27 July 2009

Bettered by a Dead Crustacean


A new Chinese restaurant opened up on Holiday Island, and they served all you can eat crab legs.
So my best friend, Justi, thought of me (bless her). I went down to have the last of two visits with her before i move. I love crab legs, but rarely find it all-you-can-eat for around $12.

So I was all about it.

Problem is, I usually get hurt.

Is it just me, or do you really feel like you've earned it when you get that delicious meat out of the shell? I am usually bleeding before I'm done. I know the picture doesn't look all that bad, but that was 5 days after the injury. A crab-cut hurts like hell when it's in the fold of your finger. Got one on my thumb too. It did cause me some consternation that I was bettered by a dead crustacean, but I guess I'll get over it.

But the process hearkens back to the old days when people had to get their food from the source. It's the closest I'll come to hunting, i suppose. You'll notice in the photo that it takes two big strong, color-coordinated men to hold this crab. I don't feel so fragile, now. (And I bet they were embarrassed when they showed up for work wearing the same outfit).

Crabs are arthropods, which means they have segmented appendages. I guess I'm an arthropod,
t
oo, then. I got the cut in one of the creases of my appendage.

Crabs are also decapods, meaning that have ten legs. I am not a decopod, though that might be
fun....(now I'll probably have a nightmare tonight. Me, with ten legs, running down the street screaming that my appendages are bleeding...) Anyway...

Crabs are also crustaceans, and I am not a crustacean, either....I can't imagine having an exoskeleton. How would you like to have your skeleton on the outside instead of the inside? I suppose it would be easier to spot a broken bone. But...really quite strange when you think about it.

Worldwide, humans eat over one and a half million tons of crab. Two or three ounces of crab meat will supply a whole days' worth of vitamin B-12



I wonder who was the first person to look at the bony, spidery, horror-movie-type creature and think,

"Man I bet that tastes good" ?

I mean really.

Even crazier, is the fact that I have a healthy repulsion and fear of spiders.

And crab--they look like spiders.

And YET...

I EAT THEIR LEGS
and go nom nom nom.

How sick is that?


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22 July 2009

Turn, Turn Turn: UnAbridged But Edited


Okay, so i made a change to the signature portion of the document in question.

As i said on Facebook, perhaps this will allay the fears of the Ex and her minions.






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Turn Turn, Turn: the Phantom Ex


Okay, again, my heart is pounding, and again, I am off balance, trying to sooth my trembling hands...

I'm not one to go around asking for advice. I'm usually only giving it, but i just might need some insight from my Facebook friends. I just found a message on my phone from.....GUESS WHO?

The Ex. The one who wrote that inscription to me, and the the one
that I suppose is at the root of all this crap with Becky Haynes. It's surprisingly nerve-wracking to hear the voice of a person you were in love with over a decade ago. Surreal. (And after that long, still having any reaction at ALL--what's that about?).

She was perfectly civil. This is what she said:


"Hey Kelli
this is Tammy. I understand you posted some personal letter or card or something from me on your Facebook page. I would appreciate it if you would remove that, it was never intended for the whole world to see, and I don't really appreciate that, and i wish you would remove that, and anything else like that. Thanks."

Okay, first, obviously, she hasn't seen it. Because she didn't seem to know just what was posted.


Second, she obliviously doesn't know much about Facebook, or she'd know that it was not "For the w
hole world to see"--it was only seen by those on my Friend's List, of which Becky was a part, and this is the only reason it got back to her.

Third, what the hell about it is so personal? --That it reveals that someone named Tammy had a relationship with me 12 years ago, and at least one time, she wrote something cute and affectionate in side the cover of a book she gave me?


Oh HORRORS. What will all those BILLIONS of people think of her?

Seriously, why would she care? I asked myself that question yesterday. If the shoe we
re on the other foot, would i care that she posted an inscription JUST LIKE THAT, from me, on her Facebook? Um, NO. Why would I?

Even if I acknowledged that people have differing views of what is "private", especially in today's wide-open technology environment,
respecting some dubious infringement on that privacy seems to be predicated on whether i should care, in relation to this person.

This is the person who managed to push me out of BOTH of my bands, and summarily took away my biggest dreams. Now, understand, i was the principal songwriter, lead singer, booking agent, publicist, bought the equipment on MY CREDIT, carried it all in MY van, which got trashed, and never got any compensation for any of it. Not even GAS MONEY.

This is the person who abandoned our first b
and and bandmates, without giving them an explanation, though I begged her to--and in so doing, also crushed THEIR dreams.

In fairness, she had just lost her younger brother and was grieving. So I was afraid to do anything BUT be supportive. Ultimately, though, I was too in love with her to stand up and say, "If you don't explain it to them, I will." So i went along with it,
because i was supporting my partner in her needs.

