Hold On To Your Hats, This Story Just Got A Lot Longer

Other titles for this post I considered:
Stop The Keyboard, I Want To Get Off
Hey You! You're Not Supposed To Exist!
and
How A Guy Named Ashleigh Ruined My Life

So, I think I've talked about how characters can surprise you when you're writing a story, right? Sometimes you're writing along when you suddenly realize that this character wouldn't say that, or would react like this instead of that. It's a result of getting to know your characters and making them real enough to allow them to speak to you.

But what happens when a character you didn't even know existed suddenly pops up in your story? That's exactly what happened to me.

I've been working on another short story called The Story of My Death. Yeah, I know, really cheery, but I promise it's much more upbeat than it sounds.

And there I was writing along, all la-di-dah (that was an impression of me writing awesomely) when whBAM!!! CHARACTER ATTACK!!!!

I kept writing, my fingers not yet having caught up with my mind, and before I knew it, Grayson had a brother. Grayson, by the way, is one of the main characters of The Story of My Death (hereafter known as SoMD, because I'm lazy, and/or can't be bothered).

I finally stopped writing only because I didn't have a name for this brother character. He caught me off guard, I wasn't prepared.

A short conversation with my sister later, in which we discussed old-fashioned boy names which parents who named their son Grayson might like, and we came up with Ashleigh. Ash for short, of course. And the second my sister said it I exclaimed, "YES! Ashleigh is perfect! That is sooo him." And then I vomited. (Not literally.) Because now he has a name, which means he's staying. And the fact that I knew it was his name the moment I heard it means I can't just press the delete button and forget he ever happened.

I still tried, though. I tried to continue writing as though he didn't exist. I told myself he added nothing to the story, he was just a distraction, the focus ought to be on Anika and Grayson...

But Ashleigh? Ashleigh fights dirty. Do you know what he did? He JUSTIFIED HIS EXISTENCE. DAMN HIM. Not only that, but he added a whole new dimension to the story, and now there is no way this will ever be a short story. At best it will be a novella. At worst, it will be just another full-blown novel that I never finish. I thought I already fixed that problem. See, originally, this idea was a full-blown novel, but I rethought it into short story form. CURSE MY BRAIN AND IT'S LOVE OF LONG, COMPLICATED PLOTS!

I'd scrap the whole thing, but I really love some of the writing I've done on it. Which is also why I'm going to share today. Just a snippet.

Before I do, let me just mention that other "life" stuff has happened, about which I was going to write, but every time I sat down to write about it, I just sat there feeling blocked. So I'm not going to write about it. I really want a break from, you know, thinking. Hence this very silly, ranty post.

Okay, here is the promised blurb:

"What is your dream?" Grayson asked.

I sighed deeply. "To live forever."

He cocked his head at me like a bird. "Why?" he asked. He didn't call me silly, or laugh it off as a joke. He simply asked 'why'.

"Because that's how long it takes to learn the secrets of the universe."

"What about the secrets which death holds? You can't learn them by living forever."

"And who says death holds secrets," I retorted. "Perhaps all it holds is death."

He grimaced; a spasm of fear. "Yeah," he said quietly, and then we were silent again. I was too lost in my own thoughts to spare much for him. I had made myself depressed again thinking of my imminent demise. The more I spoke to him, the more certain I was of my choice, and with that certainty came the realization that, yes, I am going to die, and it will be entirely of my own doing.

I resented him suddenly; resented the years he had before him, stretched out like a great winding road which disappeared over the horizon into the unknown. What would he witness in his lifetime? An end to war and hunger? An utopian society dedicated to self-improvement? Or a dystopia, hell-bent on consuming itself with its own greed until nothing is left but dust and char. Or perhaps a new world altogether? He might join a group of colonists bound for a distant planet, pioneers of the kind that had once conquered the New World. Would that conquest be as bloody as the previous ones?

"I'm not sure I'd like to live forever," he said suddenly, cutting into my thoughts. "It seems...lonely."

