tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-98077315224336372024-03-08T12:54:55.383-05:00Guard DutyGuard Duty is my personal account of the world, through my very specialized observer lenses.
This is a place where I take my observations and try to make art via written word. Sometimes it yields results, sometimes just rants. Its really about the creative process and my unique take on how to get there.
Hope you find some enjoyment in it, I know I do.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-77164383860401447392014-02-03T01:14:00.001-05:002014-02-03T01:14:51.773-05:00Moonlight Sonata <p dir="ltr">In my quest of slumber, <br>
my spirit is both moved <br>
and stilled<br>
The darkness inside <br>
Roils in small turns <br>
Like simmering oil, <br>
Threatening to boil over. <br>
That if set free <br>
That substance could ignite <br>
May set it all aflame <br>
Might disfigure the serene <br>
And leave naught<br>
But ashes </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-17172429111531050482014-01-15T03:54:00.001-05:002014-01-15T03:54:07.275-05:00Desire <p dir="ltr">Only when my world <br>
Slumbering <br>
Do you call </p>
<p dir="ltr">Whispering my name<br>
Unbidden <br>
A match to my flame </p>
<p dir="ltr">You rend me apart <br>
I quicken <br>
Senseless to refrain </p>
<p dir="ltr">For its sweet cruelty <br>
That I stir<br>
I let it rule me</p>
<p dir="ltr">I swoon and I yield <br>
I revel<br>
My nature revealed </p>
<p dir="ltr">Return to assail me <br>
To guide me <br>
Instruct, unveil me. </p>
<p dir="ltr">Again, I beg, plead<br>
unsated <br>
As you take your leave <br>
<br><br></p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-87318695174825552772013-10-29T16:16:00.001-04:002013-10-29T16:16:15.045-04:00Flux <p dir="ltr">I am no longer young. <br>
I am not yet old.<br>
I am this in between <br>
This state of change <br>
A force, a catalyst <br>
I know what I am <br>
But not so much in words <br>
By rather, in sensation <br>
In thought <br>
In concept <br>
In graceless mutability<br>
At the precipice of becoming <br>
On the cusp of having been <br>
In the quiet moment before sunrise <br>
In the still of a windless pond <br>
I float amidst absolutes <br>
I am occasionally wanted<br>
Sought and pursued <br>
But rarely kept <br>
How does one dance with the ethereal <br>
The amorphous, the gossamer <br>
You cannot affix<br>
To Flux </p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-88161800840674553902013-01-25T05:26:00.001-05:002013-10-29T16:08:49.040-04:004am<div><p>We need to stop meeting like this<br>
as if strangers in a dark alley<br>
In the crush of magnetic exchange<br>
Pressed against sweaty brickwork<br>
Flesh grinding upon a hard surface<br>
Scraping and tearing with friction<br>
Blood spoilt upon the texture stone<br>
Pooling in the cracks<br>
Violent reminders of each greeting<br>
The marks of each parting<br>
The ghost of whispered thoughts<br>
Of undone deeds<br>
And future forays<br>
We really need to stop meeting like this<br>
</p>
</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-66722122170751002812013-01-14T14:59:00.001-05:002013-01-14T14:59:08.727-05:00Project 365, #14 Flash Fiction, "Armed""Armed" <br />
<br />
I stood at the wall of windows, placing my palms flat against the glass. I was uncomfortably warm in my skin, feeling the heat dissipating out my fingers and into the cold beyond the pane. Closing my eyes, I leaned forward pressing my forehead to the cool surface, willing my thoughts to bleed out and into the swirling air countless stories above the street. I could hear the neighboring rooms playing something with a strong bass-line, and could barely register the vibration coming through the floorboards and up into my bare feet. Perhaps I shouldn't have had that extra glass of wine after all.<br />
<br />
I was strongly rooted into my sensations when I heard the door click somewhere behind me. I didn't turn around. Instead I opened my eyes to gaze out at the lights in the city below. I tried to focus on just about anything but the creature rustling around behind me. I know its my way of building anticipation, this detachment from the moment. I preferred it when reality crashes down in an obliterating wave of onslaught. I closed my eyes again, breathing deeply and feeling my body tingle with fullness that increased oxygen garnered.<br />
<br />
He had learned not to speak to me when I was in my personal reverie. I'd gotten particularly good at conveying my intentions to him with a minor glance and nod from across the room. We had our own language of how these things would exhaust themselves. A shadowplay of action against the backdrop of ordinary living, where we were the only ones with the capability of seeing the presence and occlusion of light. <br />
