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 |   A terminal for all blogs coming in or going out. A view into my life. |
Started July 1st 2019 for contests, etc. as other blogs are filling up and have other purposes.  I'm starting a new blog because
I'll be linking to
I've started an appendix (I no longer have one personally) to keep track of my Space Cadet journals for Space Blog. It's a work constantly under construction. Mind the mess.
I needed to start a folder for contests as there are so many deadlines and details to remember.
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| Ah... the "Theater of the night". "One Million Stars"  by Don Two  Mini-review: Definitely poetry. 8/6/8/6 rhythm and abab rhyme throughout (except one line). Standard ballad so this could easily be put to music. This is akin to cowboy poetry. And with the right tune could be a western (not country) song about the dark open skies (think cattle country like Flint Hills in Kansas) away from the city lights. The down side... to perfectly rhyme some words seem forced. And that effects stanzas 3 and 5 the most. Those could be reconfigured or replaced or left as is as 'contorted verse' may be suitable for the genre. 24 lines of singsong verse is adequate, so good length. Could use a mild edit but very good as is. I rate it 4.5. Definitely a keeper and could be entered into a contest, if only for the attention and possible reviews. For: "Space Blog" Write about the universe and the stars. I commented to Joy  : "Space Cadet would tell you that there's much to be learned by wandering. Guinan would say we cannot know... and Kat, caught in her Dreams, never needs to leave the spaceship, which is her home. My home is this Little Blue Marble. It's big enough for insignificant life forms like me." For "Space Cadet - the never ending journal" and "October Novel Prep Challenge" specifically the "October Novel Prep Contest Rounds" THEATER OF THE NIGHT "Welcome Home." I was startled by the sultry voice coming from nowhere and everywhere in the language of my childhood. Wing Sheima smiled. "Yes, this will be your new home. Our ship, if you must call it that, cruises from star to star. We call no star system, no galaxy our home. This is our Home. "We made a short stop to pick you up. We are the Crew that cruises through the Eternal Night what the ignorant call the Void. It's not empty. We are the Wings. "I'll show you around. As you were made aware Home feels sentient and speaks in a thousand tongues. We Wings speak in only a few; most of us use Galactic Standard." That I already knew. I could hear a member of the Crew listening to Kla music. I could understand it. My implants worked well. "This is a greeting, meeting room. There's furniture to sit or lean against or perch on. If you have any special needs just ask me. I'm on duty until the Day Crew takes over. Don't mind the smells. You'll get used to it. And any mess? Don't worry about that either. Just clean up after yourself to not upset the Cleaners. This place isn't a sty but it's lived in. You'll hang out here when you want company. "Here is The White Room. It's kept pristine for visitors. As clean and devoid of life as possible. The walls can depict scenes from most any planet to put ur guests at ease. There are numerous invisible barriers between here and the Deck and Engineering, don't be fooled. It also scans for any exotic virus or illness. We don't come here unless summoned. No reason. It's sterile and feels alien, nothing like Home. "The Deck seems quiet now. It can get lively when the Day Crew commands. We Wings are more subdued." "Except when we're not. I'm Wing Jaafaar and commanding at the moment. Welcome Home. Kat and Cook want to see you so I won't keep you." They both laughed. "No one keeps anything or anybody from Kat." The Deck seemed grey to my eyes, obviously a spacious work place with monitors and furniture that didn't block movement. Only the main command post was 'huddled'. Only one Wing was intently speaking softly to our sentient Home as he ignored his 'supper' steaming to his right. I listened in for a moment. With 4 ears I could hear a pin drop a galaxy away. As simple and open as it looked I knew that if threatened it could defend itself and isolate command. If needed, Home could exist without a crew; that was sobering. Off the Deck, there was an area for lounging. Kinda like a cafe with tables and a kitchen area. It wasn't empty. There was a gathering that clapped their appendages and shouted out of tune, "Welcome Home." as I entered. "I'll let you meet everyone for awhile. Cook will show you to you quarters as soon as you're finished with your soup." Wing Sheima left to go back to the Deck as everyone chuckled. "Soup's up!" "Are you Cook?" I dared ask. As a Xeno I was amused. The checkered hat, the redgloves, the striped apron... so... "Yep. Now sip it to the last drop. I added a bit of sleepy-time as you'll need to nap until the rest of the grand tour when you wake up. Most new residents of this floating hotel