Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Games of Deception

I'm doing it on the right day even!

This week is PROMPTuesday #15: One Word Says It All is from San Diego Momma

Deb's selected topic this week: Write about deception. Whatever that means to you. Can be fact or fiction.

Deb's PROMPTuesday rules:

* You must write your entry in 10 minutes. This encourages top-of-mind, primal thinking before the ego and judgmental brain kick in.
* Keep to 250 words or less.
* Please have fun. Don’t put pressure on yourself. Together, let’s rediscover the simple joy in the writing process.
* Post your submission in Deb's comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in Deb's comments.

So... here is my entry for the week... and then you should read yesterday's post from my Creative Writing class! I'm on a role this week!


Eating at my soul, the lies I
Scream, silent and unwilling to surface.
Words, laced with counterfeit
Intentions, leading you on, and
Keeping you at bay.
Artificial smile, you believe my thoughts
Are genuine. They are not and
Never will be. Tainted with
Deceit and trickery, I have scammed you
With my ploy. To hurt you and impair your
Judgment has been my real objective all along.
False hope fed into your heart, like IV
Liquid, dripping from above. Happily
Ever after will never be, teasing you,
Tempting you with unattainable
Ideals. You are my pawn and I will
Play until boredom takes
Over. Guilt and shame attack my
Insides, yet I cannot quit

These games of deception

Monday, July 28, 2008

Final for Creative Writing

So this is a little long, but if you are genuinely interested, you will read til the end. You may have read the first few paragraphs before, but our assignment was to keep going with the character study, so here you are...


The first time she heard “Cadillac Ranch”, she was riding in a Jeep with her dad and they were going to the cabin in the woods. They were singing loudly, as they busted through the tree branches hanging low over the dirt road. That was her earliest memory and one of her happiest. It was always the one she thought of when she was standing in the fluorescent light of the fridge. Makenzie slammed the refrigerator door and shut her eyes tightly. She shook her head a little, almost as if she were literally shaking the memory from her mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, she always hoped that she could just shake it with both hands and she could start over new on a fresh, blank screen.

Somehow she always went through this battle, trying so hard to refuse that bottle, but always giving in to the urges. Her hands shook as she attempted to smooth the furrows between her eyebrows. Tears filled the corners of her eyes and the back of her throat ached. She rested her head against the fridge door and prayed to God. Prayed for everything she could think of. Prayed for some sort of release. She knew it might never come.

As she stepped back from the refrigerator, the phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was her mother, again. She was always calling, making sure she was ok, always asking too many questions, pushing too many buttons. After the first few questions, she would just turn off and stop listening, just mumble some “mmhmms” and “yeahs”. Eventually her mother would get the hint and say goodbye followed by an “I love you”. And Makenzie would always respond with a “you too”. The L word never made it across her lips, except to her Daddy.

She almost made it to the living room after the answering machine finally picked up. And then she stopped, listening to her mother’s message, and she walked back to the kitchen. She ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair and reached for the fridge handle. She yanked open the door and quickly grappled for the bottle of red wine, popping the cork and gulping down the sweet liquid without even taking a breath. Every motion was hasty and fumbling, as if someone might be watching. The more she gulped, the faster the numbness would come.

Mackenzie stepped back from the fridge and shut the door slowly, bottle in hand. Tiptoeing out of the kitchen, into the living room, she slumped into her Pottery Barn couch. This was how her nights regularly went, home from the office, bottle of wine, no dinner, and pass out on the couch. Tonight was no different. In fact, tonight may have been worse because she knew what tomorrow entailed. Tomorrow, she knew, was going to be more than she could handle. At 9 am she was supposed to sign the papers to make her divorce final. She would have to come face to face with the one man that she hated most, and worst of all she had to go sober. There would be no defense mechanism, no fog to keep her from bursting into tears, or even more possibly, bursting into a fury of rage.

Her rage had surrounded her from as far back as she could remember. There was always a bubble that surrounded her, keeping her from showing her true self. There was a side to her that not many people had seen. A side that was absolutely out of her control and something she wanted no one to witness, not even her self.

As she sunk deeper into the couch, her stupor intensified. Her thoughts faded into the night as the second bottle emptied quickly. Her eyelids became heavy and rolled back into her head. Her hands and body finally relaxed after a day filled with tenseness and anxiety. Her red wine was the only thing she had found that could bring this sort of relief. She gave in to the alcohol and passed out, forgetting what she had to face tomorrow.

*****

“Cadillac, cadillac, Long and dark, shiny and black, Open up your engines let `em roar Tearing up the highway like a big old dinosaur”. Mackenzie jumped as her cell phone alarm went off, vibrating on the coffee table in front of her. The song brought her back to her childhood with her dad, but she was quickly brought back to reality and what today entailed. There was no way around it. She had to face the present in order to get on with the rest of her life. She knew this, but couldn’t quite convince herself it was the right decision.

Slowly rising from the couch, she rubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. She yawned and gripped the table in front of her for balance, feeling the lingering effect of the bottle. Her feet dragged on the carpet. Her head throbbed, pounding directly behind her eyes. She stripped down to bare skin and stumbled into the shower. The scalding water served as relief from the hangover taking over her body.

