“Eff” The Police

When I told my mother that my friends and I were going to go sit in a graveyard and read classic literature, she said “Over my dead body.”

I laughed. She didn’t.

But after assuring her that it was a harmless activity (and that Dante was best read by candlelight next to a tombstone), she gave me her blessing. The questionable legality of the activity seemed unimportant, at the time.

There just so happened to be the perfect graveyard setting just about a mile or so away from one of my high school friend’s house, out in the backwoods of our tiny town. It was his idea, as he and some college friends from down south had done the same thing during the semester. We sat together, each taking a turn with a dusty volume – Shakespeare, Milton, Keats, others – filling the summer air with the almost unintelligible sounds of Middle English and the flowery prose of literature’s legendary greats. We defied logic and managed to turn the Canterbury Tales into a rap as our laughter bounced off the gravestones.

For the second round, about a week after the first, I drove to my friend’s house straight from work. I hungrily shoved my hand into the jumbo bag of Martin’s popcorn someone had brought for the occasion. There were about twelve of us. One friend carried the heavy books in a drawstring bag, someone else took a bag of candles (for ambiance). I brought the popcorn along with me – after eight hours of folding men’s khakis, I needed that popcorn. We prepared a handful of excuses if we happened to run into any figures of authority – for instance, “We’re a prayer circle” or “It’s a séance.”

If there had been the option for it when we elected senior superlatives, I would have been the hands-down winner of “most easily frightened.” The first time we ventured to the graveyard, arms laden with Shakespeare and Milton, a friend of mine decided it would be funny to hide behind a gravestone and jump out during the prologue of Paradise Lost. So I made sure I walked between two other friends as we trekked down the cornfield-lined road toward the sleepy graveyard. The rural outskirts of my hometown at night are unsettling to walk through, especially when the fog starts to come in. Even the chirping crickets seem to signal doom. It’s the perfect setting for a B+ horror film. And I’d never do anything like this now, because I watch far too many episodes of Forensic Files and other true crime shows.

The church was soon within view. We were almost there. And then someone spotted it. The unmistakable blue, white, and yellow cruiser with ‘YAPD’ stamped on the side. Sitting like a predator right in the church parking lot, just waiting for the whiff of something suspicious.

“Cop!”

My heart was thundering against my ribs as we abruptly turned around and started heading back up the road. I looked back over my shoulder and saw the cruiser crawl away into the night. We were safe.

…Until another cruiser came ambling up the road.

One friend summed it up nicely. “Well, shit.”

The female cop pulled the car up beside us, rolled down her window, and smirked at us. “Where are you kids going?”

“…Up the street.” We pointed.

“And where are you coming from?”

“…Down the street.” We pointed again.

Somehow, that mediocre explanation satisfied the cop and she just told us to be careful, before she drove away down the gravel road. I relaxed, and we hurried up the street, desperately seeking salvation. We were three houses away on my friend’s street when two cruisers rolled up to us. The man in the lead car had a different air about him. The iron-grey mustache on his face indicated importance.

As the burly cop roused himself from the squad car, I sincerely thought we were going to get charged with something. I was going to have a big blemish on my permanent record. But what were the charges going to be? Literary sacrilege? Crimes against fictional characters? Conspiracy to entertain the deceased? I didn’t know – all I could do was clutch the bag of popcorn like a salty, buttered teddy bear. As though, if I were carted off to jail that exact moment, the popcorn would valiantly save me. I mentally prepared an escape plan – settling on ‘throw popcorn at cop and run for the cornfield,’ though I highly doubted my trembling limbs would have listened to that mental command. I inwardly begged, “Please don’t ask about my popcorn. Please don’t ask about my popcorn.”

“Who’s the oldest?” The cop asked. That is the only time in my life I have ever been grateful that I am the youngest out of my immediate group of friends.

Our oldest friend stepped up to bat. The cop asked some routine questions, took down his contact info, and explained to us that so many cops were prowling the normally-dormant streets because there had recently been a string of car and house burglaries in the area, so we should head back home for the night and avoid getting into any trouble. They didn’t search our bags or ask any other questions. He just advised us to go home. And with that sage warning, he got back in his car and headed off down the road, the second car following suit, off to hunt for ne’er-do-wells.

We were at the mailbox of my friend’s house – so, so close to sanctuary – when the last cop car came into view. “Hey, did someone talk to you kids already?” The cop hollered from his car.

“YES!” My friends chimed in perfect unison. I just squeaked. I lose my voice around figures of authority.

