An Explanation -or- You Probably Think This Post Is About You

FOREWARD: If you want the full experience you have to click links and listen to music and pay attention to lyrics and read and shit like that.

If you don't wanna do any of that...byeeeeeeeeeeeee

If you do, HI!. Welcome to me.
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Intro theme song for this:

One of my facebook posts from last weekend:

I have so many things to say and it hurts to not really be able to

The replies and comments:

• Are you ok? *
• Here, try this [insert self-care advice and/or creative outlets]
• Start blogging again!
• We're here for you.
• Call me if you need to talk.

....and then the family gossip that my mom told me about. 

Because they check in with her instead of talking with me about it directly, but that’s another story for another time. **

Let’s be real - do you think that I’m the type of person to put out a call for serious help on fucking facebook? I know how to use a goddamn phone AND how to reach you in case of any sort of real emergency.

I’ve vented there, yes.

I’ve looked for attention there, yes. 
Isn't that what it's there for? The giving and receiving of attention.

I’ve somewhat opened up about certain feels there once or twice, sure. Who hasn't? There are a lot of us going through the same stuff and when we find each other relatable in low times it really is so comforting.

We’re all a bit hypersensitive and moody AF in these years, and I do appreciate you reaching out, those of you who did. You are the wind beneath my wings.

But SO MANY times, I’ve bottled up super hilarious quips and insanely ridiculous comments, too. Usually because having to explain it sucks the funny out and by then they’ve probably missed their moments, or it would take 20mins to explain and would only make sense to me anyway.

It’s called a filter. Some of you have them, too.

Others don’t…you cheeky bastards.

Let me put it to you another way.

I read this article years ago about popcorn brain. Google it.

Go ahead – I’ll give you a minute…don't be lazy. Just do it.

So, after the last 20+years living the majority of my life online, when I’m in conversations with people out in the “meat world”, and especially after a few drinks, and with you all on my phone and so accessible due to the loveliest of all inventions: Social Media…I tend to pop off at the mouth occasionally when I can’t contain ALL the bottlenecked thoughts that are rattling around the old noggin.

When I popped off last Saturday, I was in a fiiiiiiiine place which was almost entirely full of face hurting laughter and running into interesting characters. I have witnesses.

I’ll end this with 3 things:

•        Because my ramblings tend to take more than anyone really wants to read on facebook***
•        Because some of you have been poking me about this for a while 
•        Because I know it’ll help me to have this outlet which, who fuckin’ knows, might also help some of you.

I’m rebooting/reigniting my blog.

*dammit, I really wish my name were Annie now

**except you Deb. Thank you. Was nice chatting with you. and I don't blame them, cuz Janet kinda really fuckin' rules.

***it makes for good toilet reading in the morning

Outro theme song for this:


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When The Dust Settles

    “Sssshhhh, sssshhhhh, baby, it’s okay, baby. Ssssshhhhh, sssssshhhhh”, Sarah said as she sat on the dirt floor with her newborn son held against her chest and rocked him back and forth. The ceiling and slats of the siding of the house were shaking and Sarah didn’t know how long they’d hold. She’d only had a couple of weeks with baby Michael before the wild black winds kicked up. There’d been no time to prepare for such a force of nature. They’d had previous dust and sand storms that came through these plains, weeks of them, but nothing like what was now seen through the bubbled glass windows of their small farmland house. There was no way this ramshackle shelter would stand against the dry relentless winds that were blowing through so incredibly hard. It had gotten so dark, so fast. The sun had completely disappeared and it was only mid-afternoon, a good 3 or 4 hours left of sunlight on a normal day. The temperature dropped and the air chilled without the sun’s warmth. Sarah thought it looked like the end of days outside after a glance through one of the windows, vowing to herself that she wouldn’t look again and drew closed the thin fabric of the curtains she’d sewn. She had been proud of those curtains. They were the first things she put up in an attempt to make the tiny two-room house a home just after she and John were married. He was a good, proud, and hearty land worker who’d left Sarah and their new son for a meeting with a man in New Mexico about work. John was eager to provide Sarah and Michael with a new chapter for their lives together. Sarah wondered how far John made it before the black winds found him. Her chest felt heavy thinking about where he’d have to stop and take cover and if he was ok, where ever he was.

