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californiadreaminghq · 5 years

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Oh good, you made it!

Did you guys know Ky was coming? They brought Anthony Doyle, The Stranded! And just on time! Grab a drink, find a spot, and make sure you finish everything on the checklist. The band is just getting started – you have 24 hours to send in your account! We’re so glad you’re here!

I. OUT OF THE STUDIO

NAME/ALIAS: Ky

AGE: 28

PRONOUNS: they

II. ON STAGE

DESIRED SKELETON: The Stranded

NAME: Anthony Doyle (Antonino Azzara)

FACE CLAIM: Luke Pasqualino

AGE: 27

OCCUPATION: Bassist with Violent Vale

III. INTERVIEW

Answer the following questions in your character’s voice:

If you could do anything in the world for a living, what would it be?

“What, if I didn’t have the band to look after?” That made him pause, it did. Shit. What would he do? Go back and help mum and dad with the shop? Even they didn’t want that. If they were being honest about it. “Fucked if I know,” Anthony flapped a hand, cigarette smoke curling after. He’d get on with it. Somehow. “Maybe a zoo?” He threw that out there, for the hell of it. “That’s what I went on about, when I was a kid. Working at the petting zoo, with the cockatoos and goats.” Not very rock and roll. But, then again - he’d got plenty of practice with wild animals, hadn’t he?

If you could travel anywhere, where would you go?

“New York was mint. Wouldn’t mind another stop off around there, sometime.” So long as he didn’t have to be running about keeping those muppets out of trouble. Those beloved muppets of his. Anthony took a thoughtful drag, considering his options. World was his oyster, innit? “Other than that, oh…those Galapagos Islands might do. See the big, fuck off tortoises. Darwin’s finches. And your cousins, mate,” he smirked at the iguana lazing down the chesterfield from him, dozy in the California heat. “Seems a relaxing sort of place.”

What is one thing that makes you different than anyone else?

“Out of this lot? I can cook. Properly, mind, like, real food. Vitamins, minerals. And I can press clothes. Do up a tie. Fix a button, change a tire…” he counted off on his fingers, knowing he’d run out. Violent Vale had a lot going for it, but. When it came to just being able to get shit done, the little things that kept life rolling along in some semblance of order, Anthony was the one who had to step up, often as not. “Tell time.” He rapped his watch, snuffing his cigarette. Not the first interview where he’d been the only bastard of the bunch to show up when the calendar said so. Wouldn’t be the last. “Don’t you worry, they’ll be along.” He wouldn’t promise shortly. Knew better.

IV. BACKSTAGE

Anthony - as his teachers at school quickly got to calling him, because Antonino was just too much of a mouthful, apparently - didn’t remember Italy, but his neighbors around Bristol never let him, or his hard-working parents, forget it. The Azzaras had left their mother country, and generations of family history, behind when Anthony was just shy of his second birthday; the future had looked too grim, in wartorn, bombed out Naples. Better to try their chances elsewhere. They got as far as England, and set about becoming as Bristolian as they could. Which, according to the locals, was never really enough. Still, they got on with it - it being a little chippy down in Temple Meads. Nothing special, but cod and potatoes paid the bills. Mostly. When the shop didn’t cover rent and such, or needed new windows and paint after the odd smash-up, Ant found ways to make ends meet. His mum and dad might frown on it, and fret, but he’d learned plenty of tricks from hanging about on the fringes. Met all sorts of interesting people, there. Fences, for one. With his clever fingers and fast feet, Anthony could make himself some good money when he needed it, pawning things he snuck off drunk tourists.

But only when he needed it. When his family needed it, more rightly. Picking pockets and sneaking unattended handbags wasn’t fun. It was risky, and he knew that. Anthony played smart, and took honest work over a quick buck, when he could find it. Was a band, a rock band, honest work? He wasn’t too sure about that, but Violent Vale wasn’t just a rock band. They were family too, childhood friends. The type who’d start your fights for you. Loyal to a fault, because they’d earned it, Anthony let himself get drawn into the dream and put those troublesome hands to better use on the bass.

