Excerpt from Armchair Detective

Excerpt from Armchair Detective, by yours truly
available on Amazon.

I had the prepaid cell phone on the seat beside me. Huxley had provided that so he could keep in touch with me, and in case I had some emergency and needed to call him. It was a source of embarrassment for me that I didn’t have something as fundamental as a cell phone, but Huxley seemed to understand, and displayed no judgment on it. Until now, I saw little reason to have one. Who would I call? I kept to myself and didn’t have any real friends here. 
     Next to the cell phone, lay the .45 caliber Ruger SP-101. The gun was not for shooting anyone, necessarily, but for self-defense, or leverage to get out of any sticky situation that might arise. I wasn’t afraid of guns; I was quite good at handling them and hitting targets. I used to have a bumper sticker that read, Guns don’t kill people, People kill people. I hoped that no people would kill other people tonight. 
     Yawning and stretching for the umpteenth time, I frowned down into the too-expensive cardboard cup with the well-known logo. The too-expensive coffee that had been in it was now cold. I grunted into the dark liquid, rolling down the window to catch some air. Though balmy, as if August wasn’t sure it wanted to be September, a cool breeze periodically felt like Freon on my skin; something I was not used to in the pre-air conditioning era of the Falcon. I sucked on my eCig, and watched the wind catch a wayward cheeseburger wrapper and propel it through the parking garage as I worked at the knot in my neck. 
     What was taking so long? Were we being stood-up? Stacey’s goons might be toying with us. So this could all be for nothing. Or something could already be going awry, and that hundred bucks would seem less and less equitable.
     I could see that surveillance work was tedious. Anyone who would sit in a parked car for hours and drink expensive coffee, waiting for something that might never happen, was not in it for the excitement. That wasn’t the reason I wanted to take up the investigative vocation; though inexperienced, I did understand there was little glamor to be had, here. Hopefully not just the coffee. But the events of my near-past segued naturally into the job. I needed a source of income, and couldn’t risk doing anything I’d done before. Presumably, I was on my way to something that might release me from the tethers of the past. Still, it was my first case, and I felt a little naked. 
     I checked the layout in my head against the one in front of me. Second level, row C. I could see row A, near the elevator, about 50 yards in front of me and to my left. So where the hell is— 
     Just then, Huxley’s black Mercury Sable pulled into Row A and parked. Somewhere in the parking deck, I heard an engine start, and faint music playing, and soon, a silver Toyota 4Runner was moving toward Huxley’s car. Ah, the delivery boy. The SUV backed into the space beside the Sable. Its driver probably wanted to be able to make a quick exit if things got dicey.
     I dropped my eCig in the seat, and slid down, peeking over the dash at the blond man who leaned over to open the passenger door. Huxley got out, carrying the bank bag of cash, and got in, closing the door. I heard the music get louder when the door was open, and knew the guy must have kept his radio on in case Huxley intended to record anything.
     Using my binoculars, I got a good look at him. He wiped at his upper lip, his attention scampering around the garage, and I ducked when his gaze came my direction.
     It was too dark for him to see me, as I’d been careful to stay away from the lights that were mounted at infrequent intervals on concrete pillars and crossbeams. And I had taken a moment to stand on the roof of the Falcon and unscrew the light above the crossbeam over me. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances on this case for the same reason I parked my butt and read reference manuals for hours on end. The pain was worth the gain. Maybe.
     While I waited, I had an idea. Truly inspired. I removed the overhead bulb inside the Falcon and then my hand darted for the handle. I bumped my coffee in its holder on the door. The brown liquid splashed onto the top of my left Doc Marten, and ran into my sock. “Shit,” I growled, kneeing the door open quietly, and stepping out. Pushing the door closed firmly, I headed for the 4Runner in a crouch, periodically shaking my sodden foot in an effort to drain the spill. The glow from the lamps moved over me, bright, then dim, as I traveled between the cars, my attention momentarily snagged by the `66 Galaxie, waiting in all its antiquity for my adoring eyes as I passed by. I toyed with the image of the car with a new paint-job and some bodywork. The general population didn’t appreciate the value of these sturdy old behemoths; probably because they’ve never realized the true potential of a large back seat.
     I ducked lower to travel the expanse of the concrete wall behind the Toyota 4Runner, until I reached a spot directly behind it. Careful to time it so that I couldn’t be seen in the rearview, I hurdled the concrete wall and crept over to the passenger side tire, taking out the tire gauge. Placing the pin on the valve stem, I liberating the tire of its air. I knew he wouldn’t hear it closed up in that SUV with the radio on.
     Then I hurried back down to the bottom of the ramp and crossed over, and up the other side, hiding behind a concrete pillar, watching, and waiting.
     Momentarily, Huxley got out, carrying a manila envelope, got in his Sable, and drove out of the garage.
The blond man began to pull away too, but paused as he felt the flat tire. He put the 4Runner in park and got out, looking at the tires on his side, and then headed for the other side. Finding the flat, he cursed loudly, and retrieved the keys to open the hatch. As he moved to the rear of the vehicle, I got out and shuffled toward the SUV, my head down below the cars. Thankfully, he had left the driver’s door open. When he opened the hatch and peered in, I dashed over, leaned inside the cab and snatched the green zippered bank bag. Pretty easy so far.
     And it would have been the perfect ruse. But I have always had a strange intolerance for certain colognes, and I could smell the pungent odor of his, in the cab of the Toyota. In the inexplicable way that luck has a way of turning, I sensed a tickle in my nose, and before I could think about it, I sneezed.
     The blond man’s head popped out from behind the hatch, and our eyes met, his darting to the bank bag I held, and back up to my, no doubt, stunned expression.
     I launched into full-throttle retreat, first heading for the Falcon, but the last thing I needed was for him to be able to identify the car I was driving, and besides, I wouldn’t have had time to get in and drive away before he caught me. He was tall with long legs. Instead, I headed for the lower ramp, but he had jumped the wall and was running parallel to me, attempting to cut me off at the pass.
     Turning to check his location, I didn’t see the car fender until I rammed my knee into it. Cursing, I jerked away at the popping sound, freezing for a nanosecond, then scanning to my right and behind me at the hole in the side of the Oldsmobile. “Holy shit!”
     Looking back at him running up the incline, I saw that he held a pistol in front of him, and was firing as he ran. Several more shots whizzed past me.
     Recognizing the need to put something between me and that flying lead, I vaulted to the hood of the Olds’ in true Rockfordesque style, and rolled over, falling off the other side, landing hard upon the pavement near the front tire, the smell of oil assaulting my nose. A searing pain shot through my side, and with great chagrin I felt the re-injury of my ribs; they had finally healed, and now I might be back in walking-wounded status. I raised myself painfully and squinted into the early morning darkness at the Falcon: my only hope for escape.
     His advancing foot steps told me I was a clay pigeon, not yet airborne, but loaded in the trap machine, with a stranger’s finger on the release mechanism. I took as much breath as I could into my lungs in order to force myself to stand—the adrenaline dulling the pain in my side. I came up off the pavement and sprinted across the lot, my shoulder blades pulling together in anticipation of the bullets that would soon riddle me like the Delta 88. I was pretty sure the guy was using the type of pistol usually found on any given gang member. No one would think anything about a random shooting in this neighborhood. Gang initiations were common. Poor girl. She didn’t have a chance.
     I tried not to look at the Falcon as I ran past it. Instead I headed up the opposite ramp, on the far side of the matching concrete wall.
     Crouching there for a moment, I surveyed the area. An exit ramp was nearby, but I knew I wouldn’t make it with condition of my knee and ribs. My eyes darted to the large trash receptacle by the wall, in front of a big buttress. Please, God. I limped over, pried the lid off, and found just enough room in the garbage sack to nestle myself inside, and pull the lid back over me.
     This is a mistake. This won’t work. He’ll know I’m in here. Fuck! What was I thinking? Trying to breathe through my mouth as quietly as possible, I waited, my heart pounding so hard, I was sure it was vibrating the trash can.
     His foot steps got louder for a few seconds, and then stopped. I could hear him breathing. Cursing. He was so close. After an almost unbearable silence, I was jostled by the impact of his foot on the side of the receptacle. Oh shit. I’m dead. He knows.