arrive during the Day." I slurped the slighty salty spicy brew as everyone went back to what they were doing. I'd get to know them later. One however kept her green and gold eyes on me. Cook brought another bowl and sat down. The feline figure slinked over and joined us. "I'm Kat. I dreamt about you. That's why you're here. I know you're a Xeno, suspect you're more than that; your hearing's acute and I can read your twitching ears like a book. I'm a Xeno too. But I'm known for my Dreams." It may not be wise to be direct with unknown felines but I took a chance. "What did you dream?" "This is your fate. I've no idea why but Home would be incomplete without you. I'm assigning you to record our daily life. Home can spew out data but we need a living account. Both official and personal. Your personal insights may prove to be more valuable. Don't ask me why. I dream and although those dreams do not predict they are to be heeded. Now, I must go back to my nap. Your presence here is calming. I shall sleep soundly." Cook looked intently at me as Kat left but said nothing as I finished my second bowl. "I'll show you to your quarters while you can still walk." Doors opened and shut. The walls were different colors and designs. Both walls and floors varied to the touch. Some smooth, some rough. Once memorized it would be hard to get lost. Each corridor, each intersection, each door, each room varied by color, smell and sound. Now a gentle waterfall. Now a tickling of chimes. Now the sweet floral smell of a place I had once visited. I saw no one for many minutes. The corridors were wide and some gently sloped, rising and falling though the levels; some moved when commanded. There were no cursed stairs and the one lift we passed was huge enough for a baby Living Rock. We sentient star-voyagers come in all shapes and sizes. One chirped a greeting as it flew past. "Most everyone is asleep. Here is your cubicle." It was snug, just-my-size. A bed, a table, shelves, little else. I had brought almost no luggage. It was being scanned and sterilized before it was delivered when I woke up. Everything would fit beneath the bed. On the table there were writing tools and pads. "Kat wanted you to be comfortable. When you are ready to sleep just tell Home to adjust the heat, the temp, the sounds and smells. Don't be fooled by her sultry voice by-the-way. She's a cold mistress." I sat there drowsy thinking how it had only been a few hours since I had received the summons. I was interrupted before I drifted off. "I'm here to make you comfortable, What is your pleasure?" I could have sworn there was a chuckle in Home's voice as the light dimmed and went out to the wet hush of snow falling. |
Space Blog Prompt from: "9-11" by Schnujo's in Chile  Mini-review. It's poetic! Which is great because not all 'poetry' here is remotely poetic. That said, the repetition of the last line, the basic aaR (aa rhyme/refrain) structure, make it poetry. The down side of that is that it seems to be tortured verse at times. And it's written in the historical past voice. Yoda chatting about a historical event he witnessed a long time ago. The historical past makes it feel like story telling and that tells the emotion but doesn't evoke it unless you already know the story. 19 years later now, it's definitely history. Some first time voters weren't even born then. "Every September we pause to remember" becomes trite as a theme unless it offers something new. This poem doesn't delve into anything new. I give it a 4.0 on the strength of its poetry. The prompt for
"Write about that day in 2001. 9-11. What were your thoughts?" Frankly, I'd rather not. I wasn't traumatized by it but I saw the way the government made the public hysterical and it didn't take much to stir the public into a frenzy over fake news for a war against a bogus enemy that lead to thousands of 'collateral damage' because it wasn't politically correct to refer to dead civilians as casualties. It old news ... kinda like disco ... For "Journalistic Intentions" : I'm still working on this edited version but it'll open up by midnight. "Kissing camels (300 words) [252]"  Kissing Camels Surgery Center fever.warning@companknee.com (555) SUR-GERY "Well, if you wouldn't kiss camels you wouldn't have a fever." Stella was pissed. Warnings about smoking went in Margots ears and out her nostrils She sat there waiting for the phone to ring. Doug had taken the cat to the vet and the dog had just peed on the rug. It was all she could do to not cry. Margot just shrugged. "I like camels ... a lot. Those new electronic cigarettes with exotic flavors don't excite me. Who wants to smell like cinnamon vanilla?" "Says the lady who reeks of cheap cologne and snuffs out candles every time she coughs." "Well, maybe so, but just give it a rest. We have other problems. Zed is going to be upset at the dog and you know he'll yell and make your migraine worse." "Thanks for reminding me." "And I have a fever of 101. Sure you don't have any aspirin?" "You could just walk a block to Kissing