Waning Spirits and Other Rants about our Country, My life and Ben and Jerry’s Ice Cream

Current mood: drained
Category: Life

Currently on my IPOD: Whatever It Is: Zac Brown Band

Dear Friends, Family and Strangers with Candy,

D-Day is coming up. I see the breast surgeon on Thursday, will probably have surgery or a biopsy, hopefully surgery, as I do not care to have that thing in me any more. I am sad to say that my happy-go-lucky spirit has been waning. I am tired and want to lie down and wake up without the looming problems of my life or the world.

Despite this, I have accomplished some things today. I finished my erotic thriller titled: The Wedding. This will be appearing in the first two issues of Venus Envy . I am proud of it, and also think that it is one of the best "thriller" pieces I have written.

I highly encourage all women to subscribe to this magazine, not only to support me and a dozen women writers and editors, give or take a few, but also for the content. Not only are there going to be interviews with strong women and movers and shakers of our world, but there will also be articles on health/sex issues, style, and literature for your reading pleasure. I am continuously amazed at what our editor in chief, Jackie Johnston, accomplishes in any given day and she is truly carving out a wonderful place for women to go to for information and entertainment. (Oh and BTW, Jackie is also the editor for WPJ: Writers Post Journal I am in the mega-current issue combining August and October. Check it out! My story, The List, is included. Will Harold cure his problems by accomplishing his list? Or will his list get to him before he can complete it? Subscribe to WPJ to find out what happens and to read many fabulous stories by writers around the country..)

Also, I need to encourage all you flash writers to submit your absurd and surreal stories to Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens We are still taking submissions for our next issue, which will be an online (normally we are a print zine) issue comprised of all flash works. We have accepted a few fantastic stories, but need more! I look forward to reading your works. And don't worry, we don't pay in chickens or their eggs.. or omelets. Although a ham, cheese, bacon and tomato omelet sounds good right about now... I digress...

Okay, now we will take a break from our sponsors to bring you the real story.

There are so many things I wish to improve upon in my life. For the most part, I have felt like a sloth in my friendships, actually, my relationships in general. My family has been ignored for countless hours, my friends, whom I had every intention of calling back tonight, I had about five calls today...were left in the dust so I could meet this deadline, and then I fell asleep prematurely which leaves me awake at this odd hour wondering if I will be awake enough to make it through the day tomorrow.

Regardless, I apologize to my friends as I am a horrible example of friendship. And I want to tell each and everyone of you that I am thinking of you and wish that all of your were here to sit with me, drink a glass or two or eight of wine tonight and to enjoy a game of scrabble, monopoly or dominoes and great conversation to keep my mind busy from the bad thoughts.

I could stand to improve upon my writing as well. I have been working pretty damn diligently on my writing everyday, but it seems as though I haven't been doing as much as I could be doing since all of these medical problems started up. I have honestly tried and tried to release my self into the page and it has been difficult. Yes, I have written some simple poetry and finished off an older project or two, but it just isn't enough. I feel as though I am the Paris Hilton of writing. I need to be perfect and have everything I want at all times. But, perfection is not obtainable even though my mind tricks me into thinking that it is and possessing everything I could ever want as far as talents in my writing would mean that the rest of my life would turn out pretty boring, right?

I had a fortune cookie the other week that said that I will be one of the most influential, rich persons in the world. I already feel I am there. I have you all to add to my emotional bank account,(although I could use a few more deposits at the moment in order to cash out on Thursday when I may really really need it) and as far as influential, if even one of you buys a zine or subscribes to my blog, I feel as though that is enough influence to count for something. Most people in this world don't have blogs, pieces published in magazines, or even the words in their vocabulary to express how they feel about what is going on in their lives, or their countries, or the abuse they see day after day etc.. And for my ability to drone on and on about any given topic, I am truly blessed. And this is something that a lot of people talk about, I know, but really, think about what it means to even blog.

In any given week, I have approx. 3-6K readers or hits on my blog. I know maybe 100 of them, and what I mean by know is that I know their name, I know their face, but I don't truly know them. To me, this is fantastic. Now, most of them do not comment, do not show themselves, they are hidden in the side of their screen, which I can not see. I can say anything, well, almost anything, and have people know me. I can express my thoughts on Lindsey Lohan, Hilary Clinton, Frank McCourt, The Ice Cream Man, Liberty, Darfur, Canadian Socialization, My friends, My family, and not be criticized for my opinion. Well, you can argue with me about this, but true critics or gov't workers will never come to get me.

Think about this, there are countries in which you express an opinion about a leader in the manner of how most of us complain about the big GW and you could be prosecuted or possibly sentenced to death, even in this day and age. So what if I think GW is a hick that needs to go back to his village, so what if I think Hilary Clinton would have difficulty in office, so what if I tell everyone that I wouldn't hesitate to vote for that strapping young man from Illinois if he ends up in the final presidential election.. Isn't this great.

Oh and a few more things, I think that Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream has really declined in their quality. I think that the candy that is made now a days, isn't nearly as big in size or as tasty as the candy I grew up with, even though that was less than 30 years ago. And I totally hate all of the construction that is going on in every city in every state on the highway systems. I think all of this money could be spent in better ways. I think we should spend more money on our own homeless and insurance lacking network of friends in our own country before going to pay out millions of dollars to another country with similar problems. It seems as though our own societal/medical/financial/life and love needs are overlooked in order for us to care for others.

What is that rule on the airplanes? Place the oxygen mask over your face before helping the person next to you. Maybe we should send the guys over on the hill a copy of that laminated, sticky placard in the planes to remind them of the decisions they should be making with Miss Liberty's check book.

I have gone way off the original topic. But then again, this is my choice and you have free will to flick your mouse upon that little back arrow in the top left hand corner of your screen too...

I cherish each and every one of you in your own way and hope that you all feel the same about me. I will improve upon my communication with you and showing you how much I truly appreciate your friendship, your good vibes and your general presence in the form of a smiling face upon my friends page, everyday.

I will not blog tomorrow or probably Thursday, but as soon as I know something I will let you know.

Please keep your good wishes coming. The world wouldn't be the same without you, voice your opinion, no matter how many people agree or disagree, no matter how you choose to express it, whether it be in the form of fiction, non-fiction, blog, artwork, music, whatever, this is our right as human beings. Do not deny yourself the privilege.
I look forward to reading your thoughts on your pages or if you don't have a page, then please post your thoughts on mine. It is a free for all, well, with the exception of porn and crap. No one needs to read that.

Read me and I promise to read you. Subscribe to me, I would be honored and as always, I am free... No reading fee charged. Save your money for the literary zines that I know you so desperately want to support.

Enjoy your hump day and the rest of the days of the week!

Yours in Spirit of the Law, Stroking the Doubt Monster and Scaring Myself into Self-Doubt,

Cicily

In Between the Words

Current mood: creative
Category: Writing and Poetry

Good Day,

I'm on a role with the poetry thing. This isn't saying it is anything great, but at least it is coming out...