Excerpt from Armchair Detective

A Rose By Any Other Color....

So, I had this date last night. First one I was excited about in a long time. It has been forever since I had this kind of immediate chemistry and I have never wanted so much to put my lips on that chemistry. (oh, you didn't know I was gay? well I am. Sapphist through-and-through. Take a breath and keep reading).

I cleaned my place for 8 hours. And then went to the store. While there, I got her a card that said, "Life is so busy. If i could have just five extra minutes each day..
(open the card) 
"I'd make out with you like crazy for five minutes." 
And then I bought 3 roses. Because they didn't sell them in bunches of ONE.

Now, I stood there in front of the flowers and thought about how they needed to provide a chart that tells you what the colors represent. Then i thought that if I didn't know all the secret rose-codes, maybe she wouldn't either. But still, i worried...i shouldn't get red ones, because that represents love, and I'm not in love with her....(it's just new and exciting, and I want her to know I'm romantic). And wasn't yellow friendship? I didn't want her to think i wanted to be her friend...(i do, but. you know.) And the white ones were what? purity?  I'm pure as the driven snow. And you know how pure snow is when it's driven....there were some salmon colored roses, so i chose those. Not quite love, but not platonic....

...but after i got home, picked them up to smell them (mmmm) and then looked at them again, in the light, and realized they were...what was it, hot pink? No, that was darker. Then it hit me. They were labia-colored.

So i don't know if that was Freudian. And I didn't know if she'd notice that color when I handed them to her, and think I was trying to get in her pants. I probably was, but I don't want her to think that.

A Rose By Any Other Color....

Held by Jell-O

This is forced blogging.

I am the forcer in that sentence. I am forcing myself to just type and see what comes out because the lack of writing is just so counter-intuitive and i fear it might have some adverse affect on my psyche.

I have been in a funk. A writeless funk. I haven't worked on any of my books in progress. I haven't even blogged. Not because i have writer's block--as I've said before, I don't suffer from writer's block, it suffers from me. This is about mood. I don't FEEL like it. I don't feel like writing. Or going out. And that momentarily devolved into not feeling like showering or being awake. Classic signs of depression. I'm familiar with it, as most overtly creative people seem to be. But i refuse to let it conquer me. I just let it bang on my helmet for a few weeks.

