fading_light

LJ Idol Black Rainbow

fading_light — Sun, 06 Feb 2022 12:28:37 GMT

"There's my girl." It was a simple, three word phrase that wouldn't mean anything to anyone, but to her it meant that she was special and wanted. Just being in each other's presence transported them from reality to a world that belonged to only them. It was a happy world where he didn't belong to another, and his words weren't empty. Deep down, she knew. She knew it was wrong. Every fiber in her being was telling her that he wasn't the one, but she couldn't pull herself away.

When he said, "I love you," she was ecstatically giddy. He said it to her over and over again just so he could see her face light up like she was a child opening presents on Christmas, but she knew. He said those words too easily. Most people have to build up the courage to say those words. For him, it was as natural as breathing. In the moment, in their world, she didn't care. Their world blocked out logic and reasoning, so in the moment, those words were real.

The fantasy world that they created together faded back to reality once she was alone. The ability to think logically returned, and something wasn't right. No matter how hard her heart tried to convince her that what she felt was real, she still knew. He didn't mean those words. It kept nagging at her, so she had to find out. She knew the answer, but there was this strange hope that she held onto that whispered to her that maybe, just this once, there was something real behind his words.

As she waited for his reply, her heart jumped between hope and despair. What if he says that he meant it? He didn't mean it though. He told her that he just wanted to see her happy, and saying those words made her happy. It was expected, the answer he gave her, but it didn't ease the heartbreak that she felt.

Stupidly, despite the disappointment and heartbreak, she held out hope that he felt something for her. He went through the motions, so she convinced herself that there was something there. Her faulty logic and his sweet words meant to make her happy made him all the more alluring to her.

Though, one day, despite the immense desire to contact him, she stopped. It started as an experiment. What would he do if she stopped contacting him? Like always, she knew the answer, but that lingering hope that she had just began to realize he fed her by going through the motions, told her that this time would be different. This time he would meet her expectations, but he didn't. As expected, silence was her answer, and she finally saw him for what he was: a black rainbow.

LJ Idol

fading_light — Sat, 15 Jan 2022 04:40:08 GMT

I plan on joining the mini round of LJ Idol. Let's see if I can actually get to writing again.

Week 1 Resolution

fading_light — Wed, 25 Sep 2019 23:35:13 GMT

Decisions. Is there really anything more terrifying than making a decision? I'm not talking about decisions about what to eat for lunch, or if you should get a pedicure after work (though for some people even those decisions can be terrifying). I'm talking about decisions that could, and probably will, change you as a person. Life altering decisions are usually difficult journeys that we purposely put ourselves through because we feel the end goal is worth the struggle. A couple of years ago, I made a decision that could possibly be life changing, providing that I could pull it off.

Towards the beginning of 2017, I found myself feeling unfulfilled. I was hitting the ten year mark at my job, and I still hadn't managed to get a promotion in all of that time. I had completely given up on the idea of getting a promotion because I was permanently stuck on graveyard. I was constantly sick, which meant that I called in a lot (hence the reason behind the lack of promotions), and when I wasn't sick I was just tired. The only way to get a promotion and/or get off graveyard was to improve my attendance, but when I tried I only managed to get sick again which just continued what seemed to be an endless cycle.

The lack of regard for their employees wasn't my only issue with the job. Being constantly surrounded by drug, drinking, and gambling addicts was getting to me. By working in a casino, wasn't I helping to enable a possible addiction for the sake of a paycheck? Watching people gamble away their child support and rent checks made me feel bad because I was part of the machine that feeds off of those addictions. What could I do though? My skill set would only land me in another customer service position (that most likely paid less) that would leave me feeling just as unfulfilled (if not more so) as my current position did.

My future, if I continued along this path, was looking very depressing and bleak. I needed more. I was worth more. What could I do though? A few years before, I had tried starting my own photography business, but that failed due to my lack of business sense and my lack of experience. I could have tried again, but I didn't really want to. I got more joy out of photography as a hobby. I honestly didn't know what to do about my situation. Luckily, a Facebook friend of mine posted a status update about how she was going back to school so that she could teach English overseas. The idea was very intriguing to me as I had never considered going back to school and teaching (I'm iffy about children) as a viable option for me. I was 35 years old, and I hadn't been in a classroom setting in five or six years. Did my age really matter though? What would my major be? How would I afford to go to university? How am I going to work full time and go to school? What is traffic going to Seattle be like? Is this taking on too much? Am I really going to use a degree? What do I even want to do?

I didn't have an answer to any of those questions, so I pondered over what the woman on Facebook had said about teaching English overseas. I had always wanted to travel, and teaching overseas would allow me to do that. I would get to go to countries that actually care about education, and I would possibly learn about other cultures while I was there. My major was journalism in community college, so it wouldn't be a stretch to change my major to English. I could legitimately do this, so I did it. I filled out the application to the University of Washington in February of 2017, and nervously waited for months to find out if I was accepted. The University of Washington only accepts 1500 transfer students, and in May of 2017 I found out that I was one of the 1500 accepted.

https://instagram.com/p/BTlOgKClLZw

I only went to school part time, and my job actually worked with me so that I could go to school (I managed to get off graveyard). Unfortunately, after a full year of kicking ass at university, I ran out of a way to pay. I was relying on student loans and my own savings the first year. The second year, I thought I had covered by a grant that the school gave me, but I needed to be a full time student to use that money (which I didn't actually learn until the last day of summer vacation). As a result, I couldn't go back to school for the 2018-2019 academic year. I wasn't going to let that get me down though. I made the decision to go through with this, so when the time came I reapplied to the University of Washington and I was accepted again. Classes start on Thursday (Sept. 26), and I couldn't be more thrilled.

Week 0 Introduction

fading_light — Wed, 18 Sep 2019 02:26:29 GMT

I inwardly groan in annoyance at the very idea of introducing myself to new people. I want to say that my reasoning behind this visceral reaction is because I suffer from social anxiety. At the most serve, people that suffer from social anxieties wish they could leave the comfort of their own homes to interact with people. At the tamest, social anxiety sufferers wish they could get through a simple introduction without stuttering through their own name, and without sweating profusely in embarrassing locations that show through their clothing. Thankfully, social anxieties are not a problem I suffer from aside from being a little socially awkward because I'm shy and introverted. Complaining about how introductions are annoying seems to be in bad taste when compared to the people that can't do it at all. Does that make my reasoning behind why I find introductions annoying any less valid? Maybe, but it doesn't stop me from feeling that, even if introductions are a necessity, the generic pleasantries of an introduction are meaningless and pointless.

Meaningless and pointless might be a bit harsh. We, as people, meet the important people in our lives through introductions. Even when we are babies, we are introduced to our parents by a nurse or doctor, so there is a meaning and point to it all. The majority of the people we introduce ourselves to don't become a part of our lives, though. We are just exchanging pleasantries, and that is the part I find annoying. For example, in a week, I'm going to be sitting in a college classroom, full of people that are mostly drastically younger than me, and the professor is going to force us to talk to our neighbor about ourselves as if we are going to really remember the random person that sat next to us for a day. Not only will I have to go through this inane ritual once, but I'll have to do it twice. Not once have I made a friend or acquaintance through classroom introductions.

