Blog @ Work

Creepy clown sightings are not funny at all. People and especially youngsters get spooked in the street and professional clowns get a bad name. There are in fact eight clown commandments that every real clown holds dear to the heart. http://www.coai.org/?page=Commandments

It was Halloween. Sizzle the Clown walked in the hospital towards a sick ten-year-old when she saw a creepy clown coming out of the elevator. Masked, with a black and white costume, ax in one hand, and chainsaw in the other.

What the hell?

“Hey, who are you and what is this all about? You can’t enter this hospital frighten people with your appearance?”

"Argh, go away," a drunken voice gargled. The creepy clown tried to pass but Sizzle didn’t let him, grabbing him by the arm, forcing him to a standstill.

“What’s the matter with you, you are drunk, you scare people…leave now before I call security.”

“I am staying in this hospital, “the creepy voice said. “I have stage 4 cancer. This is my last wish before I die. I want to spook the hell out of people because they have never done anything for me. All my life I have been trying to be the good guy, friendly, concerned, always bending backward to please everyone. Now it’s over and I am going to die. This is what’s left of me so I am going to give them hell.”

“No, you’re not, “Sizzle took over the knife and the chainsaw. “I am going to put this down now and we are going to talk over a nice cup of tea. You are going to tell me all about your life. And I am going to try to cheer you up. We will become friends, I assure you.”

The creepy clown looked at Sizzle and burst into tears. “Would you do that for me?”

“Come on, “ Sizzle took the clown by the arm. “What is your room number? We have some talking to do.”

Frankly, no! I would not . I have been in love a few times, had some wonderful sex along the way, there were fights, sure, but never did I yet meet my greatest love. That is still in the stars. But given my age and the fact that I am not searching for love I find it very hard to imagine I will meet this love of a lifetime. I hope to prove myself wrong, but I am not holding my breath.

That would be the sound of the carbon monoxide alarm. I have two in my house. One in the kitchen for my water heater, and one in the living room for my gas heater. Last June, I was working for WdC at the computer in my study, and the alarm went off.

It was a high-pitched sound, very annoying and also it startled me. I couldn’t get it off at first. I went to the balcony to be outside with that terrible sound since my dog gets really nervous by this sound. I asked another neighbor if he knew how to put the alarm off, but he didn’t know either. So I just yanked the alarm threads and it was silenced.

Then I had to react to the carbon monoxide threat. I opened all the windows in the house to let the fresh air in. I remembered that I had to call the fire brigade if the alarm went off, so I googled the information first. It really said that the best thing to do was call 911. So I did, although with hesitation. But the dispatcher forwarded the call to the fire brigade. They said I did well. I had to close the windows again, pack up my stuff and my dog and leave the house immediately to wait outside for them to arrive. I did just that.

First, a police patrol car pulled over with two police officers, and within 5 minutes the fire brigade was there, with 6 men in full gear and a fully equipped vehicle. It was a little embarrassing because I still didn’t know what was going on. Did the alarm just malfunction or was there a real threat? But they assured me it was the best thing to stay safe. So they went in with three men, did some checks in the house and came out again. Nothing was found. They left again, but again they said it was good I had alerted them since there are still people dying because of carbon monoxide poisoning. It is a silent killer. You can’t smell or notice anything yet it kills.

I was relieved, went back into the house and wrote a poem about the experience, which by the way is no longer there because I deleted by accident my poetry blog a few weeks later.

I bought a new alarm the next day and hope to never hear that awful sound again, except when there is really something wrong.

Day NINETY ONE "Give It 100!" 

Jay turned up the speakers, but he couldn’t make sense of the shouting. It sounded very urgent like there was something big going on.

“7654, repeat, dispatch,” he kept telling his mic, but the shouting of different voices continued. He then turned his car and made way back to the police station using his blue light.

What the hell was going on? Was there any danger? A bomb threat, a hijacking at the station?