<br />
I became transfixed with the notion of light and dark in a dance, swirling around in my mind and blurring into grays. Suddenly a shock of red burst into my vision as I was pressed bodily against the window. The dichotomy of heat and ice suited me. The unyielding nature of both winding me into a frenzy, unreleased and consuming. My measured breathing was arrested and did not go unnoticed. He turned me about and looked into my eyes, with his penetrating gaze. He was uniquely skilled at getting beneath my skin without even employing so much as a finger. His stare could press at a thousand triggers and fire them all at once, unleashing an assault that could leave his target opened, exposed and intimately satisfied.<br />
<br />
With a crooked smile, he began to fire.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-60340823666194552802013-01-13T23:22:00.001-05:002013-01-13T23:22:05.375-05:00Project 365 #13, RefugeRefuge<br />
<br />
I return to you<br />
into my mind<br />
the watery oasis<br />
of your embrace<br />
you hold and support me<br />
you keep me safe<br />
while the world swirls round<br />
a hectic haze<br />
I hear the muted sounds<br />
as if you're singing to me<br />
wordless tones <br />
<br />
a lullabye<br />
flakes fall like kisses<br />
and sooth my hurt<br />
but melt away<br />
with opened eyes.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-37174636183295779622013-01-13T23:11:00.000-05:002013-01-13T23:11:03.702-05:00Project 365, #12 ReleaseRelease<br />
<br />
White knuckles<br />
clenching grip<br />
holding fast<br />
then I slip<br />
with glistened palms<br />
and ragged breath<br />
I fall away<br />
and into deathAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-11191762268633784332013-01-12T12:34:00.001-05:002013-01-12T12:34:03.843-05:00Project 365 #11, UntitlesA torrent of motion<br />
swirling and spinning<br />
dancing around me<br />
dazing me<br />
and I ponder<br />
I am stationary<br />
my periphery<br />
chaos<br />
I remain grounded<br />
being pulled<br />
and pushed<br />
into stagnancy<br />
a thousand directions<br />
but none attainable<br />
I stay<br />
I go<br />
I beAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-71819260182853495822013-01-10T14:46:00.001-05:002013-01-10T14:46:24.588-05:00Project 365, Project #10, Flash Fiction - Reunion<br />
I'd been tailing him for the better part of a week. <br />
<br />
I'd watched him from the shadows of alleys, overhangs and rooftops since I'd caught glimpse of him in the crowd at the exhibition. Its not like I could ever have forgotten him. He hadn't noticed me as I twirled about the room in my costume, with lengths of colored ribbon streaming behind me. We always draw an eclectic crowd to our events. I immediately noted and acutely recalled the aspects of his make up. <br />
<br />
He remained unchanged other than perhaps some slight grey to his hair and goatee. It was still cut short. He had the same mannerisms that betrayed him. The way he inclined towards the person he spoke to, showing intense interest, but his facial expression remaining neutral. He still walked with the determined purpose he always had, stomping at the cobblestones rather than placing his feet one before the other. His laugh grated at you, not unpleasant, just infectious. It would crawl inside of you, loosening and disarming even the strongest of will. His charismatic affect was rippling through the neighboring guests. as they began to circle closer to him, trying to learn more, to ingratiate themselves.<br />
<br />
I made my excuses for being unable to stay and quickly exited the exhibition hall to change. For all that he had remained the same, I had changed immensely. I had grown to womanhood since he last saw me. I'd made a life for myself. I'd developed the few skills that he had taught me as a child and honed them to perfection, or at least as near to it as could be done. I donned my dark clothing, removed my flashy makeup for a more somber palette.<br />
<br />
I had a different persona each night since I first saw him. I hung back the first night and determined where he was staying. He hadn't left the establishment much, other than to attend more exhibits, drinking holes and whore-houses. I overheard the name he was going by and began to wonder what the angle was for him. He always had a plan for each place. He always had a time table. The biggest lesson I even learned from him was not just how to manipulate others, but, to do it in a way he had never learned, with subtlety. <br />
