Book Guide

The Elegant Witch - By Robert Neill

This book was purchased On my Birthday, April 2nd 2011 up in North Adams MA. The store is called Sanford & Kid, and this particular book was thrown in with a group of other misfits on the first floor.

It took me about ten perusal minutes to find it among the others. You see, I have a knack for looking at the books whose titles and bindings are too hard to read from the outside. I like having to open them and look - it gives you an idea of their flavor. How does it smell? Old and unused? If that is the case, then I feel the need to try and read it! Does it smell of some woman's perfume? Then it was loved already, and probably needs a bit of a rest before I crack the binding again. Does it have those NEW page smells? The processed paper with the glossy cover and the flimsy sheets? Because sometimes I just want something that smells old.

'The Elegant Witch' was one such as that. So I purchased it for about 4 dollars (What a steal! Hard cover and in excellent shape as well!) and took it home - along with a comic book about a squirrell samurai. (Story for another time.)

I have just finished the first few chapters. And as opposed to being a dry, humorless tome filled with advanced vocabulary just for the sake of HAVING advanced vocabulary, I can actually understand more then half of the things described therein! Of course, certain older items of clothing and their descriptions are lost on me, but that is what an imagination is for. It takes place in Early 17th Century England, and from what I read of the reviews (Which were few and far between, may I add) It noted that it was based upon the Pendle Witch Trials. (Of which, I would very much like to learn more.)

The Main Character is Margery Whitaker, a 16 year old girl raised in a Puritan household - though not conforming to it's dry, bitter ways. She delights in bright clothing, and smiling at boys, and using the wit God gave her. She is decidedly charming. Her family - siblings because her parents both passed on - cannot decide on what to do with her. Eventualy they decide it would be best just to marry her off; but first, they need a dowery so they can finally be free of her. Assuming of course no one would marry her otherwise, Margery is shipped off to her cousin, because none of her immediate family is willing to give a dowery to such an 'unwieldly' young lady.

I don't want to give away too much more. She and her cousin end up getting along very well. The style has a certain, 'I-was-written-in-a-very-stuffy-society' lilt to it, where sentences happen to drag on, and large words are inserted at strategically awkward locations in the sentence, if only to prove a pont, however little the worth of the point may end up being....

o.O

However, It is also a very witty book, with a main character that I actually feel that I can relate to and engage with. And I LOVE her cousin. LOVE. I LOVE ROGER NOWELL. (Her cousin.)

It opened a little slow, however I was able to eat it up after a few pages. At present, I feel that the pace is very healthy, and I'm not being left too far behind. I think the only thing legitimately tripping me up is his enthusiastic, (and I hear, very accurate,) descriptions of period items and clothing. I really don't have any idea what half the things that Margery is wearing actually are. But hey, I am assured that they look lovely on her, and I trust Mr. Neill so far!

It's OTHER/Original title is "Mist over Pendle" which is what it was called when it was released in Europe. Not sure why they changed it to the Elegant Witch, but ah well, there you go.

This is a Test - The Oru Give-away!

This is a tip-of-the-hat to my fellow Blogger, the Lovely Lila Inglima of Young, Broke, and Married! She had the splendid idea of doing a Give-Away for her fans, and thus I think I shall do the same! For 3 reasons:

1.) I am curious as to see how many people follow my ramblings, adn I think this is a way to both test that number, and perhaps improve upon it!

2.) I like giving stuff away!

3.) I think celebrating 140 posts is a nice little mile-marker, don't you?

The Give-Away is going to be a Writing Cornucopia; a collection of books, poems, pens, and some writing and creative essentials! Because this is my first go at it, It won't be a big thing, but it will be something fun to receive in the mail, don't you think?

I will also immitate (Becasue that is the greatest form of flattery) Lila's method of entry: Please comment with your name, Your favorite entry, and your e-mail address!

You have until Friday, April 1st at MIDNIGHT to reply.

Sincerely Yours,
Oru!

Funny Story

SO, funny story via HGI.

I was doing housekeeping (like I do) and I get called into the office to listen to a 'really upsetting' message. And as we both listen in (myself in curiosity, my manager in complete outrage,) I hear a Mr. 'M' regale us with the tale of his stay.