Despite hating the ritual of introducing myself to a random person because the professor wants to learn our names, it makes me wonder if there is another reason why I hate going through these motions. Usually, in situations like these, the professor asks us to tell one another "something interesting" about themselves. I find it interesting that the moment I hear those words, everything that I find even remotely interesting about myself (which honestly isn't much) suddenly packs a bag and runs out of my head as if it never existed.

"What do you like to do for fun?" A random college student sitting next to me asks.

"Uh, well..." I say, but unbeknownst to me, photography had all ready packed its bag and flew the coop. "What does fun mean again?"

It is all downhill humiliation from that point on.

Okay, maybe it isn't quite that bad.

There is one thing that I hate more than introductions, and sadly the two go hand in hand: goodbyes.

LJ Idol Sign Up

fading_light — Thu, 05 Sep 2019 18:35:06 GMT

I'm signing up for LJ Idol.

The Blue Hour

fading_light — Fri, 10 Mar 2017 18:17:06 GMT

Imagine sitting near some boulders on a sandy beach. Waves crash lightly upon the rocks as the sun makes its slow descent over the horizon. A camera attached to a sturdy tripod stands along the edge of the shore, pointed towards the horizon. After what seems like hours of waiting, the sun finally disappears over the horizon, leaving behind a blue hue in the soon to be night sky. The time is finally right.

There isn't a lot of time to get the desired shot, so you have to be quick and precise. The chances of catching the exact same shot on another day are slim to none. After turning the camera on, you manually adjust the lens so that the crashing waves and the blue horizon are in focus. Once you feel like everything is just right, you take a few steps back away from the tripod so that you don't accidentally bump into it. You push and hold the button on the remote trigger that is plugged into the camera, and hold your breath as you hear the sound of the shutter opening. Thirty seconds pass, and the camera clicks as you release the button.

Walking back up to the tripod, you carefully check the viewfinder on the back of the camera to see how the shot turned out. Sadly, it is hard to tell on such a tiny screen if the shot turned out well or not, so you decide to take a couple more shots just to be on the safe side before night falls upon you.

My journey into photography started the day that I stumbled upon a photography scavenger hunt on Google+. I thought that the idea sounded like a lot of fun, so I signed up. Those of us that signed up (beginners and professionals alike) were all given the same list of ten words. We were given free reign on how to interpret each word, and we were given a deadline of about two months to get all ten words finished.

My first ten entries in my first photography scavenger hunt were laughable at best. I didn't own a photography editing program (the go to program is Photoshop), and I was shooting with a point and shoot camera that my dad had given me as a birthday present one year. I didn't have any skill other than being told that I had the "eye". I had a lot of shortcomings in the beginning, but I was having so much fun that I didn't care if I was good or not.

Shortly after my second photography scavenger hunt, I bought a beginner's professional camera. I think that is when my skill as a photographer started to really improve. I started out taking pictures like this:

When I got my new camera, I was learning new skills and terms. I was able to take pictures like this:

It wasn't until my fifth round in the photography scavenger hunt that I finally managed to catch the attention of the judges (all of which were professional photographers). Ribbon won second place.

Song won third place.

My winning streak was very short lived, but the very idea that professional photographers were finally taking note of my work was amazing and thrilling. I had made it a personal challenge to be recognized by one specific judge, and I finally happened in my ninth round with an honorable mention. We were given the item Selfie: Your Opposite. What I ended up with was this:

The confidence boost from being recognized by professional photographers, and from my friends and family telling me just how good I was lead me down the path of starting my own photography business. In the end, it was a failed project, but I gained valuable experience in the long run.

In the last photography scavenger hunt that I participated in, I managed to get another honorable mention for my entry for Violet.

As my journey into the world of photography continues, I know that I will have the confidence, sooner or later, to try my hand at taking pictures during the blue hour. Until then, I'm going to try to perfect the skills I have learned up to this point.

This was taken in Florence, Italy, during the blue hour before I even knew what the blue hour was.

Take a Hike

fading_light — Thu, 02 Mar 2017 12:12:55 GMT

Brilliant lights burst and streak through the club, illuminating the fake white fog in rainbow colors. Intense dance music vibrates the walls as it rhythmically pulses throughout the room through the speakers. A sea of people crowd together on the dance floor, occasionally bumping into one another as they dance to the music. The distinct smell of sweat and perfume fills the room as the heat rises from the sheer amount of people.

Somewhere in the middle of all the people, lights, sweat, and music, a young woman breaks from her group of four, and fights her way through the crowd to the bar. With a heavy and exhausted sigh from all of the dancing, the young woman pulls herself up on the bar stool, and waves over the bartender.

"A glass of water please. It is packed tonight!" the young woman says loudly so that she can be heard over the crowd and pounding music.

"It is the last party night until school starts back up again," the bartender explained as he filled a glass with cool water, and then placed it on the bar top.

"Thanks." The young woman quickly picked up the glass, and downed the contents in a couple of gulps.

"You look like you're having a good time." A voice of a young man a couple of stools down
said.

"Huh?" she asked. "Oh..Oh, yeah," she smiled politely.

"Are you here by yourself?" he asked.

"No, my friends are out there somewhere. I just needed a little break before I joined them again," she explained. Even if she was by herself, she would have said that she was with someone just to be safe.

The young man stood and moved to sit beside the young woman. "Well, since you are taking a break, let me buy you a drink," he offered. He had a charming smile, but the young woman looked guarded at best.

"I don't know," she hesitated. "I don't really handle alcohol that well."

"Aw, come on. It is just one drink. One drink isn't going to hurt you," he explained, pressuring the young woman, just a little bit, to agree.

The young woman's eyes shifted over the crowd, desperately searching for her friends in hopes that they would see her plight. She could flat out tell the young man no, but it all ready seemed as if he had a couple of drinks in him. He was a stranger that wasn't taking her polite hint that she didn't want a drink, and she didn't know how he would react if she did tell him no.

"Well, all right. I can handle one," the young woman nervously agreed. She shifted in her seat so that her legs were facing the bar. She was hoping that the young man would pick up on her closed body language, but it was lost upon him as he ordered two shots of Crown Apple.

"So," the young man said after ordering. "What brings you out tonight? Looking for a boyfriend?"

The young woman inwardly groaned, but she put on a cheerful smile. "Hardly," she said with a laugh. "It is just a girl's night thing."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" the young man asked curiously.

"No."

"Why not? You're beautiful. A beautiful girl like you should be with someone."

"I guess I don't have time?" She hated these questions because she never knew how to answer them. Did she really need a reason to be single?

The bartender placed two shot glasses on the bar, filled with an amber liquid, in front of the young man and woman. He looked curiously at the young woman, as she was a regular, and nodded his head lightly towards the young man. She only smiled lightly in return as she felt that she still had this under control, so the bartender moved on.

The young man didn't waste any time downing the shot, and he slammed the glass down back on the bar. The young woman took a deep breath, and downed the liquid quickly before gently placing the glass back on the bar.

"Well, you seem to have time now," the young man continued. "If you are up ditching your girlfriends, why don't you and I leave this place for somewhere a little more private?"

"Ah, I don't think so," the young woman said. She had to be a little more firm with her answer.

"Why not?" the young man asked. "We're getting along, right?" His hand inched towards hers, but she quickly pulled her hand away before he could touch her.

"I'm not going to ditch my friends, so no thank you," the young woman said. She stood up from the stool, and started walking back towards the crowd. She needed to find her friends.