     It started off as such a perfect Sunday. The skies so clear blue and the sun shining after not having seen it for weeks. Sarah busied herself with hanging the laundry outside and John packed up the jalopy and left that morning. He and Sarah had decided they were done with being Oklahoma land owners and were excited to find something new further west. The weather that year, and especially over the last few weeks, just wasn’t accommodating for working the soil and the drought, which had hit the year they got married, proved to be too harsh. John and Sarah were fully committed to each other and were able to stay optimistic through it all. The cattle that John brought with him were all gone after the first wave of dust storms came through. Their lungs had basically filled with mud from breathing in the fine dust of top soils and silt that constantly drifted through the atmosphere. 

Michael’s arrival had stalled their first plans to move west and Sarah had to power through the last few months while John fought to keep his new family afloat after the livestock and crops were all gone. They’d wanted children and were pleasantly surprised when they found out that Sarah was pregnant with Michael and that he’d be a spring baby. Both John and Sarah had never felt so revived and renewed and Michael’s birth had gone so smoothly, as if he was just as eager to be in this world and in this new life. John cried when he’d first gazed upon his son and he looked at Sarah with a new found appreciation and respect. Sarah absolutely glowed throughout the process and fell in love with the little human she and John created. She was so grateful and felt so blessed to be Michael’s mother and saw in John’s eyes that he’d do anything and everything for them.

     She looked down at Michael, swaddled in the quilt she’d made in the months before he came. His face was partially covered to protect him from the dust that made its way into the house. Her eyes welled up and a tear landed on the only spot of Michael’s forehead that was exposed between folds of fabric. Where the tear landed, the dust in the air collected and stuck to it. Fine wisps of silt were raining in through the ceiling and Sarah noticed a bow in some of the boards where the dirt outside was so heavily weighted against the wall boards that they bent inward slightly. The smell of the kerosene lamp got stronger as it filtered through the cloth that Sarah had draped over her face. Michael started crying again. Sarah slowly moved her hand to Michael’s face. She covered his nose and mouth and said, “Ssssshhhh, ssssshhhh, baby. It’s OK, baby. Ssssshhhh.”

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I wrote this after studying Dorothea Lange in a photography class and started researching The Dust Bowl and Black Sunday in the '30s.

In one article, it was reported that a survivor had admitted that she'd contemplated killing her newborn just to spare him the environmental hell they were living in.

Poetry - Femme Fatale

The assignment was to write a haiku, a sonnet, and something in open form. I've never been a huge fan of writing poetry because I never thought I was very good at it, but really grew to appreciate it after this assignment. My sonnet is a bit of a stumble but the requirements are all there. I was inspired by Patrick Nagel and Velvet Underground this particular night while doing homework.

-Haiku-

She wore her heels high

But made no sound while walking

'Til it was too late

-Sonnet-

They walked together having found true love

A close step behind, followed his best friend

He dreamt of cupping her supple rear end

And eyed those pants that fit her like a glove

A young beauty, wearing severe high heels

Yellow hair and bright blood red on her lips

Twisted triangle of relationships

A vixen in slinky smooth fabric peels

She was aware of her affect on him

The moves she made calculated, precise

They were caught one time, their whispers concise

The secrets they shared, founded on a whim

A call too close, the decision was made

To save her love, his friend's light had to fade

-Open Form-

She spritzed on her perfume

Lined her eyes with black

And slicked on some red

Shiny lacquered nails

Two stabs through her earlobes

Glimmered and dazzled

Her foot fall echoed and sharp

A match struck

The wisp of sulfur

The taste of tobacco and cloves mixed with gin and tonic

A charming laugh tinkling like ice in a glass after a delightful compliment

Pop culture filled polite conversation merged into backgrounds and upbringings and stifled vitriol

A lovely evening then soured, rotted, and ruined by shallow snobbery

Ignorant, arrogant, and rude

Quick sharp echoing steps

A frenzied retreat through black moving shadows and white steaming sidewalks

The silent transition

Between hunter and prey

He'd started the night as the hunter.

Photo Prompt - The American Contract

We were provided with 5 photos to pick from and write a story segment about. It didn't have to be a finished story, but it did need to be between 500 to 600 words.
This is the picture I chose and the words that followed.