<br />
I resolved that perhaps tomorrow I would confront him. I observed him slip into the home he was staying in from my perch adjacent the street, dressed as I had the first night. I slipped down the side of the building and into the alley at last and began to double back towards my apartments. I began to turn the corner when I felt my body slammed against the grimy bricked wall. Stupid. I'd gotten so caught up in my own thoughts I didn't survey the alley ahead of time. In this area, it could be just about anyone. I found myself gazing up into my target's eyes as he towered over me. His arm pinning me across the chest, and the other draping his cloak across the aperture to the street. He forced one of his legs between mine to prevent me from dropping out of his restraint.<br />
<br />
"Why are you following me, Girl?"<br />
<br />
Girl? Well I was almost hurt by that. I was well in my late twenties by now, and clearly his memory was relegated to when I was 8. I laughed at him.<br />
<br />
"Well, surely you recognize me, Brother?"Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-61653174817887802722013-01-10T13:57:00.005-05:002013-01-10T13:57:57.965-05:00Project 365, #9 The ChantThe Chant <br />
<br />
Indifferent to my plight<br />
your bassline urges on<br />
pounding out my sharpness<br />
you make me flat<br />
you reduce my peaks to calm<br />
I dissociate<br />
I drift in your melody<br />
with the eventual realization<br />
I am expanding<br />
my consciousness lifted<br />
I'm soaring<br />
floating on the crest of the wave<br />
that is your influenceAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-4710624260400077562013-01-09T11:19:00.002-05:002013-01-09T11:19:38.859-05:00Happy Birthday Kyla<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/dS3ZKZ9VFCc?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
This post is brought to you courtesy of Kyla Myers' Birthday! This is me covering the song in her honor!<br />
<br />
Happy Birthday Lady!<br />
<br />
Thus the reason why yesterday's post was very meh. Maybe I'll get around to writing something today in addition to this!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-15563702592338378992013-01-08T23:56:00.004-05:002013-01-08T23:56:37.653-05:00Project 365, Project #8 RushTremulous fingers<br />
pecking<br />
conveying my<br />
erratic thoughts<br />
spent too long<br />
creating and recreating<br />
apart<br />
a separated medium<br />
but still producing art Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-69552349538513963672013-01-07T15:36:00.003-05:002013-01-07T15:36:48.185-05:00Project 365 #7 DeathblowDeathblow <br />
<br />
irregular heartbeat <br />
it skips and speeds<br />
its torn and mashed<br />
but still it bleeds<br />
seeping through my being<br />
attending my greed<br />
supplanting all cognition<br />
replacing with need<br />
denying my ascencion<br />
pushing me to feed<br />
unsatisfaction<br />
completion of the deed<br />
one more palpitation<br />
and I shall be freedAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-76154963144440295032013-01-06T15:57:00.003-05:002013-01-06T15:57:48.994-05:00Project 365, #6 Flash FictionFlash Fiction Project<br />
<br />
She sat in the illumination of the vanity staring at her own reflection. She studied how the light caught on her hair, reflecting brightly between the the deep waves of ink, accentuating its lustre. Reaching forward she broke her gaze and retrieved her powder brush, and in a disinterested manner began to stroke her face creating a soft, matte complexion. She repeated the mantra as she did every night for the past 60 years. Powder, pencil, shadow and rouge. Over and over counting the years down.<br />
<br />
Her thoughts coalesced on the faces of lovers past. There was Joseph, tall and strong, but lacking in character. And George, kind and sweet and the consummate companion. There were others without names, some without faces, some just mere memories of her own ghost. A flash of smoke and fading of light. They trickled through her mind, like leaves atop a meandering brook, over stones and around felled branches before joining the larger expanse of time's pool.<br />
<br />
She heard laughter and tasted wine. She felt surprise and horror and love and melancholy.<br />
<br />
"Mia, it is time." She caught Al's refection behind her own, standing in the doorway to remind her of the curtain call.<br />
<br />
"Oh. Of course." She turned and reassured him with a smile, "I'll just put a bit of color upon my lips and be right out." He smiled back.<br />
<br />