From that point, i went into this food-as-comfort routine, where i caught myself eating frequently, and sometimes too much, so that i have bouts with acid reflux and always wonder afterward why i just kept chewing and swallowing. Was it just something mindless to do? And i have this unusual craving for sweets. Probably my body's retarded idea of how to make me feel better. Sugar high. But I have been constantly staring into the 'fridge and cabinets, making short trips to the grocery at 3 a.m. only to find that one thing--that one bit of consumable energy that would make me feel better. Donuts. Cake. Ice cream. Comfort foods, all. Why aren't carrots and celery comforting?

I'm not an over-eater or binge eater by nature. I recognize it for what it is. An effort to find relief from this ho-hum gel that has been poured on my head. This ecto-plasmic goo from some other parallel universe that likes to punish Intellectual Creatives. I feel like I'm suspended in Jell-O. I can see out around me, but i can't move. And in some strange way, it feels good to just be held like that.

And i have been watching way too many episodes of Criminal Minds. Have grown very fond of the show, but it is, after all, a show about the underbelly of humanity. I used to go through times when i couldn't watch the news because it depressed me so much. How people are. How vicious the world can be, and all the humans in it. So i would avoid it, and feel better. But haven't i been making the same mistake with these serial - killer - crime - investigation type shows too? Maybe that's contributing to my melancholy. I should stop. Let's see, i only have about 20 more episodes on the DVR to go...

The underlying problem is good old-fashioned loneliness. I know that. And i know I'm doing what i can to fix it, but these things take time and money, and since the move, I've been the very quintessence of a hole-dweller. In the hole. It is very grave-like. This too shall pass. I know. But until it does, it sucks. And it's on the heels of prolonged isolation and loneliness from whence i came. I moved to solve this problem (among others). And now I'm smacked by the frost-bitten hand of reality. You can't open a pack of Instant Social Life Deluxe and just add water. It's a stew. Like a crock pot variety. It takes a long time and has to go through a process. And i keep taking the lid off and breathing the aroma and wishing it was done so I could enjoy it.

People suck. But i only say that because I've had an inordinate amount of sucky people cross my path. I can also say that people rock. I have great friends. I just miss them. I never get to be with them. Okay. Love sucks. No, not love. The lack of love. That's what sucks. That warm body next to mine. (And my cats don't count, here, though they do their best by following me around and lounging on me). The lack of intimacy and romantic sparks and connection. Of loving and being loved in a physical, I'm-here-and-I-matter-to-someone-way. But it needs to be someone who matters to me too.

That's the challenge. Finding someone who affects me that way, and then having the feeling be mutual. The hard part is that sheer absence of anyone I am really attracted to. The traits that seem to titillate my dopamine and oxytocin and other choice pleasure chemicals in my brain, seem like something only a paleontologist could find. I am holding on by my fingernails. And they are quite stubby. And bleeding.

But depression is boring. I don't like it and I don't like telling anyone about it. We all know what it is. But i just don't want it to define me. There are other, more pleasant definitions of me. I am only having trouble accessing those at the moment.

Maybe I should just relocate to Prozac Nation.

Held by Jell-O

Shamelessly Stolen Meme Survey

Your ex calls wanting to hangout, what do you say?

By ex, i will assume you mean, ones I had a relationship with for longer than a year. Depends on who it is. Although, I have to say there are few with whom i would like to hang out...maybe the first one, but don't see her calling after all these years...I quite thoroughly broke her heart...but i would hang out with her if she did call....and the 4th one...the one who started as girlfriend, and wound up being my best friend.

What do you think about sex before marriage?

This is fast becoming a stance embraced by only ultra conservative fundies who think that purity is more important than sound long-term decision making....While I appreciate the value of getting to know someone on the levels OTHER than sexual, I'm of the mind that you don't buy a car until you test-drive it. Sexual compatibility is CRUCIAL to the health of a relationship. As long as everyone is being safe, I'm all for the lovemaking without commitment. And the wild monkey sex, of course. That's always fun.

Remember the first time you kissed the last person you kissed?

NO. And i wish I had never opened up that can of worms. Isn't that a pleasant image? kissing, and worms? That might be a great line for a gangster movie: "Hand over the money, or you'll be kissing worms."

Did your last kiss take place on a bed?

Yes. Because I have a sneeby foamy bed that sucks people in. It's sort of like the Hotel California Bed. Women check in but they don't check out. With or without dark desert highways & cool wind in my hair.

Do you think the last person you kissed cares for you?

No, i think she just wanted a Free Ride on a Lesbian. That's not okay with me anymore. No more free rides. You have to FIRST be a lesbian, or I'm not letting your lips anywhere near me.

Could you go for the rest of your life without drinking alcohol?

 I'd miss it, but it's not crucial to my happiness. I just know this is a moot point, since drinking has never been an issue for me, so I won't need to make a choice to stop it.

You think anyone's thinking about you right now?

I'd like to think that several people are thinking of me occasionally. But only good thoughts. Though that might be too much to hope for, since I've coupled worms and kissing, cut off the free-riders and don't have a drinking problem.

What are some things that you have to have everywhere you go?

Electronic cigarette, Sunglasses, Coach purse (with its contents), keys, iPhone.

Is it usually easy for someone to make you smile?

Not just anyone. Wit and sarcasm are big smile-makers with me. Or sweetness.

Is your room ever clean?