The young man quickly grabbed the woman's hand tightly, and pulled her back towards him. "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Hey!" the bartender yelled from behind the bar. He had been carefully watching the whole scene unfold. "She said no, man. Let her go and take a hike," he growled.

The young man looked at the bartender in annoyance, but eventually complied and let the young woman go. "Bitch," he muttered under his breath as he stood up and disappeared into the crowd.

The young woman ran her fingers through her hair, and let out a relieved sigh. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

"Yeah, no problem. You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm going to go find my friends. Thanks again," she said before she quickly fought her way through the crowd to join her friends.

Trolley Problem

fading_light — Tue, 21 Feb 2017 18:21:51 GMT

Five different brands of chips, candy, and soda were scattered haphazardly throughout the tiny dorm room. Fluffy pillows covered with purple and blue pillow cases were used as cushions in the space in-between two twin sized beds. Gently used school books and notebooks with barely legible handwriting highlighted in bright neon colors lie open on the floor, but they were sorely neglected by the three young women sitting around them.

Mila was laying on her stomach with her knees bent and her feet up in the air. She had a Twizzler sticking out of her mouth as she munched on the end. Absently, she twirled a strand of her dark hair around her index finger as if she was some valley girl in Southern California. “Oh, hey!” she exclaimed suddenly. “In Professor Park’s class today, he gave us a kind of interesting scenario to think about today.”

With her hands, Mila pushed herself up and pulled her knees forward until she was sitting on her butt. “So,” she said after catching her breath from her sudden movement. “There is this runaway train barreling down the tracks towards five people that are tied up. You are near the lever that will send the train down the side track, but there is one person tied up on that track. What do you do?” she asked excitedly. It had been such an interesting conversation in class, that she was hoping that she get the same results with her friends.

Cora groaned in annoyance from where she was leaning up against one of the beds. She looked up from her phone only to roll her brown eyes in Mila’s direction. “Weren’t we supposed to figure out what take out to get?” she asked disdainfully. If the conversation wasn’t about food, then Cora obviously didn’t want to be apart of it given her snobbish attitude on the matter.

“Aww, come on, Cora. It’ll be fun!” Milla whined playfully towards her friend.

“Besides, I already place an online order to Pizza Hut,” Zoey chimed in from her sitting position on one of the purple pillows. She placed her phone on the floor near her school books. “You liked sausage, right?” She grinned ear to ear at Cora as she took the blue band around her lightly tanned wrist, and pulled her black hair up into a ponytail.

Cora clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth, and looked back down at her phone. “Whatever,” she mumbled listlessly. Secretly, she was ecstatic that she would be able to fill her belly soon with delicious pizza. “I guess,” she said slowly. “I would save the one person.” Cora didn’t much care about the scenario presented, so she simply threw out the easiest answer.

Mila shook her head in disappointment, and looked to Zoey hopefully. One of her friends would play along, right?

Zoey pursed her lips together, and she leaned back on her elbows as the scenario played out in her mind. “I only have two options, right?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t have time to try and get more help?”

“Right,” Mila said with a nod of her head. “You can either save the five people, or you can save the one person.”

“Do I know any of these people?” Zoey asked thoughtfully. “Like, is the lone person on the other track a loved one?”

“Why are you asking these questions?” Cora asked. Despite the fact that her head was buried into her phone, she was paying attention to Zoey’s and Mila’s conversation.

“Stuff like this makes a difference when it comes to saving people,” Zoey explained to Cora. “I would like to say that I would be altruistic in every scenario, but I know I probably wouldn’t be. If loved ones were involved, then I would save my loved ones over a bunch of strangers. If children were involved, then I would save the children. I don’t get the option of being a superhero, so I can’t save both.”

“I think you are just making things more complicated than they should be,” Cora said.

“Maybe,” Zoey answered, then turned back to Mila.

“Uh, well, according to Professor Park, the group of five and the one person are all adult strangers,” Mila explained with a small smile. It seemed as if she had heard all of these questions before.

“Oh, well,” Zoey paused, and took in a deep breath only to let it out slowly. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one,” she recited. “So I would save the group of five.”

“The needs of the many…what?” Cora asked as she finally looked up to Zoey in confusion. “Who said that?”

“Spock. You know, from Star Trek?”

Cora and Mila looked bewildered for a few moments before they doubled over in laughter.

“What? It’s a good quote!” Zoey exclaimed, clearly aggravated that she was being mocked for quoting Star Trek. Thankfully, there was a knock at the door. Zoey stood up and tossed the pillow she was sitting on at Cora before she answered the door. “Pizza’s here!”

No Comment

fading_light — Fri, 10 Feb 2017 07:49:48 GMT

Ominous clouds reflected off the mirror like glass of the downtown skyscraper. A light drizzle saturated the pavement as reporters, photographers, and cameramen gathered around the entrance of the building. A lone podium with numerous microphones attached was position just in front of the revolving main doors. A security detail of a dozen men occupied the space between the podium and the doors. Located behind the podium stood a handsome young man in a navy blue business suit. Two equally well dressed men stood on either side of him. After clearing his throat and adjusting his matching navy blue tie, the handsome young man spoke confidently into the microphones provided to him.

“Good afternoon, and thank you for joining me today on this gloomy looking day. As all of you know, I am CEO Aiken,” he announced to his gathered guests of journalist. “Now, I want to make this short, so I’m pleased to announce that we have finally got the green light to start building our newest project. With the public’s support, I’m sure this new project will create new jobs, and it will help our fine city prosper!”

There was a smattering of applause from the crowd but it certainly didn’t compare to the enthusiasm the CEO was expressing. Despite the lack of excitement, the CEO continued dauntlessly. “I’ll take any questions that you might have.”

After a few moments of journalist clamoring to get CEO Aiken’s attention, he pointed towards an older gentleman with graying and balding hair. He looked as if he had been in the business for years. His lifeless eyes were staring down at his little notepad filled with mundane and uninspiring questions.

“When do you plan on breaking ground on this new project?”

“Ah, excellent question, reporter Jefferson,” CEO Aiken’s answered with a pleased nod of his head. “If plans run smoothly, which I have no doubts that they will, then six months from now.”

The reporters began their attention grabbing commotion once again by shouting and waving their hands in the air in hopes of gaining CEO Aiken’s precious attention. After a few seconds of feeling as if he had people bidding on him, he pointed towards an amical and cheerful middle-aged man. While he seemed to be an experienced and professional reporter, he also appeared to be on more congenial terms with the CEO.

“During construction, are you expecting any significant delays when it comes to traffic?” he asked without looking down at his empty notepad.

“With any major project, there are always some minor inconveniences, Reporter Foss,” CEO Aiken answered. “I hope that the public will be understanding during the construction period. It will be worth some minor inconveniences in the end. Next question?”

The organized chaos of journalist began pushing and shoving each other to get at CEO Aiken one last time. A pleased smiled crossed the CEO’s face, as if he was enjoying the attention, before he finally pointed towards an eager young woman in her late 20’s. She seemed surprised, but she wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity to shake things up.

“Due to public outcry against this project, the building permits were delayed. Though, after a very charitable donation to Congressman Kurtz’s campaign fund, your building permits were suddenly approved. Can you confirm or deny any of this information?” the young reporter asked.

The crowd grew silent, aside from a few whispers here and there. All eyes were on CEO Aiken. For a second, the confident and composed CEO looked shocked. He quickly recovered, and charmingly smiled towards the young woman. “Public sentiment changes over time, and we have been happy to work with their support for years. We all have high hopes for what this project can and will bring to our city,” he answered smoothly. “That will be all for today. Thank you.”