"Yes," I replied absently, "it is."

Pets Don't Have Funerals

I wrote this a few days ago, but held off on posting it. For one thing, it's not my most eloquent piece of writing, and I kept meaning to go back and edit it. But I kept putting it off, and finally realized that I didn't want to edit it. This was an exercise in pouring out my thoughts and feelings, and editing it would defeat the purpose.

Also, I worried that this would in some way make my mother feel...I don't know, guilty maybe? Well, Mom, you shouldn't. I understand that this is something that needs to be right for all of us, and you are the one who has been taking care of Kim while she's been ill, and none of us wants to do this if it's not time.

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, I just don't want you to take it the wrong way.

I'm over-hyping it, so I'll just post it already, and stop rambling.

Pets don’t have funerals.

My cat, Kim, is dying.

I knew it would happen someday and even fancied myself ‘prepared’ when she began to go downhill, but I don’t think you’re ever prepared for death. I was beside myself when my mother told me she had made the appointment to put Kim to sleep. Kim, for all that she is a cat, is my oldest friend. I have known her for 19 years (most of my life!), and we’ve been through a lot together (High School, College, and a hurricane, to name a few).

Put that way, I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised by my reaction to the news that she was going to die, but I was. And the thing that distressed me the most? The fact that I couldn’t be there when it happened. I already bear the burden of guilt that I haven’t been able to take care of her for the last few years, and now I couldn’t even be there to say my last goodbyes?

So everything was postponed, the amount of fluids she was getting increased, allowing her to temporarily bounce back, and we are now in a state of limbo, waiting for her to take another turn for the worse.

And while I’ve been waiting, I have tried to explain to myself and to others why, exactly, it is so important to me to be there.

My conclusion? Pets don’t have funerals.

Why do people have funerals? They’re not for the dead, who are already gone from the world, and therefore no longer care about some ritualized goodbye ceremony. True, many funerals have a religious component with the idea that a final blessing might send the spirit on to its final destination. But if that is a funeral’s true purpose there would be no need for mourners, just the dead and a religious authority of some sort. So the truth must be that a funeral is not for the one who has died, but for those he or she left behind.

It is a chance for us to grieve, to let go, to remember how that person enriched our life and attempt to make sense of our new existence without them.

When my grandma, June Parker, was in a car accident, I went to PA to visit her in the hospital. I remember my mother saying that I probably wouldn’t be able to come for the funeral, so this way I could still see her and say my goodbyes. But when she died, I couldn’t not go to the funeral. I wasn’t OK with the goodbye I’d said, because part of me still had hope that she might wake up, that she might recover, no matter how slim that chance was, part of me hadn’t really let her go. I didn’t want to miss the funeral, the chance to mourn with other people who had known and loved her, the chance to hear people talk about her, stories from her life, things I’d never even known. I went to the funeral, and I let her go, and when I did, I freed myself. I became free to miss her and love her and keep her in my heart, with me always. If I hadn’t, I think I would still feel like I had unfinished business with her, that I’d failed her in some way by not loving her enough to mourn her properly.

But pets don’t have funerals.

The only real chance I’ll have to experience that kind of letting go is if I’m there when it happens. And that will be hard. But death is always hard.

Many people would be dismissive of my feelings for Kim. After all, she’s just a cat. Right? All I can say to those people is: You have never truly known the love of an animal. Just because they can’t talk, doesn’t make their emotional impact on your life any less. And Kim is an exceptional cat. When we lived in CO, and she was an outdoor cat, she used to follow us whenever we went on walks. We would decide to take a walk around the block, and halfway down the street we would turn around to find her following us. Once, we tried to down to our grandmother’s house. We got all the way out to the street behind our house and she was still following us, so we had to turn around for fear she would get lost or hit by a car. I think she must have abandonment issues, she wanted to be certain we could make it back home, because goodness knows us humans aren’t nearly as clever as cats, and we might get lost or hit by a car.