Do most people only have "rooms"? Um...it is usually tidy enough for me, but completely presentable if someone might see it...hard to say..I feel i have been living in a storage room for the last few months. Only now assessing what i will need to do to actually create "decor." But i PREFER tidy and organized. I just have to choose between that and some other priorities sometimes. Anyone who knows me knows that the two most important rooms to keep clean at all times is the bathroom and the kitchen.

How often do you give out second chances?

Often, it depends on the nature and severity of the thing....While some things i feel are immediately unforgivable, If i feel the person is genuinely sorry for whatever other transgression they perpetrated, and, perhaps more importantly, they UNDERSTAND why it was not acceptable, then yes. But not endlessly. I can put up with a lot if i feel someone is being real. But ask anyone who knows me and they will tell you that if this is a repeat performance for too long, I get out my big eraser. My energy is better spent on other things and people that are beneficial to my well-being.

Is there anyone you wish you could be spending time with right now?

Yes. My closest friends, who are now far away, ironically.

If you could change your eye color would you?

No. I like having gray eyes. But they are sensitive to light. Still,no complaints about them. Ask me if there's anything else i would change about my physical self, and you'll get a list.

Would you ever get your nipples pierced?

uh--NO. Why would I do something voluntarily that has historically been used as a torture method?

Did you sleep alone last night?

I don't really have a "last night"--I have a sleep disorder (DSPS) and sometimes it's been in 4 hour increments, when i feel myself crashing...and yes, i slept alone, unless you count my cats. I hope that paradigm changes REALLY soon. I'm kind of tired of having that empty space on the other side of my bed.

Has a boy/girl ever called you babe/baby?

Sure. It seems to be reserved for romantic partners, though. I am always open to some new endearment, though. I have a favorite, and hope to hear it in the near future. This one tends to melt me. But you can't ever tell someone you like it because then they won't be genuine, and it would be only to ply you or please you...though plying and pleasing isn't something I ever AVOID....it just means more if it's spontaneous.

What would you say if you found out your last ex was in a relationship?

Already happened. I thought the transfer of LOVE was a little fast from me to the other. Especially after she said it was going to take such a long time to get over me. Pffft!

Was your last kiss with the opposite or same gender?

Same. I don't kiss boys. Unless you give me a million dollars. Then i will kiss a boy. Maybe twice for that price. Okay, I'd probably do quite a bit more with him for that million dollars. Hey, I've given it away for FREE so many times. Why not get rich off it? ;^)

What do you need?

Good health, quality friends, purposeful & enriching activities, my perfect lifemate, and to live for about 300 years. (DO any of you know a guy named Vlad?)

Will you cry at your wedding?

"at" or "after"? LOL. I probably will. I cried at my first one. And after, too. If I fall in love again, i probably will want to get "unionized" again.

Do you think relationships are even worth it?

Of course. Humans are social beings. We don't do well alone. That's hard-wired into our brains.

Have you ever fallen asleep with the last person you kissed?

No. That's something i will avoid in the future as well. hopefully, if I'll kiss them, I'll want to sleep with them too (pun intended and double entendre intentional). My bff says that there are people she would have sex with before she would sleep with, because that would be way too much trust to give to someone new. You're awake while having sex (presumably). Asleep, you're all kinds of vulnerable.

Six months ago, did you like someone?

Not in the way this question intimates. Not...um..intimately. The dating pool around there needed chlorine.

Is tomorrow going to be a good day?

What am I, psychic?

Last movie you saw in theaters?

The Proposal, with CandaceW. But only saw it ONCE. In only ONE theater.

Ever dated a blond-haired, blue-eyed person?

Yes.

Are you afraid of roller coasters?

I'm not afraid of them, in the sense that they can come after me while I'm sleeping....but I am a little phobic about heights and that sensation that I am HELPLESS and ABOUT TO DIE.

How's your best friend?

My oldest best friend, or my new best friend? Although my first best friend is younger than my new one. But i love them both--the 1st best friend (who's younger, but older in my life) is in love and starting a new relationship and I am so happy for her because she deserves that so much!!! She's the best friend anyone could ever hope for. My younger best friend, who is chronologically older--my age--is just like me, so I can't say she's happy-go-lucky, but she certainly is a kindred and someone i love to communicate with.

Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos?

Oddly, I've decided to use that fading process on two of my tats and get more appropriate ones put on top of them.

What was the last thing you hid?

An extra key.

If you could spend more time with someone you used to be very close with, would you?

Obviously, depends on who. I don't have very many people from the past I care to spend time with--that's why they are in my past...except for the usual ones who drift naturally as their lives take them elsewhere...but i don't consider them "in the past" just less present. I'd like to live closer to my best friend, and hopefully it won't be long before she's in CO too and we can live within a few minutes of each other again. And I would also love to have Tanya nearby, as I need her, since she's so much like me, and we "get" each other.

Is there someone you will never forget?

I guess not, because i can't think of anyone. Notice the Irony.

Are you good at making new friends?

Yes, but that's a loaded question. Building a friendship is a mutual endeavor, and first, you have to be compatible enough to do that, and second, both agree that you wish to build it. I'm not big on casual acquaintances. Its sucks time and energy out of my life i need for my work, and the other people who have proven themselves quality individuals in my life. I'd rather give that energy and time to THEM.

What's on your mind?