Hope this gets your week off to a great start.

In Between the Words

(c) Cicily Janus 2007

I must stay a while
You have captured a desire
Out of my words and into my soul
An appreciation beyond poetry
Turning my words into prose
For a soul that reaches
Beyond a boundary of space
As our friendship has formed
You have turned it into the intimate
You could be more than you are
Taking me to a place
Making love endlessly
Breaking away together
Yet, consider me a friend
Capture my heart again
Consider me a friend
Spread your arms wide
Hold me tonight
Turning our perceptions into love
From the night into the dawn
Becoming what we want
To each other
At last.

I have words beyond words
For a boundary has formed into more
Taking love away yet again.
Consider your arms tonight.
Love from want.
To last.

Yours in Words, Writing and Wishing I was Able to Meet All of You,

Cicily

Feeling Creative

Current mood: calm
Category: Writing and Poetry

Currently on my IPOD: Brown Eyed Girl: Van Morrison

Good Morning my friends,


Moods shift like the wind..

Another poem for your morning reading session...

He played
Strawberry silk
Upon my head

Fingers intertwining
My mane
Stroked across
Apples of my cheeks

Brushed away
Unimportant
Annoying at best
The second touch
Startled and Stranded
Emotions unkempt

Tangled and messy
Time again, love remains
A stroke delicate
Caressing my mouth

Lips playing
Mates in imagery
Worlds united
Textures combined
Softness surrounding

Breasts as pillagers
Thighs reaching
Between
Coarseness of you
Settle my thoughts
I glance to you

Drifting together
The wax and wane
Inspired tide
Bare toes allow
Coolness between
Sweat dissipates

Afterglow of warmth
Days diminshed
Place your hand on my back
The slight curve brushed
Sending signals
Starting Over

Release the string
Containing all I have
Showing you
Winsome Caress
Solitary strokes

Riptides of Lust
Pour out
Welcoming your breath
Salty tresses
Wash my love
Cleanse my pallate

Sweetening your lips
Slight gaping kiss
Complacent souls
Two
In
to
One
Another

Drifting towards
Out of you
Calling
In the distant
Seagull's cry
Out of envy

Wrapping limbs
Sea brings urgency
Tell me time
Is gone again

Quicken movements
End comes too soon
Tomorrow is here
Quietude resides
Placation no more


Yours in, well...everything,

Cicily

Word of the Day

Current mood: anxious
Category: Life

Currently on my IPOD: Symphony of a Thousand: Mahler

Good Morning Class,

I am just going to throw myself out in the open. I know that people get very personal on their blogs and today will be that day with me.

Today's word is: Spiculated (sp-ick-u-la-ted) Say it with me...Damn, can't put the little line over the top of the letters to show which ones are long vowels and which ones are short vowels.

Spiculated: ADJ. On a mammogram, dense regions with radiating lines that suggest breast masses or distortions. The term is used to describe highly suspicious masses that may indicate cancer.

Spiculated masses

* Soft tissue mass with spicules extending into surrounding tissue
* 95% of spiculated masses are due to invasive cancer

Everyone clear on this word? Now write a sentence using this word...This is your homework assignment.

Okay...

I thought my doctor had spelled "speculated" mass wrong. I thought that there was actually a doctor out there that didn't know how to spell. I was wrong. This was not found on a Mammogram. Rather the full body CT revealed a spiculated mass in the right breast, lying against the chest wall. WTF? Having said this.. I have had a breast reduction. I asked if this could be a result of the scarring. He said he doubted it. I hope he is wrong. I see a surgeon this week or next. Have to wait for the friggin referral to go through. Either way, it has to come out.

Then I thought, wait, this mass showed up on a previous CT. No one said anything. There's the good ole' military medicine for you. I take comfort in the fact that a 1.2 cm mass has not grown. So, what does the good nursey do? She googles: non-growing greater than 1 cm spiculated breast mass. I was brought to a site that quoted case after case of women who had, according to the radiologist, obvious benign masses due to no growth after a period of two or more years. Here's what brought me back down... They ended up biopsying the masses for one reason or another after two or more years and all but one came back as invasive cancer. Shit.

Fantastic.

Anywho...

Just can't win lately. Invited to send a piece into Thieves Jargon...Got turned down...Poor Steve Finbow, subjected to my writing two or three days in a row. I guess being accepted at Thieves is the least of my worries at the moment, although I am, on purpose, going to make it my biggest concern. Why the hell not?

I have to laugh. Right? Will you laugh at this with me? Hell, even laugh at me. Laugh at how ridiculous I look in my glasses. I might as well post a picture of my tits now that was have talked about them... Just kidding.

Don't get your hopes up.

I will keep my audience updated as I know things. I wish, at right about this moment, I wasn't a nurse and that spiculated wasn't a word, instead, speculated..

Yours in Breasts, Beasts, and Balancing Sanity,

Cicily

Woman's Lament

Current mood: calm
Category: Writing and Poetry

Currently on my IPOD: Personal Jesus: Depeche Mode

My dear friends,

Here is another poor attempt at poetry/prose/whatever....LOL... Read it if you must.

Addictions of thought
Never complete as rules dictate
Breasts, shoes, total confusion
As to what should match
When Labor Day approaches
The encroaching zero-ness of a thinker
Mind over men over matter over and done
But what is this thing
The confusion of atmosphere
A little overzealous
To call itself the destructor
When we are the cause
De-constructing lives with no bother
To think of the thinkers
What idea did they have
The living rules over the dead
For philosophy is not deceased
The time incessantly bleats away
My shoes trample what is not there
And they are not white


Yours in Morning Poetry Attempts, Moving Towards Something, and Making the Most Out of My 24 hours,

Cicily

Back again...jiggety jig

Current mood: awake
Category: Blogging

Yes, you read the title right.

I'm back again. Had a rough few days. Spent a few nights down at the hospital, you know, just to make sure they could do their jobs right...Actually, had a very bad case of colitis, pain etc...puking was my number one activity, followed by a short second of well....I don't think I even have to say it.

And as usual, they irradiated me a few times with testing, ran a few scopes up and down and found gastritis, colitis, and another large breast mass. Which may be or as he said, probably is in the chest, but they aren't 100% sure. So, off to the surgeon I go. Should be either this week or next. Yippee...Anyone wanna join me? We can go for early morning margaritas and nachos (i know a fantastic place around here, they even make the guacamole right in front of you at the table...) first and then to the surgeons, drunk... That way it won't hurt so bad, emotionally or physically.

As for the writing, I am pleased to say that a piece of mine will be appearing in DOGZPLOT flash fiction e-zine. I will keep you posted as to when. I think I mentioned this in my last blog, but have forgotten.

The book has taken a nice vacation and has used all of its PTO time (Paid time off) so, it must return to work if it wants to be completed by Dec. At least the first draft should be completed by then. But as Anne Lamott says, "Take it bird by bird." And for all of you writers who haven't read this book, the link to buy the book on Amazon is at the bottom of this blog.