Then she wanted to start a new project, and I didn't understand, because i thought she wanted to be away from the music for a while. Again, another misjudgment I made by going along with that. But a
fter we broke up partway into that second project, I had to keep playing music with her while she was being cruel and hateful to me. She would place the other member between me and her on stage, (there were only three of us, it was an acoustic trio), and they would start songs without telling me what they were, and do songs i didn't even know, and I was the Lead Singer.

How many times have you seen the lead singer off to one side, while the backup singer and guitarists were clumped together on the other? There's a reason why the stage configuration is the way it is....So then that meant the other singer could sing all these songs SHE knew and I was left over on one side, trying to figure out what was going on. It felt awful.

I had to watch them leave shows, and go off together to talk about the experience, while I went
home alone WITH THE EQUIPMENT, which i usually had to unload myself.

Finally, with visions of throwing myself in front of a train, I had to walk away from that dream, too. I contacted both of my previous bandmates and I offered an apology for what happened before with the first band; I told them both i had been a spineless ninny, and that they didn't deserve that. I asked for their forgiveness and they both gave it and said they understood.

Since then, my Ex has apparently amassed some kind of musical posse from that past to collectively ignore and hate me. Everyone in that circle of people has discarded me like so much dryer lint. There are all kinds of examples, but I'd rather not resurrect any more of that crap from the past, than i have already done here, by way of explanation.

The point is, this person (The Ex) has never given me any reason to respect ANYTHING she might want. She never showed any respect to me at all. And I'm aware of, and am now recalling, how many times I took the high road with all that, and how many times, i erred on the side of "being nice" and "doing the right thing." Being honorable only got be a boot in the teeth. And it got me ostracized from my own life. I became the Historical Pariah of that Clique of people. That Clique that is now all intertwined again in more musical projects together.

So now, I'm supposed to take down that little inscription photo, as if I had been reprimanded like a child, take it on the chin, and grin and shuffle and say "Yes massah"?


I don't fucking think so.

It makes me want to have it printed in the newspaper in a full page ad.

If someone asks me to protect their privacy, I would normally do that--I don't infringe on that unless a person has betrayed me, and then I just don't care. It becomes material for my own evolution, community property for others to mull over and perhaps learn from, and fodder for my writing.

And yes, sometimes it becomes my own paltry revenge, the only way I know how. Someone screws me over, and they usually end up being an exceedingly unlikeable character in one of my books. This, in lieu of tire slashing or keying their car. I am patently nonviolent. My wars are usually intellectual ones.


So, to a Jury of my Peers....what say you?


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21 July 2009

Turn, Turn, Turn

{reposted from Facebook}

I just had a really unsettling experience. I'm trying right now to just calm my thumping heart, and take a breath.

One thing that is no secret about me, is that I don't have many secrets. I am pretty open. I
have to be, because I am a creative person who produces creative material. But I don't pretend that I'm so special that i don't have a day to day life with day to day struggles and victories that i wish to share with those in my life. Nor do I pretend that human nature is always simple. There's something else I make no secret of about myself. I will be the best friend in the world to someone, if they treat me right. But the second they turn on me, all bets are off. A longtime friend with whom I haven't had much regular contact in recent years, just got really hateful & posted a couple of confrontational and venomous statements to me. I tried to click her on my friends list to write to her and find out what the hell was going on, but discovered she had removed herself from my friends list, so I couldn't.

BACKSTORY: Earlier today, a friend called and asked my permission to give this person i mentioned above, my new phone number. I told her of course, but was confused because she was on my friend's list and could have just asked me. A bit later, i wrote to this longtime friend and asked her why she didn't just ask me for a phone number instead of asking another friend of mine. She was on my friends list. I would have been happy to provide it. But since we hadn't been in touch a lot lately, I didn't think to give it to her. I wasn't hateful, i just wondered why she went through the other friend, instead of simply asking when she was on Facebook posting about her shows. Her response?

"No, I have better things to do than sit on Facebook for hours looking up information. I went straight to a source so that would have it."


Better things to do than be on Facebook--I guess like THE REST OF US LOSERS. She effectively managed to trivialize the relationships we build by keeping in touch with each other each day. And some of us do want to be able to network according to other things we wish to share, like our music, our writing, our art....She had better things to do...Yet, has no problem using that friends list to announce her performances. I guess it's just business, then, and not that she really cares about all those people.


It seems the big transgression was that i posted an inscription in a book given to me from an ex gf from TWELVE YEARS ago. I did it because it was a blast from the past & gave me a chuckle. This angry person made that hateful comment, and then I discovered she made another, under the inscription picture i posted. See, she's still friends with that ex of mine, so that's the connection. beneath all the other posts on that page, she said:

"Facebook is a wonderful tool for staying in touch with friends but digging up personal business and making it public is crossing the line. It absolutely serves no purpose."