Al knew nothing of her past, and it would be a matter of time before it would start to give her away. The years did that. They tore at you, and the person behind your eyes was always older than they could even imagine. It had been five years already. Five years and soon the questions would start. She had decided long ago that she would circumvent the inevitable questions, she had the stamina for such things now. Things the aeons had taught her. Do not give yourself away, and kill it before it can kill you. Because eventually, it always comes to that. People cannot confront these things and not rally against it.<br />
<br />
She brought the deep ruby paint to her lips and carefully played out the last steps before standing. She breathed deeply, checked her reflection again and laughed that grating, inhuman, cold laugh she never could abandon. <br />
<br />
She took to the stage and sang her heart out. She broke a dozen hearts and captured twice as many. So sad that by tomorrow she would be gone, she would be in another place, known by another name and loved by another man.<br />
<br />
Al never would see it coming. Al would be meet her gaze with the knowledge that he had been preyed upon, and she the most deadly of predators. She would watch as his life would still, his processes still and his soul to depart. She would count herself damned again. She would be damned until she decided to end it. But she never could quite reconcile her own death. She could only dwell upon the allure of the hunt, the catch, the kill. And when she would leave them drained, they would at least see her for who she really was.<br />
<br />
A monster, wearing a mask of youth and a dress of satin.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-59901452509236617322013-01-06T13:48:00.003-05:002013-01-06T13:48:52.624-05:00Project 365, #5 Lack of CohesionLack of Cohesion<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is because of my introversion<br />
Perhaps it is because of my past<br />
Perhaps it is just the nature of being alive <br />
<br />
Perhaps it is because of my inclination<br />
Perhaps it is because nothing lasts <br />
Perhaps it is just i dont want to try<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is that I need absolution<br />
Perhaps it is that i cannot grasp<br />
Perhaps it just I will not lie<br />
<br />
Perhaps it is that I want dissolution<br />
Perhaps my time as elapsed<br />
Perhaps I just want to flyAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-5611053880632961722013-01-06T13:24:00.002-05:002013-01-06T13:24:41.057-05:00Project 365, #4 AbsentAbsent<br />
<br />
Right now I miss you.<br />
That miss that becomes an ache.<br />
An ache that you have dismissed.<br />
Dismissed because it is pain.<br />
<br />
I have things to tell you.<br />
That I'm mad as hell with you.<br />
But I know that you are being punished<br />
far worse than I could ever do.<br />
<br />
That I wish I would have been around.<br />
That I hadn't found other things to do<br />
because I got tired of listening<br />
and maybe it contributed to your desperation<br />
<br />
It isn't really guilt so much as a missed opportunity<br />
coupled with a taken opportunity<br />
that created no opportunity<br />
and only loss.<br />
<br />
I really think you would understand this.<br />
I really think that you would have just got it.<br />
I wish that I had been able to get it<br />
Because now I just miss you.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-519774351958167912013-01-06T13:09:00.003-05:002013-01-06T13:09:42.082-05:00Project 365 #3 Alternate version of a future history.Alternate version of a future history.<br />
<br />
I think of you more than I should<br />
you don't have a name<br />
or a face<br />
or breath in your lungs.<br />
You do not have a body<br />
or cells<br />
or atoms.<br />
You reside somewhere between<br />
you exist in a world apart<br />
you are the culmination<br />
of my dreams and wishes<br />
for a future that may<br />
never<br />
come.<br />
You are my impossible goal<br />
You are so many things,<br />
and you are nothing at all.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-72265541046320740892013-01-06T13:04:00.003-05:002013-01-06T13:04:51.870-05:00Project #2, Untitled WorkUntitled Work <br />
<br />
I feel as if I am in anticipation<br />
of a thing that does not exist<br />
it is a mere hope<br />
a shred of dreams.<br />
The thoughts of it are<br />
overwhelming<br />
me<br />
Cloud and obstruct<br />
the take me from my tedium<br />
they embody a perfection<br />
a flawed one at that<br />
the penultimate achievement<br />
my opus<br />
my masterpiece<br />