I HIGHLY RECC. IT!

The book helps place the writing life in perspective.

But, the good news between all of this illness is that I have the rest of the week off. Not that I feel fantastic enough to go back to work anyway, but the doc wants me to rest. No problem. I can rest and write...

I hope your week hasn't been nearly as eventful as mine.

So far.

I am off to write for a while, please email me or IM me anytime and of course, subscribe to the blog!!!

Yours in Illness, Insanity and Inching my Way Through a Novel, One Word at a Time,

Cicily

A Solution for Your Rejection Letters...

Current mood: amused
Category: Writing and Poetry

Currently on my IPOD: Jagged Little Pill: Alanis Morrisette

Not that I'm jaded.. Just got this idea from a friend and thought it would be fun...And yes, this is a re-post from my Myspace blog...

This one's for you Tex.

Dear Agent XYZ,

Thank you for posting a web site announcing that you are now accepting queries in the following categories: Fiction, Literary Fiction, Childrens Fiction, Young Adult, Everything in-between and Non-Fiction. As you may already know, I am very selective about the agents I choose to query. My projects take up lots of my time, make me sweat, drink heavily and often have me considering the state mental facility as my next home. I have ignored family, friends and chosen a solitary state of mind (other than the voices that speak to me) in order to write the novel that I should be sending you.

As you might guess, this leaves me very little time to go through agent listings and I must seek out the brightest, most tenacious and good looking agents that I can find on the internet. And as a bonus, your website must be spectacular in order to catch my attention.

In your case, I must say, although you have piqued my interest with your website and the list of clients you have posted, I have to take a pass. Even though I am choosing not to query you at this time, this does not mean you're not good enough, or not even a real human being, it just means you are not on my personal "A" list of agents. So carry on with your work, as I am sure you will find a best seller among your slush pile, it just won't be me this time.

Please feel free to query me regarding my works after I have made the NY Times Best Seller List or you can take a look at a sample of my works on the website: www.yeahright.comma

Thank you for not sending me hate mail,

Ms. Jaded Writer



Yours in Laughing my Astericks Off, Licking Envelopes for Rejection Letters to Come and Luckless Writing,

Cicily

Sitting In My Boring Room

Current mood: anxious
Category: Blogging

Currently on my IPOD: The Guy that Says Goodbye: Griffin House

Good Afternoon My Sweets,

How are you? I am sitting in my room, you know, the one with the books, table and computer, and writing to you regarding what is going on in my life. Of course you want to know. Well, maybe not, but from my point of view, I need to get this out otherwise I might explode.

There is the isolation of the moment giving me a clarity of thought process I don't normally get. My writing is going about as well as the tree-money venture. The novel is at a stand still. It has been for a few days and anytime I get discouraged with the writing, I get grumpy. I want a yellow sun, clear thoughts and a well-defined sense of where to go from here. But it isn't coming. Patiently I will await for the right moment, but that moment is elusive, at best, regarding its ETA. Oh, and I got two rejections today, maybe this is why I feel like crying. I have thicker skin but when the rejections come with the other whammies in my life they seem almost too much to bear.

My health is not good. I feel okay, maybe a little depressed more than anything, but the doctors say otherwise. There is a chance that I might have that C word. I am holding on to hope, as it is the only thing the doctors have given me. (Sorry to get all melodramatic) I had more testing today and we shall see where it leads. AT this point I would rather be at work then running too and fro with CT scans, blood work, etc.

Maybe if I closed my eyes for a minute, and all of you close your eyes with me we can have a moment of pure peace and today would not happen, today would just become a viscous memory in my mundane life. I won't give up, I never do. Even after what happened earlier this year. I plan on going to NY this winter to try to sell the book. Please root me on...I must get it completed regardless of what my fate has in store for me, as I truly believe my fate is resting on much more than someone's initials of MD...

Reach out and touch someone, hug them, kiss them, tell them you love them and have them touch someone else and eventually the chain will get to me and I will feel all of you sending your good vibes to me. I need this desperately. I don't want to sink down into the seething gallows in my mind.

Off to read something humorous for the afternoon while waiting on the doc's phone call.

Writing right now would be futile.

Thank you.

Yours in Worrying, Writing and Wondering Why,

Cicily

My Two Cents

Current mood: calm
Category: Life

On My IPOD: No Such Thing: John Mayer

Just when you think I am done for the day I am not. At least there are times when I think I am done for the day but my brain tells me otherwise. This ever happen to you?

There are people in my life right now who are giving me undying support in the face of utter hell. You know who you are and I thank you. I wish I was around all of you all of the time, and I can promise you this, when I make the NY times Best Seller List, (and don't doubt me...I will one of these days, hopefully while I am still alive) I will buy you all a house on my little isolated island and we will all live out our philsophically poetic lives together. Of course, all on my dime and with wireless.

There are those people who are clearly on this earth to make an impact in others lives. There are those on this planet whom are clearly put here to teach us all a lesson, whether that lesson is in patience, putting out fires, or what not to do types, they are here for reasons most of us can not see at the moment.

I feel as though one of us, maybe me, should write an Idiots Guide to Getting Along with Others. Maybe this would be a best seller and I could actually incorporate the whosits and the whatsits about getting along. As I often try to beat into my readers heads, why can't we all just try to come to an understanding of our differences? Most people want to take the stance of, "I can't be held responsible"...No, you can not be held responsible for what others say and do, as they are their own person with their own ideals of right and wrong, but there is that hint of responsibility to take that person for the grain of salt that they are and try to understand them and what they have done.

What is that quote? Tell me and I will forget, Show me and I will forget, but teach me and help me understand and I will learn.

Something like that.

For example: There are many, many religions on the face of this earth. I would like to think that each one of these religions try in the best way they know to teach their followers to love one another and love the life you have been given. But there are religions out there that are still undiscovered, like the ones that people forge out of their lives in the Amazon Rain Forest, people to whom, www is not an expression or a grouping of letters, it is a completely foreign concept. Are these people wrong for what they do for survival? Are these people wrong in their concept of what is good vs evil? I would not hold them accountable for their actions, rather I would much rather try to learn their motives. Maybe they kill certain types of frogs in order to appease a frog man whom one thought that they saw one night in the dark, but this does not mean that they are frog haters. That was probably ignorant for me to say, but it is just an example. I don't actually know much about Amazon tribes, but one day I will...

There are so many people in this world that have no clue on how to educate themselves emotionally and would rather walk through this bumpy existence wearing their ignorance as an accessory to their stupidity rather than taking the time to slow down and say hello, how are you? What is it that makes you tick? Why do you only wear red stripes? Why won't you eat a certain type of meat? Why do you refuse to support the Golden Calf? Why do you like someone like Joseph Smith as opposed to Wesley? What do you feel about the Islamic extremists vs the traditional Islam faith? How do you feel about the stars? Do they have any bearing on our lives? Whatever...You get my point.