He parked the car on the curb, left the door wide open and hurried inside, his gun unclipped in his hand … only to find the smiling faces of his colleagues when they saw him. A huge “He is a jolly good fellow” burst out upon entering the room. After the tree times “Hurray!” They all went back to go their merry ways.

“You thought we forgot about your birthday, didn’t you?” His boss grinned at him while giving him a present neatly wrapped in blue paper. “This is from all of us. It was the only way to get your attention, now was it? You can put away that piece of yours now. ”

Jack woke up in the middle of the night having a nightmare. Sweat all over his body, heart pounding, drunken with sleep. He tried to hold on to the dream, but it evaporated in his mind.

There was an image though that kept creeping up in his consciousness, luring him out of bed into the cold. The image of a blond with long hair wearing a witch cap. Not particularly beautiful because of the orange glow in her eyes. Jack shivered. He walked to his study, fetched a blank piece of paper and began to draw.

If he could capture the girl, maybe he could make sense of the dream. With a few strikes of coal, she appeared in front of him on the paper.

He sat back and looked at her. Then he noticed he had drawn a background as well. A strange looking door of a dark house with three pumpkins in front of it. But he recognized the house immediately. It was the house of his well-to-do uncle in the center of town.

In the early morning, Jack drove his car into town, parked in front of his uncle’s house and rang the doorbell. His uncle was very glad to see him.

"I was in the neighborhood, thought to look you up, it had been a while," Jack muttered and followed his uncle into the living room.

"Come see my nephew," his uncle shouted to someone.

A woman stood up from her seat and walked towards Jack.

It was the girl from his nightmare. Her long blond hair on her shoulders like a cap, her beautiful green eyes sparkling. He recognized her from anywhere. She was the girl in his sketches.

He greeted her and shook her hand. "I am Jezebel," the girl smiled. "I am the new caretaker of your uncle."

She left the room leaving the two men alone. Jack watched her go, with a twang in his heart.

For the next hour the two men talked about family and health and when Jack left the house he looked back to see the blond girl upstairs looking through the window. She waved at him, and he could see a smile. He smiled back.

Later that night there was a phone call. It was the GP of his uncle. His uncle had suddenly passed away. Would he care to come up to the house, since he was the next of kin?

When Jack entered the house, all lights were out, except for three Jack-o-lanterns in front of the porch. The door was open. He shivered and went inside.

At the side of the bed in his uncle’s bedroom were the doctor and the girl. His uncle lay fully dressed on top of the sheets. The pale glance of death made him look unrecognizable from the man he had left a few hours before.

The girl smiled: "Welcome back, Jack," she said.

Her eyes lit up orange in the dim lighted room.

She woke up. Just like that. Wide awake. She looked at the alarm clock. 4 a.m. Too early! She rose and sat her feet on the cold floor. In one jump she left the bed. She walked passed her cupboard. Something was wrong. What was it? She didn’t know. She walked out of the bedroom into the hallway. It was dark, so dark. Pitch dark. She couldn’t see. Then it hit her. She had not seen herself in the mirror attached to the cupboard. Where was she? She walked back to the bedroom. Stood in front of the mirror. No reflection. Nothing to see. No her. No self. No I. Nothing. The dark must have swallowed her. It was cold. She felt so cold. She jumped in the bed. Covered herself with the bedlinen. Warmer. Warm. She wanted to sleep. Just like that. She lay down her head on the pillow. Soft. Warm.

When the alarm went off at 8 a.m. she rose, put on a nightgown and walked passed the cupboard. Her reflection walked with her. “Hello, Beautiful!”

I like both pumpkins. In my country they sell the little white ones for decoration in flower shops and the big ones are always orange and eatable. They are at the vegetable corner in the supermarket. Since we don’t really celebrate Halloween, the orange pumpkins make for a good pumpkin soup. I am telling myself for years now to buy a pumpkin and make the soup. I have a delicious and easy recipe.