They weren’t bad, neither. Not bad at all. A few gigs around town became more, became daytripping to Bath, became playing at this little festival over in Glastonbury, became a weekend over in London. Became fame. Soon, he didn’t have time to bus tables for his parents - and he didn’t even need to feel guilty about it, because the money was good. Stupid good. It only got better as Violent Vale got big, and bigger. They were riding a trend, all the way to the top. All the way to America. Mad, wasn’t it? New York City was a good time, a breath of fresh air. Well, fresh-ish. Unfortunately, it was too good of a time for some members of the band. As in England, Ant found himself acting the collie dog, shepherding his little lunatic gang around the city, trying to keep them in line and on schedule. It was a hell of a job. And, frankly, he needed to cut loose himself now and then. Now and then became too often, quickly. Predictable, wasn’t it? Those ties that bound were tight, after all. Anthony found himself dragged off course more than he should’ve been, through the clubs and rooftops and streets of the Big Apple. The bills piled up. The tabloids loved it. Their managers didn’t. Soon, it was decided - forcefully - that they’d be packing up, shipping out west. To California. Beaches, bikinis, big record labels. Sounded wicked.

So long as they got their shit in line. Ant pulled the band together for their own meeting, after management left to arrange the details. Los Angeles had to be different. More music, less party. Please? He was, well. Worried about them. The Vale were more than a headline, more than letters in lights. They were his mates, the best he had. He wasn’t trying to be a killjoy, here. Just wanted to see them survive stardom. They seemed to be listening, but… he knows them, these people of his. Not at all mollified, he threw back his gin and tonic, reclined that big American airline seat, and hoped for the best. He’s not out to change his friends, to be clear. He just… wishes they weren’t such a bloody mess. Until that day comes, though, Ant’ll be there to scrape the Vale off the floor and into the studio, anytime, everytime.

V. ENCORE

Let’s try some HEADCANONS.

He’s not a Tony. Don’t call him Tony. At least one of his bandmates - if not the whole mangy crew - has known Anthony long enough to remember when he was a weedy little late-bloomer, last boy at school to shoot up and fill out; those days left him with the unenviable nickname of Ant. It’s stuck, but whether he finds it aggravating or endearing really depends on the moment. Don’t try it if you’re not a proper, close friend. You’ve got to earn the right, yeah?

While he couldn’t say much for the Bristol school system, Ant’s an avid self-educator. He’s particularly keen on environmental subjects and history, and his letterbox is often packed with magazines like National Geographic, Time, and The Ecologist.

Anthony’s loving the California sunshine, honestly. He’s often found on the beaches, taking a morning swim - in water that’s not too bloody cold for that, what a wonder - or an evening run.

Given his love of animals, it comes as no surprise to most that Anthony’s very vegetarian. Unless he’s at home, with mum and dad. Then he eats what he’s given, and likes it. Obviously.

Anthony can speak Italian, but not much. His parents discouraged their first language at home; faced with the prejudices of working class Bristol, the Azzaras tried very, very hard to fit the mould of respectable, urban, English family. Mum and dad were understanding when he first took up a blandly British stage name - it could only help his chances. It was sensible, but… difficult, in a way Anthony can’t quite articulate. He doesn’t have a mother country to miss, not the way his parents do. All the same, his name, his skin, his face, have been held against him for as long as he can remember. He’s sensitive to the tensions of race and culture, and even if America’s problems with all that haven’t smashed any of his windows in, Ant can see them pretty plainly.

His first fresh-to-fame personal indulgence was buying up an iguana that caught his eye in a shop window, back in London. They weren’t taking proper care of it, right - all cramped up, with sad, fake vines, wilted lettuce. Couldn’t have that. Said iguana, now known as Dennis, as in, the Menace, now travels alongside the band - frequently creating a bit of a stir in transit. Nobody’s too fond of the idea of transporting live reptiles, as it turns out. Anthony’s turned his apartment in Los Angeles into a free-range reptile habitat for Dennis’s sake, complete with some lovely lush plants he takes diligent care of.

Anthony tries - and largely succeeds - at being the reasonable, sensible, presentable face of the Vale. But if you hit the right buttons, he’ll show you just what sort of British culture he picked up along the Bristol docks. Ant breaks up more fights than he starts, and when he does, he tends to break some faces along the way. Got a mean headbutt, in true hooligan style.

And of course, a PLAYLIST! Here’s some period-rightish tunes that brought Ant to life for me. There’s some appropriately hot-blooded fling type tracks, a lot of British rock of all stripes, some rebel yelling, and bangers to blow the roof off, in truly Violent Vale style.

