recognizable. It was the redneck guy who had directed the zombie movie. He was holding the hand of a young girl, perhaps 16, and was telling her to get in the passenger seat. I got into the back seat, and a mean slid in beside me. I'll furthermore refer to this man as "the husband." He was trying to convince his wife to take the remaining seat in the truck. She was lollygagging around with a bunch of kids.
They weren't zombies but they didn't really look right either. They look sorta blank, nothing behind their eyes. When the redneck director began to drive off, the wife hopped in with the husband and we were off.
We drove for days and nights....then more days and nights. The director said we were going to Vermont, and asked if I was okay with that. "Why wouldn't I be? Of course I am!"
In reality I wasn't, but I didn't want to be ditched on the side of the road.
We ended up at a hotel. It was in the shape of a semicircle, with all of the rooms in the open air. There was two stories and only one set of stairs, on the left side of structure coming out onto the street. A pool was in the middle of the semi-circle, illuminated by a spotlight. This was the only source of light in a pretty large radius.
We walked onto the premises and I looked back. Across the streets were rows and rows of fruit trees, and no buildings anywhere in sight on either side...I thought to myself, 'This could be a good thing, or a very bad thing.'
As the rest of the van's occupants went up the stairs, I decided to explore. I walked past the pool to a little lobby area, also in the open air. I came upon an old man shoving an old woman's body under the vending machine. He then proceeded to stuff a dead pug into the little opening slot of the vending machine. There was blood and trash bags everywhere. However, I didn't feel threatened by the man. Instead, I felt like I need to cover up his mistake some how so no one could find out. How odd...
Suddenly, my fellow actress from Dennys was behind me, asking if I wanted to eat with her. I wasn't hungry, but I agreed to keep her company. We sat down a little white table with stools. She ate strawberry icecream and flipped her auburn hair back and forth. I sat there and enjoyed the absurdity of this all. A pug and owner stuffed in a vending machine, a forest town riddled with werewolves, the undead walking the world, and here I was, sitting with a co-worker while she munched down on ice-cream.
She brought up the interviews we did after the movie was filmed. "The article said, if it had been a real life situation, you wouldn't have gone to Vermont."
I looked at her dumbly and said I really did want to go, that I never thought something like this would happen. Even though deep down I wanted to stay in California. Or anywhere but Vermont.
She simply looked at me and said "How do you expect us to ever trust you now," and walked away.
A few minutes later she returned with the redneck director. He had a long rope in his hands. He yelled that he had read the article of our interviews, and how he could never ever trust me again. He dragged me into the street, with the woman I thought was my friend tagging along like his little dog. The director bound my hands together so I couldn't fight back, and pulled me by the arms, leaving me to kick my legs along the way. He began to bring me up the stairs. The husband suddenly appeared and grabbed my legs to make the process of carrying me easier.
That's when "me" became two me's. Somehow, I separated from myself. But it wasn't an out of body experience. It was as if I had a double. Exactly as if there we're two brits on the same premisses. One was being taken up the stairs to be tortured, and the other was standing awe-struck at the bottom of the stairs.
Out of nowhere the pug-stuff came from around the corner. One of his legs was cut off and half his face was hanging from his skull. He began to go up the stairs in an attempt to help Brit 1. He had a long and heavy chain around his neck. When he reached the four of us, the husband turned around, grabbed the chain, and kicked him in the face. The old man fell down the stairs; his blood, guts, and face splattering on every step. The three of them proceeded to take Brit 1 upstairs somewhere. Then, an old woman and her dog walked down the steps. "My oh my, what is all this gunk on the stairs!?" I realized that it was the same lady and dog the old man had killed. But how could they be walking around? (I never had this question answered.)
I ran past the pool (this is Brit 2). I'm not really sure what I was doing, freaking out I'm guessing. I had just seen dead people walking and now there was two me's in the world. And this dead person wasn't a zombie, she was just very alive. Suddenly I heard the discombobulated voices of zombies. The virus had spread.
I made a mad dash towards the stairs. All the zombies were naked old people! I look back now and find this funny, but in the moment it was extremely creepy. To see old people moving that fast and being that strong, and being naked just made the whole scene appear extremely animalistic.
I looked in each room jiggling the door knob. All the curtains to everyone's rooms were opened, and they were completely oblivious to what was happening. I also noted that these were one bedroom studio apartments and not hotel rooms.
All of the rooms were open to the air, and then suddenly the hallway got very narrow and there were walls on both sides. The first door was where they were torturing Brit 1. I'm not sure how I knew this, since it was silent, but I knew I was in there. A little farther down on the left, there was a nook in the wall with a door that was slightly open. I ran in and shut it softly behind me. There were three girls in the room, two on the bed watching t.v. and one in a desk chair on speaker phone. They looked at me and I merely put my finger to my lips, as if to say don't make a sound. I locked the door behind me.
They didn't quiet down, but they didn't acknowledge that I was there either. I figured that was even better. If they had gotten too quiet, the people torturing me in the next room may have gotten suspicious.
The girl on the phone (they were young teenangers) said into the mic "Okay, now you have to guess what we are looking at!!"
Suddenly the voice on the other end spoke slowly and in broken words. Groaning slowly followed. Their friend was a zombie. I wasn't very worried, considering they were on the phone, the other girl was in another room.
The speaker phone girl said again into the mic "Helloooooo you have to guess! Quit being stupid!"
Out of the other end you hear "Iiiihhhh seeehhhh yoyuuhhhhh."
From the other side of the room, a creeeekkkk rattled through the room. The closet door inched open and a foot appeared to be coming out. The girl's friend was hiding in the closet.
Seeing it becoming a bloodfest in a hurry, I ran out the room and took a right, further into the narrow hallway. The only door that was unlocked was one glowing white. It had a bright light, and white sheets. White carpets, white walls, a white dress, a white bed....even a big bolt and chain lock on the floor. But I continued past it. For some reason I knew I couldn't go in that room, so I simply ignored it.
The hallway ended and turned into a small house. On the left was a room that was only covered in a blue curtain, no door.
Silently, I reminded myself that was my dead son's room. They would expect me to hide in there.
When I whipped around....I was back in the werewolf woods house. I saw Brit 1 standing by the window looking at her friends in confusion. I stood there as Brit 2, yelling at them to leave because zombies were about to come in. Right as I said that, they did.
Again, my friends looked dumfounded and caught off guard. I saw Brit 1 kick out the screen and leap out the window. One of the zombies turned to me and asked "You know what's worse then dying?"
I looked at him dumbly, not knowing how to respond.
"Dying over. And over. And over again."
That is when Brit 1 reached the ground below. I leaned out the window to see a group of zombies waiting for her at the bottom, as if they knew she'd be coming. Right before her feet collided with the ground, they caught her, so that she met the ground as a cat would....
And then, I woke up.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Murder In a Small Package (Dream)