The American Contract

I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.I've been sitting here with my bitter black coffee in this cafe for about 30 minutes. The smell of coffee beans and toasted bread is in the air. The street lights have just come on against the crisp autumn evening of the city. The bicycle bells are starting to diminish but the sound of the train is still going strong nearby. The church bells all rang about an hour ago when I was trailing the denim wearing fellow down a few side streets. He ducked into the building across from where I'm sitting in this cafe, essentially becoming invisible due to security badges and metal detector body scans being a requirement in order to follow. I'm slightly pissed at feeling under prepared. This assignment is no different than jobs I've taken previously. When the message comes through and I take a job, there's usually just an initial date and time to pick up the trail, a grainy photo, boosted from a security camera, and a time frame for how long I'm supposed to trail the mark. Most of the time, the jobs are only a day or two. The longest was about 23 days. I've never had a contract last longer than a month. My job is to simply document movements and routines and remain completely inconspicuous. I rarely ever know the reason for the job. I don't ask questions and appreciate the income.

The waiter that first brought over my coffee has forgotten about me already. The coffee cup is empty and instead of looking for someone to refill, my eyes fall upon an old salty fellow in the dark corner of the room. He's got a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket and his jacket is hanging on a hook to the side of the table. He's reading a book which is lit by a single white candle in a pewter holder, and I can see only half of his wrinkled grey bearded face. For a brief moment, I consider what his internal voice sounds like as he's reading.

In my peripheral vision, I see a familiar shape exit the building across the street. My mark is on the move and immediately, I'm glad the waiter has forgotten me since I'd already been getting lost in my thoughts without that second cup of coffee.  I leave a few coins on the table and head towards the door, keeping an eye on my mark through the glass as I exit.

I'm supposed to be trailing this guy, I'm assuming is American because of his jeans, for a Monday through Friday contract, but he's moving faster than the usual 5 day gig.

I've only been to America once, to Disney World with my family, back when I was a kid and we were still a family. I remember there being giant stores full of denim. I vowed to never wear denim. My look is efficient and forgettable - I own exactly 7 black shirts, 7 pairs of black leggings, 2 pairs of black boots, and 2 black jackets; one sporty, one leather, and 3 black hoodies, and a drawer full of black socks and underwear - the boring kind you can buy in a pack of 5 at a time. It's easier to hide in the shadows and/or blend into the crowd wearing all black. It makes me feel invisible and as a result, I've never been made during a job.

My American denim wearer is walking briskly through a higher traffic touristy area and ducks into a coffee shop. I stop in an alley way across the street and light a cigarette.

Stuff and Nonsense.

Most of you know that I'm back in school. If you don't, I have been since the summer of 2014. I'm heading into my final semester in January for a piddly little 2 year degree for Multimedia Production: TV/Digital Cinema. This fall term, I jumped into 5 classes; mostly digital editing and photography, but there was also a Creative Writing class.

I have decided to return to this hotdog stand because having words out there and ideas and inspiration floating about in so many ways is important to me. Most of you are creative minds and artists and stuff like that is important to you, too.
You understand that when the Muse speaks, you have no choice but to listen & TCB. My Muse has been strong this fall and she wants me to share her with you now.
So, if you're interested...I'm going to start posting recent stories, poetry, video & photo projects.

Plus, this:

What I've Learned From The Summer of Karen

So I've been unemployed since July.
Most popular question I've been asked is "How's the Summer of Karen going?" followed up by "What are you doing with all of your time?"
Answers range from "Great" to "Anything I fuckin' want!!"
I think most recently, when Clint asked how it was going, my response was a giant all-teeth grin with a thumbs up.

Here are the top 10 things I've learned since being unemployed:

1. It's so easy to forget what day it is. You know how they have those day of the week floor mats in the elevators on cruise ships that change from day to day like the day of the week underpants? We need those. Or underpants. Thanks, Willie, for usually hitting me up on Hoops Day to remind me of where we are in the week.

2. I thought I'd be able to keep up with the cleaning more. It works when Matthew's on work trips. Not so much when he's home. But the fact remains; it's still my least favorite thing to do.

3. Resume writing and going through career services is an 8hr gig in and of itself.  And it usually makes me cranky. Selling myself & talking me up is weird. But I've learned that I'm professionally & soberly introverted but socially & drunkenly extroverted. Maybe I just need to write my resume while intoxicated with friends. It would be easier that way and would give me a good starting point to go back and clean up while sober.

4. Schedules and deadlines.  One of the first things I did was give myself a chore chart (I think that's ultimately my mother's fault. We knew it was summer when the mega weekly chore charts came out). I stick to it most weeks. I need to do up a schedule and deadlines for my Creative Department & Career Services areas. Not so good at those aspects. Plus, video games sneak in there unscheduled. Then there's the random pop-ups playing taxi, lunch dates, webinars, happy hours, etc that I just can't help. Those random pop-ups have always made sticking to a schedule difficult for me.
If I could turn what I want to accomplish in a day/week/month/year into an infographic....I bet that would help me focus on schedules and deadlines. I like charts and graphs.
I feel an experiment coming on.