Camels and ask them." "Dressed like this!" "I'd be more concerned about the smell." "Thanks." The phone rang. "Nothing they can do? Okay. Just pick up some aspirin on the way home... and piss remover. Yeah yeah. I know. As if the day couldn't get worse." "Bad news?" "They couldn't do anything for Pumpkin." "Well she was 15." "Bite me." The phone rang again. "Kissing Camel Surgery Center? Yes, what your mother's name? Sure, bring her down. Is 4 p.m. okay? See you then Mr. Marshall." "You're wicked." "Well, we begged them to change their number. We had ours first. Dial SUR-GERY may have sounded smart but no one in this two-bit town know show to spell any more than my dog... oh for gawds sake... do you have to go out again?" "Whoa..." Stella exclaimed as the rug slid out from under her. © Kåre Enga [177.252] (15.oktober.2020) For:
30. Do you ever feel envious? Do you feel that this healthy? As in jealous? You betcha! I'd like to have good hair ... or at least just as much hair as I used to have. It'd be nice to have a car, a place with a garden and few stairs. It'd be nice to have family that shows they care. Yeah, lots of jealousy. Is this healthy? Nope. Nothing healthy about envy. I have what I have and need to be grateful for that. 32. Have you ever grieved for a loved one? How did you process this grief? I grieve lost friends. I mean, Joyce and Lavinia picked a shitty year to die. It would've been Ron's birthday today (bacefook notice; folks still have birthdays...). I miss those who are still alive who I've lost contact with the most. How do I process that? Not well. 36. What one thing always makes you smile? I inherited this smile from my father. It's my normal face. I don't do resting-bitch-face well. The slightest joy can make me smile. Even writing this makes me smile. It may disarm people. Beware... But one thing? That's a long laundry list of insignificance or a grocery list (I need to shop soon). |
| Clicked on my tab and my entry went poof. I was almost finished. *sigh* "We rely on our site [sic] more than any other sense...and yet, it is the easiest one to fool" from "The Way I See It" by Dr Gonzo  . To mini-review: not poetic in spite of xaxa rhymed quatrains of ~10 syllable lines. It's also not a story. Very didactic. Tells, does not show. It would be best edited as an essay (with research and arguments) or as a sermon (with more repetition of relevant points, maybe even more poetic devices). As an essay/sermon it shows promise. A good start, maybe a 3.0 at this stage. No suggestions as that isn't my area of expertise. As a poem it fails, so a 2.0. It isn't a story. For "Space Blog" "How do you see earth?"A big blue marble. In my Space Cadet series (working on for NaNoWriMo) worlds are nicknamed by SC, the Landers, the Crew by what strikes them the most. Teal World (Landers investigate) is covered with a sentient teal slime/moss/lichen/whatever. They don't stick around. Grass World is the realm of sentient grass; SC gets 'swallowed' to be known and to know. Green Star (Kat intervenes) is interdicted like Earth once was as the resident humans haven't learned how to play nice. Although visual is a great sense for humans, my characters aren't all human. SC, with 4 ears, has better hearing; Kat relies on inner dreams; Cook knows about emotions and taste. Perhaps each character should have a dominant sense as well. After-all, dogs can smell and bats/dolphins have sonar (or something like that!). Earth? It's been aeons but 90210, a human, goes there to check out some of the ruins of what was once Beverly Hills. Every world has a time and a place as Guinan points out to SC. |
| As I shared with runningwolf04 I was fascinated by foreign places as a child. Couldn't go anywhere! But I decided to run away to Kansas for school and then I went to Costa Rica (which was an emotional disaster I wasn't prepared for). That stopped my travels ... well that and poverty. Still, I learned something from living in small towns in the Cornbelt, from staying with friends in Canada, from living on my own in the city, from moving on-purpose to a Black inner-city neighborhood, from running away again (hello rural Oklahoma!), from being homeless and finally from moving in 2008 to a college town in Montana. It was NOT a smooth journey. In 2009 I went back to Costa Rica, in 2011 England, 2012 Scandinavia, 2013 Europe, 2015 around the World, 2017 Taiwan... What I'm saying, in a round about way, is that each step, no matter how frightening, full of hope or painful lead to my ability to take the next step. After all the years and tears I have a certain self-confidence that I was lacking growing up. It's taking a long time, like the Velveteen Rabbit, for me to become me. For