The last cop drove away, but one friend couldn’t resist jumping into the middle of the street, his middle fingers pointed toward the stars, shouting “FUCK THE POLICE!!!” as the red brake lights faded in the distance. Some of my friends laughed, clapping him on the back as though he’d done something ground-breaking. I rolled my eyes and wondered where that bravado was when the frighteningly muscular cop was within earshot. It’s easy to have courage when the beast is facing away from you.

We gave up on our quest, moods spoiled, and just sat on the hoods of our cars in and discussed the unexpected events of the evening. The consensus seemed to be that the cops should have minded their own business instead of ruining our fun, and that we weren’t doing anything wrong. I bit my tongue. Because the way I saw it, we were a troupe of college kids carrying a bag full of books, a bag of candles, three flashlights, a bag of popcorn, and giggling like five year olds as we strolled down a dark back road on the outskirts of town at midnight. We might as well have been carrying a big neon sign that said, “LOOK, WE’RE SUSPICIOUS.” But who am I to be a wet blanket?

I couldn’t tell my friends that they were being ridiculous – nor could I just go along with the ‘fuck the police’ sentiment. All I could do was sit cross-legged on the hood of my Subaru, lean against the windshield, and keep my mouth shut, the bag of popcorn sitting forlornly by my front tire.

We should have told them ‘It’s a séance.’

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

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Nightmares

When I was a kid, I occasionally had nightmares – as I’m sure most folks have had at some point in their lives. These typically consisted of scenarios I was actually afraid of, like falling from a great height, encountering a shark in the depths of the ocean, being locked in a small, dark room with no way out, coming face to face with some awful monster, the occasional homicidal clown, etc, etc. Sometimes they featured creatures with salivating fangs and razor-sharp claws, or fantastically horrific scenarios that would never occur in real life. Lately, I haven’t been able to sleep very well due to a series of bad dreams, but these are of a different nature than the ones I had when I was a child. Regardless, these “nightmares” still make me wake up breathless and in a cold sweat.

Most of these not-so-nice dreams have been about things such as:

*Being late to school, then being unable to find a parking space while I’m there.
*Not getting off at the correct bus stop or train stop, then getting lost.
*Forgetting to do my homework and then showing up empty-handed to class.
*Not being able to locate a classroom before the late bell.
*Not being able to find clean pants to wear to work.
*Going to the movies only to find that someone has taken my seat and won’t move.
*Going to the movies and missing the previews or part of the movie because it took too long to get my concessions.
*Waking up late for work because my alarm clock malfunctioned.
*Finding out, prior to leaving for a long trip, that none of my electronics have been charged.
*Finding out that someone ate all my cereal (this is arguable the worst one).

Also, last night, I had a dream that an acquaintance of mine was showing me their extensive, rare Hot Wheel collection and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t leave. So, there’s that.

Ultimately, which is more terrifying? The nightmares that portray something unrealistic, but which gnaw at deeply-rooted fears, or those that are far more feasible? Monsters and demons may spur true terror, but smaller, more grounded situations that could occur in real life also incite true fear, simply because they are those everyday issues that can happen, that are easily believable.

Is this what “bad dreams” in adulthood are like? I don’t know when this switch occurred – when monsters and sharks became alarm clock malfunctions, missing cereal, or dying phone batteries. Maybe when we become adults, it’s the small things that make us sweat the most – even those that are long since part of the past, such as missing homework assignments. Being late to an appointment or work is a worse concern than falling from a great height because of the increased likelihood of one happening over the other.

So, is it possible to determine which is worse? I’m not sure – it probably varies by person. But tonight, if I’m going to have a nightmare, I’d almost rather have the sharks.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Not Mad, Just Disappointed

I think every film fan has a title or two that they were eagerly anticipating, but wound up being disappointed by. So here’s a list of films that didn’t necessarily make me mad, though the reality did fall short of my expectations. Not saying these are bad films, per se – they just weren’t to my taste for the reasons listed below.

1.) Justice League (2017)
Whooo boy, starting out with a major one. I have been rooting for the DCEU to take off since Man of Steel (which I actually liked quite a lot) and, considering Batman is my all-time favorite hero, I always go into DC films with high hopes. Unfortunately, this team-up adventure fell massively short of expectations, was a pacing nightmare, had the worst CGI mouth in film history, and though there are some hopeful glimmers – the cast, and I’m a fan of the fight scenes – Justice League was far more of a mess than a triumph, and I came out of the film wondering and longing for what could have been had this film not faced such a troubled production. If those bright fragments of the DCEU can all come together and be expanded on with improved writing and a centered focus, then I have confidence that the franchise can get on the right path, but Justice League didn’t help much in getting DC back on track. Thankfully, Patty Jenkins will be at the helm for Wonder Woman 2...

