Monthly Archives: November 2013

Different


Before

Trinyx stayed just under the surface of the waves, watching the beautiful creature with the bouncing hair react to the lecherous older one. She worried when she saw the angry expression cross the young human’s face, wondering what had angered him so, as she watched him shove the other man out of the way. Trinyx felt as though her very self was being pulled toward the handsome boy as he stomped angrily away from the ship’s rail, until she noticed a splash in the waves next to her. She moved away in disgust when she realized what it was- one of the other less-attractive humans was leaning over the side of the ship, retching into the sea. She was filled with fury that he was polluting her ocean in such a way, and wanted to jump up and  grab the man, pull him into the water, and swim down to the deepest depths with him where she knew he would perish. Instead, she swam close to the body of the ship, and indignantly banged her tail against the wood several times.

As she swam away toward her home, she looked back, and saw several of the men looking confused and leaning over the ship’s rail, peering into the water, wondering what sort of fish had rammed their boat. Trinyx glimpsed the dark-haired man too, who seemed to be looking directly at her, though she knew it was too dark for him to see that far. She lifted her pale hand in a useless gesture, and thought she imagined the man raise his own hand in return. The waves moved    her, and she pushed her tail against them , diving into the night-black water.

Far below the moonlit surface of the ocean, Trinyx slowed her movements, realizing how close she had been to a human. She thought of how soft his hair had been between her fingers, and how it had sprung so lightly from them. She weaved her fingers between the ropey lengths of her own hair that was billowing out around her, and let it go, watching it lazily drift in the leftover currents of her swimming. A few small fishes glides through it, and she swatted them away, perturbed.

She felt melancholy now, now that she had felt the air on her thick skin. She had never felt the pressure of the water surrounding her, but she felt it now, and she wanted to be back against the ship, looking into the expressive eyes of the alluring young man again. She thought of him and wondered if his skin would feel like hers, and she ran her hands down her torso, over her breasts and down her belly, until she felt scales that led into a lengthy tail. She looked at her tail, the tail that was the envy of her sisters, with it’s rainbow of purple and green and silvery scales, and decided it was not at all beautiful. Her fingertips felt over the coarse scales, and she wanted to feel what it was like to stand on two legs like the humans on the ship had.

The man’s eyes had been one color, and though she had never seen her own, she knew from looking into her sisters’ faces that mermaid eyes were an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors, and she thought to herself how uninteresting that was- as she had watched the man, she could see within his eyes a flurry of emotions, whereas when she watched her sisters, the constant color shift in their eyes made it completely impossible to know what they were thinking.

She had let the man’s sounds wash over her; how different they had been from her own! From the things her grandmother had told her, human voices were terrible to listen to, and humans themselves were seemingly possessed when offered a mermaid song, but Trinyx had liked the sound of his words- they were not melodious as a mermaid’s, no, but still pleasing to the ear in their own way.

She fingered the silver chain that was tied in her hair, and pushed the little button that had released the tiny door. She cried out when she saw that the picture inside was beginning to disintegrate already, and she shut it again quickly, hoping to preserve the likeness of the woman who looked like her human. She gripped the locket tightly to her chest, and was amazed that she cared so for this man, this creature who was so unlike her. She swam in circles, wondering what she was to do now.  Bubbles and fish floated out of her way as she did so. She was forbidden to have contact with the upper world, but there was one thing she knew for certain- she had to see him again.

 

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Long Live America(n Girls)


“If only I could have a Kirsten doll, my life would be complete.”

Or maybe a Samantha doll. And that’s all.”

“If only I could have the Christmas outfit to go with the Samantha doll that I don’t have, my life would be complete.”

“A Kirsten doll is $110. That’s like….a million dollars.”

These were the first hopeful, and then completely despondent thoughts going through my 10-12 year old head long ago. It began with a book.

(Does this surprise you? It seems that most stories associated with my most intimate wants and desires always start with a book.)