Please, as you start your week take this with you. Stop and ask if you feel that hate coming up inside of your inner soul. And if you can't ask them in person, then ask yourself, is the hate residing in you because of ignorance?

Lighten up.

Stress isn't worth it.

I had someone actually quote me this week after reading a portion of my novel...

Ignorance always comes in the form of intolerance for the freaks.

We are all freaks.

Yours in Freakiness, Finding a Light, and Fighting off Ignorance,

Cicily

Running

Another Dr. Seussism of Darkness
Current mood: calm
Category: Writing and Poetry

On my IPOD: Caught Up : Usher

Running

By: Cicily Janus

The woman was tired of being fat and unable.
So she sat down at her short little table.

She called up her friend, who happened to be in the same sad state of affairs. And told her,
"My friend, you and I have to stop eating all of these Éclairs."

Her friend put the pastry down and stared at the phone. After all, how could her friend possibly have known?

A look of defeat fell upon her face, for it was at this very minute, the cream made of sugar and milk was traveling down her gastric journey of pleasure. But just like her friend, she knew that it was her waist line that she was deeply afraid to measure

The two of them went to a fat-doctor they found on the internet the very next day and enlisted his help, after all, they needed it in the very worst way.

He looked at them and smiled a slight, mustached-devilish grin,
"Ladies, your beauty is obvious, even if your pounds hide away the inner-thinness between your mounds. All I need is your patience and money and soon you will be one hot pair of honeys"

They looked at each other and smiled as no one had referred to them as "honey" in quite a while. But this doc was suave, good looking, smooth talking at best. His diploma looked real and his web site promised a weight loss quest.

The first part was easy, just an installment of one thousand smackeroos and he would give them a few dozen lessons on how to jump like kangaroos.

Burning calories and self esteem, the women jumped and jumped into the night. They began to feel so tired, but the pounds had to come off, he just had to be right.

The next day he weighed them on a brand new scale. "That's one pound down!" He said with a smile and they were beginning to feel a little less like whales.

But it was the second part that came as a surprise. A lettuce smoothie with grass, well…It would certainly be better than fat lady demise.

They drank one for morning and then at noon. The concoction was so thick, they had to use a spoon. The smell was horrid but the taste was worse, but the pounds will come off, the doc kept saying, it's better than a hearse!

They went back to see him with weary souls that were no longer in the mood to play. He had promised them that all of their weight would be lost in only five days.

He began to realize that they were on to his scheme and said,
"One more thousand down and the real trick will be revealed. You come with me for a toxic, chemical fat-burning peel!"

The women, sick, drained and broke, decided if he pulled one more trick they were going to kill the old bloke. He weighed them again and the pounds were actually coming off. They had lost a total of eight pounds down in three days, which was nothing to make them scoff.

The women were now convinced that maybe this really was a wizard of fat burning and they let the idea of his fraud stop churning. With a spring in their lighter little steps, they followed him down the hall and heaved their bodies onto the tables next to the wall.

Slowly, he poured on a substance which could only be described as vile. He backed out the door as he turned out the lights and said,

"Don't worry, relax, lay very still as this will only hurt for a little while."

They laid there for as long as they possibly could and after a while, they heard what sounded like the slamming of a hood. Yet it was the starting of the car that alarmed them so. Then the locking of a door that made them get up and go, go, go!

The hot wax dripped off their bodies as they ran after him that day. He had their money, self esteem and even the fat woman gone skinny display. The women ran as fast as they could, down Barnes Street and cut to the left on Fallows Avenue. But it was their hearts and lungs slowing them down faster than that waxy goo. This was the real solution instead of a trick. He got those fat girls running very, very quick. And in Colorado, they are still running to this day. But they are thinner now, in each and every way.

Yours in Exercise, Essential Fats and Extra Special People,

Cicily

Will Breathe For Money

Current mood: calm
Currently On My IPOD: The Hours: Phillip Glass

Young adult woman professional will breathe for money. Trained and certified breather available 24/7 with experience in short shallow breathing, slow deep exhales and inhales. Some Asthmatic experience, especially during flu and cold season. Only expects nominal fee per breath. If interested in hiring me, you can call me at 888-breathe

Does it ever feel as though you need to make an appointment with yourself to breath, or just to take the time out for what people call a "breather"? I do. all the time. I wish someone would pay me to do it so I wouldn't feel so guilty about taking time out of every minute to do so.

Follow me: Take a deep breath. Follow the breath as it travels up your trachea and out your mouth. Exhale again to expell the negative energy around you. Inhale and exhale, feel your body go numb. Breath. Recall what it felt like the last time you did nothing but inhale and exhale. Take a moment out of your day and relax.

Wouldn't life be easier if we all just lived and forgot about the responsibilities that hover around our heads. Play time, food time, nap time, play more time, arts and crafts, reading hour and then food time again before bed. My ideal schedule. One day..One day.

I saw a woman yelling at her children this afternoon. They had to hurry up. Right now! Hurry up, sit up, shut up. She went on and on until her husband finally yelled back at her telling her to calm down, sit down and relax. She started to cry. Why must we feel the dire need to accomplish everything everyday. Because that is the way we live. Everyone lives this way it seems. Honking, yelling, screaming, fighting etc. They need oxygen therapy for sure. I am guilty of this too, I am not saying this to be elitest or anything like that, I just think it needs to be said.

But for now, I will continue to be a pro breather without pay. Without want for anything but a break in the business of everything.

Yours in inhalation, inspiration and instigating an in-service for professional breathers everywhere.

Cicily

Plastic Love

Current mood: cheerful
Category: Writing and Poetry

Currently on my IPOD: Naima: John Coltrane


Okay Kids...Time for very serious poetry. Something to make you ponder love, our crazy world, and everything else you would want in a poem. Enjoy!


Plastic Love:
By: Cicily Janus
(c) 2007

He knew her disappointment was all he could bear.
So he took his love to the operating chair.

It started with the eyes, neck, belly and nose.
Then the lips, arms, waist, thighs and finally he said off with my toes!

The doctor looked at him and stared
And the man's face grew long and scared.

He said to the doctor, But she will not love me, as I have a fungus of sorts
It is a fungus amongus and she hates my self-deprecating retorts.

The doctor insisted, sir, but you really should keep your own toes,
But, if it is your fungus that plagues you so, I think I can solve your woes.

The man smiled with glee
He finally was happy and finally would please his Mon Cheri.

The doctor met him in the operating room the very next day
The scalpels, nurses and anesthesia all waited at bay

The patient was anxious to go under the knife
With worry on his sleeve and brows wrought with strife

But the doctor came to put his mind at rest
He said, I use the latest technological techniques. After all, I am the best!

The nurse wheeled him in on the gurney
For the short-lived, but cold, cold journey

And after hours and hours of very hard work
The doctor finally proclaimed, I think this man no longer has a quirk!