The beginning is very foggy, and to the point I remember was pretty much towards the end.
I was in a huge summer house, the traditional two story country home, with bay windows and trees surrounding it. It was over looking a huge lake, which the backyard was completely open to, absent of any type of fence or boundaries. There were chairs spread out along the porches and back yard, adults relaxing and talking amongst each other,while the children ran around in swimsuits. Screaming at each other and jumping into the lake happily.
I opened the backdoor to go inside. There was black and white tiles in the kitchen, along with a country-style island and pots upon the six burner stove. A maid was in the kitchen, stirring the pots randomly and cutting up pieces of fruits and vegetables. She said a friendly "Hello!" as I walked into the den area.
To my left there was a short hallway, with a door at the exact opposite end where I was looking, and two doors on the left hand side. No idea if there were doors on the right side, for my sight was blocked and my eyes were drawn to something else. There was blood smeared along the floor.
My eyes trailed along this stream, and there I saw a set of legs. When I looked up, I saw a little boy, maybe all of 7 or 8, dragging a grown woman across the floor. Whether he was hiding her or what I have no idea, but he was dragging her to the second door on the left. The maid never noticed anything, and neither did the man who was sitting on the couch.
I watched the legs disappear into the room, than randomly decided to take a shower. (This is a dream after all, not everything can make sense! lol)
Going into the bathroom, which was down the right hallway, first door on the right, I slipped out of my clothes and into a towel. I opened the door and looked back out. I looked to the right, and saw the stairs to the second story at the end of the hallway, as well as multiple doors lining the walls.
With a look to the left, I saw the little boy, red-haired and blood stained, holding the maid's hand and taking her into the first bedroom on the left. The look on his face was not one of innocence or murder, but rather one of seduction. I stood there disgusted at this fact. The murder I had seen him commit fleeted from my mind, and only the thought of this young woman falling for a child's sexual pleas filled my thoughts.
The man arose from the couch and went to walk into the kitchen, still oblivious to everything that had happened. I called to him, not knowing his name, just knowing that he should come into the bathroom with me so this little boy couldn't hurt him too. And suddenly, a wave of realization rushed over me. I knew that this little boy had killed many many people, yet he blended into a crowd unnoticed. When he murdered, I was the only one who could see.
I can't remember, or rather, my dream self couldn't remember, if I had told people before and they just hadn't believed me, or if there was a reason I was keeping it to myself. Like it was a secret I was supposed to keep.
All of these thoughts crossed my mind in a matter of seconds, and the man responded with a little shake of the head, as in 'no, I wont come in there'.
But now I wasn't worried about the man, I was just scared for myself. So I closed and locked the door, turned on the hot water, and climbed into the shower. The sound of the water hitting the shower floor muffled the screams that kept getting louder and louder. But nothing could muffle the snap of the door lock as it was broken, or the creek of the door as it was was opened. Squinting through the steam the shower created, I saw a little hand grasp the shower curtain, preparing to pull it back. I grabbed an old-fashioned razor off the top shelf of the shower. And as the curtain was flung back, and the pale-faced bloody boy went to grab my hand...
I woke up.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Dozing Off