2.) Percy Jackson & The Olympians: The Lightning Thief and The Sea of Monsters (2010 and 2013)
I’m listing both of these, though my quibbles are predominantly with the second. I am generally lenient with book-to-movie adaptations, but some efforts are worthy of reproach, and the attempt to adapt the popular YA book series following a young demigod boy and his friends as they embark on a series of mythical adventures had little to no payoff for fans. The first film already eschewed several important factors, such as casting older teenagers instead of preteens and stripping away some vital characterization presented in the novels, but the second took that stance and made the film nearly unrecognizable from the source material, so much so that I doubt the folks who made the film even read the book. As a big fan of Rick Riordan’s book series, I was sincerely disappointed that the transition to screen was not so much seamless as it was a bumpy, uneven ride, and I hope we might get a miniseries of the books someday instead. At this point, I can rewatch the first one with minimal cringe, but the second is a no-go.

3.) Iron Man 2 (2010)
This is one of only two Marvel movies I have only seen once, along with Thor: The Dark World… however, I am also one of few Marvel fans who consider the Iron Man films as a whole to be the weakest of the original crop, but that is mainly due to 2 and 3. With an underwhelming villain and plot, even the bright spots of Iron Man 2 (Downey, the introduction of Black Widow) did little to fend off a creeping sense of disappointment while I was watching it. RDJ makes a compelling and convincing Tony Stark, but in this case, it just wasn’t enough, and didn’t live up to the legacy the first film has garnered.

4.) Spectre (2015)
I’ll preface this explanation by saying that I do not like James Bond films, and the short of it is that I don’t like the character and certain behaviors that these films and his character perpetuates. THAT SAID, I know there is a lot of merit to be found in the material, spy stuff is fun, and I don’t dislike any of the actors or whatnot, yet I usually don’t see these movies because I am predisposed to a negative opinion. I gave the Craig movies a shot, but after disliking Casino Royale and Skyfall and skipping Quantum of Solace entirely, I went into Spectre with higher hopes, considering Christoph Waltz was cast as the villain, and I’ve never been disappointed by one of his performances. Well, now I have. But his performance wasn’t the only disappointment – the plot dragged and much of the film came across as underwhelming, so it’s safe to say I won’t be seeing any future Bond films, unless the right name is cast in the 007 role. I will say, though, that the opening sequence is extremely impressive and an amazing visual accomplishment.

5.) Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace (2001)
I mean… do I need to explain this one?
Jar Jar Binks. Enough said.
Seriously… this film was a huge let down for me, and for many Star Wars fans throughout the galaxy. Of the litany of reasons I was disappointed by this film, I think the main factor was the criminal under-utilization of Darth Maul. Never has such a badass villain been so unfairly treated by limited screen time. But while I was merely disappointed by this film, many other fans were enraged by it, so I guess my reaction could have been a lot worse. I also just don’t watch the film anymore and avoid it at all costs, so my disappointment has not has much time to progress to hatred or a more extreme level of anger.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Run, Birdy, Run!

There are thousands of mysteries – riddles with no easily discernible answers – that have plagued humanity for centuries. The origin of Stonehenge. The true identity of Jack the Ripper. How many licks it takes to get to the Tootsie-roll center of a Tootsie Pop.

But one of these conundrums has been on my mind for a while, and that is the eternal question of: Why do birds run?

Seriously. I find this absolutely mind-boggling. I wish I could communicate with birds, if only to ask them why they sprint across the street or through grass on their stick-thin, spindly little legs. First of all, they look absurd when they’re doing it. Second of all, THEY HAVE WINGS.

There are exceptions, of course. Ostriches. Emus. Sandpipers. Any bird that’s flightless. This question is predominantly aimed toward smaller strains and common species, birds that can be easily found in your backyard. Birds that terrorize cars with their poo – though that’s not really something they can help, since they lack muscularly functional sphincters.

Countless times, I have been driving down the road only to see a tiny bird, be it a robin or a finch or a sparrow, darting across the street instead of flying. Just this morning, I had to slow down to let a bird cross the road in my neighborhood, and it scuttled along the entire way… then, once across, it took flight and vanished into a copse of trees. A pigeon and a dove have (at separate times) smacked into my windshield, scaring the living daylights out of me and possibly suffering great injury, which could have been avoided if they used their wings and FLEW OUT OF THE WAY.

And to this, I have only one question: WHYYYY????? My mind is boggled. BOGGLED.

I don’t mean to shame birds for this, of course. I think birds are great, even if I don’t understand why they put themselves at risk by scurrying along pavement rather than lifting off with their wings.