He claims everything seemed all right. He was satisfied with everything until he discovered that the mirror in his bathroom HAD NOT BEEN CLEANED! *gasp* It LOOKED clean, there were no SPOTS to notice, however, when he left the relative safety of his steaming hot morning shower, he was aghast to find that there were, in fact, traces of filth.

Do you want to know how he knew? I'll tell you.

As he stepped out of the shower and into the steamed up room, the condensation on the mirror made way for something that had been written by a previous temporary resident of the room. It read...

"I am watching you."

And as My manager looks at me with the face that says, 'That is the worst possibel thing I can think of THIS DAY, and you better come up with something to make it right'... I do my damndest to suck back th elaughter that wants to peal forth from my lips, and I tuck back the edges of my mouth so they don't form a goofy grin.

Because honestly - THATS just funny.

Oru

Karma

How do you measure Karma? How much is given before shit is taken away, exactly? Do I have to start walking old ladies across the street? Reading to orphans (Which would be fun, ad mittedly) or donating my lifesavings (which isn't much) to charities? Or am I at the point that only donating a kidney to a complete stranger will get me out of this miserable hole? Because I like my kidneys. Both of them. They're mine.

I consider myself a mildly selfish person. Granted, I don't steal and I don't cut in line, but I have been known to tell some white lies, and I have been known to do on occasion what is best for me. I like to laugh and I like to have a good time, and yes, I do make fun of random strangers on occasion too. I am not 100% a good person. Then again, no one is, are they?

Now I'm trying to figure out what exactly I did to piss off the cosmic Gods of "HATEYOURLIFE" in order for me to have aquired a bug problem from the rodents that share the eaves of my attic space appartment. Or not even - if they were bugs that DIDN'T share a sleeping space with me I would not be quite as put out. In fact, If they didn't CONSUME MY BLOOD in my SLEEP leaving red welts up and down my arms, neck, and back, oh and my legs and belly, I wouldn't be half as frustrated with my life.

And thats just it - OTHER then that, I'm doin' grand! It's great! Sure I can't spend any much money on fun times because I have to save in order to dig myself out of a financial hole but OTHERWISE I have a man I love, an adorable appartment, a working vehicle and a steady job. So WHY is THIS crashing around my head now?

So back to my original question - Whose ASS do I have to kiss to get a bit of leverage around here?

Oru

Brilliant Days

I am not as eloquent as my friend who constructs the Imaginarium Terrarium. I don't find myself as interesting as the delightful mind behind The Continuation - The Conclusion. And I am most certainly not as savvy as Young, Broke and Married. As a matter of fact, I'm really not sure what it is i bring to Blogspot that would pull me out among thousands of like-minded individuals. There are tons more people with far better word form then I, better grammar, helluva better spelling, and probably of a happier disposition... I am convinced that my friends love me far too much to indulge in reading this in their off time - but I thank them TONs for doing so.

Today is the kind of day where I want to succeed in something. Not just making it through the day or doing well in a job I hate. I want to do something I love and look back at it and feel that delicious sense of accomplishment that comes with so few things now a days. It is Brilliant outside. Sunny, with gusting winds that throw your hair freakin everywhere. JUST enough cloud cover to sometimes give you a moment of shade. Picnic? No problem. Badminton? of course! Poetry beneath your favorite tree? Naturally! This is one of those days that I want to get a better job and lift my chin in pride for being able to afford everything on my own. This is one of those days where I want to write something that is worth your time reading this.

Times like this I want to be able to wow you.

And sometimes I feel like I am able. My fingertips practically explode on contact with this keyboard, and floods will power through the circuitry and bloom in muddy waves on the shores of this cyberspace meeting ground.

Then of course, there are days like today where I feel like I'm simply writing the same things over and over. Should I erase this whole thing and start b*tching about work, instead? It might be funny! But I do that all the time in REAL life, why would I want to just keep beating a dead horse?

Originally, I tried to come up with a theme for this blog. On this cursed Brilliant Day, I've decided that the theme is redundant emo-ness.

I apologize. So. Much.

Oru

Best Love Ever

So Yesterday was rough for me. I had work ('nuff said) and then I had to run over to my OTHER job before I ran back to the appartment, got a bottle of wine, then ran down to Garrison to see a (great) play at Boscobel. (Shakespeare, Naturally.) THEN Of course, after that, hope that I made it hope in enough time to have enough energy to hang out for a bit before I was required by my biological clock to crash and burn until this morning.