Can't sleep.
One way friendships and lost relationships
Guilt ridden choices
Dreams tossed aside and promises broken
Never agains happening again and again
Forever's ending far too early
Tossing and turning, going in circles and circles
Songs playing
Over, over, over
To the point where hearts are popping, eardrums breaking
Mind confused and emotions reduced
Ones that have been loved buried in the ground
Enemies gazing down
Writers just blabbering, Illustrators just scribbling
Educators not teaching and presidents not leading
Rock solids falling through
False lies ending up true
Changes not completed, Stuck in habit
In the rotation of what's expected.

Hope is gone in the form of disappointment.
And out of all the things I've been robbed of, and all of those I've gained.
I dream of sleep the most.

Friday, May 13, 2011

Pearl of the Stars

The same sun
The same night sky
The same grass under our feet and the same rain beating down
Drives to work or late night rides
Midday phone calls and countless thoughts
Together yet so far apart

Only touching in dreams
Your fingers going through my hair and our bodies pressed close
Lost in an eternity that's only found while we sleep
But only if we could get lost together in these same made up stories

In some twisted way it seems like even the gods of slumber want to tear us apart

And what if you were close enough for me to touch?
Would you stand there and let me rub your cheek, or simply shy away?
Could I bring a smile to your face, or would it be a mere disappointment? 

All of these are amongst the thoughts I think when I imagine you next to me...
In the end all of these insecurities are worthless
Compared to my wanting to be with you.

It's like wanting to drink from the fountain of youth
One spends so long to find it, and once they do they're torn
Do I drink and enjoy immortality
Or do I grow old, ripen with age, and see my kids take over the tasks I used to do?

The fountain of youth is like you and me
We're separated by what is and what could be
Desperately wanting to drink, but afraid of the consequences

But in the end, what will we do?
Take the plunge together, stuck in immortality
Or walk away from the sparkling water, in recognition of its mystery and power?

It's a conundrum of the far away lover
In pain, because dreams show what one cannot have
Breaking down when eyes are open
For all you can think about is how it would be if the other was beside you

Years may pass by
Situations change

Like a sailor at sea, the tides will come and go
Perhaps ripping us to shreds in the process
But eventually we will reach the land that we are looking for

Even though destiny is deeply inclined to keep us apart
Coming up with her schemes time and time again,
The ship called fate will eventually bring us together

And the fountain of youth's ripples will settle
To show the only magical potion we ever needed.

