My Newfangled Lorgnette (a.k.a My New Glasses)

At long last, the time felt quite ripe and right to get my eyes checked and pick out some new specs. I have wanted to do this for many, many months, but kept telling myself to be realistic and focus on school and such. Well, I tried to stay in this mindset, but when Mackenzie, one of my best friends--as if you didn't know already, voiced how much she wanted new glasses, by golly, I couldn't ignore the same notion trying to surge from my twitching mouth. So, this last Tuesday, her and I ventured forth to the local Lens Crafters located in the Red Cliffs Mall.

To summarize the journey and happenings which took place there, we both got eye appointments. Mackenzie picked out her glasses AFTER me (I had been looking for a half hour or more already). It took her 15 minutes to choose, and it took me 2 hours. In my defense, I stink at deciding/picking out most solid matter of value. Also, Mackenzie's very glasses savvy and knows the different styles, brands, and so on. She kind of knew what she wanted, at least far more than I did. Me, I was incredibly clueless--except I knew I didn't want just plain ol' wire frames ever again. I wanted plastic frames--and somewhat chunky. That helped me slightly, but I had no idea 90 or more percent of the frames were plastic there. In conclusion, it was so giddily fun and hopelessly maddening trying to find the glasses that were, to quote The Three Bears, "just right."

At last, after driving everyone in slight vicinity from me nuts with my incessant hesitation and which-is-the-right-frame-for-me? confusion, I was basically convinced with which glasses fit me the best. I couldn't be happier with them. I really liked them when I picked them out, but, because I had to run to a meeting, I couldn't pick them up until the next day. Garbage!

So the next morning, I was excited and filled with trepidation. I couldn't wait to seize my very own awesome spectacles, but I kept feeling unsure and uneasy. "Did I pick out too flashy or bold glasses for my taste or wearability?" I couldn't help ask to myself and aloud to all who were present. After putting them on for the first time, though I loved how the glasses looked, I kept feeling unsure about how they really looked on me. But, as the day wore on, I couldn't believe how much the glasses seemed to fit me: unique and reflective...okay, that was a lame pun.

In short, I seem to suck incredibly at quickly picking out glasses, but thanks to Mackenzie, Bree Squires and their limitless patience and struggle to keep their sanity, I was able to pick out the coolest glasses I've ever seen and never thought I'd own, let alone, be able to wear.

Well (this is for mainly Lisa) you be the judge. But if you even try to diss my glasses, I shall incinerate the very fabric of your soul:

Mary Anneology: The Study of...Me

I saw this questionaire thing on Mackenzie's blog, so I thought I'd give it a whirl:

FOODOLOGY

What is your salad dressing of choice? Ranch, poppy seed or that exquisite rasberry vinegerette one in the pre-maid Hearty Italian salad kit.

What is your favorite sit-down restaurant? Quite debatable. Village Inn comes to mind or Chili's. Wait, nevermind--Northwoods!

What food could you eat every day for two weeks and not get sick of? Maybe taquitos? Can't say for certain.

What are your pizza toppings of choice? Either hawaiian, meat lover's, spinach, or chicken/bacon.

What do you like to put on your toast? Sometimes just butter, but usually various types of jellies--pomegranate is the beyond best!

TECHNOLOGY
How many televisions are in your house? Two.

BIOLOGY
Are you right-handed or left-handed? Right-handed

Have you ever had anything removed from your body? Um, clothes? Wait, that sounds dodgey. Four wisdom teeth and other baby teeth.

What was the last heavy item you lifted? I believe it was dog food.

Have you ever been knocked unconscious? Not that I can recall. Closest would probably be procuring a concussion of sorts from playing Red Rover

BULLCRAPOLOGY
If it were possible, would you want to know the day you were going to die? No way. I'd spend the rest of my life waiting, worrying, and not living, so to speak, if I knew. Plus, I really don't think it'd do any good, and I don't think anyone's supposed to know unless "privileged" enough.

If you could change your name, what would you change it to? I love the name Elenor (Ellie), Allie (Always loved that name.), Sunny, Elizabeth (Lizzy/Lizzie is such a cute nickname!), oh, maybe Lily-always, always thought this was such a nice, beautiful name.