The recovery went smooth, or so they say
For the man didn't really wake up for days and days and days

He looked over himself and then to the nurse
Then he tried to scream and got nothing out but a silent little curse

For he stared at his lips, belly, thighs and down the bridge of his little-new-nose
And then finally all the way down to his little new toes

They were all but the latest
And the greatest

Fashionable, technological medical wear
But of course he wouldn't know that, he wouldn't even care

For he has a new name, Ken, he is made of plastic
His love has left, but his body is fantastic.

Yours in Plastic Surgery, Pinching an inch, and Purposefully Writing this to Make You Laugh,

Cicily

Stressed

Current mood: stressed
Category: Life

Currently on my IPOD: Overjoyed: Stevie Wonder

Here is something for you to read on the toilet...Hoping you will smile today because of me.

Stressed
By: Cicily Janus


"Don't stress" is all that he said
As the doctor scratched his head

The tests were negative which meant he was okay
The doctor told him,
" You're physically fine, relax, go out and play!"

But the worrier refused to believe
He took his coat, his worried brow and proceeded to leave.

He walked into the park,
Watching the men, the children and even listened to the dogs bark

They all seemed so happy
So positively care-free and sappy

He hated his life
For it was full of strife due to his worried little wife

She made him worry about this and that
Even the coat that didn't match his hat

He worried day and night until she cried as he left the door
Oh how he wanted to scoot until all that was left was only a scuff mark upon the floor

But it was the doctor now who had given him his order
Maybe it would be just what he needed to leave her and go cross the border

"Don't stress", is what he repeated as he walked all the way to their door
And then he saw her face and could say no more

"Hello," she said as he walked right past her
"Hello," he said as he walked to the refrigerator

"Are you okay?
"Please tell me, what did he say?"

She looked at him, with a look of fright
But it was the look that gave him the idea, yes; he thought this moment was right.

He grabbed a cold beer
And said, "Sit down, my sweet dear."


She sat down with a thud
He finally felt free; he could again be a stud.

"The doctor delivered bad news, and in the very worst way.
He said, I shall be dead within a few days."

The man reached deep within himself
And summoned up tears from some emotional shelf

She wept and wept for hours it seemed
So he offered to go out and buy her some ice cream

He smiled as he left and shut the door
Her worrying, her nagging, her pitiful life would affect him no more

He got in the car, started it and listened to the strange noise from below
The wife watched him leave and smiled from within, as she had just met a young fellow

He sold insurance, life insurance to be exact
And it was a physician's physical that her husband lacked

She smiled again counting the seconds as he drove down the road
Her pseudo tears dry as she watched their little car explode.



Yours in Stress, Stressing More and Staying Stressed,

Cicily

Dysfunctional Bunnies

Current mood: cheerful
Category: Writing and Poetry

On my IPOD: 2nd Mvmt to Rachmaninoff's 2nd piano concerto

Good Evening,

I am going to be unoriginal. I posted a reply to a fellow my-spacer's blog and thought it was a little absurd...well, someone, other than the poster of the blog, replied with a reply letter. And of course, being me, I had to egg the situation on a little more.


So, if you want to read the original blog then follow this link...RAW blog

If you just want to read my part and the posts from Monday Night Skins then keep reading. Mind you, this was all totally off the cuff. I am hoping that Bunny Rabbit will continue his letters to his mother and father...And of course, his mother and father will continue to answer. As a matter of fact, I believe he has eighty something siblings that all know how to use the internet as well...


Feel free to comment and continue the story, as I think we should hear opinions from the whole family. Let's keep this going.


REPLY TO ORIGINAL POST:


This is your mother...I found you blogging on this site and had to say that I am deeply disappointed in the way that you refer to yourself as just a rabbit. I was a movie star back when you were conceived. You were special, after all, you stood out among all nine hundred, eighty seven and two-third rabbits I can call my own, you were my favorite. Now look at you. Living in squalor without a gnome, female or furry happy place to go to when you are stressed you have resorted to living a life of the poet, a writer, a weirdo who blogs on this pixelized world of addiction.

Everyone thinks that they are a god-damn poet don't they. And the women are loose? You should be sacrificed at our next meeting in Beatrix's Garden of Gnomes..really, get a grip and find the old rabbit I once knew inside yourself.

They want a story? I'll give them a story, yes, the one you told me not to ever, never, tell. No, not the one about you and the Easter one making out in the back yard, the year you thought you had discovered homosexuality, the one regarding the carrots and Mr. Hoopers grocery store in China Town... There you were making fun of the ducks while they fried in Sesame Oil and before you knew it, you had a carrot stuffed in your mouth and your right back paw was about to be cut off for some bratty little bastard child's good luck charm. Who did you call then? Yep..me...

Come home. Your father needs someone to pluck his gray whiskers out of his head. His eyesight is terrible and all I can seem to do lately is to give you more siblings.

Your poor down-trodden mother,

Mrs. Jessica Rabbit

Posted by Cicily on Thursday, August 02, 2007 at 12:56 AM
[Reply to this]
Monday Night Skin


You're not my mother! My real mother died when she choked on my little brother! So who are you to tell me I can't be a poet or a writer? Just because you bailed me out of one frying pan doesn't give you any right to judge me. Besides big shot movie star, who do you think wrote all those lines for your close ups? That's right, it was a writer. Only difference is you can't sleep with me in order to get your next big chance. And lets face it Jessica, your "booby traps" aren't what they used to be. So don't try to ruin my big chance like you ruin my childhood. Yes, I'm talking about how you always had to walk me to the bus stop in that ridiculous low cut ruby dress of yours. It was 6:45 in the morning for Pete's sake! Who does that! And leave the Easter you-know-who out of this. That whole matter was settled out of court and you know damn well I was in a strange place at the time. But if you feel like dragging out family secrets, I've got a couple of my own. The Animaniacs and a bottle of tequila ring a bell? I know who got the worm that night. You can tell dad I love him, but don't think for a second I'm hopping on home to pluck the whiskers of Disney's token rabbit.

Your fed up step-son,

Bunny Rabbit

Posted by Monday Night Skin on Friday, August 03, 2007 at 12:12 AM
[Reply to this]
Cicily


This is your father, Roger...First off, you don't talk to your mother like that. Second, I was the one who had to pay the lawyer bills for you and Easter, so I don't want to hear anymore shit about it. The Animaniacs were a mistake, I believe it was them who inevitably caused the downfall of my marriage and I should have never let your mother invite them over for clams or tequila, but she is quite the socialite and she promised that they would behave.

I have been fed up for a while with you and your mother not getting along and I am sorry to say, but I am leaving this family. I have decided to join a band of traveling water-skiing squirrels. I am going to be their opening act as well as their road manager. Someone has to monitor them, and they sure as hell are going to be easier to keep up with than you, all eight something siblings of yours and your slut of a mom.

Don't feel sorry for her, or me or anyone else. Just keep this to letter between you and me, but I know for a fact your mother is sleeping with some freak human who calls himself Santa and only wears red. This just ain't right. After all of those cartoons I did and the money I bring in I would think she would still be happy with me.

