Ode to Janice

I feel so bad right now. I feel like I’ve neglected a close friend or family member. I’m calling this blog “Ode to Janice” because last night I read something on line that one of my (currently) favorite authors said. She said that to her, creating her characters is basically this. You create the character, but then that character gets a mind of its own, becomes his or her own person. And it just really resonated with me. It also put in the fact that writers really are a certain kind of insane. My husband worded it best though when he said that writers were like children who never grew out of playing with our toys, bringing them to life, and I tend to agree with him. I can’t recall how many times I did something for a character because they liked it. So, against maybe my better judgement, or whatever you wish to call it, I’m going to reveal Janice. I feel that if she goes the way I want her to, or well not her, but her story, I’ll be doing this again. C’est la vie.

I was 17 when she came to me. And that’s exactly what it was. She came to me. I was sitting at my desk, listening to some music when this vision appeared. I could see her so clearly in my mind, and the thing was I wasn’t thinking about any particular person, or story, but as soon as she popped into my head, I knew her story. I could see her hair was a red, but nothing that natural redheads had, yet it was her natural color. Her eyes a shade of gray, I don’t think I’ve ever seen that weren’t contacts. And it built from there. Soon I was plunking away at my keyboard, seeing her sit in this room I had created. I had this doll to do what I wanted, but it wasn’t like that. Soon I was listening to what she wanted to listen to and creating things for her. It felt completely natural and when I start on a story, it still feels that way. I just feel so damned guilty that I neglected her for so long. The reason? I got scared. I won’t go into a ton of details because that would give so many plot points away, but this was huge. The was perhaps the biggest thing I had started writing. TONS of ideas. Hours of brainstorming and really I didn’t know how to get it all out there. So many things. Too many things. And it just started with a story. Smut. But she wanted me to build more for her. And now last night after reading that post, I realize what I need to do. I need to just write down all of the ideas, even the ones that are total shite and just set them aside. I need to be that friend again, that attentive lover, doting on my character, giving her what she needs. I plan on doing just that. I just hope that it isn’t too late and she still wants to be my friend.

Day Late and …Well a few dollars short

So I totally did it again! (Not sure why that sounds so flippant, but I do type how I talk. It’s not ditzy sounding out loud. Promise.)

Ahem. Anywho.
So yeah. I had to blow dust off of this and then I spaced writing a Halloween blog. I wasn’t sure what to write about because I don’t feel like this needs to be an update blog. I have decided however that I’m going to be starting or rather trying to start a video blog. It’s not going to be anything like this blog. So I’m not going to ramble on about life happenings and read smut to my viewers. Although I guess that could be kind of erotic. (Wheels are turning now!)
Nope. This blog, the one you’re reading that is, I’m going to post a few stories I wrote for extra credit in my medical terminology class. They’re still very fitting since it’s Samhain. Enjoy. <|=) (That’s a witch, just so you know.)

Untitled Poem
I’ve come comio for the corono that beats in his thoraco.
The encephalo in his cranio keeps him witty and fun.
The hemo pumping through his varico.
But mostly I’ve come to crave the glyco his cyano-opthalmos pour into my psychosis.

Untitled

Part of his cephalo is missing. He looks ill. Suddenly those dead eyes turn to me. I’m a being of interest. My heart hurts as I watch him walk in his cell. He doesn’t know I’m alive but I know he’s dead. He can smell my sarco. His hunger grows. His eyes are melano. His lips are erythro. Blood drips from his oro. His latero is visible and I can see his entero. The last of the chezieno drips to the ground from the tears in his abdomen. I raise the pistol and pull the trigger. The bullet tears through his rhino and makes his head snap back. His body falls to the floor and I wonder for just a moment what kind of bio he lived before the change.

Untitled Blair Story in Terminology

“I can’t go in there!” Dave Lucas stepped out of the way, holding his sleeve to his naso. He kept turning several shades of green. I could see the conio flying from where the door stood open. I moved closer and it hit me. Mortem, the osmo was undeniable. Suddenly I didn’t want to look postero the door. But I had an image to keep up.

“Lucas, get in there! I can’t keep covering your back. Sooner or later you’re going to have to discover the dead before I do.”

He just shook his head at me.

“God, you’re such a bleeding colpo.” I shoved him towards the door. “Now get in there!”
Lucas reluctantly moved forward. I could tell from his body language he was going to emeso.

“You lose your gastro here and I’ll never take you out again.”

He turned to glare at me, to say something, but he never had the chance. Something flew at him, fast and hard. I heard it hit his trachea and then he was down, gasping for ox. I watched in fascination as him and this thing tumbled around on the ground. The sounds resembled dogs fighting over a piece of meat. And that’s when I realized it. Not one, but two zombies were attacking Dave. I reached for my gun, knowing I didn’t have a clear shot, but I had to take the chance.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opened them and fired. The things stopped twitching. Chole rose in my pharyngo, and I felt it my turn to lose my stomach. There was only one zombie, but it had two heads; Siamese twins.

“Jesus.” I knelt down in front of the mass of bodies. One head was still alive, the mouth snapping at me. Its teeth are rotting, the color a shade of xantho. I could just shoot it, but this is something that needs to be studied. My attention is drawn to Dave. He’s been bit, but he’s still alive. I pull out my phone and make a call to headquarters. I inform them that my agent is bit and I have a 4231, an anomalo that needs to be picked up. A voice in my auro informs me that they are already out and can’t be reached. Fantastic. That’s just the news that I wanted.