Immigrant Song - Led Zeppelin

Baba O’Riley - The Who

Teenage Kicks - The Undertones

Jimmy Jazz - The Clash

Friends of Mine - Buzzcocks

Good Times Roll - The Cars

Hush - Deep Purple

Burning Down the House - Talking Heads

Demolition - The Kinks

Don’t Bring Me Down - Electric Light Orchestra

No More Heroes - The Stranglers

The Night Comes Down - Queen

God Save the Queen - Sex Pistols

Good Times Bad Times - Led Zeppelin

Don’t Mess Me Round - Buzzcocks

Under Pressure - Queen & David Bowie

I Know a Girl - The Undertones

Just What I Needed - The Cars

Money - Pink Floyd

Rebel Rebel - David Bowie

My Generation - The Who

Lola - The Kinks

I Told You So - The Undertones

Diamond Dogs - David Bowie

Wasted Life - Stiff Little Fingers

Real Cool Time - The Stooges

You’re All I’ve Got Tonight - The Cars

Ever Fallen In Love (With Someone You Shouldn’t’ve?) - Buzzcocks

Should I Stay Or Should I Go - The Clash

All Day and All of the Night - The Kinks

Keep Yourself Alive - Queen

#accepted

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its8simplejulesblog · 4 years

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If I Could Quantify and Statistically Plot My Mental Health Over the Past Few Months

It would probably look a lot like this: (I made this quickly, but the proportions are all off it’s bugging my OCD SO much wow)

Which is saying a lot I think. That one person could be so volatile in such a short amount of time haha. Naturally, quarantine hasn’t helped, and each day is a new challenge, but I’ve come to terms with the fact that this is pretty much normal. We all go through it. So, I’ve experimented with a few things that make my day to day life just a litttttle bit better. Being stuck at home really limits the things you can do to combat depression, but in the end, it’s the little things that count right :) I recognize that the things I mention here may not be beneficial to everyone, but this is just what helps me to be a little bit happier, healthier, and motivated until this is all over.

This is kind of what a normal quarantine day looks like but all of these things apply in my normal life too, I just have a lot more going on on those days in between.

Frankly, having a set sleep schedule is a goal of mine, and I’ve set nighttime AND morning alarms, but I don’t think that one is going to happen for a little while now. Anyway,

1.) At the beginning of each day when I wake up I like to turn my phone on and use this daily affirmations app. It’s an app that makes you record yourself saying something good about yourself and honestly it’s weird because I hate hearing my recorder voice, but we’re giving it a shot. Also I make my bed. It’s something that inspires me to be productive and I’ve noticed that when I’m in a cleaner space I’m calmer. I think that making my bed, in a weird way, makes me more excited to sleep later too. While I’m doing that, because I listen to music ALWAYS, I like to listen to something that’s decently upbeat and positive. Don’t get me wrong, I like rap as much as the next person, but if I’m trying to start off the day well, then I don’t instantly want to be in the “fuck you” mentality. I’ll either listen to Surfaces “Good Day” or some classic rock like “Don’t Bring Me Down” by ELO (does that count as classic rock?? idk) or “Sunflower” by Rex Orange County. Anyway, a huge thing to make me feel better in any situation, especially the mornings, is to just dance around my room and be stupid.

2.) After that, food is always on my mind. I mentioned earlier that I like using Lifesum. This is an app that tracks your calories and nutrients and such. When I tell you that I used to eat whatever I wanted, I really ate WHATEVER I wanted and ended up feeling like garbage mid-way through the day. I can confidently say that tracking my food has made me feel so much better. I eat a lot of fiber bars and bananas for breakfast. The fiber bars taste like a chocolate bar but they’re good for you! Sounds fake. With that being said, the things you eat greatly affect your mood. Just doing simple things to take care of your body will make you feel invincible though. It has made me a lot more confident in myself.