Each other.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Bittersweet


Floating on moonlight
Drifting out of what is real and what could be
Caught up in all the wonder and glory of this tremulous set of emotions
Free yet caught, loose and constructed
There we danced, void of all criticisms and expectations
The worry melting off our minds and physical limitations burning from our bodies
We swayed amongst the stars in denial of the lives ahead and behind
Only caught up with what was within, and in one another.
The rapid wind sent me up, and caressed my soul in such a way I could never bruise
Carried my body up and away so that it would remain untainted
Then it brought you down in a way that caused thoughts to flutter
And your mind to muster up the butterflies that could never be found before
While I'm being tossed by the rain and caught by the wind,
You lie there and watch this magic, the exhilaration upon my face, the joy in my heart
You turn in circles and let the weather take you away, close to me
So that you can radiate in my waves of completeness and lack of composure.
There we danced, lost in the music of the night and lights of the sky
Embraced in a never ending waltz of insecurity
Secure in each others' arms
Then the moon began to frown and all of our unforgettable emotions began to drown
We were being torn away from one another, the wind and night and stars wanting so desperately to keep us apart
With what strength was left from the glorious dancing
With whatever we could muster up
After having been worn down from being weightless and carefree
The realities of our love are brought to focus
Pressures the size of earthquakes,
Worries the width of hundred year old oaks
Although all of these passions are against our own
The winds and the moon
The brightly lit stars and old, wise oaks
Though the earthquakes are breaking us down and the enormous power pushing us apart
We find our other halves, on uneven foot and stumbling step
And we embrace one another, shattered, but complete within each others' arm
Dancing amongst the rocks and grass that cover the ground
Heavy and troubled, but far to afraid to be apart
Far to afraid of the possibility of unhappiness without the other
There we continued to dance
The moon smiled down at us and the stars shown down light.
Patterns of our weather-torn love inflicted amongst the night
Floating on moonlight
Drifting out of what is real and what could be
Caught up in all the wonder and glory of this tremulous set of emotion

Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Awake My Soul


The trees were thick with new spring buds,
Hitting the man as he walked along the hidden trail
He strolled along wondering, if this was reality or if he was still in a dream.
The dream he always had, of going and going, never arriving anywhere significant, and never leaving a place worth mentioning.

Every day he would walk along this lonely trail.
No people, no animals, no civilization.
Just man and the wide open air, free to do what he wanted, when he wanted.
But he didn't. He'd walk...and walk. Bound by invisible strings.

So this puppet would continue down this trail of what is expected.
Then one day he came upon a fork in the path, identical.
But which one would he take? How could he know where either went?
There plastered was a sign, "Once you choose, you cannot come back."

He stood there, breathing heavily and looking somewhere inside of himself for the answer.
But there was nothing there, no answer. Just emptiness.
There was no one there to tell him what to do.

So what is a man to do when faced with a decision that holds unknown consequences?
What any other person would do
He closed his eyes and asked an invisable person for an answer, pleaded for a response.
Out of the underbush came a woman. She grabbed his hand and said, "Come this way, my darling. You will find that in which you seek."

And the puppet followed.

Down the left trail they went, hand in hand, walking along briskly.
As the trail continued it widened into a road, lined with dead trees and broken hopes.
The lady began to chuckle, tugging at the man's hand harder and harder.
And the puppet simply continued to walk beside her, for he'd rather be in a land where anything wonderful was lost with her, opposed to the possibility of walking alone infinitely 

It was not until it was far too late that the man saw his mistake
Walking along this barren piece of countryside, he realized he could never be happy here
Even with human interaction right beside him.
With this realization the man was whisked days back in time, until he had returned to the fork in the trail.

Without hesitation, the man walked down the right-handed trail.
He found himself walking and walking...no different then before.
The surroundings were the same luscious spring trees
The dirt path was slightly hidden from wear and tear.

A clearing was visible just beyond the trail, and that is where the man went
Simply because there was no other way to go
Beyond the clearing was a cliff, over looking a large lake. And on the other side of that lake was normality.
It was his 9-5 job, his wife laying in his arms as they fell asleep, and their kids jumping in after bad dreams.
His dog that had to be walked every morning and night
His email and voice mails that were constantly being checked.
Across that lake was this puppet's comfort and regularity.

But how could he get there? He couldn't go around
And when he turned around to go back, he found that there was nothing left.
No trails or trees, no wear and tear or odd woman coming from nowhere.
All that was left was a ledge like the one behind, and a view of his life stretched out in front of him.

So here this puppet stood
On an island of indecision and difficult choices
Tormented by the one thing in which he longed for the most
But would this journey continue, or would he stand on this island until the end of his time?

He collapsed to his knees, the strings giving slack to allow this breakdown.
And the poor little puppet cried and screamed. Screamed for rationality and his society.
He did not want to stand on his own
And begged the puppet master to pick him up and guide him in the right direction.