Um---digging up PERSONAL BUSINESS? An ex who wrote that she thought i was an alien sometimes but she loved me? TWELVE FREAKING YEARS AGO?? how personal can that really be? And it only had her first name on it...WTF?



I will say this. I am aware that there's a group of people from that period in my life who insist on judging me by who I was then, during some pretty tough times for me. I moved on, i tried to evolve, and I even tried to remain friends with them. But no. I was evil. That's just really sad.

But here's the part that hurts. I never did anything to this angry longtime friend. We had kept in touch on and off over the years. So why now, is her allegiance to my ex so profoundly strong that she felt the need to attack me for posting an innocuous inscription from ancient history???


Is there something I'm missing here? What is my crime, again?

I have written this because I want it all out there. All honest and no pretense. I always try to take the high road. I always try to do the right thing. Sometimes I screw up, but I always admit to it and try to figure it out and do better. I want to be clear where i stand on this.

So, to Becky Haynes, my longtime friend who decided to attack me unprovoked, i say this with the utmost sincerity:



Fuck off.

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16 July 2009

Leaving no Pebble Unturned

So one day after this long dry desert of sexual activity, i finally had sex again. And as a joke, i put a glass pebble in this tall tubular jar. Then another one, each time I had sex again. And another. I was dating a very enthusiastic young woman. So after there were about 40 pebbles in the jar, i was feeling rather studly and my self-esteem got a much needed boost. So i kept putting pebbles in the jar each time. By the time I had booted the sex-hungry young woman for her pathological lying, i had about 84 pebbles in the jar. (And no, I'm not pathologically lying. I swear. 80-something. Those who have read my book, Plethora, will recognize her in the chapter, "A Wish Called Wanda.").

So this trend continued throughout my series of dating excursions, until the jar was getting pretty damn full, since i was inevitably, and with a degree of mystery, intent on filling that jar with pebbles. Each girl was represented by a different color pebble, so that the jar became this montage of carnal delights every time i looked at it. (My best friend once asked--"What's that one black pebble for?" I told her never mind, i wanted to forget that one).

Eventually, i hit the intimacy desert again, and the jar came to a screeching halt at a certain level. It gathered dust. And mostly, it mocked me. Where's all that irresistible charm
and sexual prowess, now, Baeli? it accused. I told it to shut up, but somehow couldn't put that jar away because it meant something. It meant that for one prolonged period of my single life, I was in demand. I had had my way with a string of women and had ultimately done everything i could possibly think of to satiate my desires. I had sex. Lots and lots of sex.

Now, I am starting a new chapter in my life, moving to Colorado, and hoping to again end this desert of celibacy I've found myself in for the last two and a half years. But, perhaps bravely, I put that jar and its intact pebbles in the Moving Sale.

And let me tell you, there's nothing like selling my sex jar to a little old lady who dangled her fingers in it, swirled the pebbles around and said, "Ooo, these feel good."

And I stifled a rude cackle. "Why yes," I said. "They certainly do. But I have to let them go."




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08 July 2009

Stick Buggin' in the Grocery Store

It's no secret that I am a student of human nature. I enjoy watching people and trying to understand them. Sometimes this understanding is predicated on experiments. I call that Stick-buggin'. It's like when a child pokes at an insect with a stick, to see what it will do...

Once, in a grocery store, I was ruminating to some friends about how people have certain
boundaries, and that I like to cross them to see what they'll do. They wanted an example.

So I took a lady's basket. She turned and said "Hey! That's my basket!"
I stopped and said, "No, it belongs to the store." "I mean the stuff in in it," she said. "That belongs to the store too." I countered. "You haven't paid for it. And I like what's in here, so I'm taking it. "

And I shot around to the other aisle, and me and my friends were cracking up. I went back after a few seconds and she was still standing there, dumbfounded, with a can of peas in her hand. I laughed and told her it was a dare, and I was just kidding. Fortunately, she had a sense of humor and didn't bean me with the beans.


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06 July 2009

What Money Can Buy

I was at the store, returning some merchandise and then grabbing a few things while I was there. When i checked out, I used two gift cards, expecting to still pay a remainder in cash, since I had bought three shirts. I was pleased to see that the bill was not as high as I expected, and then started for the door. halfway there, I noticed the shirts were still draped over the basket, but they had been right there in plain site of the cashier. As I neared the security device, I thought Well, if these were not paid for, that thing will go off...it didn't, so I continued on, my mind full of the next hundred things I needed to do. When I got out to the Cherryot, (the name I gave my new-to-me red Blazer) I dug the receipt out and looked it over. All the stuff in bags was listed, but the shirts weren't on the receipt. I checked the other two gift card receipts. Not there either.

This is the part where you have to make those crucial decisions about your own ethics.