Dave starts to moan and I hang up the phone, after snapping orders to the receptionist.

“Am I dying?” He puts his hand to his face and starts whimpering. “I’ve been bit! Oh god, I’m going to change! Kill me! Please! I don’t want to be one of them!”

I roll my eyes and try not to lose my temper. “You’ve seen too many movies. You’re not going to change.” I sit down next to him and kick the zombie away, amazed that it can’t get up since its twin is dead.

He calms down some. “What do you mean I’m not going to change?  Isn’t that how it works?”

I take a deep breath and begin to explain. “The truth is we still don’t know what causes this patho. We originally thought it was a septico, but then it evolved into something worse.” I pause and look at him. “Wait. Why am I explaining this to you? Weren’t you a part of training?”

The lack of gnoso flashes in his eyes. “There was training?”

I bite the inside of my bucco, preventing the nasty things I could say. Instead I ask, “How’s your brachio?”

“It hurts, but I’m okay. Can I sit up?”

“Sure.”

Am thinking…

I couldn’t figure out what to write about for a bit and I started a new job. I realize I had a few free days, but really I didn’t know what to write about. I didn’t really feel like writing now. But here we go. I’m a cashier out at the airport. I make a decent amount, not nearly what I want to be making, but it’s money. My hours aren’t all that consistent, but I like it out there. Currently I’m looking at consistent hours for at least 3 months. That can change in a few days or sooner or later.
But that’s boring.

So I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. I’ve come to the conclusion that if life is taking steps forward and backward, then I’m line dancing. Which I’m kind of okay with, because at least I’m still moving. Right now I’m up late because I can and I want to be. And I’m thinking. Some of the things I’ve got going through the brain I’m not so happy with, and others meh. But some. Wow. Some. It’s deep, man. Like ocean… well maybe not ocean deep, because thinking about that scares me, but it’s deep.

The hubby and I fell in love with a city and really want to move there. We can see ourselves being uber happy there with our kitties. God, I miss those furry little buggers. So much. I keep thinking about how us being away from them is so hard. I miss my kitty cuddles at night and getting woke up in the morning because of them doing something. But now, back home, there’s a stranger sleeping in our bed, using our stuff, and stealing my cuddles. My fuzzy children. I don’t care what anyone has to say, negatively of course, about that. I love them like I would love non-fuzzy children. Or rather, my non-fuzzy children.

I haven’t exactly been writing lately. Too much brain power is being used on other things. …Well that’s not true. I have written a few things. I even completed a short story that I want to make into an audio story.  I’ve been kind of working on a few other stories. I’m really looking forward to one story that I’m writing because it’s my first menage-a-trios. Woot! lol …Anywho. So yeah, I’ve been writing these on my way to and from work. Did I mention that I love riding the bus? It’s seriously a high light in my day.

Also. On a personal-ish note. I’ve been losing weight. The hubby and I have been walking lots. We hop on the bus, not literally mind you, and go places. …That sounds like I’ve not only stated the obvious, but I’ve smacked my readers in the face with a pop-up book.
Maybe I’ll post a blog talking about our adventures later on. …But now that I’ve said it, it’ll never happen. So let’s just say we’ve found some amazing places and enjoy visiting them. Also, I have to post the pictures of me being “slutty”. ….I have to have these boots. Just sayin’.

Oh. Back to the writing thing. I’ve got a few stories that I’m really anxious to work on because they’re collaborations. I’ve discovered that I really like writing with someone. More on that later. I’ll probably even post the stories on here eventually. It works because one of my partners in crime has a blog here too! I’d pimp it out, but I have to ask first. And I’m not going to do it now because I know he’s in bed and won’t be on.

Hmm… What else?

Ah yes. I’ve been thinking about whoring myself out so I can buy a bed. The hubby and I literally sleep on a pile of blankets, on the floor. Talk about comfy. Not! We have our pillows and a blanket to cover up with. How’s that for scrubbin’ it? I long for a bed. And I’m not really kidding about the whoring myself out bit. I don’t think I’d do it physically, although being used for the purpose of it would be interesting. Of course I’d make sure it was being recorded so I don’t get popped for prostitution. It helps that I want to be a porn star and I could maybe use those videos to start a website. …I’m putting way too much thought into this right now, haha.

But seriously, I long for a bed. I work full time and the only cushiony things I have to look forward to is the seat on the bus going to and from work. I don’t even have a comfy, cushy place to sit on here at home. Le’sigh. Although if this next pay check is spectacularly over 200, then I’m going to investigate in changing that. Even if I have to buy a fuckin’ mattress from walmart.com, then I will. I will be comfy, damn it!

…Rant over.

So work. Well work is pretty great. I love being a cashier. This is slowly becoming my favorite job. I’m so grateful to be employed right now. I just wish I could fit the school thing in too. But that’ll come, it has to. I don’t want to owe the government over 70 grand.

And I think that about covers it. Sort of. …

I know I say it lots, but I’ll write more later. Or I’ll remember to write more, will not do it, then feel guilty for doing so. Whatever comes first.