But the strings did not move, they remained.
An obvious sign that the master no longer knew what to do.
Or had made the choice that this man was to remain alone
With his loves and life mere miles from reach.

All of us are just waiting to live. Waiting and waiting...
Very few are living to die. As contradictory that sounds,
Optimism and pessimism mixed into an ironic shake,
Too many would have remained on this island of loneliness and safety...waiting and waiting. 

As the man lifted himself off the ground, he pondered how long he'd be waiting.
How long would society keep slack in his strings, how long would it take for change?

With that thought on his mind and sudden courage in his heart,
The man hurled himself over the ledge of the cliff, falling down into unknown waters
And although he knew not what laid in store, death or life
He was finely freed of his puppet strings.

He was finely living to die.




































































Monday, May 9, 2011

Someone Like You


Walking down this road, with nothing but the shoes on my feet and clothes on my back
There's a light up ahead, then again it could be my imagiation
My feet get into a rhythm, carrying my body towards the flickering safety
But my mind and spirit are somewhere far, far away.

They're still wrapped up in those sleepless nights, eyes and thoughts heavy
Intermingled with someone's dreams, for there is no more dreaming at night
They're still walking beside you
Tugging at a hand that cannot be grasped and eyes that wont be caught again

And although my mind is straining and my spirit breaking
I will not be controlled.
Constrained in all of our memories and empty promises.
For when my soul is weak, my body is not. And it continues to carry me

When the light is reached, two people are reunited
It is not you and I, but the person I was with you, and the one I am without you.
Only at this moment, do I see myself being freed from your side.
I am now more then somebody's shadow

My spirit and mind, those weaknesses inside of me that were trying desperately for your approval
Are now past your high expectations and insecure waiting 
The part of me that could not accept a life without you, has overcome
In giving up on you, I have found myself again.


I look forward to eternity and realize I could never be with someone like you.
For in the end, I cannot simply stand in the darkness of my other half.
I need someone who will send for me by candlelight.
Relighting the flame again again, no matter how much time, fuel, or matches it may take. 





 







Saturday, May 7, 2011

Attraversiamo

So much has changed since my last post, and I repeatedly have said that I was going to blog everyday. My last excuse for not following through was the fact I lived at a place with no internet. Not the case now.
Surprise, Surprise, my first attempt at being on my own failed. The relationship I thought was the last one I'd ever be in has ended. And for what? I was going to move to New York. I was hell bent and stubborn, with a hidden train ticket under my bed and a stash of cash in a lock box. I gave up some friendships, a love, and hurt some people close to me in order to follow my dreams.
In the end, I'm staying in California. Because who wants to be 3000 miles away from home if something bad were to happen in the family? It's breaking my heart to stay, but my heart would be even more broken if I went and something happened here. One day my time will come. One day.
Now I'm in the awkward stage of living in between two phases of my life. Only four months ago (wow has it been that long?) I was living with my "second family" and falling into the comfortable relationship stereotype quite nicely. Now, I'm just a stupid young girl trying to find a place again. It's not bad. Not bad at all. Honestly, not knowing what's going to happen and not making any huge plans is...a breath of fresh air.
As for the relationship topic...ah. I announced that I was to stay single for a year (along with the announcement about my huge move) to simply prove that I was moving to New York for myself, and not a man. Now that I'm staying in California, if someone is to fall into my lap, I might just let them. But this time, my heart wont be given away so easily.
The only thing I regret losing these past few months is my second family. I miss them and don't really know why things are the way they are or how things have gotten so bad...but you must take the cards the game of life deals you. And I am. My sincere hope is that one day, the clouds will clear and I'll see my mistake. Things may never be the same, but I just want a little back of what I've now lost.
Almost everything I've ever written ends with me saying something about growing up. But now that I've done some growing these past few months, I've pondered the ultimate question: does a person ever grow up? Or do we just keep growing and growing. Getting older and older. Then when it's time for us to pass, we look back and say....I wanna grow up.
So, this post is ending with two simple statements. First off, I for sure am going to post more. About what? No idea, but I'll try to keep things interesting! Haha =)
Secondly, I'm tired of trying to grow up. Now all I want to do is cross over from the Brit that was to the Brit that is. Then one day I'll cross over the the Brit that will be...Until next time.