3.) Along with number 2, I drink a lot of lemon water. Probably about 6 cups a day, which isn’t nearly enough, but we’re getting there. I’m weird and I think that water tastes weird or not as good on its own, so my parents are now used to getting lemons for our water (so high maintenance). Everyone knows that drinking water more than anything else is good for you, but I like to add lemon because the vitamin C is good for fighting viruses, the antioxidants make your skin glow, and it’s a good cleanse for your body. Also, I really like sour things so I just eat the lemon after I take it out of the water (again, freak)

4.) I like to split my quarantine days into sections. When I wake up, for a few hours, the first thing I do is some homework and research. I always have homework that I can go ahead on, so I prioritize things that have to be turned in and do that first, then I do more static items like studying for exams coming up or going ahead in future readings. I also do research with CRESP and the project we are working on is a group effort, but we can do individual work on our own time so I’ll do this now too. Around this time also, I like to watch some sort of educational video on something that I’m interested in. I’ve built Chinese into my everyday routine, because I’m tutored in it now so I’m a little bit more motivated to keep up with it, but I also really like crash course sociology or financial videos on youtube (cause I’m a scrooge)..really anything that is a real life/ technical skill that I wouldn’t have really spent time on if I weren’t stuck in quarantine.

*Along with this step, I always make a little office in my kitchen. I’m a big planner girl so I can see everything written out in front of me and cross it off and I have an obnoxious blue file folder that I keep all my school papers in. I encourage you to not work in your room because if you’re anything like me, you’ll fall asleep* Look like this

I also eat lunch somewhere in there

5.) After I do something to exercise my brain, I like to exercise my body. Working out has always been one of my favorite coping mechanisms. I’ve always felt so good after working out. It was harder to find time to do it at school because of how busy I was, but now I have zipadee doo dah of an excuse not to, so here we are. Personally, I love love LOVE nature and being outside. I love going on walks and listening to music and...looking at trees idk. For me though, my exercise of choice is cardio/running and I prefer not to run outside. Because of that, I’ll only take walks outside and do my actual workout in the house. I usually run/walk uphill on the treadmill and then I’l do crunches and leg lifts and planks and yoga. I switch it up a little bit each time though.

Some of my favorite songs for working out: “Fake ID” by Riton, Kah-Lo, “Physical” by Dua Lipa, “Fool” by Fitz and the Tantrums, and “Life Itself” by Glass Animals (there are a lot more though)

Dinner time, yeehaw

6.) After this, I can do something fun. Usually I’ll spend time with my family or watching a movie or youtube videos or reading a book or singing or dancing or playing video games or on social media or talking to friends or playing my flute or photography or learning the ukulele or jamming my thoughts into this blog. I also continuously joked that I was going to learn knitting while I was at school so maybe I’ll try that.

I realize that it’s a lot of people’s preference to just do #6 all day, but personally I’m stressed out more when I don’t do anything productive, so that’s why doing a mixture of things works better for me.

Here are a few other random tips

- I like to wipe my phone and computer down frequently because of corona, but also because it’s another thing that calms me down (apparently I’m very wound up)

-Don’t force conversations with people. I understand that we’re all trapped in quarantine and “If they aren’t talking to me NOW, then they must really hate me.” Relax, just focus on something else. The worst feeling is when you know that someone isn’t interested in what you’re saying. Do I still send streaks? Of course, but in terms of actual conversations, I’m only invested in the ones that are invested in me. It’s made me a lot happier.

- Go outside when the weather is nice! Seasonal depression is such a real thing. Whenever it’s even remotely nice I like to take all of my work or the book I’m reading outside instead.

In the end, take this time to focus on yourself. We better all come out of this looking fine as hell and being confident and smarter than ever before. We have all the time in the world now to become the best versions of ourselves. Love you guys

-Julia

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topbeautifulwomens · 6 years

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#Adam #Barnett #Biography #Photos #Wallpapers #beautiful #clothes #eyeliner #fashiondaily #instagood #maquiagemx #nickiminaj #purse #rap #wshh

Adam Barnett is an American actor and entertainer. He plays the role of “Teddy” in the Disney/Touchstone motion picture The Last Song (film) based on the Nicholas Sparks novel. The film stars Miley Cyrus, Greg Kinnear, Kelly Preston, Liam Hemsworth, and Nick Lashaway. Barnett’s character, Teddy, is in the inner circle of a team of young thugs who, led by Marcus (Lashaway), hustle money by doing spectacular fire juggling and hacky sack performances for the beach carnival crowds.