I mean, maybe this phenomenon is because they have brains the size of peanuts, so their first instinct isn’t to fly. Or maybe they admire other animals, and want to emulate them, so they use their tiny legs instead of wings. Maybe they want to look for worms along the way, and that’s an activity that is easier to do  from the ground as opposed to the air. Maybe they’re training for a marathon. Maybe we will never have an answer to this enduring mystery. And maybe there is a lesson to be learned here, too.

Don’t let fear ground you. Why run, when you can fly?

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

The Middle

Recently, the mid-twenties doldrums have been bogging me down. I feel as though I am not where I need to be, but I lack the courage and confidence to get myself there. But those thoughts of “Get it together!” get drowned out by fear of failure and doubt in my abilities, a dark cloud consuming every spot of brightness I try and scrounge up.

But sometimes, the perfect song comes on the radio at the perfect time. This week, it was Jimmy Eat World’s anthem The Middle, which goes:

Hey, don’t write yourself off yet,
It’s only in your head you feel left out or looked down on.
Just try your best,
Try everything you can,
And don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away.
It just takes some time,
Little girl, you’re in the middle of the ride,
Everything, everything will be just fine,
Everything, everything will be all right…

This song came on as I was driving home after a difficult day, and I heard it three more times over the course of the week. And it just… made me feel better each time I heard it. Like being stuck in the middle isn’t the worst fate, or even something to be distraught over, because it doesn’t have to be permanent. There is a way out, a lantern to guide your path, no matter how rough or dark a road seems, and it might just take some time until everything is all right. Cliche or not, I think that message rings true.

I think, sometimes, the universe knows what we need to hear, and we need to take it to heart – especially if we hear the same message four times in one week. Or, maybe the local radio stations lack variety, because they also played “Eye of the Tiger” three times this week…or maybe, the message I was meant to receive this week is dual-layered.

It’s okay to be stuck in the middle, but you must have the eye of the tiger to stand up to the challenge of climbing out, and everything will be all right.

…Or something like that, perhaps.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

Favorite Words Vol. 1

*Definitions gleaned from the Merriam-Webster online dictionary*

Lament
Definition(s): To mourn aloud; wail.
To regret strongly.
To express sorrow, mourning, or regret.
Lament is one of those words that carries a greater weight and paints a clearer picture than most of its synonyms. “Cry” sounds so weak and pathetic compared to “lament,” and “lament” is a much more layered choice, and carries multiple meanings. It’s a word you can practically hear, as it seems to indicate a greater depth of sorrow or regret with an accompanying cold you can feel deep in your bones.

Sanguine
Definition(s): Bloodred.
Consisting of or relating to blood.
Confident or optimistic.
I like this word precisely because it has two very different meanings, and when you meld them together, it makes me think of a charismatic, yet deadly predator, like a snake. The unique connotation the word carries due to those two meanings make it fun to play around with. “Sanguine” is a solid word, and whenever I see it on paper or onscreen I think, “Oooh, good one!” I can’t say I get to use it often, but whenever I do, it’s a treat!

Traipse
Definition(s): To go on foot.
Tramp or walk.
Traipse is a word that I use whenever possible because for me, it has an accompanying visual. In my personal word world, “traipse” indicates a certain lightheartedness and innocence, akin to a good frolic, so I picture someone enjoying themselves as they set off on a journey, no matter how far. It’s a creative alternative when you want something a bit more descriptive and maybe a dash more fun than a bland ol’ “walk.”

Raze
Definition(s): To erase.
To scrape, cut, or shave off.
To destroy to the ground.
Why say “destroy” when you can say “raze?” Raze sounds so utterly complete. Definite. Like a doom that there is no returning from, a ruin that will never rise from the ashes. Of all the other options, I think raze is the most powerful, and the one that implies a more permanent result. Plus, who doesn’t love a word with a good “z” in it?

Whimsical 
Definition(s): Resulting from or characterized by whim or caprice; lightly fanciful.
Subject to erratic behavior or unpredictable change.
Full of, actuated by, or exhibiting whims.
This word makes me think of magic, of dreams and wishes, of happy things and fairytales. “Whimsical” seems like such a pleasant word, that implies a free-spirited recklessness and impulsiveness that does not result in any sort of bad ending. It indicates happiness, lightness, and makes me think of fantasy-like music with a cheerful undertone. We all need a little whimsy, now and again – so this word gets used whenever I find the space to fit it in.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.