"To My Muse" by Roari ∞  To mini-review: I really like this old piece. I give it a 4.0. To make it more poetic I'd suggest taking out a couple useless words, using 's instead of is, then reading out loud to correct the rhythm. Rhythm is especially important to this piece because rhyme is not and it already has a fairly good rhythm as I only stumbled in a couple places. Thematically, it's a lament about a relationship. In this case Writer versus Muse.  I'm amused by that because I've had this internal conversation (at least I 'thought' it was internal  ). Space blog: "The poem was about writer's block. That begs the question: What do you do for Writer's block?" Put a pen to paper, fingers on the keypad. I don't get this 'writer's block' everyone seems to anguish over. If one way seems blocked I just take another route. I vomit on the page and clean up later. I'm a pantser... cleaning up later... or never. I do have wash clothes handy and spare underwear. I do not suffer from blockage. 3,039 |
| Robert asked about the Purpose in Life (or not). Me? I've been too out of it to make any philosophical reply. I just tread water... hoping that somewhere out there in the fog there's some dry land. Coming up: the dreaded 14th of the month. I need to check which contests are due. I'm behind on some and others need to be finished and submitted. Tuesdays used to be a busy day. No longer. So if I focus... I should be okay. Realities... 15. Do you believe crying is a healthy outlet for negative emotions? What makes you cry? What good is it to hold it in? I don't think tears are only for positive or negative emotions. As an HSP it's hard for me to hold back. Why bother? Most anything can get me going, but bittersweet works the best. Horror doesn't. 16. When was the last time you cried? Probably this last week. A sad story or movie or something I've read can trigger tears. I worry more when I can't cry. 17. What was the happiest moment of your life? I don't do happy. Sure, lots of small moments. But sometimes what makes others happy is just a relief for me. Graduation from university was a nice moment. 18. If you were to run away where would you go? I did. I aimed towards Arkansas and landed in Oklahoma, which was a great escape and relief from some personal traumas. Now? Iowa or somewhere flat and green. Possibly back to Kansas (Emporia). Portugal if the situation in the USA doesn't improve. I'm basically unhappy these days and that's not good. For: "Welcome To My Reality Forum" 3033 |
Response to "Invalid Item" by McKinzie S. Heart  :At least this is poetic. I love the rhythm but would like to hear it read outloud by the author. I stumble over a couple extra syllables and can't quite get the cadence right. I'd give it a 4 out of 5 but there's nothing I can suggest to make it better. It tells rather than shows. Might make a nice meme for someone who feels the same way. Note that this was posted in 2004, long before these troubled times.For
we found a specimen that said "Something's just not right. "What do you suppose isn't right? Many of us shake our heads at situations that befuddle us. We lament how others don't 'see the light'. My question... do we show them the way? Many will answer, "this is the way" but fail to understand that telling isn't showing how. One event comes to mind. Americans were outraged over recent brutality after mostly ignoring it for decades. People shook their heads in disbelief. I didn't. I had spent years working on building bridges across chasms in my community. I knew that they existed. No surprise. No surprise at the anger, the backlash, the vandalism... But no need to share what I know. Only this: if you don't understand someone who doesn't look/act/think like you then it's time for you to befriend them. Hopefully the growth of understanding will be mutual. For Realities: 52. What emotion do you wish you didn’t feel? Anger. It blinds me. Yes, I'm earth and fire. Yes, I'm a lava rock... coming right at ya!  Add wind? I become the ash that buries you. Add water and I steam you like a vegetable. So, yeah, anger is an emotion I wish I could control and harness. Afterall, a steam engine can haul a lot of *whatever*. 56. Do you find it difficult to control your temper? Yep. I blow like Vesuvius. Not pretty. Scary to me. Plus, it gets me upset and has gotten me into trouble. Although... I should've 'lost it' more as a teenager and less now. People don't expect it of me... 57. What helps you heal? Time? Lots of time? Not really. I think confronting the situation because I'm so avoidant (like removing a splinter). Hugs help with the emotions. I don't get enough hugs. 58. What are the little things that make you happy? Anything! I still love the autumnal change of colors. I should be outside enjoying it but it's a bit cool and breezy. I learned as a child to take great joy in small things. 59. If you could choose to have any emotion right now what would it be? I wouldn't right now. I am enjoying a certain 'calm' and that's not often enough. Maybe I'll get something done. When I'm high or low it's like the engine is running but car is not in gear. I'll take this moment of 'cruising'. 60. Do you ever feel numb? What causes this? Why did I go numb that one year? Shock? A feeling that my world was collapsing and I had no control? I gardened and I had supportive friends. 'Not feeling' was worse than anything before or since. For: "Welcome To My Reality Forum" |