Barnett was born in San Antonio, Texas to Robert and Luetta Barnett. The Last Song (film) is his initial appearance as a cast member in a major feature film. While attending substantial school, Barnett was a member of the Future Farmers of America or FFA as it is much more commonly known. His FFA projects were highly successful and earned him enough money to help pay for his education. While filming The Last Song (film), Barnett way too worked with acrobats, aerialists, and synchronized swimmers as a cast member in the Viva! Show at SeaWorld San Antonio. Barnett has four stage-siblings and is a senior at the University of Texas at San Antonio majoring in vitamins and overall health.

Name Adam Barnett Height 5 ft 11 in Naionality American Day of Birth four-June-1987 Place of Birth San Antonio, Texas, U.S. Famous for Acting

The post Adam Barnett Biography Photos Wallpapers appeared first on Beautiful Women.

source http://topbeautifulwomen.com/adam-barnett-biography-photos-wallpapers/

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charvikavarma · 9 months

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Meet The Tasty Vites! | Fun Learning Vitamin Series for Kids | Education Vitamin Rap Song

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#fun learning vitamin series for kids #interactive learning for kids #Youtube

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pedro10123 · 9 months

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Meet The Tasty Vites! | Fun Learning Vitamin Series for Kids | Education Vitamin Rap Song

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In this video, Meet The Tasty Vites! Here is a rap song, which gives an introduction to all your favorite vitamin characters. We will bring new episodes each week, Subscribe to follow the Adventures of the Tasty Vites! Kids Educational Youtube series. Tasty Vites offer high-quality Vitamin Gummies for kids aged 3 to 16 years, visit www.tastyvites.com to browse our range of Vitamin Gummies.

#TastyVites #KidsEducationalSeries #ChildrensEntertainment #EducationalRap #VitaminGummies #KidsNutrition #HealthyEating #FunLearning #AdventuresOfTheTastyVites #SubscribeNow #Youtube

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otaviogilbert · 9 months

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Meet The Tasty Vites! | Fun Learning Vitamin Series for Kids | Education Vitamin Rap Song

Introducing "The Tasty Vites!" 🌟 Join us on a fun and educational journey with this vibrant vitamin squad. Get ready to groove to our catchy vitamin rap song as we explore the world of nutrition in a way that's entertaining and informative for kids of all ages. Let's make learning about vitamins a blast!

#TastyVites #KidsEducation #FunLearning #VitaminRap #NutritionForKids #EducationalEntertainment #HealthyKids #LearningIsFun #KidsNutrition #VitaminSquad

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emfrandal317-blog · 6 years

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Some Music Occupation Choices To Consider.

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skycommasatdusk · 7 years

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8-10-17

I gave myself permission to stay in bed today. When morning came and the phone started ringing and the texts started pinging, I pulled the comforter up to meet the pillows and remained there for a very long time. Then I had to pee.

And, there was the bathroom scale. What the hell. A shriek escaped my throat and I shuffled on.

8 a.m. and I’m filling my vitamin supplement days-of-the-week tray and coffee is dripping over chocolate milk and sugar. I’m not going to do this day. But, as long as I’m up, I’m going to have my coffee. And, I’m going to have whipped cream on top of it.

The whipped cream dispenser went ‘hiss’ instead of ‘splort’, but it hadn’t beaten me. I’d bought a 3-pack at Costco. Hah! Take that Another-Day-That-Wants-To-Knock-Me-Down. I’m still here, though not fit for social consumption.

The coffee is delicious, and I am emboldened to check email. See if there’s anything uplifting on Bored Panda. There is. Another whale rescued by a scuba diver from miles of line attached to an anchor. Once set free, whale comes at rescuer like a speeding bus, but doesn’t knock him down. Just asks to be petted, like the family dog. Good. Good. There is still good.

Scan through emails with trepidation and dare to review information on meeting right here in my neighborhood that I’d planned to sponsor and network for much needed new business. It’s been moved. Of course. 45 minutes away. In a different county. Groan.

This day is not going to knock me down.

It’s not. I will keep my head down. I will avoid the many piles of things that need doing. Paper piles here for work. Paper piles there, time sensitive for other work. Files on my desktop, time-sensitive, waving hysterically to get my attention. Text from landlord to correct a slight breach of parking garage rules. It’s okay, I’d been expecting that.