Heat stock, salt, pumpkin, onion, thyme, garlic, and peppercorns. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and simmer for 30 minutes uncovered.
Puree the soup in small batches (1 cup at a time) using a food processor or blender.
Return to pan, and bring to a boil again.

I have one non-fiction book of Stephen King On Writing (2000) on my bookshelf, ready to be savored but I didn’t have time for it, yet. When I am going to meet the master of suspense in real life I better come prepared.

I loved The Shining, my first horror movie back in the eighties with an awesomely spooky Jack Nicholson. I can always remember that really horrifying scene with the toddler on the bike, cruising the hallways of that terrifying hotel. And of course, the bathroom scene where the woman’s back is visible, with peeled off skin. Those images stay there forever. But also his best seller drama The Green Mile is one of my favorites. On the whereabouts of a prison guard, played by Tom Hanks.

Stephen King is one of the best writers ever and I want to meet him in The Stanley Hotel, that famous place and setting for the Shining. Located 10.4 miles from the Rocky Mountain National Park and 2 miles from Estes Park Golf Course, this grand, upscale hotel dates back to 1909. In 1974, King and his wife Tabitha spent one night in Room 217 while on vacation during their short residency in Boulder, Colorado.

We will stay there; have a lovely dinner and a chat. Since his management only gave time for one hour, he is a busy man, I will not harass him with spooky fun things but try to explore this great mind in this short period of time. After dinner, I check in to this hotel and make sure it is room 217. There I write my prompts for the day.

For Halloween I picture in my mind a funny prank that will get me some applause. I go to the market to get some inspiration and visit the town’s tower to get myself in the mood of scary things. I try not to fall from the steeple and avoid being nauseous due to the height. I watch the fleet on the river in the distance before heading back to the hotel. At night I play roulette and win a couple of thousand bucks. This is well spent time. I hope it inspires me to write some Halloween stories.

Dear beloved Kermit, dear puppets, dear people,

I am standing here before you with the saddest news ever. Kermit the Frog, that gentleman green puppet of Sesame Street and the Muppet Show, that wonderful main character of so many shows and movies watched by millions of children and grownups all over the world, is no more!

He died in his sleep with a grin on his little green face. And today, of all days, it's Halloween, a day of festivities for kids. How many of them will wear a Kermit costume I wonder, and do they know what happened with their role model?

Because, Ladies and gentlemen, kids, a role model is what Kermit has been throughout his career. Soft spoken, always serious with a witty undertone and so much involved with his friends and of course with his woman Miss Piggy. They made a wonderful pair. You can imagine she will not be here to attend to this funeral; she is heartbroken and stays at home, crying.

Crying is what a lot of kids will do when they hear this sad news today at Halloween. Because Kermit was loved by everyone, he was the only frog who didn’t have an enemy in the world. He was so unique and witty, everybody loved him. His best friend Fozzie Bear will concur with that.

From 1955 onwards he has been in the midst of children, and fuzzy and fair-haired puppets; thanks to his creator Jim Henson who will be seeing him in Heaven since he died in 1990 himself. Our thoughts go out to him too.

Kermit made it from the swamps to Hollywood, and the world was never the same after that.

So let’s hear that wonderful typical voice one more time, of Kermit the Frog in Rainbow Connections. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S2DTLbTQj0I

Rainbows, what’s on the other site? Kermy will know now, I am sure of it.

Sincerely yours, WakeUpAndLive.

I find myself stuck in the afterlife and being transformed into a ghostly appearance only seen by some. I have no control over who is seeing me and why this being part of my unfinished business on earth. So I roam the earth from 9 to 5, sleeping it off after that.

First I encounter a man at his bedside. He is sleeping and I have the urge to wake him, asking him what I should do, and what significance this man could ever have on me. I don’t know the man; never set eyes on him before. So I wake him by rustling my long sleeved gown and touching him on the cheeks. Suddenly he wakes and screams at the sight of me. He is horrified of my astral body in his room. So I sit next to him on the bed, trying to reassure him that there is no need for panic, but it is very hard to convince him. After ten minutes I leave the room by the window, I have to go elsewhere.