Everything had been going so well for me lately. My luck had finally shifted. All that past bitterness about always being the best person I could be, even when there was no reward and seemingly many punishments for it, had dissipated. Maybe three free shirts is my karmic reward for all the crap I went thorough, and all the times I did the right thing, even if everyone else did otherwise. Even if it cost me dearly. Even if it hurt like hell. And I thought maybe this was my little treat from the Universe.

I started to sense that gnawing little guilt-beaver in my gut...

Bullshit, came the other, more discerning voice in my head. Go pay for the shirts.

I knew that I would not have made it out of the parking lot with those shirts, anyway. I would have been watching for cops, getting paranoid...Just because I didn't get caught, didn't make it okay. The fact that I had a tiny moment wherein I tried to justify an unethical decision, made me feel even worse about it. That's when I knew I musn't ever let some misplaced bitterness alter what I believe myself to be, at my core. And someone who takes advantage of an oversight like that, is simply not who I wish to be.

I went back inside and explained it to the clerk. She touched me on the arm and said, "Thank you. Most people would have kept going."

"You're welcome." I told her.

She was effusive in her gratitude, saying that it would have come out of her check. No telling what that could have meant for her. It wasn't much, but it still mattered.

Still, I know I didn't do it for that reason--I hadn't even thought of that. I did it because it was who I wanted to be. I gave her the cash to settle up, and on my way out of the store, I felt lighter, and smiled. Guilt gone. Proud to be me.

Sometimes money really can buy peace of mind.



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05 July 2009

Comment on "Blogs aren't legit Writing" article

In my periodic Google search on my name, i found this comment which i forgot about:


Allena's Freelance Writing Blog
http://freelancewrite.about.com/b/2008/03/23/blogs-arent-legit-writing.htm
By Allena Tapia, About.com Guide to Freelance Writing

"Blogs Aren't Legit Writing"
Sunday March 23, 2008


I recently had a couple readers forward me a small rant from someone stating that blogs aren't legitimate writing. This person indicated that blogs were basically a way for people to see their name in print, and nothing else. I think this was the attitude of "if anyone can do it, than it's not legit."

The thing is, everyone can blog. But, everyone cannot blog well.

What makes a form of writing legit? I've heard people say that if you're paid for it, you're therefore a professional. I've been paid for blogging in my writing career- some very lucrative, TYVM. And, despite the informality of a blog, I've written some decent pieces in blog form.

Do you view blogging as legitimate writing? Why or why not?



12) Jae Baeli says:

First, always consider the source. For someone to make this comment, I would first ask, “Who says so?”

Second, it is never about the form the writing takes, but the quality of the writing in that form. Yes, anyone can write, but not everyone can write well.

I have 12 books in print and I blog just about every day. It’s a way to keep the juices flowing, but it’s also a legitimate form in and of itself. Anyone who thinks otherwise is, of course, entitled to their opinion, but I think he or she will find that serious writers object fiercely to this absolute. Almost nothing is absolute. Certainly not brains, as the critic you mentioned so brilliantly illustrates.

Jae Baeli





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04 July 2009

Independence Night for Phylum Annelida Luminaria


Very few people are privy to all the mysteries that surround us. I was not only witness to one tonight, but managed to capture photos of it.

In my usual evening walk around the golf, course, I heard the familiar crack of fireworks, now familiar since hearing them from inside the house all evening. It made me feel like a reporter in Baghdad. Now, i turned to see the display, and immediate caught site of swiftly moving objects from the trees and the ground beneath the Independence Day light show. These "glow worms" began to appear closer to me, increasing in number each time the pop and bang of fireworks filled the sky. They were obviously being frightened by the noise.

Lightworms feed on grass and leaves, but their favorite delicacy is the occasional crunchy golf tee they find in the swards of green. They are night creatures, who need no flashlights, for they are their own illumination, much like the nearby fireflies. Most people don't know that fireflies receive the substance that makes them glow from eating Lightworms.

A relative of the Glow worm, Lampyris noctiluca, found in the United Kingdom, the American species is called Phylum Annelida Luminaria. In the daytime, they appear as normal earthworms, but at night, their skins illuminate by a chemical reaction that activates photosynthesis cells which have stored up light energy in the form of photons during the day. They are indeed ecologically friendly, as they use solar energy to sustain themselves.

Once this bioluminescence is activated, they begin to jettison themselves from holes in the ground, usually with no more height than a grasshopper. But when frightened, adrenaline forces them out with three times the speed, and four times the trajectory height and distance.

There have been people injured by flying Lightworms, but most assume it was a June bug, and this is usually only reported on the 4th of July.

I feel privileged to have captured such a rare moment, and know that paranormal researchers everywhere will be seeking me out. But i will not tell them where the Lightworms live, as i feel it is their right to be left in peace. Once a year, they are scattered in fear, while Americans celebrate their independence day. I can only return the favor by allowing their freedom to exist in peace the other days of the year.

Be well, little LightWorms.


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