and my muse. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-72389335623916848292013-01-06T12:58:00.000-05:002013-01-06T12:58:47.318-05:00Project 365 #1 RetreatRetreat <br />
<br />
Once said aloud<br />one can hardly unsay<br />outpouring of words<br />
reach light of day<br />and sure there was a promise<br />somehow mislaid<br />by the toil of time<br />and silence the trade<br />when screaming in void<br />my lungs became vacuum<br />I implode and retreat<br />i cannot resume.<br />when a series of false starts<br />become a patterned step<br />a disjointed waltz<br />I stumble, inept.<br />I once knew this life<br />I once breathed it in<br />but now only exhales<br />and further we shrink<br />I've mourned you already<br />I mourn you each day<br />a shadow of words<br />you cannot relay.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-70788709268719036392012-11-06T22:14:00.001-05:002012-11-06T22:14:53.697-05:00NaNoWriMo Update: Election EditionSo.<br />
<br />
The only reason why this blog has an election edition, is, tonight is election night here in the US. You may have seen some sort of media coverage regarding it. <br />
<br />
Well, now that the snark is out of the way, it is actually Update time.<br />
<br />
I am currently at 13k works of the 50k goal for NaNoWriMo. I'm actually in shock regarding this because, I've always had a hard time trying to stay on topic for long enough to actually get writing done.<br />
<br />
Its getting done.<br />
<br />
And I'm liking most of it.<br />
<br />
I'm overwriting and I know I'm going to end up rewriting a lot of it for a more cohesive product, or just to redirect several things, but, the exercise of reaching word counts is pretty spectacular for me. <br />
<br />
I will attempt to find a passage at some point to share, if I manage to get some initial feedback from the inner circle that isn't horrid.<br />
<br />
I'll likely share when I'm done writing at least. Maybe. If it isn't complete shit.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-29442560246274021592012-11-02T09:43:00.002-04:002012-11-02T09:43:56.772-04:00Day One of NaNoWriMo:<br />
<br />
So, I reached 3853 words in the first day, without lots of effort.<br />
<br />
I'm probably going to be changing a few things along the way, and possibly rewriting whole scenes. Despite it not being Sci-Fi or Fantasy, and more historical fiction, I managed to slip a few references in there.<br />
<br />
I'm enjoying the journey so far and I am about to start Day Two in order to reach my word count goals. I know today is going to be difficult to reach goal, as I have appointments and other errands scheduled, but, I'm up, dressed, mostly clean and getting caffeine.<br />
<br />
Will check in tomorrow with thoughts. <br />
<br />
Also, Thanks to everyone for the support!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-59019267262987705242012-10-16T18:15:00.004-04:002012-10-16T18:19:43.092-04:00Meandering Story and Character Outline: The Locket.Actual Writing:<br />
<br />
I've been toying with the idea of writing my novel using multiple character perspectives in order to avoid boredom with my story concept. Then I had a great couple of dreams which have helped me expand my genre concepts.<br />
<br />
New Idea:<br />
<br />
A locket is passed as an heirloom through a family and various generations. With each generation comes a new story as to how the locket found its new owner. There is a strong romantic type element with this, as well as gender role exploration.<br />
<br />
Toying with the idea of a jeweler making it for his wife, but, she dies of illness before he finishes it. He then inscribes his late wife's initial into the locket, keeps a picture of her in it as well as one of his young daughter. He carries it on his person until he passes, where it is left to his daughter. Having remarried the daughter is shocked to find that he kept this object for so long, and she never knew the story of it or that it existed. (pre and post WWI) <br />
<br />
The daughter is married and has two sons. She spends years deciding which son to leave it to, or, if she should pass it on to one of their wives. War breaks out. She eventually passes it on to the younger son, who is "challenged" in the romantic sense, as an encouragement to find a wife. (pre and post WWII)<br />
<br />
The son is "challenged" because, he is gay. He eventually marries, has a family, but, keeps a picture of his unrequited love in the locket. As an old man he eventually passes the locket onto his granddaughter (1960's) with his secret and encouragement to move beyond expectations of society.<br />
<br />