Next, I find myself in a room with other ghosts I don’t recognize. We gather together and try to communicate but strangely enough that is not possible. Apparently, we cannot speak to other ghosts; only to living souls...and they are afraid of us. So I have to figure out how to communicate with people in a quiet manner without startling them too much. I think I will find a séance somewhere, that way I know for sure people want to communicate. Maybe I can learn more from them.

In the meantime, I am going to enjoy the possibilities of having an astral body and do some pretty darn cool things like entering houses through the walls and flying around in rooms. I try not to scare people that much, but I think that is wishful thinking. I am pretty scary right now.

Since my bad experience and its aftermath, see "PREVAIL"  [18+] which took me some time to overcome, I have lost a lot of friends. They were not there when I needed them and I lost contact. As a result of that, I am very cautious with people and have a little trouble making new friends. Luckily there are some friends in my inner circle at the moment and there are a few family members I trust. But I keep very much to myself; living alone and being a writer are ingredients to a solitary life I enjoy very much. Writing.com is therefore the perfect surrounding for me, being a site with people I can communicate with at my own pace and time. Very convenient. I love this writer’s community and have met some incredible writers with great personalities and warmth that is overwhelming. So I have added WdC to my inner circle. I can share my bad moments and my good moments and there are always some writers who will respond to it. I love it that way.

Furthermore, my dog Arie is my greatest companion in life. He is always there, day in day out and I love him dearly. He is the reason for going for walks a couple of times a day so I get a little exercise. He is in the house so I am not alone and I have to take care of him the best I know how, which is good.

Although my life changed dramatically over the past years I am happy at the moment.

I think it started out as funny come this Halloween. But it is not funny anymore. In my country too these clown sightings have hit the news on television. An eleven year old has sued one clown because he threatened him with a knife. I don’t think those sightings are funny, because they frighten children (and grownups too). I have always been frightened by clowns, as a kid. I think they are creepy. They appeal to the dark realm of nightmares, they are scary and when they have knives or axes with them they are downright harassing and offensive.

I wrote a small piece on the "Invalid Item"  an American serial killer who was a clown at parties when he was not killing young guys. Very scary. I think the current killer clowns are a reference to this real killer clown. Very tasteless.

I’ve taken a peak at this Hunters moon this weekend, I was not aware of its significance. I love a full moon. It is always mysterious and full of dark anticipation. It appeals to our sense of mystery and drama in the quiet of the night. Because I always wake up in the middle of the night I find it especially appealing to look outside my window and see if I can spot the moon. I wrote "Invalid Item"  to warn the citizens of the earth for being too careless about the earth, from the moon’s perspective.

That time would be now and I didn’t get over it, I dealt with it a certain way. I am overweight! Since six years I came from normal sized to XXL for shirts. My breasts have grown bigger and I am feeling really fat. I don’t swim in a bikini anymore for decades now, but in a swimming suit. I have avoided physical contact because of this huge transformation. I am single and I am letting myself believe that is for a reason. Not only don’t I have the pleasant personality, but I haven’t got the pleasant personality AND am fat. A loose-loose combination in my opinion. Luckily I don’t suffer from it, I just don’t think about it any longer. In a way, I gave up on myself in this department. I try to look as nice as I can clothing-wise, but I can’t change what’s underneath the clothing. I know I am not alone, millions of (mostly) women suffer from lack of confidence as far as their looks go. There was a time when I took an unhealthy but effective diet for a few months and I lost kilos, but the Jojo-effect was there as soon as I stopped that diet, and I gained more than I lost. I am 10-kilo overweight now and no way can I lose that. I should exercise more, I know that, but it would not be enough to lose the weight, simply because I am of a certain age and the gym is not for me. So I just forgot about my body, simple as that.