Would you drink an entire bottle of hot sauce for $1000? The incentive is nice, but I'd probably blow chunks before I got halfway through. But I'd try it for the heck of it.

DUMBOLOGY
How many pairs of flip flops do you own? I dunno. I think like four.

Last time you had a run-in with the cops? A couple months ago. It was just one cop on a motorcycle who made sure I updated my plates. He was very nice and helped me put them on.

Last person you talked to? Daddio

Last person you hugged? Mackenzie

FAVORITOLOGY

Season? I don't know! I like different aspects for each...right between fall and winter?

Holiday? Christmas, my birthday, and Halloween!

Day of the week? Oh it depends so very much. Friday, I'm thinking. I love the weekend break.

Month? December or October!

CURRENTOLOGY

Missing someone? You, probably. My grandma, sister, and nephews.

Mood? Content and grateful

What are you listening to? A shower?

Watching? Amazing Wedding Cakes! Love that show!

Worrying about? Being ready for the fall.

RANDOMOLOGY

First place you went this morning? Haven't gone anywhere yet.

What's the last movie you saw? Transformers II: Revenge of the Fallen. Not fantastic, but amazing visuals and chocked to the max with action.

Do you smile often? When it's meaningful or depends on who I'm with or where I'm at.

Sleeping Alone Tonight? I dunno...you tell me!

OTHER-OLOGY
Do you always answer your phone? Most of the time. Sometimes, because I can see who's calling me without answering, I wisely do not comply.

Its four in the morning and you get a text message, who is it? I have no idea! I was asleep, but now I'm worried, possibly scared, and struggling to gain consciousness.

If you could change your eye color what would it be? If there is such a thing, or not, a soft green, like cottonwood leaves.

What flavor do you add to your drink at Sonic? Um, I used to just get cherry limeades.

Do you own a digital camera? No. I'd certainly like to, but I'd want a pretty nice one. Not super important in the long run as of now.

Favorite Christmas song(s)? Dang, so many to choose from! Happy X-mas (War is Over) by Neil Diamond, any song from the zany cartoon with the mice family, Twas the Night Before Christmas, oh, and Carol of the Bells.

What's on your wish list for your birthday? Not sure. Haven't thought concretely about it.

Can you do push ups? It's been ages, but I'm thinking no.

Does the future make you more nervous or excited? A little of both.

Do you have any saved texts? Nope.

Ever been in a car wreck? Does an accident mean the same thing? Not sure if wreck would be more severe. Anywho, it could've been a lot worse, but luckily, I didn't even get a scratch--but my car indeed did.

Do you have an accent? No, unless a lisp counts.

What is the last song to make you cry? Wow, not really sure. Can't remember which song exactly, but a certain hymn made me pretty emotional a while ago.

Plans tonight? Neighborhood Block Party--woot.

Have you ever felt like you hit rock bottom? Every once in a while. It's crappy, but happens to the best of us at least a little bit.

Name 3 things you bought today. Haven't bought anything as of yet.

Have you ever been given roses? I think like one for Mother's Day

Current worry? School

Current hate right now? Having a pimple right next to my lip. Kills like the dickens.

Met someone who changed your life? Mackenzie and my grandma

How will you bring in the New Year? Um, not sure. Only time will tell.

What song represents you? Way cool question. Give me a minute to consider. There's so many, and I don't think I could definitely say. For the time being, I really gravitate to this song and love it: Magic Works by Jarvis Cocker--> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBPGJ0daqWg

Name three people who might complete this? Me mudder, Lisa, and Lori :o)

Would you go back in time if you were given the chance? Heck yes, I would! I'd love to see the dinosaurs, go to Jane Austen's time, or the medieval times

Do you have any tattoos/piercings? One piercing on each earlobe.

Will you be in a relationship 4 months from now? Couldn't say. Anything's possible.

Would you be a pirate? Heck yeah! But not today. They're kinda too evil now.

Attack of the Killer Tomato Worms!

Blergh. You're probably wondering, unless you had the privilege to already read Mormor the Merrier's (me mum) blog, why I'd ever want to post such hideous creatures on here. Well, read on, and I'll enlighten you shortly.