Well, the break between that day of here and there was of course, the running home bit. So, I did so, and when I pull in, I realize that there's a whole lot of garbage outside. Interesting. And in OUR garbage can as well. Double interesting. And as I get out of my car, my Love approaches, grinning fiendishly. He finishes up a conversation on the phone and then gives me a hug, then starts to lead me upstairs, saying, "You're going to hate me, I know you're going to hate me."

I get suspiscious, of course, at first. But then I go with it. And when i turn the corner to see our living space - I see that the man had cleaned everything. Threw out all the trash, reorganized the bookshelves (In our bizarre way of 'reorganizing') and cleared the floor od all debris!

My Love got much praise. And then I left and then I came back and was locked out of the appartment because my love is forgetful and fancies himself a catburglar. (It's fun to puzzle it out, ladies and gents.)

Our key last night consisted of a crowbar, a garden spade and a cutco mini-carver.

In any case, My love has taken upon himself to fix and/or replace the lock for us this morning before work!

Pros:
He will NEVER forget his keys again. Ever.
Our door closes and opens without getting stuck now. I think it had something to do with the levering process via crowbar.
I like shiny things


Best Love Ever.

Oru

Be My Guest

Bear With me, Ladies and Jelly-spoons. Give this a once over and lemme know what you think.

Be My guest
The People of the Hilton Garden Inn at Fishkill
By Jessica Manna
June 30, 2010

Potted plants, richly colored furnishings, high ceilings and lots of sunlight catch the eye first. It is pleasantly cool, and the lobby is almost as bright as the smiling face behind the front desk, greeting guests with a warm, “Hello! How can I help you?”

Behind the smile is full time student, nineteen year old Mary Walker. She wears the professional black and white, and not a hair is out of place. I discover that she is a Visual Arts major at Dutchess Community College and she is presently undecided in what she wants to do with her life.

“So the hotel is sort of a waypoint between where you are now, and what you want to do?” I ask, curious.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that. I needed a job, so I applied to all of the hotels in the area, and the Hilton hired me!” She responds, smiling still. “It’s kind of laid back, and I like sometime, when people are nice to you, knowing that you helped someone out. That you made a difference. Know what I mean?”

Mary helps a guest, directing them confidently up to the Wal-Mart, which is literally two parking-lots and a side street away. The Hilton Garden Inn receives a great deal of out-of-towners, brought into the area by an assortment of occasions. They have already had 9 wedding parties in the house since May began, and on a separate occasion, they hosted an entire tour-bus of Virginian Jehovah’s Witnesses.

“What do you find most challenging, then?” I ask her next.

Without hesitation, Mary answers, “trying to answer the phone that’s ringing before 3 times, having someone on hold AND checking a million people in at once.” She laughs, and as if on queue, the phone rings, and her signature answer: “Thanks for calling the Hilton Garden Inn, this is Mary how may I help you?”

As laid back as Mary tells me it is, there must also be stress involved. Upon further prying, I catch the Manager of Sales, Krista Borerro. She too, is continuing with her education, aiming for her Bachelor’s Degree in English and Literature. And despite her title and the eight years she has spent in the hotel business, she is only a springy 25 years old.

“I started out at the Hampton Inn doing front desk.” Krista begins to tell me. “I worked with a core group for about six or seven years until I came here and we just really had a great time. We would follow each other from place to place.” She smiles brightly.

“Sounds fun, so what’s the challenge in your department?” I ask.

“The stress of dealing with difficult people sometimes.” Krista nods decisively. “[They] basically want something for nothing…you have to constantly make sure that they’re satisfied.” Sighing, she thinks a moment and then adds, “And sometimes the mothers’ of the Brides we get. And Bridezillas.” We both laugh.

“Do you take anything away from this job? Anything that benefits your everyday life, maybe?” I continue my questions.

“[The job] helps me deal with every day situations in dealing with the public, adapting to situations and keeping my cool. It helps me to think ahead. Helps me to be personable and responsible.” Her smile widens before she finishes, “but I also worry a lot too, hoping that everything is going smoothly around me.”