For "Welcome To My Reality Forum" by Sunny  . Answered prompts must be posted in one entry by October 30 so I'll have to gather them like Carly did. The prompts this month are a literal mindfield for my traumas. 44. Are you often disappointed with life? Always. If this was what I signed up for then maybe I deserve all the grief I've gotten. Otherwise, life has had some real shitty moments. There are reasons why Death doesn't scare me like it does some folks. After-all, "is this all there is"? 45. Do the changing seasons affect your emotions? Why do you think that is? Absolutely. 1. the amount of sunshine. Too little depresses me; too much and I'm manic. 2. I don't like severe heat or cold. I am listless with heat and just want to sleep with the cold. 3. I'm best in Spring and Autumn due to the milder temps and half-day light. I also do better in winter in tropical climes. And suprisingly in summer as well. I'm best in a place like Costa Rica in January and July. 46. What do you like to do to relax and wind down? I used to garden a lot and read a lot. I hardly do either these days although I did some repotting yesterday. I like taking long warm/hot baths, replacing the water when it cools. A book and a bath would be great tonight. When I travel I love chatting with fellow travelers. And a slow walk helps. 47. Are you easily overwhelmed? Always. I have bad nerves and my traumas are easily triggered. "High Anxiety" would be the name of my emo-rock-band. I have little emotional support these days and that does not help. I don't have writer's-block but I do have cleaner's-block. 48. Is there anything in your life that makes you ashamed? Do you really think I'm going to answer this? Yes. I was raised with 'don'ts', secrets and shame. No... it isn't healthy for me to dwell on them nor reveal them to anyone. As in ... anyone. My secrets might kill me in the end but until then... 49. Are you a nervous person? Why do you think that is? Hmm... if you've read this far and don't know, get a clue! Very. There are some things that do not bother me. Like flying. I'm fine once I'm in my seat. Missing a flight? Sheer anxiety. But why am I nervous? Childhood experience of poor self-image, poor self-worth, little teaching of how/what to 'do' as opposed to 'don't'. My confidence was shattered at an early age. Any criticism slices to the bone. 50. What makes you nervous? Room inspection last week. They were checking the walls for the old plaster cracks before they started work on the bridge. Odd noises. I don't sleep well. Odd knocks on the door. Odd phone calls. Odd letters in the mail... Whole bunches of fear related to housing, and people in the past who wished me ill. 51. Do you feel you lack courage? What do you wish you had the courage to do? I have traveled to 43 countries. Moved away from home. Lived in another country. Had a gun once to my head (so he said); cool as a cucumber. But "I've been to Paradise, but I've never been to me." That's a real problem. October 11th is also "Coming Out Day" so the above seems appropriate. Used in "Priscilla, Queen of the Desert" in the Australian film of the 1990s. 3.025 |
"Doug The Dog" by Paul  is a worthy read. A short study in how the 'wounded' depend on each other. I can attest to this from the days when I was homeless. Seeing the street people, homeless people, Rainbow people with their pets (usually dogs) it becomes apparent how important they are. Every 'facility' (homeless shelter, nursing home, assisted living, prison, half-way house) should have one. For many it's easier to relate to a dog or cat than it is to people. Pets seldom hurt a human, other humans often do.So the story rings true. Only one suggestion ... this needs to be expanded a bit into a short story. It doesn't quite fit well with 'flash'. As is, though, it's a very good, albeit short, read and worthy of at least a 4.5 rating. For
I have an imaginary friend whose birthday is today. He seldom answers the phone. I haven't seen him in years. If he were a dog, he'd be long dead. And I have an imaginary friend who loved me once until he ghosted me. Every first of December I play Sweet Baby James, and think of him. And today I'll avoid looking in the mirror where another imaginary friend has always lived, wondering whether I'll ever say I love him. Hmm... 38/37/38. In three parts it echoes a triveni or sijo (Asian verse), but with far too many syllables! So... autobiographical. I did send a postcard to my friend yesterday. He won't receive it by tomorrow, but the thought counts. He'll get it maybe Tuesday. Prompt: This week I'm looking forward to ____________. 1. Speaking to a friend and/or family. Since no one ever answers their phone ... 2. Rain. It will clear out the smoke. Cooler weather. It may very well snow. 3. Rearranging my plants. I started today. It's part of my cleaning. 4. Getting further with WDC contests to avoid the last minute hysteria. 5. America going back to normal ... unfortunately, 'tain't happening.  For: "Blogging Circle of Friends " .Is 10/10 half of 20/20? |