She attends college and becomes a strong academic, and has difficulty finding a person to place within the locket. She is resisting romantic interests in favor for her career and resentful of expectations of marriage/family. Finds love in a fellow academic. They start their family late, and have 3 children. <br />
<br />
The middle child is named after the great-great-grandmother and is told the story of the locket. She then embarks on a quest to bring the story of the locket forward and to show appreciation for its journey after she receives it at her wedding by her mother as the "something old" gift and is told bits of the story. After learning the heartbreaking history of the locket she calls into question her marriage, its strength, and how love can be carried on.<br />
<br />
Thoughts?<br />
<br />
~CarrieAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-87619972766018150842012-10-16T17:29:00.002-04:002012-10-16T17:29:42.080-04:00Getting BackIts been 5 months since I used this Blog.<br />
<br />
I have been in a funk.<br />
<br />
My health took a dive for a little while and I had a set back. We are on a slow road to correcting and I will learn later this month if I am improving enough with current measure or if more effort is needed.<br />
<br />
This set back became financial.<br />
<br />
I eventually had to move back in with my parents and there was much in the way of drama, and it was even harder for me to focus on writing when so much other things were out of place.<br />
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Then I took an awesome vacation. Then my cat died. Then more drama.<br />
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Things are finally settling as I'm approaching my birthday. Autumn is a huge time for me to get grounded and then refocus.<br />
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I am participating in NaNoWriMo this time around and I have several thoughts as to how to approach it and 2 weeks to ramp up my writing. I have support in my husband, parents, and other members of my IRL family and friends. I have found huge support from my Googs as well. On the whole, I'm approaching this with a much more CAN DO attitude.<br />
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That said I will post this message then start outlining some ideas. Feedback (even critical) is super welcome. I will not get offended, unless you say something like "hey jerkface, I think you suck" which is mean and not helpful. Things like "your character seems to lack this quality and I don't like this aspect..." that is ok, cause, I need to hear it. I may not respond until December about it, but, it will be helpful at some point.<br />
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~Carrie <br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-48890879181321769902012-05-21T13:11:00.001-04:002012-05-23T12:47:20.017-04:00Cinema de Lux: What do you mean I'm in the wrong seat?<br />
So Saturday night I decided that migraines, allergies and neuropathy be damned, I'm going to see The Avengers. I will review The Avengers in a separate post at a later date.<br />
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Husband and I arrive late, we're scrambling, why the heavy traffic at 730pm? We print our tickets, dash to the concession stand for obligatory $16.00 popcorn and water and just make into the theater. We see open seats in the first row of the stadium seating, where the cross poles are to put your feet upon. YES!<br />
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We get nestled and are enjoying the preview when we notice there are an awful lot of ushers in this theater and they are directing people about. There is even delivery of snack items being ushered about. I note that our seats are super soft and cushy. One of the ushers is checking the open seats around us, and mentions to the gentleman she is directing that his seats are in the chunk we are sitting in. My husband inquires about that while I dig out my ticket. Sure enough, assigned freaking seating? At the movies? What? She says something about a Director or something and says she will help us find our seats.<br />
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We find our seats, no I can't put my feet up on the person in front of me, but, I actually have quite a bit of leg room. So we finally put the bits and pieces together that apparently, they are offering a program by which you can select your seats when you purchase them (although we did not get a prompt when pre-ordering on the Flixster app). This is so that, you know that when you arrive that you will have seats, together, with your group and won't have to fight for them, ask people to move or be separated. In addition to this, they also offer a full menu of food, snacks, desserts and even adult beverage selections. And all you have to do is show up and sit down. <br />