CEO Aiken turned and walked away from the podium. He glanced at one of the men at his side, and asked. “Who was that woman?”

“I believe, sir, that her name is Layla Samara. She’s a relatively new journalist,” the man answered.

“Hm, remind me to extend an invitation to her to speak about her future,” CEO Aiken said as he disappeared into his building.

Reporter Samara looked down at her notepad filled with provocative questions. With a pleased smile upon her face, she wrote “no comment” next to the question she had just asked moments ago.

Where I'm From

fading_light — Tue, 31 Jan 2017 05:01:03 GMT

The warm afternoon sun plays peek-a-boo with white fluffy clouds on a beautiful spring day. The breeze rustles the newly blossomed leaves on the cottonwood tress. A large green tractor can be seen in the nearby wheat field, rolling wheat into large round bales of hay. Black and white dairy cows can be heard mooing as they wait for the farmer to feed them next door. Within a matter of minutes, dark storm clouds block out the playful sun, and threaten to disturb the peaceful environment. An angry rumble stills the heavy air before a loud clap of thunder explodes from above. Flashes of lightning strike the ground as rain furiously falls from the heavens. Despite the danger of the thunderstorm, the man in the tractor calmly finishes rolling his last bale of hay before going home. The thunder drowns out the sounds of mooing cows as they are rounded up into the dairy stables by the farmer next door.

As soon as it began, the angry little thunderstorm starts to taper off, leaving behind an eerie silence The clouds suddenly become thicker and darker as they slowly begin to swirl overhead. Tension builds within the silence as the swirling clouds form a funnel that finally touches the ground. Trees bend and break from the force of the violent winds. The ground shakes as if there was an earthquake. The sound of the cyclone is deafening as it rips through the land, destroying anything that is unlucky enough to be in its path.

After what seems like hours (even though it was only minutes)of listening to two freight trains crashing into each other, the chaos is suddenly gone. The sun tentatively peeks through the dissipating dark clouds, and life hesitantly comes out to survey the destruction the tornado left in its wake.

I grew up in central Oklahoma, and every tornado season (spring) a scene just like the one written above would happen. Actually, it would happen several times within the course of there months. I was sixteen years old when this scene played out right before my eyes.

My story actually started in my American History class. Mr. Sperry mentioned, while we were taking a break from writing notes, that it was a perfect day for tornadoes. I don't think any of us in class actually believed a tornado would hit that afternoon, but Mr. Sperry predicted the future.

After school, I went about my normal routine. I went home, threw my homework on the kitchen table, and joined my dad in the living room for eating dinner and watching afternoon cartoons. Once dinner was done, my dad took a nap, and I finished watching the cartoons before I moved into the game room to do whatever. I'm not exactly sure how I managed to get glued to news channel 9, but I remember watching the storm form on T.V. eighty miles southwest of where I lived. I watched as the tornado first formed, and I watched as it grew and left a massive path of destruction as it crashed right towards me.

A hour and a half before the tornado hit, I was in panic mode. We didn't have a basement or cellar, so the safest place in the house was in the closet underneath the staircase. The problem with that was that the closet was used for storage, so I cleaned out the closet like I was some sort of mad woman. My dad, on the other hand, was sitting calmly on the couch in the living room, watching news channel 9 (Gary England) tell us over and over again that we would not survive this tornado unless we were underground.

Ten minutes before the tornado hit, my dad finally decided that we needed to leave the house completely (by that point I was comfortably waiting for my doom in the closet underneath the staircase). Our across the street neighbor, Larry, had a cellar so we jumped into my dad's work van, drove to Larry's home, and piled into his cellar along with fifteen other people and someone's small annoying lap dog. I was crying because I was so terrified. My dad was still the calmest man alive, and Larry was busy trying to tell me that this was nothing more than a grand adventure (no, it wasn't).

By the time the tornado hit, it was over a mile wide. It had surpassed the highest ranking for tornadoes (F5), and the winds were over three hundred miles per hour. It was probably one of the loudest things I ever had to hear, and I had my ears covered. When I said that it sounded as if two freight trains were crashing into each other, I meant it. While it seemed much longer, it only lasted about three minutes. The tornado moved on to more populated areas.

During the chaos, a tree was knocked over by the powerful winds on top of the cellar door. Larry and my dad managed to squeeze out. With the help of some other people, they were able to pry the tree off the door so that the rest of us could get out. I couldn't wait for my dad as he was helping other people, so I walked home only to be reunited with my mom and my animals.

In the end, my mom, dad, and I were lucky. We lost part of the roof, a lot of the siding, some windows, and the foundation to the house was cracked. My aunt and uncle lost their home completely, their cars were wrapped around trees, and they even lost a dog. The important thing is that we all survived.

May 3rd, 1999. I survived the largest tornado in Oklahoma history.

Fear is the heart of love.

fading_light — Sun, 15 Jan 2017 03:41:16 GMT

The sounds of cheers, laughter, anger, and drunken ramblings could almost drown out the sound of insipid music that filled the smoke saturated air. Even with the smoke permeated air, the smells of perfume, cologne, and the lack thereof managed to invade the nostrils. Dazzling and flashing lights mingled with the sounds of digitized reels falling serve as a distraction to befuddle the mind as money trickles from the pockets of the poor and hopeful into the pockets of the rich and greedy. It is difficult to distinguish someone amid the mob of inadequately controlled chaos, but every once in awhile a resplendent gem will stand out among the crowd.

A navy colored, Seahawks ball cap adorned his head. Traces of his trimmed black hair could be seen near the base of his neck. A gray, Nike hoodie with tiny black speckles covered his broad chest and shoulders. The hem of a faded light blue t-shirt could be seen underneath. Faded light blue jeans with frayed ends cascaded down his muscular legs. Simple white Jordans relaxed comfortably upon his feet. Under the brim of his hat, his monolid brown eyes were focused and stern. His complexion was youthful, but he was slowly coming into age. While he normally wore a neutral expression, every once in awhile a glint of metal could be seen when he smiled.

I can't help but laugh at the pretty prose I just wrote. It sounds as if I am madly in love with the man described above. The reality of the situation is that I am harboring a crush. This crush wasn't something that I intended to happen (not that anyone intends to develop feelings for someone). Now that it is here, there isn't much I can do about it.

As with any crush, it is a nice feeling in the beginning. I find myself trying just a little bit harder so that I can show my crush my best side. Whenever I see him, my heart beats faster. I also find myself day dreaming about things that could (but most likely won't) happen. The longer the crush lasts without any progress, self doubt settles in. Fear of so many things (rejection, embarrassment, driving him away, etc..) floods the mind until I feel as if I am going insane.

I think I can understand how fear is the heart of love (even though I'm not in love). My fear is that I am going to drive him away (even though I am the least intimidating person ever) if I act on my feelings. That leads to possible heartbreak. Though, maybe heartbreak, while I fear the pain, is better than the uncertainly I feel now. I suppose I just need to open myself up to the possibility of heartbreak. I might end up pleasantly surprised.