Those books I need to finish edits on, the books i need to finish writing, my headache, how i sometimes have to spend a lot of energy resisting depression, how I could never survive without all my senses, how much i miss intimacy with someone special, how lonely i still am, how impatient i am, the threat of nuclear annihilation by some religious nut, how hard it is to be me in this world, the upcoming holiday alone (again), how much i seem to need books and television to get me out of my own head, my personal cosmology, that I'm still a pariah and probably always will be, how easy it is to become a target for various life-bullets, the reiteration that life isn't fair, that i won't live long enough to do and be and have and experience and learn everything i want to, that education is the key to most things, the fear that i won't ever find the woman of my dreams, the fear of growing old alone, and how much i love my morning coffee.

Do you know anyone that smokes weed?

Not anyone who is in my company...while I know one or two that do, but not frequently, I've found that most regular pot smokers are unmotivated, lethargic, and not very realistic. I don't enjoy hanging out with those types, so....but i really try to avoid it for practical and personal reasons because i don't want my car impounded and to go to jail for something they have in their pocket. I have an unnatural fear of strip searches, and large butch women with tattoos who want to do unspeakable things. I do feel that as long as alcohol is legal, marijuana should be too.

Are you mad at anyone?

Not mad, but chagrined by most people.

Who was the last person to text you before you went to bed?

This sort of assumes that we all get many texts before bed, doesn't it? The last text i got was from Tanya.

What does your last text say?

"How's your birthday been so far?"

Do you love that person?

yes i do.

Are you listening to anything?

The sound of my humidifier, and Pachelbel in the CD player

Would you ever take someone back if they cheated on you?

Normally, no. It's almost impossible to regain that kind of trust, once lost. But I am confident that there would be no reason for a woman to cheat on me. If I'm committed to someone, I make sure her needs are met and that she feels loved and respected. If she cheats, it signifies her inability to either be honest, communicate clearly, be monogamous, or any combination of the three.

Do you hate it when you go over to someone's house and do absolutely nothing?

Define "do absolutely nothing"--if that means sit motionless and stare at the wall, then yes i would hate that. But if you mean, no plans, No. If I'm going to someone's house, it implies i enjoy their company. Which means there are all kinds of ways to enjoy that time. I can talk with someone for hours. We can watch TV or a movie. Whatever. Depends on what interests we share. If that person needs me there for some reason, but can't give me any attention, then that would be okay, too, if it was important to them. I have a rich inner life, and am self-entertaining.

Do you know what it's like to be truly happy?

I don't think so. Only for short periods in my life, and maybe only during one segment of my life when i was in love and performing in my band. That was about 12 years ago. But I'm headed that direction, now, hopefully. I am happier right now, than perhaps I have ever been, just because i know I'm in a better position to realize my goals. But nothing has magically shifted into place just yet. Patience is a virtue i tend to slap around.

Do you have trust issues?

Define "issues" in this context. I don't give my full trust freely. Others must prove they are worthy of trust before they get it. This does not, however, mean I am not open. See Show and Tell blog post.

Does anyone disgust you?

Bill O'Reilly, Ann Colter, Rush Limbaugh, Religious fanatics in general, the crude and ignorant, those who drink and drive, drug-users, liars, cheats, pedophiles, rapists, and those who are cruel to animals and children. Is that enough?

Has anything happened to you within the past month that has made you really angry?

Not angry...maybe perturbed, irritated, or frustrated.

Have you ever slow danced with someone?

Of course. But not in a very long time. I hope that will change soon, too. Slow dancing is so romantical.

When was the last time you laughed really hard?

When i was talking to Tanya on the phone. She and I always laugh a lot.

Do your parents force you to go to church?

Parents? who said I had parents? And even if i did--NO ONE forces me to do anything--especially not GO TO CHURCH.

Do you get along with girls?

I'd better, since I'm a lesbian. What a dilemma that would be:

"Okay get out of my bed and get dressed and go home."

"What the fuck? What's wrong with you? We just had sex!"

"Yes, but I just don't get along with girls."

How long do you have until your birthday?

OMG. I don't want to think about it. a little over 3 months. I hope to have found that eternal youth elixir by then. 'm already starting to lie about my age. And i suspect that's more about fooling myself, than anyone else.

Who did you last talk to in person?

A woman on a date... No, wait. The clerk at King Soopers. No, wait. The girl at the tanning bed reservation desk at the office. No wait...the lady in the science aisle at the library. I've been more social since moving, though still mostly superficial. Hopefully that will improve. Still better than in the last 5 years. Justi used to say that the only way i could find a gf was if she was the UPS driver.

Do you want your tongue pierced?

NOT if you paid me. it's a true health hazard. Bacteria grows in those things, and you can pass all kinds of stuff to other people. And frankly, the alleged sexual benefits are minuscule if not non-existent. It's not about your hardware, in that sense, but your software. And how well you know how to use it.

Are there any bruises on your body?

Usually always, somewhere, though the completed moving process has alleviated most of that.

How late did you stay up last night and why?

I went to sleep around 7:30 this morning and woke up at 12:50 when Justi called. I'm usually up all night because i have trouble going to sleep.

Are you alright?

That's not a word. It's not like "altogether" or "already." It's All right. But that's just me. I'm a writer and an editor. These things concern me to perhaps a larger degree than is healthy or personable. And to answer the implicated question...I am better than ever. And a great joy to know, as this response will undoubtedly show you.

Has anybody ever told you that you have pretty eyes?