 

Worth 1000 Words #12: Monochrome

Despite my complete lack of fashion sense, which is an affliction I have suffered from for the duration of my life, I watched Project Runway for a handful of seasons, binged my fair share of ANTM back in the day, and have seen enough episodes of What Not To Wear that I should genuinely know what not to wear by now. I admire seeing folks with an eye for fashion piece outfits together, craft incredible looks out of bizarre materials, tell someone what clothing works for their body type and comfort level, or strut down a runway in unique garb with palpable confidence. I was also a huge fan of RuPaul’s Drag Race for the first 5 or 6 seasons, and it’s a bandwagon I’ve been meaning to climb back on, because those queens know how to make a look.

img_20170405_133629_423113918457.jpgHowever, listening to Tim Gunn’s irreverent “make it work!”, inspirational speeches from Tyra Banks, and Stacey and Clint clapping at the results of their handiwork has not been enough for me to take any meaningful risks when it comes to my personal wardrobe. My clothing choices often trend in a more… monochromatic direction.

Almost every day, I wear something black. If not black, my next choice is gray. If not gray, a different shade of gray. Then, if I must, I go for white. You get the picture. Mostly, my outfits consist of some combination of those three colors (or lack thereof) on a day to day basis, though I am known to add a splash of color (I love a good pink or green, and especially purple) and even a floral pattern if I’m feeling especially wild. Upon a recent purging of my drawers and closet, I counted 15 black shirts, including 2 black 3/4 sleeve shirts, 2 black long sleeve shirts, 2 black v-necks…the list goes on. Though, I will say I am not opposed to a blending of these options. A black and gray shirt is more or less my ideal, because then I don’t have to choose between them.

I don’t quite know when this happened to my sense of fashion, where my appreciation for color dulled and I strayed in a significantly more monochrome direction. I’ve always liked wearing black, I suppose. I mean… it goes with everything, except most shades of blue, so what’s not to like? Black, gray, and white are super adaptable. I can coordinate my wardrobe so easily because approximately 85% of it looks like it’s being broadcast before the days of technicolor.

But I can’t pinpoint when this started. I used to wear much more color, and I usually see brighter and more vibrantly-patterned clothing in shop windows or on sales racks that I’m drawn to, but can’t bring myself to even consider trying on. I’ve gone so far as to buy some “risky” clothing but never summoned the courage to actually wear them, so they sit in my closet and collect dust. Now, several colors have been shunned from my closet and drawers entirely…keep orange, yellow, and most pastel shades away from my pale, pale self. But whenever I go shopping, if I’ve got someone with me (usually my mom) when I start pawing through all the black, grey, and white clothing, I get asked, “Don’t you have enough of those shades?” And I inevitably buy more, anyway. Even my graphic tees usually have a black base, though it helps that my favorite is Batman and black/gray are key colors for him.

I know I’m not the only one with this habit. I work with some folks who wear a lot of black as well – some days, 4 or 5 of us will be wearing similar outfits – but I doubt our reasons for doing so are the same. Some folks just genuinely like black, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Although I do prefer dark and neutral colors overall just as a matter of preference, I think I started dressing in a monochrome scheme because it’s safe. Nondescript. Bland. I don’t like drawing attention to myself, and that color scheme helps me achieve that goal. Wearing drab, uninspired colors makes it easier to blend in, to make it through the day without standing out, to more or less ensure that no one will pass me on the street and say, “What is she wearing?” with an accompanying look of disgust and/or horror. I mean… in reality, no one would do that, because they have lives and more important things to do than critique the clothing choices of strangers, but it’s easy to project onto others when you’re feeling insecure. When I select an outfit for the day, one thought that passes through my mind before I give it the go-ahead is, “Will other people think this looks stupid?” and this habit has made it so there is very little variety in my day-to-day appearance.

In recent months, I have been making an effort to add some life and color into my clothing choices. One of my favorite new shirts is technically black, BUT it has colorful stripes on it! Baby steps, right? In the same shopping session, I also bought a blue sweater with tiny gold stars sewn into it, and I am obsessed. Sadly, now that the weather has gotten warmer I can’t wear it until autumn, but still…

Now, when I pass a bright shirt or colorful cardigan in a store that piques my interest, I don’t just shrug it off. I might try it on, give it a chance to sway me. Because it doesn’t matter what other people think – all that matters is what I think. I will never eschew black or gray from my wardrobe – in fact, they are likely to remain staples for the foreseeable future – but I’m trying to make a more sincere effort to include colored shirts, patterned pants, and other clothes I would typically ignore into my options. Some risks, even if they are small, are worth taking, especially if they might aid in boosting confidence and self-assurance.

~~~~~

If you’re in need of a new read, check out my YA novel, I’m With You! The ebook is only $1.99 or (£1.55) and paperback is $9.99 (£7.99) on Amazon Amazon UK.  Nook book is also $1.99 and paperback is $9.99 on BN.com.