Anyway, that’s why I want to be there when it happens. To scratch her ears and tell her I love her, and that she’s been an important part of my life.

Because pets don’t have funerals.

On the Subject of Ponies

Jenna asked "What's with the ponies?"

So glad you asked Jenna...

If you have not experienced the wonder that is My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, then you are really missing out. You think I'm joking. Take a moment to think back on your childhood. Remember those cartoons you used to watch? The good ones, before they got all weird and dumbed down like they are today? Shows like Gummi Bears, Ducktales (woo-ooo), Gargoyles, Chip and Dale: Rescue Rangers, Batman, Freakazoid, Animaniacs...need I go on?

These were shows that didn't talk down to you just because you were a kid. They took their audience's intellect for granted, and crafted quality children's entertainment. Heck, a lot of these have been resurrected as DVD sets because so many ADULTS wanted a taste of their childhood again, and these shows STILL HOLD UP TODAY!

In passing, I have seen some of the crappy cartoons they put on TV today, and I am not impressed.

Then I found MLP: FIM.

All those shows I listed up there? MLP would fit right in with them.

Perhaps this is why the phenomena known as "Bronies" has occurred. A broney is a male, generally in his 20's or 30's, who is a fan of MLP: FIM. And they aren't making fun of the show in any way, they actually, genuinely love it. And who can blame them?


Here are a few quotes from an article on bronies, you can read the whole thing here:

“First we can’t believe this show is so good, then we can’t believe we’ve become fans for life, then we can’t believe we’re walking down the pink aisle at Toys R Us or asking for the girl’s toy in our Happy Meal,” Allen said in an e-mail to Wired.com. “Then we can’t believe our friends haven’t seen it yet, then we can’t believe they’re becoming bronies too.”

So, why the breathless adoration? Some fans say the show’s appeal lies in good illustration, excellent characters or, as Allen put it, a “perfect storm of ’80s nostalgia and cultural irony.”

Despite a tacit understanding that some people might be surprised by their choice of entertainment, most bronies show little to no compunction about their fandom. They shouldn’t have to. And, intentionally or not, they might be bucking the gender socialization of things considered to be “for girls” or “for boys.”

“This weird alchemy that Lauren Faust tapped into when she set out to make the show accessible to kids and their parents hooks into the male geek’s reptilian hindbrain and removes a lifetime’s behavioral indoctrination against pink,” said New Mexico brony Allen. “As a person with Asperger syndrome, I learned more about theory of mind, friendships and social interactions from this season than I had in the previous 31 years of life.”

It's a great article, so if you have a moment, I suggest you go read the whole thing.

As for my own enjoyment of MLP: FIM? All I can say is that I watched one episode. Then another. Then another. Then another. And before I knew it I had watched the whole season without really noticing that I had become a fan.

It went sorta like this.

Now, the clip I showed you in that other post was actually several clips cut together from one episode. It showed all the different times Pinkie Pie warned Twilight Sparkle about not revealing a friend's secrets. Pinkie Pie, by the way, is the most random and insanely funny character. She's like a combination of Luna Lovegood and Phoebe from Friends. On crack. When she popped out of the bowl of sponges, shouting "forEVerrrrr!" I laughed so hard I shot milk out of my nose. And I wasn't even drinking milk. Then she eats the apple in that threatening way...hilarious.

And with that, I shall leave you with another clip, also of Pinkie Pie singing a song she made up about the "Evil Enchantress" (who, of course, turns out not to be evil at all, but only severely misjudged because she's a zebra pony. Hello subtle lesson about racism! What an excellent lesson to be teaching our children. In fact, I think more people could stand to learn that lesson than just our children. Thank goodness My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic isn't just for kids.)

The first part is Pinkie Pie singing it, then, later in the episode all of the ponies are afflicted with various ailments (which they blame on the 'enchantress') and Pinkie Pie gets Fluttershy (whose voice has been altered by the same thing which has afflicted all of them) to sing it for her. Enjoy.