5. Sleeping in is impossible. I feel obligated to wake up with Matthew and help with breakfast & coffee. Plus, the lawn maintenance dudes get going early every Thursday, and the trash guys every Tuesday and Friday, and Snoop's usually paw-patting my face or lickin' my nose because he's hungry. I can count on one hand how many late nights during the week I've had, so it really doesn't matter about sleeping in. That's what afternoon naps are for and those are heavenly.

6. If you have a Summer list of outside things to do - put that shit off 'til the weather gets cooler. I'd intended to clean up porches & decks and all kinds of outside projects, but between the heat and the flooding rains....fuck that noise.

7. Everyone thinks you're doing nothing with your time, so when they ask, ramble off all the things you are doing in one big long run-on sentence that makes them feel tired by the time you've hit the end of the list and are taking a breath.

8. There is almost nothing to bitch about anymore.  I think the only things I complain about are how many times in a week I have to vacuum or clean out the cats' shit box.  So, I go to Facebook just to see what you guys are bitching about. And to make sure I'm not missing any important Miley Cyrus***/gun control/national debt news.

9. My dream job would be to be paid to travel around the world and document adventures between my favorite video game releases while watching youtube videos or creating them based on whatever random thing I'm building at the moment. And they'd reimburse my banjo lesson...no banjo CAMP tuition.  But now, thanks to Obama-care.....

10. The other night, I had a dream that I was in some big ol' Hogwarts lookin' school and was walking down a library corridor. It was dark with the smell* of musty books and we (there are always other people with me) were looking for ghosts. Suddenly, appearing in front of me was a porcelain doll faced girl, with her hair up & spiked out, all geisha-esque.....but she had the body of some fucked up caterpillar.** I reached out a hand toward her and was all "she ain't real..." and then that bitch bit the side of my hand with jagged little scary teeth. I jerked my hand away real quick....
Meanwhile, in real-life, while sleeping in our comfy bed, when I jerked my hand away from the caterpillar geisha ghost in my dream, I ended up accidentally swattin' Matthew in the balls.
This isn't really something I've learned....I just like giving treats to you at the end.
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*I'm lyin' here. I can't smell things in dreams.
**From playing so much Saints Row 4 near the rifts, I'm positive.
***Have we established yet that she's only got the one photo pose??

Advice To Young Bloggers

My friend's daughter, Nae, has recently been makin' some noise about blogging and was looking for recommendations for sites to start her own.
It got me thinkin' about what I'd pass along, or maybe, what I wish I'd heard those several years* ago when I first started putting my stupid voice out there.

Here are some helpful-ish tips:

1. Don't write for other people. They won't read your shit anyway. And I do mean that in the nicest way possible. They just won't. Until one day when you think no one reads it and then someone mentions to you at a party that they've been reading it. And that when they do, it's usually during a morning constitutional. But hey, they're reading it, right? Score!!
There have been a few other times people have owned up to reading my shit -looking forward to it even- and it's a funny feeling. I love you, you fucking creepers. ;)

2. Write for yourself. If you have something heavy on your mind - get that shit OUT!! Right then - write it down on something to type up later, get the mobile app....whatever...just write it down. Get those brilliant thoughts outta your head. It's actually better for your noggin health. Plus, you don't wanna let a brilliant strike slip away only to have a creative block later. I've found that while traveling or in places where I don't have a good connection, actual writing with pen & paper is best. *GASP* I knoooooow!! Who'da thunk?
The other awesome reason to write for yourself, and the reason I write for myself, is so when you're older than you ever thought was possible and your mind has left town, you have some entertaining shit to read or have read to you. Little time capsules & slivers of yourself to look back on or pass through the family. Same reason applies as to why I make the dumb videos I make.

3. Don't censor yourself or be afraid to offend people. Because fuck them.  See #2. (heh...#2)

4. Proofread a shit ton of times before you publish it.  Most of the time you'll come off sounding like an idiot anyway (especially if you're like me and write in a conscious thought stream that includes slang) - typos and easy grammatical errors will only compound that & cancel out any cool points you may have earned in topic.
Plus, simple errors just get on my nerves (ask Matthew) and I'd like it if more people took the time to proofread their shit.