And as far as the gray hairs, don't worry about that either. I met some Korean Lop-eared bunny who does something called a "brazil wax". She was hot, kinda like your mom in the old days before her boobs started sagging, but exotic. I would let you meet her, but you are gay, just admit it.

I must go now, this wax-brazil-thing is this afternoon and you know how difficult it is to cross the road. Just think of what happened to that poor Ms. Cluck the chicken from next door. I don't believe I will ever get over the smattered and plundered feathers all over the road that afternoon.

Please don't try to contact me. Your mother will give you extra money on the holidays on my behalf.

Your wayward father,

Roger

Posted by Cicily on Friday, August 03, 2007 at 1:12 PM



Yours in Bunnies, Breaching Blog Boundaries, and Branching into the World of Small Rodents,

Cicily

How To Go To Hell: A One Step Process

Current mood: aggravated
Category: Life

On my IPOD: Bless the Broken Road: Rascal Flatts

I was driving home yesterday evening when I flipped over to one of the many Christian radio stations, actually I was blindly flipping through everyone of the radio stations trying to get away from the Akon song, Hmmm I don't remember the name of it, but it goes something like this: Yes we gonna fight, I believe we gonna fight, fight for our right to love...This has got to be one of the more annoying songs I have ever heard.

Anyway, I was desperately trying to get away from it, as lately it seems to play on every station I have programmed in the car every other ten minutes or so. Well, except for NPR. And even NPR didn't have anything on last night while I was driving home. I must have missed Prairie Home Companion.

Instead I landed on a Christian Radio Station, I will reserve the name of it for obvious reasons. The preacher on the other side of the radio was screaming to some unknown audience:

And they will all go to hell! The Buddhists, The Islams, The Terrorists, The Aetheists, The Anarchists, The non-believers...If you don't get them to believe in the POWER OF JESUS! Lets pray for all of those who are lost, those who have no way other than the wrong way, lets pray for those who are stupid in their choice or lack of choice in faith.


I am sure you are thinking the same thing I am thinking right now. WTH? I listened on in curiosity. Maybe this was a joke. NO. This was serious. This was a talk show in which a well-known preacher was giving his views on American's now and how their faith or lack there of could or would damage our country even more than it already is.

Who does this man think he is? God? He went on to say that anyone who does not follow the good word to the letter is going to hell. He kept repeating this over and over. The man on the other side of the interview tried to persuade him to open his thinking. But he wouldn't have it. And then he said this:

If they aren't Christian, they might as well be a terrorist. Damaging the minds of those around them, terrorizing the children.

My conclusion is this. I guess I am going to hell. I consider myself a Christian. I am not this type of Christian at all. But, I have friends who are of every religion, of every denomination and of every walk of life. I guess we are all going to hell and I might as well call up the Dept. of Homeland Security and turn myself in for being a terrorist.

As a matter of fact, all of my friends and I should turn ourselves in. We must be terrorizing the children of this great country because we like to converse about our differing opinions on religion, read books by the great philosophers, go to services of other religions just to try to get a taste of what our co-habitants of this great planet believe in and why. And to really damage the children, we sometimes even talk about it in front of them! OMG.....Come with the wagon now boys, take me away to maximum security federal prison so I can become some man-woman's slave...

Here is my other point. If a large number of Christians are listening to this barage of slanted opinions slandering itself over the air waves, what are they thinking? I know there are people out there who think like this guy, as you can see it by finding out the numbers of people who listen to his talk show. Hundreds of Thousands.

I am not subscribing to this point of view. NEVER EVER! I would hope that most Christians would turn this shit off when they heard those words coming out of his mouth. Just because you are not a Christian, maybe you study Islam, maybe you study Buddhism, maybe you are an agnostic, doesn't mean that you are a terrorist or out to damage children. And it most certainly doesn't mean that you are going to hell. Besides most of the people who have studied some world religions would know that Hell doesn't even exist for some religions.

All I can say to the man on the radio is: shut your mouth, open your eyes and realize the damage you are doing to yourself.


This is exactly the type of person who argues for argument sake, the kind of person who wants to start something in the name of religion thinking that he is doing some good for Jesus. I think Jesus would have a heart attack hearing these words come out of someone's mouth.

I wanted to call in and ask the man if he had ever read the bible, or at least one that was not translated specifically for his warped empire.

Sheeesshh.

How about this: If you hear this man on the radio or anyone like it, call in and let them know how much you hate this kind of talk. How damning it is to anyone. And I promise to do the same. Maybe one at a time, the opinions will get across their thick skulls and stop them from going to hell too.

Yours in thick skulls, taking a leisurely trip to Hell and trying to shut up the idiots of the world,

Cicily

The Worst Job in the World

Current mood: nauseated
Category: Jobs, Work, Careers

Currently on my IPOD: Waterfall : Griffin House

Good Evening,

How was your day? I spoke with a friend from NY this afternoon and she said it was hotter than H-E-double hockey sticks. It was hot here as well, with humidity higher than usual. So, I flipped on the AC and everything is beginning to feel right. My legs no longer seem as if they are their own shower.

I like my job. As a matter of fact, I liked it more than usual today. I had so much overtime that my boss let me have an extra day off. For the moment, my boss is my favorite person. I enjoyed my free time immensely, did some shopping early this morning and spent the rest of the day reading and writing.

What was I reading? Submissions...Very excited to be on board with Bust Down the Door and Eat All the Chickens as an associate editor. Screening submissions is a lot more fun than I thought it would be. Maybe I have found a niche' for myself.

What else did I read today? Absolute Friends by John Le Carre. I am about three chapters into it and as usual want to stop my life and finish it, but I guess that will have to wait.

You know what I think the most horrible job would be, I know, tangent, but having the title of Bertie Bott's Jelly Belly Bean Taster would have to be the worst.

WTF does this person do? Hey Guys...Ya know, this vomit bean doesn't taste nearly like the vomit I have here on the plate in front of me. Maybe add a little more acid, or last weeks gunky green beans. Or, ya know, this booger one is pretty flavorless, when I pick my boogers they tend to bleed so maybe throw in a little blood with the next batch. Rotten eggs, had enough of those today, lets just test out the grass and earthworms, but don't fry the earthworms, they just lose all flavor when fried.

Gross. Double gross.

Ewww..Alright, talking about this will certainly help curb my appetite for the rest of the evening. Maybe this is the trick to dieting. Eat a half dozen of the Every Flavor Beans and then purge. Should be quite easy to lose weight doing this.

Hold on..I feel a vurp coming on.

Good night and sweet dreams. Oh, and go out and see the new HP movie. I saw it earlier this week and it is fabulous.

Yours in Beans, Belly-Aches and Busting Down the Door

Cicily

Suppositions

Current mood: chipper
Category: Life Good afternoon,

On my IPOD right now: What if God Was One of Us

You suppose that the world is exactly how it should be, mostly on a daily basis, right? Maybe this is what should be happening to us despite the shit that we all face, right? Yet, there is a twinge of the what-if lingering, jonesing in your face to get you out of this overly righteous self servitude's world.