After watching a thoroughly disturbing 1953 sci-fi film titled Invaders from Mars but enjoying it quite thoroughly, I graciously acknowledged the comforting thought that at least my parents weren't being controlled by an extraterrestial's tentacled-head, residing in a glass orb.

My graciousness was short-lived. No, my mom didn't go glassy-eyed on me and try to enslave me for her master's biddings, but something equally horrifying occured: my mom's two tomato plants were infested with bloated, green worms of destruction! Good criminitly crap! Well, wait. Let me back up a bit and start at the beginning.

So not long after finishing the movie, my mom announced she was going outside in the backyard to water her tomato plants she had planted a month or so ago. Shortly after she had passed through the backdoor, I began watching a show on TV. Only a couple minutes later, an urgent "Mary Anne!" rang through the evening air. My mother was calling me, in desperation it seemed--but for good or bad, I had not yet found out. She beckoned again, even more shrilly. What in the world is it? What's going on? I raced outside, perplexed and hesitantly curious. She was standing by her two tomato plants. I thought at first that she was just really excited her tomatoes on one of the plants were growing real well, thinking she was over reacting a bit. No, I looked at her face and saw revulsion, fear, and despair. She pointed and explained as she did so, a large, plump green (caterpillar, I thought) was hugging it's grotesque, jelly form against one of the branches. Good night, it was ugly. Sadly, this experience only deepened in the nightmare category.

Increduously, we became aware that three more gross green grubs feasted fiendishly upon the poor tomato plant's arms. I immediately wanted the vile things to be gone. As if reading my mind, my mom announced we had to get it off and snatched up a plastic trowel from nearby. The black plastic fell against supple, pale green flesh, prying and swiping with vicious endeavor. Still, the worm of evil clung. Her slashes with the makeshift sword against the foul beast became more frenzied, crescendoing with our dance of disgust and just plain freaking out, complete with many a well-deserved scream. She said something like, "It won't budge!" Her proclamation was sound. The wreaking worm of wrong held fast. What to do? What to do? In the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think perhaps salt would work against them? I returned with salt, shouting for my brother, James, to help us destroy these beastly bugs. Pretty soon, I was armed with a small glass salt shaker. I scattered the tiny white granules on the same worm we'd unsuccessfully tried to remove. Success! Very, very gross success.

Yep, the salt worked, exceedingly well. The creature soon resembled a very long, writhing Gusher fruit snack. Very nasty ordeal, but unusually satisfying. As if this wasn't sci-fi enough, the stupid slitherers still succeeded in staying on the branch after I had provided each a life of sodium overdose. That's where James came in. Instructed by my mother, James brandished a pair of steel barbeque tongs at the leeches. It worked! It was comically downright weird at one point and, dare you imagine, graphically gross, but it worked. What I mean is, one of the worms managed to stick to the branch even as James yanked at the poor devil. The result was sickening but cartoonish. The worm literally stretched out, half grabbing the branch and the other clamped in metal. It finally was ripped off, but, as James put it, "deflated" upon breaking contact with the branch. Blechchch... Nope, still not done grossing you out. Throughout this exoricism, each was gushing green goo, leaving plenty smeared upon the tongs--not unlike how a sword would look after slaying a fiery, scaled monster. Or for that matter, not unlike slaying a like-like:

Okay, no more. I think I've sufficiently grossed or scared the pants off of you. Now I just need to check the backs of my parent's necks.

Yeah...laugh! Watch the movie--you'll see!

Managed to Clear My Head...er

Sorry this isn't fantastically exciting, but my new post is really above (a brand-spankin'-new blog header and, to a lesser extent, my blog background and such). Yippity-doo-dah...


I'll try to post something soon--"something" being the keyword, mind.


Here's something else to occupy you in the meantime:

Um, you're welcome?

Write or Wrong--You Tell Me.