5. Hemmingway said, "Write drunk; Edit sober."

6. If you're stumped and don't know what to write about, reviews and How-To's are always easy go-tos. Music, movies, books, events, travel, cooking, etc. (obviously, I've had no idea what to write about over the past few years.) Even old diary/journal entries are good references in times of blockage.

7. Never ever think anything is going to go viral. I stress this one here, but this goes for anything being shared via social media. "Viral" doesn't work that way. You can't set out one day thinking you're going to make a Viral Something. If you do, you'll only be disappointed and I'll point and laugh and say, "I told you so." If you end up making something that happens to go viral (see the difference there?), it will be a joyous occasion and we'll all be reading/watching it on loop and will help you celebrate.

8. As a follow-up to #3....Don't feel like you have a license to be an asshole to people. Don't make it sound like you're directing your commentary towards any one person. That's just mean. If there is anyone reading your shit, they'll probably think whatever you're saying is about them anyway, so just keep things in general terms. It's classier that way & you won't come off as just another trash talker.

9. Include pictures if you're wordy. How many times have you clicked a link and were assaulted by a giant screen of unbroken paragraphs and more words than you were able to scroll through? Did you read it all? No, you were too busy scrolling, looking for the end. Be nice to eyeballs and break it up into bite size chunks with pictures, lists (like this one), embedded vids, or just simply throw in some good paragraph breaks.

10. There's no number 10. I just wanted to see if you'd make it this far on the list. Here's a small reward if you've only scrolled to the ending because you let the amount of words intimidate you:

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*Yes, I actually have been blogging for "several years". I kept up with one on multiply.com for a couple years starting in 2004. multiply.com isn't around anymore as of May 2013. Go ahead, check. Then I did the myspace thing for a few years until I started spewing all over Blogger in 2008 with this slice of brilliance. And that's only the internet stuff. I've kept journals all my life, too!!

Me & Jesus

You haven't asked (no one ever does) what my thoughts are on Jesus.
The Man, the Myth, the Legend....

I grew up Methodist. Which usually meant, for me, sherbert soda punch, passing notes in the balcony, zany Pastor Bill after a Mr. Rogers-like Rev. Trembly, youth group scandals, getting in trouble while being the acolyte, puppet shows at nursing homes and schools, and killer acoustics in the outside hallway that had a wrought iron gate where I used to sing Madonna's "Like A Prayer".
I also learned how to play pool there.
My mom taught Sunday school when I was in middle school and gave us the low down on all the scary shit in Leviticus and how the disciples were brutally murdered.
Cuz that's how we roll.
There were buttons in the Grand Poobah's pulpit to control the lighting in the sanctuary.
The bell choir was amazing and my favorite at Christmas time.
Church was beautiful at Christmas time. All the candles and outdoor singing of Silent Night.
Potlucks and bazaars.
I remember one church bazaar where there was an entire table of books. I rummaged through and found a Frankenstein book. On one of the illustrations, someone had drawn a giant penis on Frankenstein.
I asked mom if I could have that book and it ended up coming home with us.
To this day, I swear it was an old book of Pannacake's & she'd been the penis drawer.
Seemed that my father was only in attendance for potlucks.  And maybe some of the church holidays. Otherwise he was left home while my brother and I were forced away from the tv and into stuffy uncomfortable clothes to go hang out with friends and old people for hours.

Youth group was fun. After the scandal, we'd had a few folks leading up the program. We went tubing down the Ichetucknee, and on a Blue Ridge Mountains camping trip that included horsebackin' and white water rafting. We went skiing in the Appalachians. We did car washes and BBQs and spaghetti dinners for fund raisers...
I was 14 and remember asking Zany Pastor Bill why we were supposed to take this story book called The Bible and see it as an historical account of the beginning of people.
"If it was just Adam & Eve, and Cain killed Abel, how was the earth populated? Cuz that's just  gross..."
"How do we go from death to rising from the dead without thinkin' zombies and has no one ever considered it may have just been grave robbers?"
I received a lecture in faith and belief.
Faith and belief were far greater than noticing & pointing out the obvious.

Shortly after my questioning of things, a married couple came in to lead up the youth group and gave us the whole "MTv is the devil and secular music is baaaaaaad..." song & dance.

Mentally, I'd rebelled and started liking darker music, but only after going through a Newsboys/Steven Taylor/Carmen phase. Hey, I'll try anything once.