I am there. I feel as though a couple of years is never going to be enough to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my life, but a few years spent living a life of suppositions is enough to show me the way to the home I have always wanted.

Two years ago I began to write, about this time of year, on a subject that was extremely painful for me. A novel came out of it, and although I have not sold it and probably never will, I can now say that it is done. It is on a shelf, emotionally and physically, but it is done. Actually, it was done a while ago. For now, I am working on a second one. But at the time, I had no idea that just a mere trip down a bumpy road would lead to where I am sitting at the moment...That I would be ruminating my thoughts here, on a laptop computer, about an article I need to write, the book reviews that must be read and written, a layout for a lit zine, and the plot to my second novel.

Two years is a short span in the life of an average gal. Never, ever take a short hello or a connection that is made somewhere in your path for granted. The people you meet everyday, even the ones whom you think to yourself, you would never say hello to, the ones whom you might even feel a tad bit sorry for, might just offer a little something to enrich your life.

Right?

So, what this leads me to is that the world is not always as it seems to be. How cliche' for me to say this. But, lately, I have made some serious connections with friends, writers, doctors, homeless wanderers, and people from far away places such as Ghana that I would have never thought to have made before I started writing. Each of them with unique stories to tell, lives that have been led in utter peril, and talent that reaches far beyond what I would ever hope to be able to tap into.

Look at it through my eyes. Everyone is research for the next big character, everyone is a study in the human psyche. Everyone, if you look hard enough has talents that are lingering inside of them. So, is this world as one dimensional as the evening news likes to make us think it is? Bad vs Good, Terror vs Complacency, Beauty vs Frail, weak and ugly?

Stop.

Look at what is going on and you might just see it through my eyes, that we should suppose that it is all okay. We should suppose that our story is going to be written differently in the end than that of our original thoughts and plots. For the original thought of death without living is just that, dead.

Your life does not have to continue on the straight corn-field highway type you would find in Iowa. Try to take the curved road with the steep climbs leading to a descent with out your brakes on. Let it get out of hand, but in a good way. Rely on your friends, family, those whom barely even know you for encouragement. And always remember that there are ramps for the runaway thoughts, cars and troublesome pains that may get in your way.

Suppose nothing, live for everything.

Yours in Something Else, Starting Over, and Smiling for You,


Cicily

Eight and a Half Reasons why I love my IPOD and POD PEOPLE

Current mood: calm
Category: Blogging

Good Evening,

It is good, right? It is evening, right? This pay period, I have logged in about 78 hours. I still have two more ten hour days to go this week. Overtime anyone? Oh..and Miss Cicily would love it if you subscribed to her blog...Read me more often! I will promise to post good posts among the bad. And if you read me, I'll read you!

On my IPOD right now is Faded by Soul Decision.

I can't help it. Yes, I know they are cute and younger and a little boy-bandish, but I can't help but shake my thing every time I hear this song. Not that I would admit to this, wait..Just did.

My IPOD is one of, if not, my favorite toy ever. No, you can not feed it, groom it or make it go and fetch a tennis ball in the back yard, not that I even have a back yard, but it is by far my fav. go anywhere friend.

Here are the eight and a half reasons why I like the IPOD and just to add in my alter ego's opinion, why I also like POD people.

8.5) IPODS could never be mistaken as anything but cool and POD PEOPLE could never be mistaken for anyone other than themselves

8) POD PEOPLE are more likely to embarrass you at your cousin's wedding than your own relatives and the guy who claims to be related to you but doesn't mind buying you a drink.

7) IPODS allow you to listen to people like Hanson, Culture Club and Stravinsky within the same hour and without changing CD's

6) POD PEOPLE are the only ones who thought the Matrix movies were completely wrong in their depiction of the birthing process...If you are going to be born within a pod, watch the original movie and learn from the experts

5) IPODS do not need instructions. I figured mine out in a matter of minutes and I haven't once read the instructions.

4) POD PEOPLE would never accuse you of being superficial or stupid..They would just eat you. I like direct people who just tell me what they're thinking instead of beating around the proverbial emotional bush

3) IPODS fit into my already crowded purse and keep me from having to really pay attention to what people are saying when I am tired of hearing the voices.

2) POD PEOPLE require little maintenance as friends. They do not get offended if you don't invite them out for a drink, they will never dress you in a hideous blush pink dress with ruffles in a test of friendship called being a bridesmaid, nor will they ever attempt to steal a boyfriend, husband or lover from your clutches.

1) IPODS are the best because they have no bearing on anything whatsoever and their sole purpose is to make your day a little boppier, a little merrier and a little more of everything you need to de-stress your life.

Alrighty, there you go, my 8.5 Reasons why I like the IPOD and POD PEOPLE.

Hope your day tomorrow is as wonderful as today, as stress free as when we were three and as tuningly musical as your days from the high school band, marching, garage or otherwise.

Yours in Playing Around with an Idea, Pea Pods (one of my favorite veggies) and Paperless Letters to my Friends about Nothing,

Cicily

Culling Songs, Dairies and Soap CONTEST for Writers

Current mood: awake
Category: Writing and Poetry

Whats on my IPOD: Love for All Seasons, Christina Aguilera

Good Morning,

I must get this out of my system before I go to work on the book for a while. It is only about 630 in the morning so I have approx. 2.2 hours before the house awakens.

I am holding on to the thoughts that capture my energies for the moment. They seem to be eluding me as to how or why they fit into the book, plotting or character wise or otherwise. I feel like giving up, but of course I won't. I can't. I have to find out how the damn thing ends. Isn't this the goal of any author?

I am about to finish up the book, Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. OMG. This book is worth the read. Worth the money to buy, worth the time on your hands. Of course it is twisted, demented and sick. But what else do you expect. A man discovers a series of "SIDS" deaths and figures out that they are the product of a culling song rather than the true sudden infant death syndrome. What should this man do now that he knows this culling song can cause death? What would you do? Would you kill off your enemies?

All I have to say is WTF? Where on earth does Mr. Palahniuk come up with this stuff. Where does he come up with any of his stuff. My goal this year is to read every single one of his books so I am caught up for next year. So far I have read two of his this year and I just received Diary for my Birthday. So that will be my next conquest. I could only pray to write as well as he does. TO be as inventive, as sick and as freakishly funny as he is.

One day, I shall meet the man behind the words, behind the soap and Tyler Durden, Behind Helen Hoover Boyle and her culling songs, behind St. Gut Free.....

Alrighty all you Chuck fans...Come out of your closets and comment. I have to say he is my favorite of all time. At least for now. Originality is key.

I haven't done a writing contest in a while, but I guess it is about that time.

Whomever can write a sick and twisted short story best in the style of Palahniuk preferably not gory for gore sake, will receive a paperback of Palahniuk's of your choice from Amazon.com.