After I ask her what the Hilton Garden Inn’s most prominent traveler is, she responds with a thoughtful expression. “I know that Hilton has a lot of resort hotels, but … I think more of corporate traveler, than let’s say, your leisure or weekends in the area. They want to check in, go upstairs, eat, sleep, maybe have a drink, and then check out at the crack of dawn. But we do get very busy in the summer with weddings in the area, which can be stressful.”

I am reminded of her ‘bridezilla’ comment and I smile, thanking her for her time. And before I depart, I catch the ear of the Executive Housekeeper, Shiela Volli. She’s spent 15 years in this business, starting her career in the Hampton Inn in Newburgh.

She graces me with some time during her cigarette break, and answers between inhales and exhales. Through conversation, I pick out a number of her duties as Executive Housekeeper, and the work load is impressive. Ms. Volli must stock each cart (one per housekeeper, a total of 8 on high volume days) to make sure they have enough shampoos, soaps, and linens. After that she checks each room that was not occupied the previous night to be certain it is clean before the Front desk assigns them to near arrivals. After that is done, hopefully the housekeepers have finished cleaning a few of the rooms from this morning’s checkouts. If so, she checks each of those thoroughly as well. If anything is amiss, she explains it to the housekeeper in question and then continues.

Aside from those day to day duties, Ms. Volli is also responsible for arranging the weekly schedule, doing monthly inventory, politely reminding guests that check out is at noon. She also has rank over the houseman, a fun-kind-of-wacky man who mops and cleans the Lobby area and the halls of each floor.

“It’s stressful. It really is.” She confides in me. “Sometimes I bring it home with me, which just stresses me out at my house.” She takes another drag.

“Do you find yourself checking your own room when you go off on vacation?” I ask, genuinely wondering how influenced she is by the job.

“Oh yeah. There was one place in Vermont that was really bad. Hair on the bathroom floors, garbage behind the dressers.” Ms. Volli nods as she looks at me intently.

“Did you say anything?” I wonder.

“No. No I never say anything. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. That’s not me.” She shakes her head enthusiastically, though smiling as she takes yet another drag.

“What do you like about this job?” I ask, hoping to lift her spirits.

“The staff. We have an excellent staff. Housekeepers, maintenance, front desk, and breakfast, all of us are really great people.” She lists them on her fingers. “We all get along. Everyone gets along.”

This short interlude with the employees at the Hilton Garden Inn at Fishkill reminds me of a book I read once. I had stayed in this exact hotel sometime last year, and had asked if I could pluck it from its usual place beside the bible. It is called “Be My Guest” and was written by Conrad Hilton himself. A quote that seems to infuse this modest 111 roomed hotel is, “live with enthusiasm.”

Mary Walker, Krista Borerro and Shiela Volli all live with a verdant love of life that reflects in their acts towards each guest that walks through the door. Each one of these ladies, though without direct intent, voices the Hilton motto, “Think big…act big…dream big.” In no other place can there be found a brighter, more pleasant group of people.

Diluted

Things here just seem to be getting more complicated. And by here, I mean everywhere. But for argument's sake, I will stick with the analogy of the hotel.

For example - Old hotels? They had sets of keys, and you were required to drop the keys back off in order to officially check out. Sometimes breakfast was served. There was housekeepers that made your bed and straightened your towels. Sometimes they may even fold the clothes or vaccum or replace soap and stuff. Front Desk people offered to help and were indeed very helpful beings! They were owned by families and friends, and were often refered to as Inns, or Bed and Breakfasts.

Now? Now we are not liable for items stolen out of your bag. We tell you that smoking is strictly prohibited in this room and that room but not the far room. Breakfast is not complimentary to those who do not have special membership. In fact, Breakfast isn't complimentary unless you special order the breakfast through the reservations, of course. However, if you wanted to become a Gold or Diamond member, you could spend potentially thousands of thousands of dollars travelling in order to amass the points to GET to Gold in order to have breakfast for free. As for the keys? They demagnitize if they are near a cellphone or credit card, and you don't have to bother returning them because they time-out or are doubled. Which means you don't have to come to the front desk OR call down, you can just leave. You know, in case you absolutely obliterated the room.