As an adult, I don't attend church (seeing some of the politics and behind the scenes business aspect of churches while growing up can be thanked for that). I've always disliked organized religion & view it as a safe haven for those not practicing what they preach. Or for those who have no idea how to forgive themselves for mistakes they've made.

There's also an amazing amount of community assistance from churches - so, I'm aware that it's not all bad & my views are somewhat cynical.

On the whole, I find theology/spirituality to be an absolutely fascinating topic of discussion. It's mainly just the church thing that bugs me.

When I was a kid, I remember saying, "Jesus spoke outside. Why are we cooped up in these ridiculously expensive ornamental buildings?"

My first trip to NYC and into St. Patrick's and I was disgusted with the gift shop in the back of the sanctuary. Didn't Jesus drive out the money changers from the temple?

I do not believe Jesus is my savior. 

I do believe that he was a man. And more than likely a surfer, since he walked on water.
He was probably a great story-teller, a bit of a rabble rouser, and may or may not have been a shitty carpenter.

I believe that if most of you met him today, you'd think he was a damn dirty hippie & probably not give him a 2nd look.

I believe that I am solely responsible for my rights and wrongs & hold myself accountable for keeping them balanced and in check.

And I believe that the majority of us are good people just trying to do the best we can, the best we know how.

That One Time I Was In The Jury Pool For The Zimmerman Trial Pt. 2

Here's what I wrote on days 2, 3, & 4 of my jury selection pool stint.
I also did a lot of reading.

6.13.13
Jury Pool room again. At the end of the first day, the judge & lawyers came back in and told some of us that we were excused and the rest had to come in on Thursday. I don't feel like I'll get picked for this. Everyone is excited for me and a few have mentioned getting book deals out of it. I think they're getting a little ahead of themselves. There are some folks in here from Tuesday. Guess where they're sitting? Yep, same spots. The Talkative Pair are back at it. There's a fella behind me that has a boisterous voice and another they referred to as "Chicken Man". I moved to a comfy corner but the sun is shining through the blinds and glaring my ipad. The Talkative Pair are eerily quiet this a.m. I wonder if they ran out of things to talk about. Kinda nice. Will probably change later in the day.
Probably about 100 people in here today and they took about 11 folks up 20mins ago. They were E people. Matt told me they were live streaming the jury selection. So now it makes more sense why I saw comments and juror #s mentioned in an article I read on Monday.
There's an annoying kid who talks too much cuz he thinks he's funny. I'd give him a funny ratio of 1:5. He said one thing that I laughed at for the 5 jokes me made that he laughed at. He's a 1st timer, too. A few in here. Oh! The judge, last night, said, "ORIENTATED". FL's finest. I also just heard, "I like movies. I watch them all the time." Oh, really? You don't say?

6.14.13
They dismissed us yesterday shortly after we came back from lunch. And so here I sit again on my own. Been such a weird week, but in a good way.
They wheeled some older gent (I believe he was in the E group) off on a stretcher. Paramedics had him in the refreshments room. I didn't even see when I came in. He went out red-faced and smiling so at least he's OK. They were making "way to get out of jury duty" jokes and something about blaming it on the coffee machine. The groups they just took, 2 groups of 12, were mostly women. I think one or 2 gents in each. There are about 30 folks left in here now. Most of the annoying people are gone. No Talkative Pair, no Kid Who Thinks He's Funny, no Sleeping Mouth Breathing Teen. It's very quiet in here today. The Chicken Man is here but not his radio voiced buddy. The older black gent that came in on Tuesday in a fly ass suit is looking more casual today.
The sun is shining through the window and blinds and casting a shadow that looks like a cross. I bet that's on purpose. As soon as I wrote that, a cloud made the cross shadow disappear.
And now it's back.

6.17.13

4th day in this room.

They got pretty clandestine on Friday. Taking us down long hallways and up/down elevators and dodging common areas. We went into the courtroom & they checked us out again and told us to come back on Monday. Friday was a freakin' short day. We were in and out in 2hrs. Today's been more waiting. There are about 40 people in here. One jury got picked for a different trial going on and they dismissed everyone else. I still don't think I'll get picked. Doesn't feel like it. Feels like we're the emergency backup crew in case the people they've chosen fuck it up. My handwriting is weird today. Keeps changing sizes.

More people were just dismissed.

I'm still here.

It's gotten cold in here with no bodies to radiate heat.

The deputies were just arguing about who was going to make coffee in the morning. Cute. Now they're weighing the differences between men & women.

Long day to be waiting with no sign of anything.

Got a lot of reading done.