After her usual routine, she stepped out of the shower, grabbing her towel from the hook. Slowly, she dried her face and then her body, leaving her long brown hair for last. Her twenty minute routine of clothes, makeup, and scrunching her curly hair seemed longer than usual. She knew she needed food so she ventured into the kitchen.

Mackenzie grabbed for the cereal in the cabinet and then opened the fridge. In front of the skim milk, was the empty spot where the bottle had been the night before. It was always there, the next morning, reminding her of her problem. She poured herself a bowl of cereal and carefully poured just enough milk to cover the frosted flakes. She hated drinking the leftover milk afterwards so she was always careful to pour just the right amount. Her mother had yelled at her about this when she was young, so she was always aware of it now.

When she was done with her cereal she walked slowly to the front door. She paused for a minute as she grabbed her hoodie from the back of the door, where the empty hook was. That was where his always hung before, and she could never get past it when she was on her way out, especially today, when everything seemed to echo his name and his habits and the void of him not being there. She grabbed for the doorknob with one hand, and clutched her car keys in the other.

Mackenzie tiptoed down the stairs, hoping no one would hear her, and wishing she wasn’t about to go to her lawyer’s office. It was the day she had been dreading for weeks. There was no turning back after today, and it seemed as though there was no tomorrow. She felt as if this might be the last day of the rest of her life. She feared that she would never have anyone again. She yearned to go back in time and erase all the decisions she had made and the ones he made for her, most of them being made without her consent.

That was a lie she told herself, that the decisions were made without her consent. The truth was that she was never sober long enough to make them, so he did.

“Jesus, Kenz, we talked about this. I can’t rehash every decision we make four times because you either blackout or passout.” Taylor muttered.

“I don’t always blackout! You come home late, and I’m already asleep. How am I supposed to make any decisions with you if you’re never home!” Mackenzie said. She was always making excuses or justifying her drinking, never admitting to even herself that it was the only thing that got her through the day.

“I’m not doing this with you again. The decision has already been made. I’m moving out and you can keep the apartment. If I don’t let you have it, you’ll end up on the streets or something. Your money never makes it to the bank anymore, only to the register at the liquor store. I can’t live like this.” Taylor said, his voice trembling a little.

“Live like what, Taylor? This is normal, but obviously you need perfection. I’ll never be perfect. Not for you anyway.”

“I’m not the one demanding perfection Kenz, you are. Until you’re happy with yourself, I’ll never be what you want or need. Here’s the papers. I’ll be out by Friday.”

She blinked, snapping herself out of the trance that had taken over her thoughts. She looked around, getting her bearings in the downtown streets. She had been driving for almost a half an hour and hadn’t paid attention to anything but her own thoughts. It was the conversation she had gone over a million times in her head, trying to figure out what she could have done to make him stay.

“Nothing.” Mackenzie said out loud.

Her spoken words startled her in the silence of her Jetta. Her voice always startled her a little, as she kept quiet most of the time, even when she was around other people. He was gone, she realized and there was nothing she could do about it. She reminded herself that she was on her way to the final hearing for her divorce.

Parking her car next to a BMW, she took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel tightly. Her knuckles whitened as she willed herself to get out of the car. Finally, with a deep sigh, she opened the car door. Her heels clicked against the concrete of the parking garage and she got out of the car. Mackenzie made her way to the elevator and went back down to the ground floor. The elevator door opened and she straightened her skirt.

She made her way down the sidewalk towards the huge concrete building ahead of her. She breathed deeply as she walked up the courthouse steps and resolved, for the millionth time, to not drink tonight. The promise was genuine but was, as always, another lie.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

we were willing to live on peanut butter and jelly's and ramen for the next umpteen years

Oh. My. God.

Literally. I am now fully convinced there is a higher power up there in those clouds somewhere. Whether God is man or woman, the jury is still out.

So remember when I was scouring classifieds for Aunt Mildred's apartment? Well, the next best thing fell into our laps.

Three weeks ago, we put in our application for employee housing in Aspen. We hounded down all of our personal information and turned it in to the housing nazis office. There was a two bedroom townhouse for sale for next to nothing free $192,000. I know, in the real world, this might seem ridiculous for a two bedroom, but in this bubble valley, it's a STEAL. It was part of a lottery. Yes, a real lottery, where they put all the applications into a hat and pull ONE out. And that person has the opportunity to buy the place. (Only in Aspen).

We proceeded to completely forget the entire idea of this place, even though we had fallen head over heels in love with it when we went to the open house. Then, we continued scouring the classifieds and diligently coming up with alternative plans. We found an awesome house approximately 52 miles from work and justified the commute and the very large would-be mortgage payment with the idea of living in a HOUSE. Not a studio bunkhouse bughouse. Crazy right? But we were willing to live on peanut butter and jelly's and ramen for the next umpteen years in order to be a slave to our mortgage live in a beautiful house. My parents told us we were crazy, along with every other person in the universe. Everyone had something to say about how stupid it was to buy a house so far away and for so much money. (I guess we might have been).