Yes. Except when i had thyroid eye disease. Then it was "Did you know that your right eye is, like, about to pop out of your head?" And this person is my best friend.

When's the next time you'll see one of your closest friends?

I have no idea. Maybe never. Depends on whether they visit or move here, as hoped.

What are you doing tomorrow?

Oh, let me check my daybook....um...personal business and paperwork to get my tax return finally; returning some library books, mailing birthday and holiday gifts, and a broken e-pipe for replacement, trying to get a VIN verification so I can get my tags, reading, writing, listening to audiobook, and Television and a frozen dinner. I'll heat it up, though.

What are you doing after this?

Maybe Sleeping. Maybe more moping around with this headache. Definitely more medication/supplements.

Do you like winter?

Love love LOVE it. Fall, even better, But winter! love it. I love snow, and cool weather and fireplaces and cuddling....sigh. I hate hot weather with the red hot burning passion of a thousand suns.

What's something you can't wait for?

Obviously, if you've been paying attention: having a social circle, and more dates. And kissing. And sex. I miss sex. I hope i remember how to do it. And finding my dream woman. Or a reasonable facsimile thereof.

When is the next time you will kiss someone?

again, not psychic. Hopefully soon. Because i don't kiss someone unless I'm attracted. And so that would mean I hope i kiss someone soon.

You're thinking about someone, aren't you?

Yes. And shouldn't be.

Have you ever been in love?

Once, madly. And got my heart ripped out of my chest and handed back to me....so i swore I'd never be that vulnerable again. But now I would welcome that. The vulnerable and the love, not the heart-ripping. A human being can only go so long without love. No matter what the risks are.

============================================

COMMENTS ·

Tina Stille, Candace Lynn Breaux and Denise Edwards Boyette like this.

Denise Edwards Boyette

this is deep

Jae Baeli

don't you have water-wings?

Tammy Johnson

Amen sister.......just think my luck has changed your luck has changed........it's about time....

Brian Cunningham

Wow! Feels like you told me your entire life story here! I'm very impressed Jae!

Jae Baeli

I know, Veep--it's been so long since either of us has felt this way about our lives...

And Brian...this is only the tip of the Jae iceberg--how disturbing a thought is that??? hehe. (Thank you !)

Brian Cunningham

Well, I can see that you have had, and STILL have, a very exciting and fulfilling life!

Jae Baeli

well i'm not sure it's been either of those things--has it? i must consult with my peeps and get back to you.

Brian Cunningham

That's how I read all of your answers! Very impressive.

Tanya Gotcher

I love your honesty and authenticity. So hard to find people who are willing to be real in this world. And, as usual, as I read your responses, I often find myself thinking, "exactly". LOL!

Jae Baeli

Wow i am getting so much love and validation lately!!! what is happening??????? hehe.

Thank you Brian. I appreciate your attentiveness and respect. It feels wonderful.

..and Tan, again, thank you. So great to have a kindred. I do that with your answers too. Just wish we could actually hang out once in a while, but alas--I'll be even farther away now....but love to you.

Shamelessly Stolen Meme Survey

Beware of Peruvian Fat Smugglers

Fat People the Target of Gang Murders in Peru; Fat Sold on Black Market | Cleveland Leader

Source: clevelandleader.com

If you are the slightest bit pudgy, you may want to reconsider that trip to Peru. Peruvian police have captured several members of a remote jungle gang that kills people for their fat. The fat is then reportedly sold on the black market for use in cosmetics.

Does anyone else see the irony here? Bandits kill people for their fat--a symbol of ugliness--and use it for makeup--a product in the beauty industry...

If they ever expand this organization (pun intended) to the US, they'll make more money than Warren Buffet. (And I'm sure the fast food industry will underwrite their efforts). I'm going for my walk now. Twice.

Afterthought...it's disconcerting that they feel they actually have to KILL someone to get their fat. I mean, don't they ever watch Nip/Tuck? Liposuction is way more humane.

Beware of Peruvian Fat Smugglers

Train Wrecks & Other Human Tragedies

In a previous post, I let my insecurities get the best of me, regarding meeting someone new, and being afraid i might have presented myself poorly....and the irony was, that the woman called and asked me out that night. 

But the date turned into a major train wreck. What i discovered, was that I had a completely erroneous idea of who she was. Turns out she has some serious problems, and is an alcoholic. She drank to the point where she passed out, and I had to put her to bed and go home. It gave me some perspective i sorely needed. Whenever i worry that i might be a little intense for some people, they always reassure me with more profound shortcomings, that make me happy to accept my own.

At her house, she insisted that we were going to be friends for life, and that she was going to "take care of me." I wasn't aware that i needed care. I told her so. And she professed her undying trust in me and then said "You trust me, too, now, right?" 


I said, "No I don't. I don't know you well enough yet. I don't trust anyone until they prove they can be trusted. At the same time, i can be open and friendly and have a good time. But you do not get my trust until you earn it."

"Wow, really?"

"You don't know me. I could be a serial killer."

"Oh, but i know you're not. I know you are very special."

"Well great. But it's a little soon for you to be making pledges to me."

She spent the entire night trying to get me not to leave, but insisted it was because i didn't need to drive since i had had some wine. This was laughable, because I was under the legal limit, as always, and she was BLOTTO (Probably as always). She couldn't even admit to herself (much less to me) that she wanted me to stay because of other reasons. Not even when i gave her permission to just be honest about it. No, it was *ME* who didn't need to drive. I was the one with the problem. There are many psychological terms for that tactic.