"I don't skate to where the puck is. I skate to where the puck is going to be."

fading_light — Fri, 06 Jan 2017 05:26:41 GMT

There are times in life that I wish I could predict what life is gong to throw at me. Being able to set up a solid defense would be great, but life isn't quite like that. Life isn't some Wayne Gretzky quote about reading hockey plays. While there are certain things in life that we know are going to happen, life, on a whole, is spontaneous and unpredictable. A lot of times life is like that one bully in grade school that has fun tripping the other kids, head first, into mud puddles. Eventually, we all end up covered in mud at some point.

My mud covered moment happened four and a half years ago. I was in a good place with my life. I was actively losing weight, I had just turned thirty, and I had just earned my Associate's Degree. I was content with my place in life, but then Father's Day rolled around.

Like the dutiful daughter that I am, I called my dad to wish him a happy Father's Day. It wasn't an especially touching conversation. It lasted for about fifteen minutes (my drive home from work). I did notice, while talking to my dad, something wasn't quite right just from the sound of his voice. I asked him if he was okay, and he assured me that while he didn't sleep very well, he was fine. I was a little skeptical because he sounded awful, but I eventually let it go. I told him that I loved him, and that was the last time that I talked to him. My dad died a week later on June 24, 2012.

My mom and I spent the next year work on emotional damage control. Despite knowing that death was a certainty in life, we didn't have a defense line set up for when it would happen. Matter of fact, my dad didn't even have a defense line set up for when it would happen (he didn't have a will). Maybe it is possible to read life the way Wayne Gretzky could read hockey plays, but you still wouldn't be able to set up a solid defense line. Life will suddenly turn into that bully child from grade school, sneak up on you, and suddenly trip you into the nearest mud puddle when you least expect it.

Brushback Pitch

fading_light — Wed, 14 Dec 2016 07:50:01 GMT

The director walked into the meeting room in which the expectant writing staff was waiting. He dropped a couple of blue binders filled with photocopies of the television script upon the table, causing a loud thud to echo throughout the room. Slowly, each writer took a photocopy of the script from the binders as the director wound up his pitch.

"This is what is going to happen next," the director said to the gathered writing staff. From the look on the director's face, it seemed as if he had come up with the most original idea in all of television. This one idea was going to be better than all six seasons of Game of Thrones. The writers could practically see dollar signs flashing in the director's eyes.

"After ten episodes, the main characters are finally together. The romantic tension has finally come to an end with the music swelling in the background, the main characters kissing, and the audience's hearts melting. They seem to be heading in the direction of that happily ever after," the director explained animatedly with his hands.

"But," he stated, raising one finger for dramatic emphasis. "The female lead's uncle learns of their new relationship. He decides to use his poor niece as a way to control the rebellious male lead. As you well know, the male lead is currently making waves within the company for which they all three work. Realizing what her uncle is doing, the female lead harshly breaks things off with the male lead in a desperate attempt to save him from any major trouble with her uncle. It is quite selfless and heartbreaking. It brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it!"

The director wiped away the tears that weren't forming in his eyes after delivering his pitch, and waited impatiently for the writer's reactions to his epic idea. It was almost as if he was waiting for the writers to jump out of the chairs with deafening applause for his obvious genius. Though, much to his dismay and annoyance, the writers only rewarded him with a very hesitant and unenthusiastic clap.

"Well," one of the writers tentatively said, "it isn't a BAD idea."

It was a horrible idea. It had been done before, over and over again. There was nothing ground breaking about this idea, but they couldn't very well go against the director.

"What if, instead of the female lead breaking things off with the male lead, they stay together through the difficult times to only strengthen their relationship?" Another writer bravely ventured. "The female lead could act like a spy for the male lead while deceiving her uncle into believing that he is actually using her against her new love."

The director didn't look impressed. He crossed his arms over his chest, and glowered at the writers before him as if he was the Great Eye of Sauron. How dare they try to discourage him?

The writers felt the intimidating pressure from the director's gaze down to their very bones, and they quickly backpedaled from their previous suggestions. "B...But we can work with your idea!" one writer managed to stammer. They were only the writers. What did they know about writing a television drama, anyway?

The director smiled down smugly upon the writers, and confidently strode out of the meeting room. "Oh," he stated. He took a step back and peeked his head back into the meeting room just as the writers were starting to relax. "I'm going to need the new script by tomorrow morning."

I need the struggle to feel alive.

fading_light — Wed, 23 Nov 2016 18:25:18 GMT

"You'll be thankful when you're older."

"You'll grow out of it. Give it time."

When you are on the cusp of your fragile teenage years, these words are the most annoying and frustrating words any young girl can hear from anyone. It is always "cute" instead of "pretty" or "adorable" instead of "beautiful". At twelve years old, these words make sense even if they are annoying. Most people assume that these young girls will grow into the words "pretty" and "beautiful". That assumption is usually correct, unless the young girl has a baby face.

It has always been a little joke in my family that I never aged passed twelve years old. I would always laugh with the rest of the family about my "misfortune". I would always wonder, in the back of my mind, if I was permanently stuck in this twelve year old stage. All the while, at sixteen years old, my aunts would pinch my cheeks, and tell me how "cute" I was, much to my annoyance.

While my family had relatively harmless jokes, my friends and peers in high school could and would be quite cruel. "Cute" and "adorable" were not in the vocabulary of teenagers. Somewhere in between fifteen years old and eighteen years old, I started to associate "cute" and "adorable" with "fat" and "ugly" as my self confidence dropped to an all time low. To be fair, a lot of this was self-imposed. What teenager likes to place the blame on themselves? It is safe to say, due to my shy and somewhat unapproachable personality (which is something that hasn't really changed in the past twenty years), I was pretty dateless. In my teenage mind, I also believed it was partly because of my baby face.

I did, eventually, "slim" down during my senior year of high school, but my face remained the same. It wasn't until after high school that I accepted the fact that I would always have a baby face. Through most of my twenties, my baby face was a curse and a blessing. I was (still am) ID'ed all the time, and I couldn't (still can't) escape the dreaded words "cute" and "adorable". On the bright side, those words lost the negative connotations that I use to associate with them.

Now that I am thirty-four, I begrudgingly admit that I am thankful for my youthful appearance. I have a certain displeasure for the words "cute" and "adorable", but I try to spin it into a positive. I'm on par with kittens, puppies, and other baby animals, and I've yet to meet a person that can resist the cuteness. My baby face is only a tiny part of my struggles, but it is a tiny part of what makes me, me. Without it, the person I am today wouldn't be alive.

Joining

fading_light — Sun, 20 Nov 2016 03:42:41 GMT

I haven't posted to Livejournal in years, and I got an e-mail saying that the 10th season of LJ Idol was up again. I was confused. I thought it was spam. I decided to check it out. It wasn't spam! There really is a 10th season! I'm declaring I'm signing up.

Second Chance Idol High Wire Act

fading_light — Thu, 23 Feb 2012 03:05:23 GMT

Her feet lightly kiss the ground as she haltingly approaches the ledge. The task before her is daunting, for the ledge is as thin as a thread and it towers above the ground. Despite the perilous journey before her, she faces it fearlessly. She seems to project a lazy confidence as if this was nothing compared to things she has faced before.

One foot slowly crosses over the other as she treads across the scant surface. There is no reason to hurry. This adventure is one that should take time. One slip, and it could mean a very gruesome end. Balance and attentiveness is going to help her cross this obstacle.

A bug zooms by her eyesight, annoying her just enough for her to bat at it. Though, the bug assumes it is some sort of game, so it darts by again. Once more, she swats at it, though this time she wobbles precariously on the narrow ledge.