So, as I was looking for the steal of the day from Aunt Mildred, I started praying. I knew the lottery was on Monday at noon, and I was only thinking about the other house 52 miles away. There were 44 entries in the lottery, so really, we had pushed it out of our minds. So I prayed and prayed for God's will. I tried to just let go of the obsession about the giant mortgage beautiful house.

And then! At 12:15 pm on Monday! I got a phone call! From the housing office!

WE WERE NUMBER ONE! US! LITTLE OL' US! WE WON! WE WON!

So, we have now signed a contract on the perfect house at the perfect price for us to start our perfect life!

And we went out and bought $100 worth of real lottery tickets compliments of my grandpa's faith in my luck (or God if you believe it).

And God, if you read my blog, thank you! Thank you! Your will, is my will.

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Not-Bridezilla vs. Divorcezilla

Shut up all of you!

I. am. not. a. blushing. bride.

Vomit, vomit, clean it up with comet.

After you clean it up, go read my guest post at Katydidnot.

Love,

Not-Bridezilla

Sunday, July 20, 2008

that fabulous deal from someone's Aunt Mildred who needs someone to occupy her four bedroom luxury apartment for free

Apparently this whole getting married and being a grown up thing is not as fun as everyone makes it out to be. 

I'm not stoked about it.

You see, we live in a small little valley near Aspen where a studio apartment rents for (at the very least) $1000. A three bedroom house rents for nearly $4000. Ridiculous right? That's what I thought too...

So here we are, my fiance and I, trying to figure out what we are going to do when the snow starts falling and we have to move out of the bunkhouse bughouse. We won't have to, of course, but living in a 100 square foot cabin surrounded by walls of snow that are taller than the roof, does not sound particularly appealing to either of us. 

I have scoured the classifieds... searching for that fabulous deal from someone's Aunt Mildred who needs someone to occupy her four bedroom luxury apartment for free because, she is off to a nursing home and just doesn't see the point of making any money off the place. I haven't found it yet. 

So, here we sit, pondering whether it is worth it to try to buy a townhouse, (that will be a stretch for the first six months), or just rough it for another year in some studio apartment where we can reach every light switch while sitting on our bed while basically throwing away our money to the rent god. The rent god being equivalent to just whipping out a thousand dollars in cash, putting it down the drain, and turning on the garbage disposal. Which would you choose? 

Of course, everyone I know has their own take on things and knows exactly what decisions we shouldn't make by ourselves. They claim to know that this market is a buyer's market! Or they claim to know that there is no possible way we will ever be able to afford that place in the next century. Or they think that we should just save our pennies and live in the bunkhouse for as long as humanly possible. I think that for the first time in my life, I should think for myself. And I just can't do it. 

When does the time come when you can finally make a decision without asking your parents what they think and how they did it? When does it finally happen when I can just go out into the real world and do something for me without anyone else's opinion popping into my head? When?!

Monday, July 14, 2008

Character study results

So... this week for Creative Writing we moved on to Fiction. Awesome right? Not... So, after I procrastinated for a week, I started writing my character study. There were like a gajillion questions I had to answer about some made up character. And then we had to write the first few paragraphs of the story about the character... soo this is what i came up with...


The first time she heard “Cadillac Ranch”, she was riding in a Jeep with her dad and they were going to the cabin in the woods. They were singing loudly, as they busted through the tree branches hanging low over the dirt road. That was her earliest memory and one of her happiest. It was always the one she thought of when she was standing in the fluorescent light of the fridge. Makenzie slammed the refrigerator door and shut her eyes tightly. She shook her head a little, almost as if she were literally  shaking the memory from her mind. Like an etch-a-sketch, she always hoped that she could just shake it with both hands and she could start over new on a fresh, blank screen.

Somehow she always went through the battle, trying so hard to refuse that bottle, but always giving in to the urges. Her hands shook as she attempted to smooth the furrows between her eyebrows. Tears filled the corners of her eyes and the back of her throat ached. She rested her head against the fridge door and prayed to God. Prayed for everything she could think of. Prayed for some sort of release. She knew it might never come.

       As she stepped back from the refrigerator, the phone rang. She looked at the caller ID. It was her mother, again. She was always calling, making sure she was ok. Always asking too many questions, pushing too many buttons. After the first few questions, she would just turn off and stop listening, just mumble some “mmhmms” and “yeahs”. Eventually her mother would get the hint and say goodbye followed by an “I love you”. And Makenzie would always respond with a “you too”. The L word never made it across her lips, except to her Daddy.

       She almost made it to the living room after the answering machine finally picked up. And then she stopped, listening to her mother’s message, and she walked back to the kitchen. She ran her fingers through her chestnut brown hair and reached for the fridge handle. She yanked open the door and quickly grappled for the bottle of red wine, popping the cork and gulping down the sweet liquid without even taking a breath. Every motion hasty and fumbling, as if someone might be watching. The more she gulped, the faster the numbness would come. 

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

PICTURES OF THE ROCK



I'm just sure that all of you have been waiting for these... Right? Right?