So tonight, as if I needed another example of the damaged people among us, i have another experience that illustrates how people are just people, and I'm simply too hard on myself. A previous friend of mine asked why I responded in a certain way to some things she said, and i admitted that i had gotten triggered by our past experience with each other and that i had felt betrayed by her. She met my honesty and vulnerability with the knife of caustic self- righteousness. 

Now my readers know that I'm so careful to be ethical and deliberate in my actions. But to reveal yourself so openly and honestly in conversation, on a blog, or in books, or in music, as I do, is to set yourself up for some heartache. People can use that stuff against you, while climbing on their high horse to ride away, having felt better about themselves after they twist the truth so that they can place themselves in a good light, and superimpose their own garbage onto you. And they'll do it every time, even when they say they won't.

I don't know what this tendency is about--this pattern i have noticed in those who screw it up so profoundly, and then slap you in the face for trying to help or be their friend, by practicing a little revisionist history. And suddenly, I'm the bad guy. As I've said many times, "You're only responsible for being honest, not for someone else's reaction to your honesty."

But it's still disheartening...How people can be vicious by using your weaknesses against you, when they don't like what they're hearing. And how they think they know who you are, when really, they only know who they need you to be, to make themselves feel better. How they can turn a vulnerable moment or a difficult challenge into the proof to convict you--proof they planted on the scene just like a crooked cop. 

Train Wrecks & Other Human Tragedies

Footie Pajamas in the Street

I just came back from my daily walk, and had one of those rare visceral experiences that remind me why I look at most parents these days with disgust.

Across the street ahead, i saw a little yellow flash and then saw that it was a child. She was wearing yellow footie pajamas and had blond hair and a dirty face. Cute as could be. Not more than two years old.But then I noticed she was out on the sidewalk by herself.

And then i noticed she was walking into the street. Alone.

And then i turned and saw the car coming around the corner.

I sprinted into the street, hoping like hell the car would see me in time. I was a bigger target than that little girl. I scooped her up into my arms and hopped onto the curb to the sound of screeching brakes. Relieved, that's when my heart began to pound.

"Where's your mommy?" I asked her.

She pointed.

Mommy  lifted her head out of the open door of a car in the nearby parking lot. She saw me walking toward her, carrying the little girl.

"Oh my god!" she said. "I thought you were right behind me." She came around the car.

I put the child down and said, "Well, she wasn't. She was in the street. She nearly got hit."

I could see that she knew I wanted to pop her in the mouth. Or better yet, call child protective services.

She thanked me profusely and I continued my walk, feeling the awful might-have-been tragic fantasy developing in my head. My daily walk has now taken on a whole new meaning. I will now be watching the streets for wandering toddlers with crappy parents.

Footie Pajamas in the Street

Id, Ego, Super-Ego & the Social Security Number

I slept fitfully all night. A pervasive anxiety crept through me until I began to fidget with restless legs. A couple of times I woke up feeling like I couldn't breathe. Like I was underwater and there was no surface in either direction. I didn't know if I was up or down....I only knew I was going to drown. (Song Lyric alert).

Lest anyone think me too self-possessed, I will admit that what tossed me and turned me was not the plotting problems of my newest novel, but plain old insecurity. I went to sleep thinking about the phone conversation I had just had with someone new--worrying about the impression I might have inadvertently made on her--someone I am to meet soon, maybe this weekend. So there you are. Dear Readers, Jae is hand-wringing, afraid she might not be perceived as good enough.

Until just recently, I had been isolated for an extended period, and aside from mostly talking to my longtime friends on the phone, most of my time was spent in my own head and my own creative process. Though I have become quite comfortable talking to my cats, and to myself, it's not the same with other humans. It really is true, that when you become isolated too long, and everyone you talk to knows you like they know their own social security number, you UNlearn how to be with brand new people. And I for one, am having a "Number" done on me, about Social Security. And the beast who's doing a number on me is a component of my psyche. The Id portion of my brain makes me say things I probably shouldn't say, and the Super Ego eggs it on--I should start calling that the Super-EGGO.  And there's my Ego, being squished between them, endeavoring to inject a little restraint to the Id. (leggo my Eggo!) 

I am astute enough to understand that since I have so rarely been able to SHARE myself in any genuine way, and have been without the comfort of companionship and the machinations of social activity and acceptance, that i am hungry. Hungry for communication, hungry for company, hungry for acceptance, acknowledgment, hungry to be touched and loved.  As Shakespeare said, "That way madness lies." 

But at any rate, it then tortures me with those aforementioned "Social Security Numbers. " Like the ones that came into my mind during and after the phone call: She was really tired when she called and she told you that. But you kept talking, didn't you? You are too much for people. They think you're arrogant, maybe even selfish. You shouldn't have said all that stuff about rattling cages, and how much you like to do it. Do you have to say out loud every fucking thing that pops into your mind? No one cares! Now she thinks you're a trouble maker and you will embarrass her in public. Why can't you ever dial it back? No one wants to know your details. You can't ever just sit there and smile and be mysterious? You will never make friends or find a partner or even a date, because you don't know how to shut the fuck up.