Not to mention that the GUEST is always right regardless if it makes sense or not, Diamond members get the better rooms first, regardless of allergies. If you book online it's cheaper then actually CALLING here for some reason, and front desk employees are 'discouraged' to take any breaks. At all. Ever. Or sit down. Ever. Or do anything but stand there, look pretty, and pretend to know what you're doing. And of course, the owner of this establishment you never see. You see the manager he elected and the co manager that HE elected. So when you complain do you really think they care? And I of course mean this ont he employee end as well!

My goodness.

I feel this turned into a bit much of a rant instead of an actual comparison, hmm?

Too busy for...

Many things, unfortunately. It's that time in my life when things start to fizzle faster and faster, the stove is on high and the pan just started popping. I'm a bacon slice baby, and I'm frying up quickly.

Whatever that means.

But I have less time. Less time then in High school, where a snow day would warrant random excursions to a neighbor's house to build snow creatures. Less time to stay on the phone with a friend for an hour having an actual talk. Less time to play that game thats been sitting over my Xbox for months. Less time to read the stack of borrowed books I was lent weeks ago. Less time to FINISH the one book I HAD started reading.

I have less time to my own thoughts and more time taken away to drive to work, work, do chores, clean, ache, and get angry. Less time to sleep. Less time to snuggle.

I have less time to just stop. Stop everything and look up, admiring the clouds and how the ptterns across the blue of the sky resemble rabbits, or oceanscapes, or dragons or wolves or birds or flowers. Less time to wait until the sun goes down and watch the many hundred shooting stars that bless me and mine with their magical glimmers of hope. Less time to make wishes. And less time to make wishes come true.

So you know what? I should make time.

....Is it too late for another New Years Resolution?

Oru

Explanations

The other night, I cried for a reason that you'll laugh at.

I feel the need to explain. which of course, may make you giggle. BUt I feel it's necessary anyway.

I have a very good friend, a gentleman and a musician. He's a little socially awkward, of course, but he makes up for it with the generous application of kind encouragement and the occasional witty remark. And can he play the pipes! He picks up a wind instrument and the air itself seems to resound with the song. If you are sad, his song can make you happy again. If you are anxious, his songs could soothe you. He's been around for really quite a long time. Currently - he has green hair, is in pretty good shape - especially considering that he'd recently recovred from a pretty bad accident.

He has this ... girlfriend. I will be the first to admit that she scares me. She's strong, independent, and she doesn't take shit from anyone. But as soon as you make that connection with her on a deeper, trusting level, she would die for you. No joke, her loyalties are that fierce. So when I say that she told my friend she loved him - I'll be the first to say "HELL yeah I believe it."

Something happened recently. Well, thats not entirely true. Things have BEEN happening. That accident I told about? That he was recovering from? It was really bad. We didn't think he was going to make it. And whats worse? SHE was there too. He'd taken the big hit to save her life, just like he always hoped she'd do for him, ya know? So whem I say that HE loves her more then life itself - you know I'm not kidding.

Before that, his brother went missing and then seriously tried to kill him. I am not bullshitting you here, The little shit tried (On TWO seperate occasions, did I mention that?) to KILL him. We all think he's stark raving mad. You know what we learned after that incident? The little shit had actually killed their YOUNGER brother in his youth. I'm talking serious mental issues. They sent him away after that and hadn't seen him for years. I don't know what happened to get him out, it's none of my business.

But thats all in the past. He continued to play his music, and we all loved it. He told some great stories (what an imagination he has, larger then life, that one) and cracked some jokes. And he's a good friend of mine, sure - but he has only ONE Best Friend. It's not his girlfriend- she's in a league of her own. It's not me - I'm a good friend, but not that good. He's seen his best friend grow up from this tortured youth figure from a broken home, to starting a family of his own. Hell, he was even the guy's best man. His best friend had been there when his brother tried to take him out. Couldn't bear the sight of him after the accident, but returned just in time for him to wake up.

Now my friend just got the biggest fall of them all. I could see it in his eyes, like he was just breaking in half. Tore my heart out. somehow - don't ask me, he's just got lots of friends I guess - he discovered that his girl, his one treasure, his golden idol, his truest love.... had well... you know... with someone else.

Someone his Brother used to hang around with. Someone who was just as twisted as him. They'd been 'sent away' together. They remained friends throughout their warping of selves. I wouldn't doubt it if this asshole had convinced my friend's brother to go off and try to kill him. I'm telling you, this guy was a total sociopath. I mean IS. Yes, he's still out there. And my friend's girl got tricked into it. Got real hurt too - but somehow...