The bug speeds by, one last time, breaking her concentration on balance. Her legs lurch to the side as she starts to plummet to the ground. Nails dig into the wooden surface of the ledge as she dangles desperately off the side. Her feet claw at the air, but she can’t seem to pull herself up.

Almost as if it were in slow motion, her desperate hold begins slipping. She tries to fight it, but she tumbles towards the ground. A few seconds is all she has before she meets a grim demise. Quickly, she twists her body and spreads out her legs to so she can absorb the force of the fall just before she slams into the ground.

All is calm as she looks up at the ledge that she tried to tame. Mild annoyance washes over her face before she saunters off with her nose in the air. Her perplexing defeat is soon forgotten as she naps upon a warm rock in the summer sun. What else is a cat to do after she is defeated embarrassingly by a bug?

Second Chance Idol What's Missing.

fading_light — Thu, 16 Feb 2012 02:15:31 GMT

Obstacles in my life have been relatively few, thankfully. I have managed to overcome most of what has been thrown my way. Though, there is one obstacle in which I have never fully conquered; fear. Fear seems to be a constant obstacle in my life. It is the one thing that is holding me back from the things that I want. What is fear holding me back from now? As corny as it might sound, a guy.

For as long as I can remember, I have always had the problem of not being able to talk to the guys that I’m attracted to. I want to, but the moment I try I become completely tongue tied. Saying a simple, “hi” becomes an unintelligible mumble. There are times that I open my mouth to say something, and absolutely nothing comes out as if I had suddenly become mute. I end up just standing there with my mouth wide open as the guy I like walks right past me.

Friends and family have told me to just talk to this guy, but they don’t tell me how to do it. They don’t seem to comprehend how hard something so simple is for me. Some have suggested that they could do it for me, but that suggests immaturity on my part. According to my roommate, I don’t smile enough so it makes me unapproachable. My default look suggests I want everyone to fuck off, so I’ve tried to smile more when I see this guy. He returns the smile with one of his own (he has a beautiful smile), but I want more than that.

What is amazing is that I know what my problems are. I fear rejection and success at the same time, I have next to no self-confidence, and I don’t have a clue on how to flirt with a man. These problems make me feel as if I’m lost in the woods. It is slowly growing dark outside, the trees all look the same, and I know dangerous animals are lurking about in the twilight hours.

This guy is not going to remain single forever. I know that I need to do something if I want to have a chance with him. I don’t know what that something is though. What am I missing? There has to be something out there that can make this whole situation easier on this shy girl.

Second Chance LJ Idol

fading_light — Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:19:26 GMT

This is probably a bad idea considering that I've been kind of busy lately, but I have to sign up for the Second Chance in LJ Idol. I've been waiting for this actually!

Snow Apocalypse Home Game Entry for LJ Idol

fading_light — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 12:01:21 GMT

Whispers of an extensive winter storm floated through the air. Though no one truly believed it would be anything quite as immense as the forecasters were saying. The accumulation totals were nothing more than a couple of inches. The prediction for Wednesday was close to seven to eight inches of white powder covering the Washington landscape.

It started at midnight. Minuscule flakes, no bigger than my finger tip, shot down from the heavens. Within an hour, the ground was white with a light dusting of fresh winter snow. A blanket of white shimmered upon the landscape after a couple more hours. It pained me as a car ruined the flawless finished. Though, what was ruined was quickly renewed.

Treacherous roads forced schools and businesses to close as the storm hovered over Washington. Many drivers refused to leave their homes as their lives were more important than their jobs. Things were bad, but it slowly turned worse as freezing rain was added into the mix.

Overnight, the roads became nothing more than a gigantic ice rink. Snow, trees, cars, power lines, and houses were encased in a blanket of ice. Cars and trucks slid down large hills and slight inclines, or suddenly veered off the road into the guardrail or ditch. Power lines slowly sagged from the weight of the ice. Branches cracked, dropping snow from their boughs, from the weight of snow and ice. Finally, the branches crashed towards the earth only to be caught, briefly, by sagging power lines. Suddenly, everything went dark as the power lines snapped. The once serene beauty of the freshly fallen snow had turned sinister.

An eerie calm spread over the land as the darkness began to envelop western Washington. I trudged through the ice-covered snow precariously in search of food. I saw a few people off in the distance and I heard voices upon the winds, but I felt as if I was the only survivor of this snowy apocalypse. All I could do was hope that there was life beyond the trees of my gloomy neighborhood.

My breath caught in my throat as I finally reached the road beyond my neighborhood. The whole city for as far as the eye could see was plunged into darkness. Despair threaten to overcome me, but I was urged, by my roommate, to soldier on. My hoped soared as we rounded the corner to find Target was running on generator power.

Armed with the essentials for a long couple of days, my roommate and I made the treacherous journey home. We huddled together, with the cat, to battle against the bitter cold until the unnerving darkness came to an end.

Zombie Christmas. Free Topic for LJ Idol

fading_light — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 00:17:48 GMT

During the spring, a new woman moved into the apartment diagonally downstairs from me. I didn’t pay much attention to her at first. She was just a new person for me to occasionally watch from my window when I was bored. Though, as the weeks moved forward, I started to notice some very peculiar things about this woman.

First, she would pray out in the parking lot with some random guy. It wasn’t your typical praying where you bow your head, clasp your hands together, and say the prayer. Instead, she and her friend would face each other, touch their hands together palm to palm, tilt their heads up towards the sky (or sometimes touch their foreheads together,)and pray. It was a little strange to me, but I figured she was some sort of new age religious type person. She was free to pray however she wanted to pray.

Second, she would sit outside, alone, in the dark for no other reason than to sit there (as far as I could tell). I don’t know how many times that I would get in my car, turn on the engine, and the headlights would brightly shine upon her lone figure sitting in front of the sliding door to her apartment. The first time I saw that, it scared the crap out of me. It is just down right creepy, but once again she has the right to do what she wants providing she isn’t hurting anyone.

There were a couple of other things that this woman did that was just downright strange, but it was all pretty harmless stuff (if not a little weird). It wasn’t until one morning in June when the full out crazy started. I had been up all night (like normal since I work the graveyard shift), and I had just managed to go to sleep when I was woke up by the sound of someone sobbing outside (my window was open because we don’t have an air conditioner). I thought I was imagining things, but when it didn’t stop I had to check it out. I looked out my window, and there was the woman from downstairs wearing a black bath robe, hugging a tree, and sobbing uncontrollably.

What are you supposed to do in a situation like that? I figured that perhaps someone in her family might have died, and she needed to mourn. I didn’t want to stop her from mourning, but I also needed to get some sleep. In the end, I decided to just close my window, turn on my fan, and try to get some sleep. Surely the fan would drown out the sound of her loudly sobbing outside my window. It helped a little, until this woman screamed to the heavens as if she was being tortured.

It seemed like I wasn’t going back to sleep with that nonsense going on outside, so I turned my fan off and opened my window again just in time to see an older woman approach this sobbing woman. The older woman asked if she had lost someone, and there was no answer. She asked again, and this woman stated that she could feel the pain of all the children in the world. The older woman sighed in annoyance (much like I did), and said that she was disturbing the rest of the apartment complex before she walked off. Sadly, that didn’t stop the woman from hugging that tree, sobbing, and occasionally screaming. I had to call the leasing office (it was either them or the police as she was disturbing the peace) to have them send someone down to get her back inside (and even that took a hour).

