Food for Thought

          I’ve been thinking about a great many things lately. Life and happiness. Love and hate. So many things.

          There are days that I love coming to work and days that I loathe it. There are days that I love getting out of bed and days that I loathe it. Just like everyone else.

          Like everyone else there are days when nothing makes me happy and there are days that everything makes me happy. People probably think that I’m a little insane. I’m not. I’m just normal.

          My entire life I’ve always felt like I was a little different. That I was—not a slave—but not really a part of the family. There were times when I was with my family when I felt like I didn’t belong. I still feel that way. Ever since grandma has passed away it’s gotten worse.

          No one talks to anyone unless they need something. We all knew that grandma was the glue that held us together, but we those of us that were closer to each other than others were sure that it wouldn’t happen to us, but it has. Maybe we weren’t as close as we thought.

          I’m not faulting anyone in particular, the connection goes both ways, and to be fair I don’t keep in contact with a lot of friends either. I’ve always been bad about that. Even in this age with instant communication and cell phones and texts—I just don’t communicate.

          I don’t know if it’s because of my mother coming and going in my life or my father for being who and what he is. I don’t know if it’s because from the time I entered elementary school (kindergarten) up until I graduated from high school and being teased everyday I went to school. Sometimes from the time I got onto the bus in the morning until I got off the bus in the afternoon.

          I can remember kids from when I was in the 6^th or 7^th grade and I’d gotten this haircut/style that basically gave me a halo of red hair. They kept throwing spitballs in my hair. Or when I was a sophomore in high school and the kids would throw dough or other food things at me in cooking class. In 7^th or 8^th grade when they complained that I smelled bad and I was forced to take a shower at school in the middle of the day and have to change clothes.

          I’m not sure why I am the way that I am except that its just who I am. I’m thinking that its my way of coping and my way of surviving. If that makes any sense. I’ve never been a fighter. It’s true that at home I could be a handful and willful, not denying that. It was outside of the home where I was different. Careful of that I did and tried to make sure that I never offended anyone—though it seems like I did that often. Or maybe its like grandma used to say—they were just jealous of me. Or maybe its because I made them think of something they didn’t want to be thinking about. I’m not sure.

          I can tell you that being me in school wasn’t fun. Now there were times when the teasing would stop—someone had to make them stop—but it would start back up a week or two later. I don’t know how they were made to stop, but they did.

          I seemed to make friends easily enough, but it seems to be that in keeping them that I’m having a hard time doing. Don’t get me wrong, I do have friends and friends that I’ve had for awhile, but there are people who apparently after a certain about a time, I’ve just rubbed the wrong way. I don’t get it.

          Of course, some of my friends as I’ve gotten older have been writers—amateur writers or not they’re still writers—and they do seem to be pretty fickle. *shrugs* Who knows? I just wish I knew what I did to offend people sometimes. That way I couldn’t do it or wouldn’t do it again. You know what I mean?

          I like people and like I making friends even though I don’t like going out and I don’t like talking on the phone or via email or text or message sometimes—I know that friendships, like relationships take work, but I don’t want to be the only one doing the work. If I’ve called several times and they don’t seem like they want to talk or even emailed or texted and they don’t seem like they want to talk or anything like that, what am I supposed to think?

This Is Me in a Nutshell

me reading

This blog is going to be a bit different. I’ve been thinking about doing this for the last week or two. I’ve been wanting to my thoughts to paper in more than just a story. I wanted to let people know about me. The real me. So here goes….

          I’ve always been a very shy person, so my job choice is a little odd. I work the front desk at hotel overnight. I have to talk to new people on a daily basis and I’m not the greatest at it, but I get the job done. I’m polite, friendly, and professional. I’ve made some friends among the loyal guests at my hotel. They are people that I could see me, my husband, and my niece hanging out with off work. If they didn’t live in Idaho or Eastern Oregon and if I (and they) didn’t work crazy hours.

          Now, even though I’m shy, I like people. Not all people, but most people. Enough to get through my job and do what’s needed to be done.