Anyhoo.

Once upon a time, a much younger Sparklebumps took a field trip to a historical farm in Ramsey, MN, and found a book she wanted to read entitled Meet Kirsten. Little did she know, but that this was only one book in a well-known series of books made to educate and entertain little girls on the lives and times of other fictional little girls in America throughout history. That series was American Girl, which later blossomed into  a brand that, in my opinion, rivals Disney. (My opinion is so based on the square-footage of the American Girl and Disney Stores that reside in the Mall of America here in Minnesota. I do believe AG takes up more space.)

Being the nerdy little moppet that I was, I was quick to check out every American Girl book that I came across in my school library- with the exception of the Molly books, which I immediately poo-pooed because of the fact that Molly wore specatacles. (Spectacles are not cool, Dude.) At the time, no marvelous American Girl Store existed, where shelves are lined with beautifully accessorized dolls that one can go to and choose from, and even purchase matching outfits of their own, so that little mother and doll can play gleefully together while wearing identical duds. Instead, everything was mail order, and every year around Christmas, it would arrive- the American Girl catalogue.

This was my Holy Grail, my perfectly published Christmas wishlist, my own version of the legendary JCPenney catalogue. No, I did not need to go through and circle the items I longed for, because I coveted ALL of them. (Minus the Molly section.) My only dilemma was whether I would rather have Kirsten (who was blonde like me, and whose name is similar to my own) or Samantha. (who fictionally lived during the Victorian Era, whose amazing lace and corset style called to my own Steampunk leanings.)

I yearned for, no, no- I PINED for an American Girl doll. Thinking back, I cannot recall a single other Christmas gift I so wanted and never received. Let me be clear, I never went with presents- in fact, I was ridiculously bombarded with mountains of presents on both Christmas and my birthday, and while I enjoyed and appreciated every one, there was always a slight stab of disappointment with every tear of shiny wrapping paper that revealed a present that was NOT an American Girl doll. I eventually gave up on the idea of ever having my very own  Kirsten or Samantha to dress and feed and teach and doll up.

Fast forward to many years later, when I was slightly more grown up but not much more mature. Like, a few years ago. I had nearly forgotten my obsessive need for an American Girl doll, when I heard on the radio of the Grand Opening of the American Girl Store in Mall of America. All the years of wishing flooded in on me, and I made up my mind to venture to this Mecca, and see for myself all that would be mine. Imagine my disappointment when I arrived, and saw for myself that the dolls were just as exhorbitently-priced for me as they were for my parents back in the day. I left, at last convinced once and for all that I was not meant to mother one of these inanimate girls. (Since then, I still find myself wandering the aisles on my bi-annual trip to the Mall.)

Now that I have an Almost Daughter of my own, it would make sense that I would bestow upon her her very own American Girl doll, but I find that I do not have any intention of doing so. Perhaps it is because she may be a little too old, (which is what we are going to pretend) or perhaps it is because if I bought her one, I would constantly find myself seething with envy every time she ran a brush through the damn dolly’s hair.

Clearly, I am of an age when it is not sensible, nor is it befitting for me to have a doll to cradle and play and drink imaginary tea with. But then again, when am I ever sensible?

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Filed under Beauty, Children, Christmas, Humor, Life, Money, Uncategorized

… And Fiancee


Before you jump to attention and your phalanges quicken to congratulate me on my engagement, let me stop you right there. I am not engaged.

*Pause for collective sigh of disappointment*

Ok, now that that’s done, let’s get down to the real story of what’s going on.