From that day on, I avoided this woman, but she managed to catch my roommate and I as we were coming back from Christmas dinner. She wished us a Merry Christmas, and as we were trying to walk up the stairs she suddenly asked if we believed in signs. I knew the crazy was coming, but my roommate indulged her as he didn’t actually hear what she said. She said that she had received a sign about Marshall Law, and that we should be prepared for the end. Yes, that is what everyone wants to hear on Christmas, that the world is going to end.

I had a good laugh about it while I was at work. When I got home from work the next morning, I noticed a sign in her window. She was warning everyone that the world was going to end. I tip-toed closer to the window to read the sign better, and had to force myself not to laugh out loud. Not only are we going to have an apocalypse, but we are going to have a zombie apocalypse!

Lj Idol Home Game (Bupkis)

fading_light — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 06:57:43 GMT

Twenty-nine years. By some miracle, she had managed to live for twenty-nine years. The big 3-0 was looming in the distance. It was six months away, and she was terrified. There was nothing she could do to stop the steady ticking of time. How could one little number be so daunting to her? Why did one little number petrify her so much?

In her early childhood, she grew up in the meager comforts of an old trailer set upon five acres of land. There was only so much a home on wheels could provide for a young family. It worked well enough until the trailer was upgraded to the respectable luxury of a two story home. Her mom and dad indulged her heart’s desire as much as they could despite their humble beginnings. She was their one and only daughter, so naturally she was spoiled.

She went through the typical experiences that every child goes through. Growing up was not a merciful task for her. The slow evolution of who she was suppose to be left her scarred. What person can say they escaped their childhood without scars? Innocence is slowly, yet painfully stripped away as an adolescent experiences the loss of a friend, betrayal from another friend, and first loves that turn into first heartaches.

Life beyond high school was supposed to be filled with magic. That is what she dreamed back then. She simply could not wait to grow up when she was younger. Life turned out to be something different than what she first perceived. It was filled with hardships that her parents, her family, her friends, and her high school never fully prepared her for.

Thirty years was fast approaching. Time seemed to speed towards that dreaded birthday like a runaway train. There was so much that she thought she would have accomplished by the time she was thirty, but she hadn’t accomplished anything. Despite the fact she started college right after high school, she was still working on her college degree (something that should have taken only four years). Relationships were always a failure in her life, and that aspect of her life had yet to change while other people around her were happily getting married (or happily divorced). Jobs were mediocre at best in her life, but she could not advance further without a college degree.

Thirty years, and she felt like she had nothing. Something was missing, but what? What happened to all the magic and wonder she dreamed of when she was younger? Is it still there, or is her fear stopping her from reacquiring it?

LJ Idol Home Game (Food Memory) The Tootsie Roll Caper

fading_light — Mon, 05 Dec 2011 14:41:19 GMT

When I look back on my first real job, I remember it fondly. I worked at a small town grocery store called William’s IGA. There was only one produce guy, one meat guy, and then a bunch of teenagers that made up the floor/cashier/bagging crew. The benefit or the downfall of working in this small town store was that everyone that walked into this place knew who you were. They would badger you with hundreds of questions about what you were doing with your life. I had just started going to community college when I started this job, so naturally the parents of all of my former classmates were asking me questions (and then turning around and telling their snobby little child how horrible I was doing behind my back).

This job was a collection of first experiences for me. It was my first time working with a cash register, first time bagging someone’s groceries, first time facing canned goods, first time mopping and buffing the floors, and the first time cleaning a soda machine. It was also the first time that I had ever been accused of stealing. Despite the fact that every customer that walked into this store knew who I was, my managers didn’t know who I was. It is kind of an interesting feeling when the customers know more about your moral code than your own managers do.

The day that I was accused by my managers of this crime, it was like any other day. I was the back up cashier for the day, which meant that I spent most of my time on the floor. Somewhere in the middle of my shift, I was called into the back room by the guy that hired me and the head manager. I was all smiles that day, as I didn’t have a clue as to what was going on. I thought maybe they were going to praise me on a job well done. It was amazing on how naïve I was back then.

After both of them gave me very disappointed sighs, the guy that hired me told me that they caught me stealing, and if I had anything to say in my defense. I could feel my eyes nearly popping out of their sockets when I was accused of this. My exact words were, “Uh, yeah. I didn’t do it.” The guy that hired me repeated what I said, and shook his head. That is when the head manager jumped in and told me that he had proof from the cameras that I did steal from them.

I knew, without a doubt in my mind, that I didn’t steal from these people. I know now I probably should have asked to see the proof, but instead I asked them what I stole while I sobbed in front of them (I think I was hurt that I was being accused of something I didn’t do). They told me that I stole a small, yellow (lemon flavored) Tootsie Roll. They then proceeded to tell me that if I was that hungry, that they could have helped me out if I had just asked them instead of stealing from them.

I’m pretty sure my brain imploded after learning this information. If I was going to steal anything, it wouldn’t have been one of those nasty lemon Tootsie Rolls. What kind of lame thief would steal a Tootsie Roll? The fact that they offered to help me out if I was that hungry was laughable too. I lived with my parents in a huge two story house where I was given everything I was ever wanted (including a walk in pantry with the shelves stocked to the ceiling with food). I couldn’t help but wonder if this was some sort of test. Were they really accusing me if stealing something so insignificant? Yes, yes they were. They were going to fire me over it.

After my brain implosion, I asked them when this all took place. They gave me the date, and I actually laughed through my tears. I remembered the day perfectly. I was working on the floor that day, in the dairy aisle. We were stocking the shelves, and I needed a knife to open the boxes. They were selling small knives as impulse items at the register, so I told the cashier that I was going to borrow one to open a few boxes, stuck my hand in the jar, and pulled out a small (tiny enough that my palm could conceal it) yellow knife . Once I was done with the boxes, I returned the knife back to the jar.

My managers seemed pretty convinced that this was a huge misunderstanding at that point, but I think my tears worked wonders with it as well. I managed to keep my job up until the day that it went out of business.

LJ Idolt Topic 5 Inconceivable

fading_light — Sun, 20 Nov 2011 04:30:23 GMT

"It will never happen to me."

How many times have you said this phrase to yourself after learning about a tragedy? I have said it countless of times. Each time, I can come up with a perfectly logical conclusion as to why it would never happen to me. Though, it doesn’t matter how logical the reason is, how different your life is, or how perfect your life is; The unthinkable can happen. Sadly, it took a tragedy to make me realize this. I suspect it is the same with other people too.

Four years ago, I had just began working at my current job. Independence Day was drawing near (one of my favorite holidays), so I decided I would try to fly down to Oklahoma for the holiday to spend time with my family. I had the actual holiday off, but my job wouldn’t give me a couple of extra days off. My plan was a bust, so I made different plants to watch fireworks at the park near my apartment. It was no where near as fun as blowing up my own fireworks (like I would have with my family), but it would do.

My weekend started without any problems. I don’t remember doing much of anything on July 3rd. I might have played a few video games, and then I went to bed at 6 a.m. on July 4th. Before I went to sleep that morning, I decided to check my phone to see if anyone had called me (no one ever calls me, but I check out of habit). Surprisingly, I had two missed calls. One call was from my mom, and the other was from my grandma. That was a little strange to me, so I checked my voice-mail. The moment I heard my mom’s trembling voice, I knew something was wrong.