-------------------------------------

And that was it.

The following couple of days, I was instructed to be on 'standby' and call every evening after 6pm for instructions. Those instructions excused me on the 2nd day of standby.

So, I thought I'd share my oh-so-riveting experience of how I almost got picked for a high profile local trial.

The End.

That One Time I Was In The Jury Pool For The Zimmerman Trial Pt. 1

Last night, the courthouse voice mail told me that I was excused from jury doodie.

They've selected 6 female jurors.

I kept counting out 12 and they only needed 6.

How about that?

Learned somethin' new.

Let's rewind to the day I received the summons.

The familiar red inked bifold envelope with my letter number and reporting date.

I'd joked with Matthew saying, "Ooooooo! I wonder if I'll get the Trayvon Martin case!!"

The week before my June 10th reporting date, Kayla posted an article about the trial and how there were crowds expected and a media circus, blah blah blah.

The date the jury selection started?  June 10th.

I'd called the Friday before the Monday reporting date and the message told my letter group to report on Tuesday.

So, I thought I was in the clear.

Here's what I wrote on Tuesday while I was waiting around in the assembly room:

6.11.13

George Z trial jury selection. I answered the questionnaire. Maybe included some detail they would ask about. Re: no cable news, etc. Now I'm drinking black coffee & sitting on the floor.  I find it funny that when, in a room full of random strangers, there are those people that immediately start chatting each other up.  People want to share things. With or without the internet. The quiet rumble of small talk & mumblings of details. No one has chatted me up yet. I am the quiet observer.

My juror # is I68. Before we filled out the questionnaire, George Z and the lawyers came in to check us out. One dude looked to be counting-bobbing his head down each row...silently doing the math. They said this could last anywhere from 4-6 weeks. I might also be dismissed. Kind of exciting once I got here. News trucks and a camp set up for media outside. Looks like they'll be here for 4-6 weeks, too. I bet they're hoping for a riot when the judgement comes down.  I bet my lack of news watching or cable at home makes me appealing.

One of the deputies in here just told another that she ate her avocado and was "good to go".  The Seminole County deputies are some strong and able looking women. Makes me curious to know their stories.

There's a kid - can't be a week over 18. He's sitting bent over in his chair sleeping on his knees. He's shaped like the number 4. I wonder what he thinks of this. I guess the fact that he's sleeping kinda gives that away. Now he's gone to the floor in the corner to continue his nap.

Meanwhile, I just had a cool idea for a story. A jury duty serial killer. Would make interesting commentary on how we're just numbers and quick to give up details to random strangers. Maybe. Or it's a stupid idea since it's in a courthouse. Also makes me daydream about if there are courthouse bathroom hookups. Like the airport hookup from 6ft Under.
Yes, it all really does come down to sex & violence.

The first judge that came in to qualify us was the same judge McIntosh that precided over the 1st jury duty summons I was selected for. Pretty good chances for this one but they have a big pool to choose from.
I like the bitchy people who don't wanna be here. The ones that have 4 kids 5 jobs & no spouse. The ones who don't care what any one else is going through cuz it couldn't possibly be worse than their situation. "I'm too distracted to be here..." It's not like the jury summons snuck up on you. There's a 3 or 4 week notice at least. There were a few folks that had people in the hospital and one guy that was leaving for honeymoon tomorrow. They got excused. The one lady who was "too distracted" pulled some 'tude early in her explanation. I'd keep her here just for that. Twat.

Shitty coffee tastes better black.

The sleeping kid is a mouth breather.

And a farter.

3hrs so far of just waiting. It was so exciting earlier. Some of that has died down. I wonder what the people who didn't bring a diversion & aren't talking to people are thinking about. How to get away with jury pool room murder, I bet. Or bathroom hookups. Just to sit and stare, seemingly comfortably, for hours on end. Those are the folks to worry about. What's going on in that noggin? 

I did a quick counting like the one head-bobbing lawyer dude did & estimated close to 150 people in here. We broke for lunch. They gave us an hour but I figured by the time I got out of the parking lot, found food I can eat & got back, I'd only really have a half an hour, if that. People brought in fried stuff & wings & it smells good. I ended up snagging a better parking spot & came back in. So I could sit around and wait some more. And eat my nut sack.

The vending machine was sold out of delicious Aquafina water, but gave me $2.10 after I pressed the button to return the $2 put in. Pretty good ROI on a soda machine, but I'm still thirsty.