I seem to be remiss in my blogging duties as of late. Though I would love to blame it on NaNoWriMo, I cannot, since I have written only 2100 words so far. Yet another project left unfinished. Talk about an unfinished life…

Anyhoo, I HAVE been quite busy doing other things besides sleeping and watching the boobtube. (Yay, me!) After two months of barely looking, and one week filled with house showings, we have come upon a most amazing house that shall be ours. It seems R is content with me enough to agree to purchase a real live home with me. (When I say “live”, what I actually mean is “alive with personality” not “alive with ghosts”. I have enough of those caged in my head.” )

The house we’ve found was once owned by a professor, which instantly boosts is on the cool-o-meter. It too, comes complete with a huge entryway, a closet big enough to house my entire shoe collection comfortably, three bathrooms so that all members of our little family may poop simultaneously, a fireplace and chimney large enough to allow Santa access, and a perfect spot to display a full-size mermaid statue. (I might mention here that one bathroom includes gnarly monkey and parrot safari wallpaper- I have not yet decided if this diminishes the rating on the cool-o-meter.)

I knew upon entrance to the house that it was surely the one for us, and my Rockstar seemed to agree with me, because despite his hesitance about purchasing a home for the first time ( all that yard work to do- even though I shall be the one more than willing to do it) he was quick to agree to making an offer. (With a little urging from me…no, I didn’t use my oral skills.)

The offer was accepted, contingent upon a home inspection and assessment. We had the home inspection tonight.

We arrived at our soon to be casa to find Mr. Inspector already finished with his business. Mr. Inspector was an adorable elderly gentleman who reminded me of Jolly Ol’ St. Nick, who was quick to point out the uniqueness of the place. He had brought with him his own folding chair to rest his considerable weight upon, which endeared him to me instantly. We ventured through the house, the whole while, Inspector St. Nick pointing out all the cool and unusual aspects of the house. When we were done, it was time to go over his findings and to write him a check. As I glanced through the first page of the report, I noticed my Rockstar’s name at the very top, and under it, my first name, followed in very small writing and parentheses “fiancée” I giggled when I saw it, and immediately put the report down.

It seems since I have begun telling people of our intentions of buying a house, most are quick to comment with “Oh, you know what’s coming next!” and “When are you getting married?”

It’s funny, because since we found this house, I haven’t once thought about that. I know I’ve blathered on in the past about “why won’t my Rockstar marry me?” and “Oh, what to do about my Rockstar not marrying me?”, but it seems the insecure Sparkle has disappeared, and has been replaced with one who really doesn’t give a fuck about that shit.

Whilst all my Facebook friends are posting non-stop about getting engaged, or getting married, or having babies, I have begun to realize that maybe my life is not about all that. Yes, I still wish for babies, but instead of being sad I haven’t any, I am more focused on teaching R’s Daughter that maybe she could be an artist when she grows up, or a baker, or a candlestick maker. I am more intent on becoming a published author than in years past, and now that we have found a house, I am excited to have a 2200 square foot canvas on which to express myself with art. If there are to be babies, or marriage, let them come- I’m not scared. But I’ll be even less not scared if they don’t come. And when I’m done tiling my mermaid bathroom in iridescent one-inch mosaic tiles, you can all come over and take a poo in it. XOXO

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Filed under Family, Humor, Life, Love, Money, Uncategorized

I’m Awesome, Or So They Say


Before you say that no one even knows who these proverbial They are, let me just say- this time, I can actually clarify who “They” , in fact, are.

It seems while I’ve been pretending to be too busy writing my November novel to write on my blog, I have become more popular than ever before, so much so, that I received two, yes, count them, TWO blog awards in the same day! Just a few days ago. I did not immediately respond, because I was sadly, working, and going to concerts, and masturbating. (Ok, I only said that last thing to make sure you were paying attention.)

Anyhoo, Archon over there in his Den bestowed upon me the You’re a Winner! Award, which requires me to do nothing but appreciate, which I most certainly do, since without Archon, I would only receive comments from one Pouring My Art Out, which is, in itself, not something to complain about, but I like to think that Archon and PMAO are fighting over who will eventually win my hand in virtual blogospherial matrimony. (Yes, that is my histrionica kicking in there.) Both are unfailingly loyal in being the only two bloggers to “Like” and comment on every single post I make. John used to  silently appreciate me, but he has more important things to waste his time on. (I know, I can’t think of anything either.) Whatever, the point is- Thanks, Grumpy Dude!