| For "Space Blog" from: "Invalid Item" by Bluebird Write about the days of your life and how this poem applies. Days Each day has umpteen magic... Days you fly with colours; Days you live in dark... Days you shrink in worries; Days you achieve your goals... Days of the peak or abyss... Days of colours or dark; Yet, it is filled with magic... Magic dawns to success; Failures drain your mistakes... Success is still a crown! © Copyright 2020 Bluebird (beulin at Writing.Com) This works well as an inspiration piece but it's not exactly poetic as it reads more like a grocery list or a list of chapters! than poetry. Lines of 6 and 7 make it consistent; there's almost a rhythm. Word usage is weak and cliche. Ending is stronger than the beginning. Rating? Maybe a 3.0 out of 5. However... it would be a good outline for pieces of prose and salvageable as such. It does make for decent prompts. Eighth of October In these days of colours falling off trees smoke lingers in the last day before rains wash away litter that covers sidewalks like picnics years ago when I gathered friends, never knowing when rainbows would end. © Kåre Enga [177.243] (8.oktober.2020) 5 lines: 10/10/10 11/9. A bit like Far East poetry structurally. I'll be watching you? I've tweaked my "Invalid Item" poem:
 . I'm working on the contest based on Rockwell's "Somebody's Watching Me" (1984) "Someone's watching. 2 parts: blog post, redaction poem [241]" . I made a redaction piece and will also include the below: I jump when I hear odd noises through the walls. Years ago I woke up with someone in my room (at 1 a.m.). I don't think my body has ever forgotten. I jump and then think... how silly. I was part of the generation that was traumatized by "Psycho" and "Birds" but showers don't bother me. Neither does the dark nor cemeteries. Odd isn't it, what triggers a response... or not. I don't feel 'watched' here where I live. If I did my anxiety might get too high for me to stay. I do not surround myself with practical jokers nor do I hang out with people I can't trust. I trust no one. That's an issue. So no, I won't be watching you nor try to play with your mind. If I think you're ill or need help? I'll ask or keep my eyes open (and hopefully my mouth shut). 3,012 |
| Brokeback Mountain 2020 He only knew that he belonged deep inside the churning storm of his buddy's aching body. © Kåre Enga [177.242] (6.oktober.2020) 23σ 8/7/8 I was feverish. Only 99.2 but... these days... so instead of doing my wash I took an aspirin and lay down in the dark at 8 p.m. The above ditty came to mind. Anyhoo I had to get up to write it down. It's after 11 p.m. and my temp is 97.9. I'm fuzzy-headed and feeling weak. Thankfully I'm not in any position of power like you-know-who and my health does not matter to anyone but myself. In many ways that's reassuring. If I feel better I might go out for milk. As for the poem. 23 syllables, can be edited. Nowhere to put it except for here. I must write down thoughts because otherwise they churn then dissipate, seldom to be refound. Better to keep them. May be useful some day. Deconstructing it: it has rhythm. Any word substitution or rephrasing should honor that as the rhythm seems appropriate for the moment (it was a dark and stormy night...). Words are weak and not concrete enough. Image would be vague to some (but that's okay). May fit nicely into a piece of prose. An updated version of Annie Proulx' story. So some Reality Checking... 20. Are you easily embarrassed? Why do you think this is? Chris two doors down made me blush yesterday. I wasn't raised to be open about anything real, like sex, or wants or needs. Chris shared though. She's basically my age and said that sex = sex, but there has to be more. And how does she attract younger men but not men her own age? Oddly, I've had similar problems. 21. What is the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you? Well, it wasn't my shorts falling down yesterday. Lucky I wasn't naked! So, hard question, I'm embarassed by so much. I cringed as a child then tried to block it all out. I tend to avoid embarassing situations (like having my place inspected for cracks in the walls Friday; I cleaned like a ... up till 4 a.m.). 22. What was the last thing to surprise you? I didn't expect Michele to offer a new place to live. I didn't expect to love it. I didn't expect Travis to bring me down to earth. I felt ... as if my need for change was acknowledged... even though I've said no to the offer. 23. Do you hide your emotions? If so, why? I've been somewhat reticent to share details about my 'love life'. Pointless. A stray thought: "I'm lava; I burn anything that gets too close. Two thousand miles away, on days when he's feeling cold, I can only hope that he puts his feet up and knows my embers and feels the glow". So yeah... can't talk about it, can't not write about it. For: "Welcome To My Reality Forum" by Sunny 3007 |
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