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They call this the Lux Level when going to a National Amusements de Lux location. Had I known that this was an option, and had we been prompted to select my favorite seats, I would have enjoyed the experience just a tad bit more. On the whole, a great product/service, but, they need to train their ushers to greet the patrons (not stand by the entrance and smile blankly) and when asked about the service, to actually provide the information.<br />
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To take advantage of this new experience, check on the links/descriptions below. Happy Viewing!<br />
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<a href="http://www.showcasecinemas.com/about-us/FAQs">http://www.showcasecinemas.com/about-us/FAQs</a>
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<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;"><strong style="font-weight: 700;">What are Director's Halls?</strong> </strong><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px;">Our most premium seating halls known as "Director's Halls" feature extra-wide Ultra Leather seats and assigned seating. The Director's Halls are equipped with state-of-the-art wall-to-wall screens, Dolby EX Surround Sound and stadium seating. By purchasing a Director's Hall ticket, you are automatically reserving a specific seat. No more waiting in line or sending your companions into the hall to find "good seats" while you purchase concessions. Enjoy the music, take in the atmosphere, and an usher will show you to your personal seats when you are ready</span><strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;">.</strong>
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<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;"><br /></strong><br />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;">Note: I have written National Amusements to apprise them of my impression. I suggest that if you can use this service, do it, and let me know how it turn out.</strong><br />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;"><br /></strong><br />
<strong style="background-color: white; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 12px; font-weight: 700;">Edit 5/23/12: I received an email from National Amusements local Manager and he addressed the issue I had with not being notified about the "Directors Hall" experience. He is sending me 2 free tickets to enjoy it in the future, and, said he will be taking steps to ensure that his staff are responding to the service more proactively. He also suggested that I not purchase tickets via Flixster, as he tried to do the same and found that it did not prompt him to select seats. Therefore, I am now more pleased with this service, and plan to go and see something soon to enjoy it more thoroughly.</strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9807731522433637.post-18177335662254246902012-05-17T11:39:00.001-04:002012-05-17T11:39:20.337-04:00Dog DayI know I haven't been blogging much lately.<br />
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I got whacked with a bunch of migraines that took weeks to vacate. They are still around, but less severe and I'm able to actually use my laptop now without adding to the searing pain. This has had a negative effect on my writing as I haven't been able to type it up. I tried writing by hand, but, it just resulted in me getting frustrated that the letters weren't pouring out of my Brain in the fashion that I would like, or at least in a relatively fast frequencies.<br />
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I had loads of fun doing the 30in30 contest, and although I didn't meet the contest guidelines I did get a lot done and have continued to write poems, of course, by hand. I'll type them up here later should the mood strike.<br />
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I have been playing with some new ideas for stories, and one came to me, yet again, in a dream.<br />
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Its very new, as far as the take, but its also based similarly to some other ideas I have had in the past. On the whole it requires some additionally mapping in my brain before I can flesh out an outline and start drafting. <br />
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Hope all are doing well!!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09975606276745726124noreply@blogger.com0