That's pretty much the monologue going on in my head. I'm paranoid that I have given an incorrect and incomplete impression of myself, because I'm so accustomed to talking to people who not only know me, but understand me--and more importantly, have shown they completely accept me. i don't have to give them the backstory, because they already know it, and the assessments have been made, and I have been stamped ACCEPTED and invited on through the gate. 

But I can't go at it like that with new people in my life. I'll sabotage the whole thing. I get so excited to have people physically in my life again, that I overdo it. I try too hard to be worthy, and in so doing, and with irony, project unworthiness. Now, my Super-Ego starts spitting disgust at me that I am worthy and who gives a damn what anyone else thinks? And my Id laments that I will always be alone, and probably die that way. Where is my Ego? Maybe I need to start feeding that. There's such a negative connotation to Ego. Most people don't think of Freud's definition. They think ego=arrogance, pride. I know that in general neurological terms, the Ego is the residence of defense mechanisms and cognitive functions like memory, reason, judgment, tolerance, self-control, information processing, defenses, and people skills. If you accept Freud's model, then the Ego is the consciousness. The referee between the Id and the Super-Ego. 

Regardless, it all has its thick, dirty fingers around my throat.

It occurs to me that this problem should not have so much power to do damage. I mean, I survived and conquered being crippled, being  homeless and penniless, being friendless, familyless, and agoraphobic. And this little portion of my brain is going to take me down?

Maybe.

Id, Ego, Super-Ego & the Social Security Number

Gay marriage in the US and why it has not been legalized

There is, I believe, only one pertinent reason why gay marriage has not been legalized nationwide in America. It's because there is an inherent repulsion about it on the part of some straight people-usually the religious ones-who believe marriage should be between a man and a woman. This "institution" (rightfully named) is sacred to them, even though the historicity of marriage was predicated on the oppression of women through ownership. Marriage began as a way of allowing men to "own" women. If straight people want to cling to this bit of archaic tripe, I say let them have it.

Do other industrialized nations agree with the general American stance against gay marriage? It doesn't appear so. There is obvious trending toward legalization of gay marriage worldwide. Nations that have recognized this as a fundamental legal right are: South Africa, Netherlands, Belgium, Canada, Spain, Israel, Denmark, Sweden, Iceland, Finland, France, Germany, and Portugal. The Czech Republic, Slovenia, and Uruguay recognize partnerships; Croatia recently extended some rights for same-sex couples. New Zealand and Australia allows some of the more important rights, such as immigration and inheritance. The Taiwan government put forth a bill for same sex marriage; Brazil, Argentina, Italy, and Switzerland allowed the extension of economic and legal rights for same-sex couples, and Mexico City has become the first in that country to recognize gay civil unions, and the UK has a domestic partnership in effect. Obviously, America had fallen way behind in their respect for the rights of gay people.

America is also the only industrialized nation to have a majority adhere to monotheistic religions. Coincidence? I don't think so. Religion has played a role throughout history in the oppression and dismissal of those deemed "lesser." One has only to read about religious wars or Hitler's Germany, to know this.

Opponents will repeat the refrain that marriage is a sacred institution (Would that be "Our Holy Lady of Lunatics"?). Why all the fuss about that? A relationship is made sacred only by the two people involved, not by some prescribed piece of paper sanctioned by the state. As a gay woman, I am not concerned with sacred institutions. What concerns me is what should concern all gay people, and what is at the root of the issue; namely, that gay people should be able to commit to each other and enjoy the same benefits, rights and allowances that married people do.

My solution is simple. Don't call it marriage. Call it Civil union, or Domestic Partnership. But give those domestic partners the right to file joint tax returns, the right to have power of attorney, the right to visit and remain by the side of a sick or terminally ill partner, and to make decisions about their care and wishes, the right to adopt children, the right to inheritance from a partner, the right to equality in jobs and job benefits. Then the precious sanctity of marriage will go unscathed. If it is true, what the objectors say about why they don't think it's right for gay people to get married, then the problem is solved by creating Domestic Partnership as an equally beneficial alternative to marriage. If the objectors then scream and protest, that would mean their reasons were not about the defilement of something they held sacred, it would mean their reasons were about plain old prejudice, ignorance, oppression, and hatred. And should that situation arise after the legalization of Domestic Partnerships, those protesters would be revealed for the selfish, dispassionate people they are.

Gay marriage in the US and why it has not been legalized

Self-Educators, Unite!

I have this underlying aggravation about the red-headed step-child of education. No, I'm not talking about a befreckled child, literally. I'm talking about self-education. In our modern Internet era, it is much easier to find information--some of it is crap, that's a given. But if you're smart enough to know where to look, and how to find the accurate data, you can learn almost anything. Thus, i feel the educational establishment should start recognizing self-educated people by offering a test-out option on all college and university websites.

 

Take me, for example. I had 8 years of college, for a degree in Professional Writing & Editing, but I am voracious about learning in many other disciplines, and I feel a little cheated that my pocketbook keeps me from verifying what I've learned with a piece of paper from a reputable Institution of Higher Learning. As an author with 13 books in print, I am often unfairly penalized for not having enough letters behind my name to be taken seriously, though I feel I am just as qualified to write about certain topics, through my own self-education. In my mind, if I am capable of taking a sort of CLEP test for Life Experience or self-motivated learning, and passing that test, I ought to be able to get some kind of certification representing that, and without having to take out a second mortgage.

I'm just sayin'.

Self-Educators, Unite!