Too, I was awarded the Liebster Award by honeyimalesbian, a blogger who I am ashamed to admit I did not know existed until I received said award. (Isn’t it nice to be appreciated by people you didn’t know about?) I appreciate her just as greatly, and shall make an effort to further get to know the workings of her inner mind.

As always, there are rules that come with the Liebster Award, which I most certainly do not intend to fully abide by. Nominating fellow bloggers is one, where I will hereby direct you to the right of your screen to click on a blogger of your choosing from my blogroll. Secondly, I am to answer the ten questions asked of me by Honey, and here they are:

1. Where would you love to go on a trip?

Neverland, Wonderland, and Chicago. In that order.

2. What did you want to be when you grew up? Did you do it?

An artist, a writer, a rancher, an actress, a mother, a wife, a stripper, and then a writer again.

Maybe I will do it, if I ever grow up.

3.  When and why did you start blogging?

A little over two years ago, because a coworker started a blog and I thought I could do it better, and because I have a lot of opinions nobody wants to know.

4.  Are you a foodie?

I love food, it is my nemesis.

5. When was your first kiss??

I kissed a girl and I like it, when I was very young.

I kissed a boy when I was 15, and didn’t like it as much.

6. What do you read/ watch when you are in a creative funk?

Other people’s blogs/ Sex and the City. Because everyone else’s lives are much more desirable than my own.

7.  Introvert? Extrovert?

I am an introvert stuck in an extrovert’s body. Or at least my boobs are extroverted.

8. What is your favorite season?

The one when I get the most presents. Or feel like giving them.

9. Coffee or Tea?

I don’t think anything with whip cream, chocolate, and caramel added can really be considered coffee anymore.

10. Whats the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you?

Loved me even when I continued to be a neurotic, fucked-up, self-absorbed nincompoop.

Now, I’m supposed to ask 10 questions of my own of all the people I didn’t nominate, but I don’t have time for that shit. I have a book to write. XOXO

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Unfinished Business


I painstakingly try to wrestle my unruly curls into braided pigtails before swiping on a layer of ruby red lipstick that rivals the sparkle of Dorothy’s legendary heels. I crack my knuckles, preparing my fingers for the flood of words they will soon type.

And then I sit here and stare at my damn computer screen, without one hint of an idea of how I’m going to do this.

Remember how I was all gung-ho about NaNoWriMo? Yeah, well that was three days ago.

I am stubborn, the stubbornest of the Stubborn, yet I have this little problem called never finishing anything. Seriously. I think the only thing I ever finished was my first short story in the third grade about a pet squirrel named Chippy who unfortunately had to be released back into the wild. I actually skipped recess to finish that story.

I WILL finish this book I’ve started that has no clear outline written or end in sight, and maybe after that I will find the strength to finish my many other unfinished projects- the 5 paintings sitting forlorny in the corner, the book I started writing almost a decade ago, the book-page wreath my Rockstar doesn’t understand. Maybe I just need everybody to go out to recess so I can finish…

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Filed under Books, fiction, Humor, Life, Uncategorized, Work

NaNoWriMo, Ready or Not!


It’s NaNoWriMo, and no, that’s not a fresh new way for me to insult you. National Novel Writing Month has begun, and even though I have no idea how it started or really what the rules are, I thought it might just be the push I need to get at least one of these books out of my head and out in the open for all to see. Oddly enough, the book I’ve decided to begin is none of the five that I’ve already begun. In retrospect, perhaps I’ve been subconsciously gearing up for this month by mostly ignoring my blog for the month of October, or maybe I was just being lazy. Whatever the reason, I’ll see you in 50,000 words. Be prepared for whatever falls out of my head. I make no promises or excuses. Wish me luck.

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