And one more just for fun, because I also love Fluttershy:

The Cost of a Sink

Searching for an apartment in NYC is incredibly frustrating. Especially in Park Slope where, apparently, having two sinks costs extra.

I have just now made a list of things for which to check next time I see an apartment. At the top of that list: TWO SINKS!!

That mean, a sink in the bathroom AND the kitchen. I know it's revolutionary, maybe even ridiculous, to expect such a thing, but I have got to put my foot down. I have been living in an apartment for over two years with no kitchen sink. I have to wash my dishes in the bathroom. THE BATHROOM PEOPLE!

And last night I went to see another apartment where, lo and behold, there was no sink in the bathroom. Now, granted, I think I would much prefer that version of things. At least the kitchen sink was rather large. But still, is it really that much to ask to have both?

The other requirement on my list are wall outlets. How many and where are they? In my current apartment, I only have two. Yes, two. I want you to think about all the things you plug in: computer, lamps, TV, printer, refrigerator, microwave, various kitchen appliances, AC, fan, internet router, DVD player...I'm sure I could name more, but you get the idea. Look at that list, and tell me that four measly plug holes are sufficient. Power strips can only do so much.

I don't know, maybe I'm just being greedy. Maybe asking for two sinks and more than two outlets is insane. But when you're paying between $1200-$1400 a month, you ought to at least get an entire apartment, not just bits of one.

OK, end of rant. I'm off to check craigslist, wish me luck.

The Terrifying Tale of the Pig-Faced Sniffer Lady

Before I begin my tale, a little house-cleaning:
Yes, Jenna, I will get around to answering your questions. But that is a day for another long post, and as I've just written a very long post, it will have to wait for another day.

The following tale is true. The only bits that were dramatized were the bits about "Deanna" and "Justine"'s reactions (sort of) and the weather. There wasn't really a storm that day. The rest of it is absolutely true, except that it is pieced together from several separate occasions; not everything in this story happened all in the same visit.

Names have been changed to protect the frightened.

The Terrifying Tale of the Pig-Faced Sniffer Lady
(Based on real events)

Justine shivered.

"What was that?" her boss, Deanna, asked.

"I don't know," said Justine, "I just got the chills all of a sudden."

It had been a slow day at the store, Olaf, where they were working together.

"You ever get the feeling something weird is about to happen?" asked Justine, peering out the large front window at the people scurrying past in the deluge of rain. Their faces were largely obscured by bulky umbrellas and the sheer amount of water pouring from the sky, but were occasionally lit up by great flashes of lightning.

Deanna considered this carefully.

"There is strangeness about this day," she agreed, also watching the storm which raged outside.

"I don't like it," Justine said firmly, as though announcing her displeasure would somehow change the course of events.

She could not know what was coming next.

Justine and Deanna were engaged in folding and straightening, when suddenly, the door opened.

In the same instant, a bolt of lightning and crack of thunder left them both momentarily blind and deaf, so they failed to see the face of the person who had just entered the store.

"Hello?" Deanna called out in an approximation of her cheerful greeting.

"Hi," said the woman, her voice high and nasal.

Justine was blinking rapidly, trying to clear the spots from her vision.

At last, the woman came into focus, and Justine wished she were blind again.

She was reminded, forcibly, of an episode of the Twilight Zone she had once watched as a child. It was the episode where a woman was getting cosmetic surgery because she believed she was ugly. When at last they remove the bandages, the woman is revealed to be quite beautiful, and the audience is led to believe that the surgery has worked. But when the woman looks into a mirror and is horrified by what she sees, it is only then that the doctors' faces are revealed. They are Pig People. It is an entire world of people with pig snouts for noses, and the woman is the only normal looking person, which, of course makes her abnormal, and therefore ugly by Pig People's standards.

That woman, the one who just entered the store, looked like one of the Pig People.

Justine bit back a scream, and exchanged looks with Deanna, who also looked like she was trying not to scream.