When you have completed your entry, email me on myspace and I will send you my personal email address. The entry must be 3000 words or under. This can be a pubd piece or unpubd. I don't care. The only person who will be reading will be me. DEADLINE: AUG 31 2007

And for all the paranoids out there, no...I won't steal the pieces to use for my pub credits...or submissions. I am not that way! I have enough to do.

I wish all of you the best of luck.

Yours in Palahniuk, Prose and Pondering My Plot,

Cicily

Toddlers, Santa and Bullies

Brawling..
Current mood: amused

IPOD: White Christmas Bing Crosby

"You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why,
Santa Clause is coming to town.."

Isn't that how it goes? Well, last night, while at a public Christmas concert I witnessed a few toddlers openly disobeying the Santa Clause Rule. You know the one... "Santa is always watching you, so you better be nice.. or whatever, but he is always watching and if you don't want coal in your stocking you have to behave." This rule, in general applies to little kids, teenagers and big kids like me.

Someone is always watching.

Whether it is your children watching you flick someone off in traffic that cut you off, or whether it is your parents, watching you eat a candy cane off the tree before dinner, even though they told you not to do that two minutes ago, someone is always watching.

So, back to the concert, all of the children were invited up on stage at the end of the first half to listen to a story that was read aloud and then to see Santa. The story was admittedly long in duration, but, the toddlers and pre-schoolers should have known better. Or is that asking too much?

One little boy got up and started pushing other kids down. Most of the kids were just sitting there in front of the storyteller, minding their own business. Then one of the other kids pushed him back and all hell broke loose.


I am just glad that my kids were not a part of this, although they were on stage and very near the little boys, they just got up and walked to a different place to sit. The man reading the story just kept going, didn't even look annoyed(I could not have kept my cool) and there was not an adult in sight to break this up. But finally the story was over and the singers came back on stage, giving the gift of diversion to the children and the adults.

Then Santa finally appeared and after my girls went to see him and get their candy, Ella said to me: "See mommy, Santa IS watching and those boys aren't going to get any toys for Christmas, but I was good..." She smiled an angelic smile to me and then chomped down on the candy cane in her hand.

Folks, remember that Santa is watching, and if you don't believe in any kind of Christmas, then remember that impressionable minds are watching you all the time. How will you spend your time this season and for the rest to come? Wisely and carefully I hope...


Yours in brawls, bullies and bands,

Cicily

People are Strange, but who the Hell Cares

People are strange. But who the hell cares?
Current mood: peaceful
Category: Life

Playing on my IPOD: 1812 Overture

Walking around the town the other day, I saw a man, sitting on a bench near the library, humming the 1812 Overture. While he was humming, he happened to be holding something very small, wrapped in what looked like a cross between a taco bell taco wrapper and a small blanket..

I looked once again, and this time a little too long. He was holding a dead mouse. He looked up at me, and all I could do was smile. What else was I supposed to do?

Call him a freak?

Run, screaming from him, yelping for help?

NO, I smiled and then he smiled back, toothless and what looked like a lack of a whole toungue. But the dead mouse loved him for who he was, so why shouldn't I. He probably has a lot in his life that could cause him to be mean, spiteful, and violently angry. Instead a smile. A beautiful and wonderful smile. Toothless, toungeless, regardless a smile is a smile.

People are so strange. I am one of them, I am not pretending to be pretentious. O surely am not better than anyone else in this great big proverbial room that we share. We all have our oddities, right? Now, my odd habits do not involve the 1812 overture or dead rodents, but they are strange nonetheless, or at least they would be to someone like you who is not like me.

Have you ever run into someone like this? Are you someone like this? If you are, who the hell cares? Be yourself. Do what you like, this Earth is just as much mine as it is yours. If you put on your unbreakable strength and armor every day, no one will be able to catch your spirit and bring you down.

The dead mouse and I will love you all the same, just for you being you.

Yours inThe Human spirit, Tidings of love and the True Power of Friendship and Caring,

Cicily

Did You Ever Hear the One About the Girl that Killed Her Car?

I Shall start from the beginning and work my way through the ones I feel deserve reposting. For a complete catalog of bull from my mind click on the link to my blog
Current mood: aggravated
Category: Automotive

Playing on my IPOD: Fast Car by Tracey Chapman

Okay, and with more emotion this time.... I just hit cancel instead of post so now I am really angry at myself.

Have you ever tried to take public transit in your city? Well, unless you live in Atlanta, London, Vienna, DC, New York, or Chicago, you are out of luck here in good old America. Most small towns have really crappy public transit. Case in point: If I wanted to get to work, as a nurse, at 6 am(actually at 545am) when the shift starts, I have to either walk in the dark for about 6 miles, or have my husband get up at 5am, schlep the children out of bed so he can drop me off or take the public transit system and subsequently get fired as I would reach the doors to the hospital around 646am.

Maybe if all of the shiny happy people who live in Colorado Springs and other smallish-big cities across the US would start to take public transportation on a regular basis, the bus would lose it's stigma (which by the way, no one in New York seems to think that only the poor or downtrodden take the bus) and the government would have to get off of it's ass and change some things for the better.

Which brings me to my next point: I hate cars. If you have read some of my previous blogs, you would know that not only is hating cars a problem for me, but it is also one of my phobias. Cars crash, roll over and make the people inside play dead, burn up, blow tires,cost people money that they don't have, pollute the earth, break down etc etc etc.

Just last month we took our relatively good condition saturn wagon into the dealer. The next afternoon we walked out about 1500$ poorer. During a regularly scheduled maintenance exam they happened to find a few "things". Tonight, our Ford(fix or repair daily) blew out a tire, actually it blew the belt in the tire, and then proceeded to break down. The battery is not at fault, the gauges went dead and someone has told me that this is probably the alternator. Alternator? What the hell does the alternator do? How's this, I think that the alternator is another word for money sucking terminator...Or alternating cars that suck our money out of us.

So here is the question: Do I spend how much ever money they want to have this fixed and then pay more money just to have the stupid thing cost me more money next month just as I have paid off the bill for this excursion to the dealer? Or do I go into more debt to buy a car that will cost us upwards of 20,000, which will cost me approx. 400-600 dollars a month for the next six years?

To break down or not to break down is the question...Well, this girl is going to break down into fits of rage that are taken out on her car in the form of physical and verbal abuse.

Maybe I should increase my anxiety meds this month. When it rains it pours.

Yours in piece of sh__ cars, population overload, and polluted streets,

Cicily

Writing About You When You're Not Paying Attention

I have finally given into the blogger monster here on Blogger. At first I didn't want to, as I think I have a decent following on my myspace page for blogs: http://blog.myspace.com/ellamargomom

But then it was suggested to me that I just repost everything I have written on the myspace blog over here.

So, without further games and merriment, here it goes.

Bluefingers, Writing About You When You're Not Paying Attention..Version 2.0

Enjoy!

Yours in blogs, busting my ass, and belly flopping onto blogger,

Cicily