I recall a dream from last night. Mother had purchased a second home nearby, and had not used me as her realtor. I was pathetically okay with that, I figured she’d gotten a better deal by writing with the listing agent. But, she hadn’t even consulted with me, and then I came to learn that she didn’t even get an inspection of the property before closing the deal. Was it closed? Was it too late? The property was clinging just above a canyon, and on the other side was a homeowner who overwaters his gardens. How could she not listen to my urging that she needs to get an inspection done before she closed escrow? And, why were there two washers, and three dryers in this house? Spread out from kitchen to sitting room? And, why was there a neighborhood party going on? And a parking lot, and my son was attending to the parking kiosk? Why couldn’t I maneuver the grassy yard to get back to my car? Why was there an open-air crawl-through bridge to get to the other side?

But, it’s morning. On this day during which I’m backing away from the mania. What to do?

A hike in this uncharacteristically steamy hot southern California day? Sounds gross. Food? Not hungry. Make my bed and straighten up? Well, duh. I don’t want to die of a sudden heart attack and be found here with my home a mess. Best to put on clean underwear too.

Blinds open? Blinds closed? Music on? No. It only drags me to whatever mindset any particular song touches inside me. News, God no. Enough of that. Quiet. I can hear the plane flying across the sky taking people to vacations they eagerly anticipate, or dragging them on a heinous, nerve-wracking business trip in coach with their knees up to their shoulders trying to get comfortable, eschewing the flight attendant’s offer of coffee because they read that article about the water used for making coffee and tea on planes, and, of course, they would risk walking away with a large coffee stain on their white pants when they reach their destination.

Sounds. Cars. No horns yet today. No sirens yet.

Typing this. Chastising myself because I’m still learning to not put two spaces between the period and the next capitalized word since Lynda, the editor, taught me it should only be one space.

9:30 a.m. Where does the time go?

I’m still above ground. Not even lying flat on the faux wood laminate floor, my cheek pressed to the coolness. Not there. Sitting, on a stool. Resting my arms straight in front of me across the desktop to ease the aching of my arthritic arm and shoulder. Quick text to ask if my granddaughter was wrestled into day two of the school year. No response. Many possibilities.

Europe is calling. I signed on for it, and there’s no turning back. Heaven knows I need the break, to get away, to experience new. But, finances are worrisome. An understatement. And, the task of making the plans so that, once there, I can relax, feel so very difficult. Train schedules and hotels and currencies and tipping rules. Packing; 16 days + 1 tiny, manageable suitcase. Another immense chore. But, the clock is ticking down to departure date.

Tick tock.

Calendar pages turning.

But not in that annoying way shown on the Rachel Maddow Show or in the Target online ads. That annoying computer-generated swishing sound.

Traveling alone. Good? Bad? Will I make friends? Do I have room for new acquaintances in my head? Safe?

Lovely twittering sounds from the lone dove that nests in the palm tree outside my door. Where is his mate for whom he’s built a nest of palm strands and lint and bits of paper? Perhaps she is nearby and he’s alone only because he’s bravely standing sentry. Bold enough to stand his ground as I pass by within 30 inches of his beady glare.

Shoes on, sunscreen sprayed, hat chosen and adjusted. Keys secured in pouch carrying overpriced Epipen, tissues and loose change. Sunglasses ensuring a superficial wall between me and whatever, whoever, I may encounter. 10:04 a.m., facing the day outside of my cocoon because sitting still never sits well with me. Earphones on, attached to phone, but no station or podcast selected. The plugged-in visual is just a deterrent.

A body in motion tends to stay in motion.

‘Beep beep’, goes the UPS man at my neighbor’s door. ‘Growl’ goes the garbage truck. ‘Whiz’ goes another airplane.

59 years old. 59 years old.

Retirement age is 62? 64? How much longer? When can I slip off these tap dancing shoes? Papers somewhere detail the financials if I retire in one year versus another. Another. Another decision to be made.

Heel, toe, heel, toe, (lather, rinse, repeat?), heel, toe…

Car races me to the curb end of the crosswalk. Car wins, expresses with arms and eyebrows that she's sorry she cut me off.

But she's not. She did it will full knowledge that I was striding there. In the crosswalk.

Audi Honda BMW Toyota Chevrolet Prius GS Se E 320 Is Crv Mc250 Accord Accord

Paris accord.