Pig-Face seemed not to notice their discomfort. She strode (and by strode, I mean "moved in a way reminiscent of Miss Piggy, who is a puppet, so how is that even possible-and oh God this is horrifying") over to a table which displayed gloves and scarves and other items of that nature. She picked up a scarf. Time slowed to a crawl as Justine and Deanna watched in horror. The scarf was lifted toward Pig-Face's pig nose, inch by inch, until it was smashed up against that nose, crushed to it. And then she inhaled. Long and deep she sniffed the scarf, until it was as if the scarf and the sniff had become one. She snarfled it.

Time resumed it's normal pace as the scarf was discarded. Next, Pig-Face picked up a wool hat. It, too, was squashed against the pig nose as though the sniffing were creating some sort of vacuum. The wool hat's smell was deemed unworthy, and it was cast aside. Next, she picked up a pair of leather gloves. Once again, they were presented to the pig nose for inspection. They were sniffed. Again. And again. Pig-Face next tried to separate the pair, pulling them violently apart. But the string which connected them would not break. She raised the offending string to her mouth, teeth bared in anticipation...

"NO!" Deanna shouted, taking a step forward. It was only then that Justine realized the two of them had been frozen in terror. Pig-Face looked up and Deanna quailed under that squinty gaze. "I'll..." she said, moving forward in a shuffling manner, as though her legs were still half frozen. "I'll cut them for you!" she finished triumphantly. Amazed by her own quick-thinking, Deanna scurried behind the counter to grab the scissors. With the thread cut, Pig-Face sniffed each glove individually before tossing them casually aside.

She continued in this manner around the store, sniffing anything and everything she could get her hands on. She came to the next table, further in the store, upon which several cashmere sweaters were sitting, perfectly unaware of the assault which awaited them. She picked up the first one she came to, sniffed. Sniffed it again. Rubbed her snout against the soft fabric and sniffed again. Seemingly satisfied, she brought the sweater up to the register. Expecting her to ask about the size or price of the sweater, Justine was surprised when Pig-Face threw it upon the counter, opened her purse and removed her wallet. She sniffed her credit card before handing it to Justine, then sniffed her wallet while Justine processed the purchase. Deanna wrapped the sweater in tissue and put it in a shopping bag. Pig-Face sniffed her purse.

She walked her Miss Piggy walk toward the door, periodically picking things up to sniff them as she went. At last, she went out into the storm, disappearing just as mysteriously as she had appeared.

Deanna and Justine were silent for a long time.

"Did she even look at the size of that sweater?" Deanna asked in a hoarse whisper.

"No," Justine answered, just as quietly. There was another long silence.

"Deanna?"

"Yes?"

"Nobody will ever believe us, will they?"

Deanna shook her head slowly, staring out into the storm. "No," she said softly. "No they won't."

The End

Here's the Twilight Zone mentioned in the story, in case you're interested.

Of course, now I'm watching this and thinking about the message behind this episode, and I feel like a piece of shit. I know this woman will never read this, but I feel bad for making fun of her. Actually, I kind of felt bad while I was writing it. I kept thinking "is it worth the laughs I'll get?" and I really fought with myself over whether or not to post it. She can't help what she looks like. On the other hand, WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO SNIFF EVERYTHING? Also, I have seen her in the store with her perfectly normal-looking husband and two friends, and they all seemed quite wealthy and happy so...what do I know? I know that another girl who works at the store saw Pig-Face pick up a piece of trash off the street, sniff it, and throw it back on the ground. I wish I were joking.

I guess I'll never know her story.

Also, one time I giggled and asked why my grandfather's hands shook like that, and my mom said I shouldn't make fun because someday my hands might shake like that and I wouldn't like it if someone made fun of me. At the time, I thought she meant that if I made fun of him, my hands would start to shake as a sort of karmic punishment. I realize now that that's not what she meant, but part of me still kinda believes it. Part of me still believes that if I make fun of Pig-Face, then I will have a Pig-Face too.

Oh well. I was probably going straight to Hell anyway.