          I love getting to know people and making friends. I have no trouble making friends, now, unlike when I was younger. When I was growing up I was always, always made fun of. Whether it was because of my hair, my glasses, my weight, or the fact that I wasn’t raised by my parents; it didn’t matter at all, why I was teased. I was teased from the time I entered kindergarten all the way up until the day I graduated high school.

          That’s not to say, of course, that all of the kids made fun of me. There were a couple of kids in kindergarten and first grade that stood up to the bullies for me. Same when I got into middle school. In high school, that was the worst. Yes, I had friends and I still speak with some of them today, but when you start throwing things at someone in home economics, that’s just rude. That happened my sophomore year and I almost quit school. I was convinced to stay in school by the principal, my grandmother, and my counselor. I think it was the best decision, even if the teasing didn’t stop for long.

          I hate mean people and mean spirited people. The world is full of enough jerks that are killing innocent people and killing kids and parents killing kids and people raping people, that the world doesn’t need people like you.

          I lived with an alcoholic and I don’t like people that drink. Especially if you’re a mean drunk, a happy drunk: I can live with that. My grandfather would drink a lot and he would be one of three men: the happy drunk, the mean drunk, or just grandpa. The latter was when he didn’t drink, which wasn’t often. The happy drunk was always fun. Like the time after his stepdad had passed away and we got some of his things. Grandpa told me that when he passed away I could have his chest. My sister asked what she was going to get and he told her she could have the fireplace. It’d be warm and she could live in too.

me, brandy, carlos

          Grandma, what to say about grandma. She was a great woman. She and Grandpa took me and my brother and sister in. They raised us. Grandma was always sick (as anyone who knows the family will tell you) and in and out of the hospital. Like everyone, she had her moments. Especially the last few years of her life; things had taken their toll on her and you could tell. She wasn’t the same person anymore. She wasn’t the woman that I’d grown up with and she wasn’t the woman I had always looked up to.

          I know that I’m not the funnest person in the world, but I like to think of myself as one of the most understanding people in the world. I can be one of the most patient of people as well. Just depends on what I’m waiting for and how long it’s taking. Bathroom breaks, I can wait hours and hours. Waiting to go home on Tuesday morning from work when I’ve just worked five days in a row and they’ve been particularly busy and I’m waiting on my relief, screw that! I just want to go home and rest for the next two days. I usually end up cursing him out in my head.

          I don’t like to go out and party. I don’t like to go out and drink. Some times it’s like pulling teeth for me to attend work functions as well. Except for the mandatory staff meetings; its not even my work pushing me to attend the functions, its my husband. He says I need to make friends. I tell him the same thing! He doesn’t listen to me and I don’t listen to him. At least, not in those respects. We love and laugh and fight. There are nights (or days sometimes) that we got to bed angry, but we’re always okay. Nothing is gonna break us. Believe me, people have tried since the beginning. Not going to happen.

wedding day..grandma, me, carlos, aunts donna and ardis

          I love to play video games especially ones that I don’t have to think too much about. I writing because I can get revenge on someone and no one will ever know it. I love writing play The Sims because I can escape into world that I create. I can have the life I want, mostly. The game is kind of limited sometimes.

          I love having friends that I can trust, since I didn’t have many growing up. I want people to like me, because they didn’t when I was younger. I won’t change for someone, if you don’t like me then you can just stay away. No one is forcing you to look at me, let alone be in the same room with me. Unless of course we’re having to work together.

          So, for now, this is me in a nutshell. Take from it what you will.

Time to be Political

            I’m not a political person, and I tend to stay out of things like this, but I think this thing with the Confederate flag is getting out of hand. People are urging musicians to denounce the flag that they’ve used in their art and pull TV shows from the air due to their usage of the flag.

          Yes, I’m white, but I’m far from Southern.

          Dukes of Hazard has been around a very long time and everyone loves the show. They mainly watch the show for Daisy in her short shorts anyway and the car chases. I know what the flag stands for and so does everyone else, but not everyone sees it like that anymore. At least, I don’t believe that they do.