No, no, it’s Paris Agreement. Paris Climate Agreement. Paris Climate Accord. Whatever. Still holding, thanks to other fully conscious countries.

Snatch of a song in my head:

…they alive dammit, ' females are strong as hell…

Leaf blower.

Power tool humming. What's that tool called? It used to be so easy to access words. Names.

White female, 30s, stands on sidewalk with two police officers. Another patrol car pulls up and dispenses two more police officers, one male, one female. First police officers depart.

Carpenter: rap, rap, rap, rapping. Sun beating down on him leaning into building from the ladder.

Dog barks and barks.

I miss the sound of my dog’s bark. 10.4 years of love and seizures. I loved that dog.

Tall floor to ceiling windows look into doggie daycare. Dogs running and playing with each other. Dogs angling for human attention. One tiny fluffy white dog stands away from the others, very still, legs nearly trembling, eyes searching the distance. For what?

Tears in my eyes.

81 degrees.

Powerball 356 million. MegaMillion 393 million. No winners.

I'm not a winner.

59.

59 years.

59 years, segmented into how many parts?

Part 1: Infancy, who loves me? Who do I belong to? Mother? Papa? Grandma and grandpa?

Part 2: Childhood. Mother hates me, I'm a burden to her. Sisters play with me, but I'm too bossy, trying to be special. Papa loves me, but I’d better not anger my mother. Grandma and Grandpa love me, can we go see them today?

Part 3: School years. Friends. Frenemies. Seated in my little chair staring out the fire escape door at the house and fenced in yard 3 stories below, wondering about my future. Losing my new crystal blue glasses on the day after I got them. Summer, waiting beside the highway with my sisters for the bus to take us to swim lessons at the municipal pool. A little money in my pocket for a treat at the shop across the street before the bus takes us home. Knowing I’ll later spend that money on cotton candy as I get off the bus. Spending the money on ice cream after I get out of the pool and wait in line under the Midwestern sun.

Part 4: California. Jr. High and High School. Mother keeps reminding us that we are so cool because we now live in California instead of dusty old Iowa.

Part 5: College. Yay. I’m me. Just me. No old family stories weighing me down. Education. Singing on stages. Boyfriend. First. Writing, writing, writing. 4 more years to be safe while I grow up. Wondering when it is that someone is grown up.

Part 6: First jobs. Insecurity. Successes. Failures. Finding my legs. If not my wings.

Part 7: Marriage. Writing, writing, writing.

Part 8: Children. Love, love, love for my children. PTA, carpool lines, producing special events and haunted houses and children’s game shows to benefit the schools. Accolades. Fears of public speaking falling away. Writing, writing, writing.

Parts 9, 10, 11, 12: Separation, sex, divorce, love, heartbreak. Writing

Part 13: Realtor®. Hustle, research, learn, work, work, work. No rest. Too weary to work, too anxious to sleep. Wine.

Heel, toe, heel, toe.

Music from the open door of the furniture store: 'you are so wonderful, to me.’ Changed from ‘you are so beautiful’?

Why? What was the thinking?

PC? Feminism? Are you necessarily objectifying someone if you love their looks? And, if that’s so, does that mean you don’t really love them at all?

Lightbulb: Write a book.

Second Bulb: Finish a book. Proud of book.

More bulb flashes: Shout out on Craigslist with my offer to pay anyone with access to a publisher to put my finished manuscript on a publisher’s desk? Book flight to New York, walk manuscript in to publisher’s offices and beg successive people until the doors are all flung open for me and someone has promised to read.

Optimism.

Brief.

Slow down.

Just today.

Today, I will not strive and grasp and claw and re-think and redouble my efforts until I collapse with aching body, weary mind, red eyes.

Today. I will just be.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow.

Tomorrow: Welcome! Can you sign in please? This home offers 3 bedrooms 2 baths in 2,023 square feet, beautifully updated. Built in 1939. The kitchen features industrial grade appliances and marble countertops. Master suite is quite large with original hardwood floors leading off to the latticework tile bathroom floor which holds a claw foot tub offering the bather a view of the canyon, separate rainfall shower. The exterior maintains the original Spanish style well-suited to this quaint Beachwood Canyon neighborhood. The schools are highly rated…

No, no one died in the house.

Yet.

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