" I'm worried, what if this doesn't go right? What if-"
" You talk too much."
“But I love them both, I don’t want to lose them.”
“No, you are not going there.”
“But I have to prepare myself for the worst.”
“Plenty of time to do that, don’t worry right now.”
“I can’t help myself.”
“This happens to a lot of people, they survive.”
“A lot don’t.”
“Nowadays there are options.”
“Like what? I will end up losing one or both.”
“I will still love you.”
“But I don’t know if I will be able to love myself.”
“You still will be the same.”
“No, I won’t.”
“Breasts don’t define you as a person.”
“They are a part of me my whole life, I will feel maimed, disabled.”
“But you will live.”
“For how long, if the cancer has taken over your body once, it can easily return.”
“You are exaggerating.”
“Yes, I am. It is a monster, it will eat me alive.”
“Only if you let it.”
…

Since I am from abroad I will write about the American show I really love to watch, as a matter of fact, I watched one of the many reruns earlier today. I totally am head over heels with American Extreme Makeover: Home edition with Ty Pennington and his designer team. It is really an American concept and you can’t compare it with any other show.

The team surprises a family with a story, and a house that is not healthy to live in, is about to fall apart or is not suitable for the family members who live there. They always pick a special family with a history of doing good in the community. Then they send them on vacation for a week and spend that time, with hundreds of volunteers and a building team, to build them a new house. It is the USA at its best.

The result is always astonishing and the outcry “Move that bus” hilarious as the family watches for the first time what is their new home.

I really love this concept and I try to watch an (old) episode every week since it is now only featuring on Saturday in my country. The show stopped in 2012. Hundreds of people donate their time, expertise and energy to build one family a new house. It is adorable and very moving to watch. And it never bores me, funny enough; I can’t get enough of this show that I watch for decades now.

My first inclination was to state I was not the least bit attracted to the man since I find his looks unappealing, BUT the inventor of the detective story? The father of the modern American short story? The architect who helped the world discover science fiction as a literary genre? A skillful poet? An important literary critic who helped define American literature, film, and other arts? I would LOVE to pick his brain! I think within 5 minutes I would forget his looks and go for this complex man. Of course, the success or failure of this date would be totally depending on whether or not we hit it off, but I would like to think I could have an interesting conversation with the man.

In case of the tale of the KitKat I would prefer the knife since I could slice her up in two, make that four parts, since the KitKat bar is a split personality, and eat her. I love chocolate. Mmm.

“I am just laying innocent like on the kitchen top when suddenly WHAM, my body is sliced into two, and the four pieces are savored in a few bites; I am gone with a snap!”

I am so fucking annoyed with myself I could scream today! Okay, I have had this checkup for breast cancer the day before yesterday. I went, didn’t I, although I put it off three times? I fucking went, and that is good. But why am I totally messed up because of it today?

I didn’t go to work, I slept in, and I tried to hide from the world and doing a good job at that. But I am afraid and I don’t like it. It is also so unnecessary to feel this way at the present. Nothing has happened yet, there is no cancer yet to be dealt with but still, I am paralyzed, waiting for that phone to ring and my GP telling me something is wrong. It’s stupid, it’s silly, and it’s devastating to my mental health since the doctor can phone me anywhere within a fortnight. A fortnight! For crying out loud, I am not going to bitch about this for fourteen days, am I? And then, if something is found in the X-ray, I still have to face that consequence and have all that time in the world to feel sorry for myself.

I hate this about myself. I am acting like a little child that has a tantrum, stamping its feet and shouting “I don’t want to, I don’t want to.” I just don’t want to be a grown up now and be sensible about it. I am fucking scared to death and I want to hide in my bed all day for fourteen days and do nothing then suck my thumb. I am regressing I know. Sigh.