It's hard to explain. My friend is a good person - you know it just to look at him, hear him play his music. He's got a good heart, and a big one too. But sometimes, good people... are too good. And things boil up inside them, pressure builds inside them, anger mounts, tension stretches - until one day it just snaps. It happens to the best of us - and, well, my friend was definately one of the best of us. And this time - it happened to him.

He stormed out of there so fast, and I could already see his eyes clouding over. And his best friend was there - like best friends are apt to be - and something happened. My friend was so angry he could barely see straight. I barely remember what happened - but the next thing I know, he's there, kneeling on the ground with his best friend's blood on his hands. And the look in his eyes, the absolute horror, the transformation of a whole person into a ghost just happened. Right before my eyes. I saw it.

I saw him crumble into a figment, a shadow of himself. I saw him run into the darkened streets, leaving what was left of the good things in his life behind. What was I supposed to do? I can't change his fate. This was chosen. None of this had to happen. I didn't have to see his shaking hands as they dug into the wet spot on the earth, where his best friend had bled out and died. I didn't HAVE to see his eyes close and extinguish the brightness in them.

he had been so much. He had meant so much. And I saw him destroyed. I stood there and watched, with hands tied but extended in a helpless gesture of support.

And so I cried the other night.

His name is Navvy. And I made him up.

Infinite Characterization - Infinite Attachment - Infinite Heartbreak.

~Oru

Fair-Weather Friends

The weather certainly is character building, isn't it? Making plans, changing plans, adjusting plans, shuffling one obligation over another obligation... Sure, not all of these trivialities are dependant on the weather - but what if you had planned to go to the bank or run indoor errands on one of the few days where it's bright, sunny, and breezy all at once? OR if you had planned to avoid doing lawn-mowing so you prayed for rain - on the ONLY day it DOESN'T rain? What about those plans you'd made in lieu of the mowing?

So, Fair-Weather friends on occasion mean that they are those that only come to be your friend when they need something. But in other cases - they could in fact be friends that you find yourself hanging with when the weather actually is FAIR. People who you have fun with romping outdoors and playing frizbee with, or going to the water park, or throwing water-balloons, or even riding bikes and such.

Some people are just better enjoyed outside.
:)

Oru

A Toast to Getting Paid!

How much independence would I have if I didn't have an income? How much trouble would I be in if I couldn'y pay my bills and socialize with friends? All important and relevant questions in order to better appreciate the contents of your paycheck.

Consider these questions from friends:

Wanna go see a movie?
Wanna go to the diner?
How about Clubbing?
Want to go rollerskating?
How about a picnic? I'll get the drinks if you get the food!
have you read this book yet? It's great you should get it!
Want to take a drive down to see so-and-so? I'll spot you for gas! Or hey, you can spot me if you don't wanna drive.

All of these require: what? Money! Thats right! So raise your glasses to the direct deposit paycheck! Toast to the cashed - check paystub still lodged int he backseat of your car! Raise your glass to the establishment of rich assholes paying you pennies for your valuiable time!

Huzzah!

Oru

All work and no play...

....makes Oru money.

However, it also steals away from time for myself. Which, on most occasions I wouldn't mind, simply because I will be bringing in a sizeable paycheck. (Thursday I will pay this months loans!)

However, through some fortuitous circumstances I am unaware of, this week's schedule has been sized down, just for me! I have three days in a row to myself, without parentage present and time to tidy up my room, (I'm thinking a writing nook, whadda you think?) hang out with friends, (I'm thinking the introduction of alcohol among us could be fun, right?) and more time to sleep in. (Hallelujah!)

The only thing that is currently grating on my nerves (And I mean this in a miniscule sense, of course) is how long the day has already begun to drag. On a usual day, I would have a bit of a rush during breakfast hours, get my work done, shmooze with guests and chat with kitchen staff. Then of course I would peruse the acceptable websites from the front desk computer, and if I felt up to it I would then revert to here, My trusty blogspot. However.... I find myself without something to do. So here I am.

Perhaps I shall research fun things online and report them here. Interesting zombie news, or perhaps fun pranks or home-videos. Those are always fun.

Anyway, sorry there wasn't anything particularly enlightening today - I need to shed this boredom before I can really kick it up old school.