Trayvon supporters are out front with signs & sitting in the shade. I wonder what they're thinking about today. I bet they're thirsty, too. I was going to take of picture of the folks out there but thought better of it.

GAWDAMN the skinny girl next to me is eating fried empanadas and they smell like awesome grease. I bet she'll purge afterwards. Skinny girls don't eat like that. 

I'd like to conduct a study that tracks people's seating habits. We all left the room and came back to sit in the same spots we left earlier. It's not like we have assigned seats or anything.

My feet keep falling asleep cuz of the way I'm sitting. My luck, they'll call me & I'll stand up and immediately fall down cuz my feet will be napping. Disinterested feet, much like the Sleepy Mouth Breathing Teen.

I hope something happens during this half of the day. I may have to come back tomorrow. They've been calling B#s and there have been about 5 or 6 BINGO jokes. Also of note, some of the B#s were in a different courtroom.  So that makes sense as to why we were called in today. I wonder if the people they're looking for have skipped out after lunch.
I'd also like to conduct a study on why people always look at their finger after scratching an ear itch. Pretty sure it's an involuntary movement at this point in our evolution.

Now I'm sitting here thinking about how seriously quiet it must be in the courtroom upstairs and how talkative and lighthearted it is down here in the pool room. There's occasional laughter. Probably not too much of that happening upstairs. How drastic the difference in atmosphere is depending on which room of the building you're sitting in.

I am that girl that talks to herself while playing games on her phone.

I'm not the talkative pair infront of me that have been chatting since we came in this a.m. First it was college friends, now it's gym training at LA Fitness & 5ks. Yuppie convo nightmare.

It's raining.

Oh, I forgot to mention, about 20 mins ago they dismissed the 1st round of folks. I'm still here.

I bet I'll have to come back tomorrow.

Someone just leaned against the emergency door and set the alarm off.

This concludes this afternoon's excitement.

This guy over here in the talkative pair will not shut the fuck up. He's seriously been talking nonstop for 2+hrs. To the point where he finally cracked open his lunch time water.

I'm gonna move over to the other side of the room..... oh wait.  he just got up and walked away!

His chat partner looks slightly relieved. I bet her ears are sore.

It's sorta comforting to know that the deputies they have in here are just as bored & tired of waiting as we are. The jury officer just went upstairs with all of our summons papers. Hopefully some news will follow shortly.

The later it gets, the louder everyone in here gets. Almost 8 straight hours of just sitting around waiting. What does that do to people? Makes them louder.

Current Obsession

"Seeing we call it painting.
Hearing we call it music.
Reading we call it poetry.
And living we call it life.
So art is an attempt to capture life."
                  -Eyvind Earle

We Went To Hawaii Pt 1.

We were in Hawaii last week.
I wrote in my book with the intention of writing more while we were there, but this is the only page to currently exist.
-----------------------
2.12.2012*
Hawaii Trip

Its about 20 to 2pm & we're at LAX on a 3 hr layover in SkyClub.
I saw Pierce Brosnan.
He looked just like Pierce Brosnan.
And this woman behind me almost puked red wine on herself and is now drunkely speaking to her husband & has farted at least 3 times.
Matthew is napping through all the excitement.
He told me to let him sleep for 30 mins.
Its going on 45 mins.
We've seen some Olympiads come through.
They were all hot Aussies.
Another hour to go before our 1st class flight to Honolulu.
Been a long day.  Up at 4a.m. this morning and we'll get there at like 2a.m. our time.

The drunk farter just got up for another glass of wine.  Should prove to be an interesting hour.

OK so it wasn't an hour.
'bout 20 mins.
They just left and she staggered a lot, almost landing in someone's lap.
She had a sweatshirt tied around her waist.
I think she sharted.
-----------------------------
--------------
Shortly after this 1 existing page was written, I got up to whizzz and grab another rum & coke zero.**
While walking to the bathroom (which is exactly how I also caught a glimpse of Pierce), I saw The Situation walk in with a small entourage.
Later, Matthew would tell me that Mr. Sitch had been wearing a GTL shirt.
Stay classy, LAX.
--------------

*: wasn't 02.12.2012 s'posta be magic or some shit?  I think most days are s'posta be some magical shit anymore.

**: of which, I got ON LOCK!!  I totally made some Bacardi & Coke Zero my BITCH!

Throwback Thursday 2

Shut up...I know its not technically Thursday anymore by the time this finished up, but who the hell cares when I can make the date/time stamp say whatever I want it to??

BOOYAH!!

Click here.