So what is my course of action?
• I have to convince myself not to worry in advance. Don't worry about what you can't control!!
• Write down what’s bothering me in my blogs. Vent about it, that’s what a blog is there for.
• Be gentle to me. Negative thoughts of any kind can destroy what’s left of the little hope I have of a good outcome.
• Try to keep it together by just living my life as I know how. Not going to work doesn’t help. Appointments are there to distract me from feeling hopeless.
• Start to act and do research as soon as you know more about the X-rays, not sooner. There is a lot of information and resources out there and on here at WdC. "Breast Cancer Awareness - Contest & More"  [ASR].
• Find distractions: go to the movies with friends.
• Talk about it.
• Keep your cool!!

Today, I am totally triggered by the word ‘fear’, so that answers the prompt in a way. Fear is really more alarming to me than success. Fear can paralyze you in a way success never can. And it does today.

The day before yesterday, I went to the bi-annual checkup for breast cancer; today I am having a really big off-day as a result of that. I have slept away a great deal of the morning, unable to go to work today. I just didn’t feel like it. I am so much afraid the GP will call me within a fortnight with the negative results.

I know of course there is no use in feeling the way I do, if and only if something is the matter there is plenty of time to feel afraid and act. Now is not the most sensible time to feel this way, but unfortunately I do. I try to forbid myself to go places in my mind that only fuels these thoughts, I am trying to find ways to be preoccupied but I am not able to do so, I am captured in this anxiety of fear of pain and even death. It depresses me today. So I let myself be depressed and go into that horrible feeling. Writing this down helps, maybe I can squeeze a fine poem out of it.

This summer was all about writing and being involved in Writing.Com. I’ve had the most productive three months ever and I loved every single minute of it. I didn’t get around cleaning my house the way I had planned, that’s the chore that got side tracked by all this writing.

Furthermore, I visited my sister up North, I had a nice picnic in the park with friends and I did have time to sit in the sun on terraces with a nice drink watching people go by. So all in all, I had a very good summer.

I don’t have a teddy bear, my dog has one. A smelly teddy bear he always plays with and lies in his basket. If I would take this teddy bear to work my colleagues wouldn’t notice. We all keep pretty much to ourselves. But I would feel awkward bringing a teddy bear into the work place. I think teddy bears are for kids, but participating at WdC I’ve learned there are a lot of writers who have special attention for teddy bears. I wouldn’t know the significance of my character bringing a bear to the workplace. What does that mean? Probably they have kids or are still preoccupied with their childhood, I wouldn’t know. Maybe they are just pimping up their workplace with a nice object.

I would accept the gift as far as the pumpkins go, they make a nice decoration this time of year. The kitten is another matter. I already have a dog so a cat would not be convenient at this time, although I love cats. But I don’t have the place or the time to raise a young kitten now, so I would bring it to the vet, or place an advertisement in the local paper or online. Pity. A young kitten is especially adorable. I probably end up keeping it for a few days. But then it has to leave. Nobody who knows me would gift me with this kitten; they all know I have a dog. So it would be from an anonymous gifter that doesn’t know me that well. I would be intrigued as to whom that person might be, that’s for sure.

The Ahha moment wins it every time. With a close second for the search of an idea. The Ahha moment is very freckle though, it is the part where my muse is the most active and I can’t control that. I can try to be receptive to an idea or go ahead and search for one and hopefully the Muse will jump right in.

My best is 6 or 7 hours sleep nowadays. When I was younger I settled for less, but that is no longer the case. Although I have been sleeping less the last couple of months and it seems to all depend on how I wake up. If I wake up by myself, no matter how much sleep I got, it’s okay to start the day. If I am woken by the alarm it totally depends on if I’ve rested enough. I sleep always on my side. It doesn’t matter much which one. These days I wake up at least one or two times during the night and sometimes I check WdC first before entering the bed again. I sleep alone.

As a matter of fact I only can sleep alone. When I was in a relationship we snuggled together and I could sleep that way, but with later boyfriends I always slept back to back. It was the only way I could fall asleep. I even have been known to leave the house in the middle of the night to sleep in my own bed since I cannot get accustomed any longer to sleeping with somebody else in the bed.