          In a time when gay people can finally get married in all 50 states, I think we can let a flag fly.

          Speaking of which, I’m so glad to live in a nation where everyone can get married! Its about time America.

          My only wish is that my Great-Uncle had lived long enough to see this happen. He passed away in 1990. I remember watching TV when the first gay couple was allowed to get married in Boston and I cried. I said, “Too bad Uncle Steve wasn’t alive to see this.” I say the same thing every time something positive happens for Gay Rights.

          Allowing them to marry is the most positive thing in the world.

          I would like to state that I’m appalled by many Americans who are still so backward in their way of thinking. This is 2015 no 1815. Times have changed. African Americans can hold land, work, vote, and hold a political office. Women can hold land, work, vote, and hold a political office. Its time for people who think that minorities are second or third class citizens to bugger off and realize that that’s just not the case. It’s the way it was 200 years ago, but as I said, times have changed. They are our equals and they needed to be treated as such.

          People are idiots. That’s what the bottom line is and always has been. People like to believe that they don’t understand other races or other lifestyles, but the truth of the matter is that they just don’t want to.

          I would love to learn of another country and immerse myself in it for awhile. I would love to speak Italian and live in Italy or speak Spanish and live in Spain or Mexico or Puerto Rico. Or French.

          My grandmother, may she rest in peace, was a little racist. She thought that people shouldn’t intermarry and she was so wrong in her way of thinking. I like to think that I’m not racist, though I’ve been called racist many times in my line of work. I work in a hotel and many times I’ve had to turn people away. Some of them were African American or Mexicans or Puerto Ricans or Asian. I laugh when they walk away. Why? Because the owner of the hotel I work at is Korean, my immediate boss is African American, I work with Mexicans (I wish I could understand them a lot better than I do), and my husband is Puerto Rican (I wish I could speak with my sisters-in-law and aunts and uncles on his side).

          What they don’t seem to understand is that if you don’t have a credit or debit card or valid ID or that you live too close to the hotel. I’m only doing my job, but as I said, I laugh. They just don’t get it.

          I know that they’ve had it rough, but it wasn’t because of me. Possibly my ancestors, but not me.

          Like them, I’m just glad to be alive and to be able to live.

Publication Dates (as of March 1, 2015)

Publication Dates (as of March 1, 2015)

Delta Files

The Hotel Slayings 11-22-11

The Masked Killer 6-4-12

Ballerina 6-4-12

Recreational Murder 6-12-12

Fake 6-15-12

Trea Bella-Donna 6-18-12

Vacay 12-31-14

Trea Bella-Donna: Prison Queen 1-6-15

Hotels Unmasked 2-21-15

Recreational Ballet 2-21-15

Vacant Queen 2-22-15

A Marvelous Black Death 2-22-15

Suicide Killer

Stand Alone

Dew 6-5-12

2030 12-17-12

Weird 1-1-13

Twelve Months 3-28-13

Better Days 7-19-13

Dreamland Theater 7-25-13

Writing Death 12-8-13

Almost Amish 1-3-14

Marvelous 4-27-14

Espionage: An American Tale 1-27-14

The Garden 1-27-14

Sai 7-29-14

Come Travel with Me 9-16-14

Black Widow 11-24-14

A Far Worse Place (Volume 1) 5-4-15

Collections

Short Story

Espionage Garden 6-5-12

The Scorned American 6-5-12

A Perfectly Secret Affair 12-17-12

The Haunted Third Shift 6-8-13

Lonely Nights and Crimson Lips 6-8-13

Worlds Apart and then Some 5-13-14

Second Sapphire 3-1-15

Poetry

Bored and Bleeding 6-4-12

Egotistical Mama 12-17-12

From Me to You 6-8-13

Powerful Desire 6-8-13

Blood Speaks 10-12-13

Remembrance 2-20-15

Sinking Freely 3-29-15

Weeping Summer 3-31-15