Below is a fictional short story I've been working on since last fall or so. In case it's not your thing or your not in the mood, this isn't a happy story. It's fairly dark and eerie. I would love to have anyone that's (still) interested read it and tell me what they think. Any constructive criticism is quite welcome. The title's still not set in stone. Also, if at all possible, please try to be specific with exactly what you didn't like or (hopefully) liked (e.g. what worked or didn't work in the story why or why not). I can't wait to improve this and submit it to a literary magazine of some sort. Also, I promise I know quite well how to indent and when to. This word processing program on blogger doesn't seem to allow it. Finally, if you'd rather read it later or on/in a different format, I'd be more than happy to e-mail the story to you instead because this blogger is doing a wonderful job of not spacing out the dialogue and paragraphs as well.

Thank you in advance for taking the time to read this and critique/comment on it!

Fear Conversed

A young girl encased in a lime green bathrobe nestled against a couch's corner, her feet and body wrapped in folds of a sixteen-year old 101 Dalmatians comforter. The once vibrant red now pinkish orange material constricted further as her right hand slid down determinedly and secured a loose corner under her right foot. She yawned. Her exposed teeth gleamed dully from a late night TV show's ghostly grey light. The leather coach squeaked, groaned as her form sank further, further into depths of deliciously warm fabric.

A commercial selling greasy, slowly-rotating pizzas began. Her fingers and chin bobbed absently to the muted jingle about "2 pizzas for 10 bucks" while fists of 10 dollar bills and grinning families in well-furnished kitchens with immaculate dinners flashed across the small square screen. Another followed featuring a natural male-enhancement pill. Her lips and brows wrinkled downward over the ridiculous, distasteful innuendo.

Her sluggish, undecided thumb surrendered of locating a watchable program and switched off the jumbled images with a silent click. Black exhaustion lowered her into arms of waiting dreams. Her mouth became lax, a black void drawing air in…out…in…out…
A tall shadow crept through her closed eyes. A worn sole shuffled over laminate wood.

Charlie? She wondered with petrified hope. No ten year-old dog's paws made that noise but a large person, casually, the presence silent and thick as fog.

Her chest kept her frantic heart from escaping. Her breathing cut off. She refused to see.
Nothing was there. Nothing was there. Nothing was there. Nothing was th—! A whispering of smooth, light fabric brushed leisurely back-and-forth, like solidifying vapor. Closer…closer…closer…closer…closer…

The floor she cowered by creaked deliberately. She felt the presence of something, felt the air in front of her occupied. Someone was standing there. Watching her. Waiting.
"Dad? Mom?" she jerkily cracked. Why weren't they saying anything? This wasn't her parents. She knew their footsteps: a heavy shuffle or quiet, dry sweep of heels. This was another’s.

Her mind shrieked at her legs, Run! Get away! The waterless mouth struggled to function. What could she do? Her arms clenched each other. She wrenched open her quivering eyelids. A thin silhouette waited.

Knowing, quiet omnipotence.

"Hello, Elenore." A fluttering, soft noise.

The blanket and feet yanked back from the sound. The remote control, laid to rest for the night, catapulted off the armrest into thick ebony silence. Her mouth gaped.
A desiccated chuckle.

"Help. Help. Help. Help. Help. Help." Her whispered words lost in juddered breaths.

A smooth voice. "No need to fear. I won’t kill you tonight."

She shrunk from the response. Her chest squeezed air into frozen lungs and heart.
"Wh—what—who are you!?"

"I couldn't tell you, really. I'm fashioned from fear," a deliberate, heavy hesitation, "yours, actually. I’m unattached to any bonds of existence, yet your imagination and fear insist I…linger." The girl's pupils contracted. Her eyelids drew back, disbelieving.

"I'm awake so how can I see you?"

"Oh, I'm not a nightmare." A hint of jeering loftiness.

The floating voice paralyzed the girl. Each word cut, slowly, deeply, carefully into her skin, seeping, searing into her bones. Blood slogged icily through veins and heart.

"Get away from me!" "Help!" she wailed. The shadow laughed. Quiet, bemused.

"You arranged this to be private."

"…what?"

Each word drew, languidly from encircling darkness: a water-laden rope dragging up from fathomless depths. "No one can hear us. No one can see us.”

“Why are you here? What do you want!?”

“Now that’s a good, sensible response from you for a change.” Mocking incredulousness.

“Shut u—” Slender fingers slid quietly around her throat.