I immediately called my mom. My heart was in my throat when she answered the phone in sobs. I wasn’t going to waste more time by saying your typical greeting, so I just asked her what was wrong. Between the sobs, she told me that my cousin Chris had died. That didn’t sound right, so I asked her to repeat herself. Once again, she said that my cousin Chris had died.

Honestly, I don’t remember the conversation after my mom told me that Chris had died. I was trying to wrap my thoughts around the idea that my cousin, who was three years younger than me, had died. It was inconceivable. It was so inconceivable that I actually had to force myself to cry. A part of me simply refused to believe he was dead.

Chris had always been a troublemaker, ever since he was a little boy. His family life wasn’t the greatest, so he acted out against everyone most of the time. Naturally, when he hit his teenage years, he started doing drugs. Shrooms, heroin, cocaine, and a whole slew of other drugs that I couldn’t name even if I wanted to. It was so bad in fact that I remember writing a poem to him telling him that if he kept following that path, it would end in heartache. He didn’t really start to realize how bad things were until he was put in jail.

During his jail time, he sobered up. He decided he wanted to clean up his act, so when he got out he went through the programs. Everyone was seeing a change in him. He was becoming an okay father to his little girl. He was reconnecting with his family (even me), and he was probably happier than he had been his entire life. He even had a steady girlfriend that was supporting him during his recovery process (she was actually going through recovery herself). Things were really starting to look up. His family had hope for him once again.

The morning of July 4th, Chris had a relapse. The story seems so cliché at first. Chris had a fight with his girlfriend, and he couldn’t handle the depression. He needed a little chemical help if he was to get through the depression, so he went to a friend’s house. They partied a little, and they started speed balling (shooting up a heroin and cocaine mixture). Afterwards, Chris blacked out. He all ready had an irregular heart in the first place, so there is no telling what doing drugs like this was doing to him. His friends didn’t know this though. All they knew was that they were in trouble. Instead of calling 911, they dragged his body out of the house and left him in the neighbor’s yard like yesterday’s trash. Once they were long gone from the scene, they called 911. By that point though, it was too late. Chris was gone.

Four years ago, I was someone that used to say that stuff like this would never happen to my family or me. I think this tale would have been less tragic if they had found the man that left Chris there to die in someone’s yard, but like a coward he fled. While I can’t say the inconceivable won’t happen to my family and me, there is still hope for the future in the shape of Chris’ little girl, Abigail.

LJ Idol Topic 3 Coprolite

fading_light — Sun, 06 Nov 2011 07:47:07 GMT

In 1987, on Halloween, I was five years old. I had just started kindergarten that August, so I was just getting use to the whole school thing. When I learned that I could wear a costume to school for Halloween, I was excited. My mom spent weeks (maybe months) making my costume, and I thought it was the best thing ever. I couldn’t wait to be the envy of everyone in my class when I walked into school as a dinosaur!

This costume was nothing more than a hand-made, emerald green, jump suit with a hood and tail. Bright yellow spikes were stuffed and sewed on the back from head to tail. It even had yellow stuffed paws that slipped over the hands and feet. Though, the moment my five year old self slipped into that costume, I was magically transformed into the most glorious stegosaurus (my favorite dinosaur).

My scales gleamed brightly in the autumn sunrise as I walked to the bus stop. My spikes were razor sharp; They were ready and waiting to defend me if such a time arose. A T. Rex wasn’t going to catch me off guard. Sadly, something did catch me off guard, but it wasn’t another dinosaur looking for a meal. It was the sliding doors on the bus. Apparently, the steps to get on the bus were too narrow for my tail, and it got caught as I turned the corner to sit down in the seats. There were a few snickers and grins, but I managed to wriggle out of the whole ordeal relatively unharmed. Despite the slight mishap on the bus, the rest of the morning went smoothly (though sadly there wasn‘t a costume contest).

Even though I was looking forward to wearing my costume to school, I was even more excited about trick or treating in my grandma’s neighborhood that night. The idea of getting piles upon piles of candy from a bunch of old people was thrilling. Plus, it was always a special treat to visit grandma. I knew she would gush affection upon me because I was her sweet little angel (well dinosaur ).

My mom, cousins, and a couple of aunts started our quest for candy just as it was turning dark and cold on that Halloween night. Old people at their doors exclaimed happily upon seeing me as a dinosaur. I swear a couple of them placed just a tad bit more candy in my bag than they did my cousins. My costume was just that great, after all.

It was towards the end of the night, and we were all getting tired. We stopped off at one more house before walking back to grandma’s house to sort our candy (to make sure it was safe). An older woman opened the door, and like everyone else exclaimed happily upon seeing me. She didn’t have a clue as to what I actually was though.

"What are you, my dear? An alligator?"

Alligator?! The woman must have been blind. Could she not see my shining scales or the pointy spikes on my tail? Could she not see my massive feet and hands? I was insulted. I was a peaceful dinosaur though, so I sweetly told her what I was. She laughed in delight, and called her husband to the door to show him the costume. I think he gave a noncommittal grunt, as if he was annoyed that his old woman made him get up from his comfy chair while he was watching the game just to see some stupid kid in a costume.

Despite my tail getting stuck in the bus door, and some old woman thinking I was an alligator, I had a great time that evening. I scored a ton of candy, but most importantly I got to be a dinosaur for a day. Not many kids can say that.

(The epic dinosaur! Okay, so I might not have been epic, but I was adorable.).

LJ Idol Topic 2 Three Little Words

fading_light — Mon, 31 Oct 2011 01:19:00 GMT

Have you ever felt the urge to yank all of your hair out by the roots? Do you have days where all you want to do is scream as loud as you can to the heavens until you have nothing left? Does a part of you wish you could wrap your hands around someone’s throat and shake all of the stupid out of them? If you answered yes to all of these questions, then you have an idea what it is like to work at my job.

There are all sorts of customer service jobs out in the world. I have experience in quite a few of them such as Wal-Mart, Waldenbooks, Macy’s, and ACS (a Verizon Wireless call center). None of them even remotely come close to the experience of working in a casino. There is something about mixing money, gambling, and alcohol together that apparently forces customers to completely lose their minds. It can only be described as pure chaos. I never know what I’m walking into.

When I was hired for this job, the woman that interviewed me made the job sound pretty simple. I was to walk around the casino floor for eight hours simply selling slot tickets, giving out change, and fixing slot machines. A trained monkey could probably do the job. They spent three days training me, and then I was set free to do my job.

My first experience with a crazy customer had to be a stinky, overweight, middle-aged man. He was wearing what can only be described as redneck overalls and a blue t-shirt. Casually, he walked up to me as I was trying to pass by and he put his arm around me. My body tensed from this complete stranger’s touch, but he didn’t seem to notice. Slowly, he leaned in to the point where I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and he gave me the sloppiest kiss on the cheek that I have ever received. After professing his undying love to me, he then proceeded to complain about how badly he was losing. I remember asking myself why I was there after that encounter.

Customers aren’t the only ones that make me want to strangle someone. Co-workers, management, and Human Resources play a large part in my murderous thoughts. The people in management are the ones that forced me to work graveyard. The people in Human Resources are the ones that won‘t give me a promotion despite my qualifications. My co-workers ignore customers, refuse to help other co-workers that they don‘t like, and gossip more than teenage girls in high school. It is in these moments, with these people, that I am reminded of lyrics from a song; Breathe, just breathe.