He whispered liltingly, his hand harshly directing her to his voice, caressing her ear’s ridge with one fingertip. A weak moan bled through her lips. “Should I break my promise? The one I made just for you, Elenore? Do you want me to kill you—right now? When I could give you more time to live, to ponder, wonder just what night I’ll return to unravel your mind and destroy you?” Her body quaked as fear held her. A trapped whimper longed to escape her.

“S-sorry—! Ple-ase …” The fingers allowed only so much air for her plea.

And then fear released the girl. Her body took over next as it convulsed with frenzied twitches. Perspiration coated her trembling flesh like liquid sequins. She inhaled slowly, fearing to do so too audibly for its ears--if it had any.

“Don’t be frightened, my sweet, precious Elenore…breath all you want tonight. Enjoy the sweet, fresh air surrounding you.”

“Ar-are you human?” The question had lingered on her lips from the beginning of the meeting.

A laugh. Humorless, dark. “Of course not. Most humans have eyes, I gathered.”

The young girl couldn’t stopper the sickened curiosity teeming within her, “How can you see? The last word a noiseless hiss.

“I don’t need eyes to see my prey, Elenore. Most humans produce an extraordinarily tangible representation of fear. Though I can't see others’ or your fear always, only when my prey gives in to thoughts and hallucinations.” She saw the shadow smirk though she could not see him. His voice was thoughtful, polite. “I've been watching you,” every one of her cells quivered, “I should say your fear, for quite some time. Sometimes I lost track of yours amidst the ever-growing forest of mindless victims, but as of late, it's grown stronger and clearer for me to watch and study.”

The young girl could feel boundless euphoria and a ringing note of reverence swell forth from the shadow with the next words: “How fortunate and rare you truly are to be selected by me." She recoiled, clutching at cushions, blanket, moisture between her fingers.

She feared the response before the question entered her thoughts, "What do I…What's my fear look like?"

"An odd, unwise notion to pursue. However, if you insist. A peculiar, rather delicious image.” He was surveying a great, succulent feast with those words. The higher tone and tempo ripped at her. She clung to the withered edges of the quaking blanket, furling the material around her.
“Fully-ripened fear always looks a deep, dark, old shadow.” He spoke slowly now. Ancient and far away.

“As fear matures and prey weakens, I always step closer to examine, being, of course, understandably incapable of disregarding my maturing curiosity and craving. As I come nearer, I look beneath, past what all other humans see and project. You. I see a crumpled, grey girl child. Scarcely does she raise her head or eyes. Whimpering, whining, weeping always. Her eyes always staring, never closing, never calm. Eyes so hallow, so broken, like an expired light bulb."

"You’re lying." She barely whispered.

"False hope, ludicrous hope usually springs up.” She imagined him waving a hand airily as his tone while he smiled ruefully and shook his head in jest. Then his voice was bubbling acid, “But soon enough I'll ruin it.” Just as abruptly, his voice became as quiet and assuring as each careful step of a feline. “My selections sometimes manage to hold onto a little bit of light that I can distinguish—like you. Each loses this dim glimmer though. Once I find them, I lead each to fade to darkness, utterly absorbed, lost in fear. He paused, breathing measured, peaceful breathes. His words smoothed out and became eager, exultant. “How I look forward to guiding you there soon, Elenore. Watching the little grey figure grow limper, darker. Watching those once shivering fists and arms lie silent, still, welcoming. Seeing—"

"No!"

Elenore sunk back, terrified and spent. A long, sinister gap of sound hovered and fell upon both. All she could muster was a dry, involuntary swallowing inside her throat. Still, he did not speak. Finally, a faint snigger, to mostly himself.

"My most sincere apologies, dear sweet Elenore.” Polite. Then, a rapid crescendo of obsession mixed with palpable resonances of jubilation. “I'm getting far too ahead of the agenda, so to speak. There's plenty time left yet to savor those happy moments.” He stopped, smiling wistfully to himself, she imagined. The voice became solemn and longing. “Yes. Those long, delightful moments." He sighed true bliss.

“Well then, until next time, my most extraordinarily fortunate friend." She heard a cold, pleased smile in his farewell as she sunk into the cushions from her body’s weight, limp and cold, unaware another slighter hand also rested upon her still, grey countenance.