~Oru

"A Warm Place"

-Nine Inch Nails. Downward Spiral Album.


I am off the 'single' bandwagon.

But I can still party, damnit. No one can stop Oru from partyin'! Many have tried and all have failed.

I feel pretty fantasmagorical today. I think I shall clean the house. And perhaps do some writing at work. And perhaps I shall be contented with my lot in life. And then perhaps I'll daydream anyway.

*wink*

Oru

"I don't care -"

" - what you think, as long as it's about me. The best of us can find happiness in Misery."

-Fall Out Boy. 'I don't care'

"There ain't no rest for the wicked. Money don't grow on trees. I got bills to pay, I got mouths to feed, there ain't nothing in this world for free. Oh no I can't slow down, I can't look back, although you know, I wish I could. Oh there ain't no rest for the wicked, until we close our eyes for good."

-Cage the Elephant. 'No rest for the wicked'

"Hey there girl, tell me whadda you do, she said 'nothin but I'm damn sure it's more then you.' That girl's a genius, oh oh oh oh oh oh OH. I think she's serious, oh oh oh oh oh oh oh OH."

-Jet. 'That girl's a genius.'

"This foolishness can leave the heart black and blue. Only love; Only love can leave such a mark. Only love; Only love can leave such a scar."

-U2. 'Magnificent'

"There is nothin you can do that I have not already done to myself, There is nothin you can do that I have not already done to myself, There is nothin you can do that I have not already done to myself: no there is nothing you can do that I HAVE NOT ALREADY DONE TO MYSELF! I never wanted to dance with nobody but you. I never wanted to dance with nobody but you. I never wanted to dance with nobody but you: and I wouldn't take no for an answer you fuckin' bitch. Be nice! Be nice to me, don't let me be! Be nice! Be nice to me, don't let me go!"

-MSI. 'Never wanted to Dance'

"Out on the doorstep with my key turned in the door. Look in the livingroom and your stuff on the floor. My heart is aching and I've never felt this bad, I pinch myself to check that all of this is real. Keep thinking I'm not letting on I feel this sad and then you've got the cheek to ask me how I feel. And I say: Absolutely nothing, absolutely fine. Abtolsutely nothing you could say to change my mind. Absolutely nothing. Absulutely fine. Absolutely nothing you could say to change my mind."

-Lili Allen. 'Absolutely nothing'

"Oh Kiss me. Flick your cigarette and kiss me. Kiss me where your eye won't meet me. Meet me where your mind won't kiss me. Fick your eyes at mine and then hit me. Hit me with your eyes so sweetly. Oh you know, you know, you know that yes I love - I mean I'd love to get to know you. ...Do you ever wonder? No. No no NO you girls never know, oh no you girls will never know. No you girls never know: how you make a boy feel! You girls never know. Oh no you girls will never know. No you girls never know how you make a boy feel. How you make a boy --"

-Franz Ferdinand. 'No you girls'

"We must stop meeting this way, we'll both be living ok. Cuz we fell so far from this tree again."

-Splender. 'Supernatural'

Dangerous Threshold

"And here we are. On the ragged Edge. Don't push me." - Captain Malcolm Reynolds

Every once and a while, I can feel the updraft from the chazm stretching before me. It breathes on my face like the amorous winds from a lecherous drunk. It wants me to jump into it's arms, rocky teeth in a jagged smile as it measures me up.

Will I survive the fall?

The open air, cooled by the breath of the chazm, becons me, tendrils outwards to cool my heated cheeks, dab at the dampness beneath my eyes, smooth away the creases of worry on my face. They even reach out to uncurl my fingers from the fists they had formed during my journey to the edge. Something about me balks them though - perhaps the grim determination in my eyes, not to budge. The conflicting forces ripping at my insides telling me to both fight and flee. The battle is visible on my face. Perhaps they like to watch my confusion, want to see what I'll do - who knows, maybe I would run screaming.

I've lifted my foot and dangle it over thin air, an act of Indiana Jones Faith, eyes open and glaring across to the other side, willing myself to grow a set of wings and get ON with it.

...And thats how I stand, frozen, suddenly aware of how terrified this chill air made me.

Of course, thats just one dark corner of my mind. The rest of me: keeping busy and staying out of most trouble - except the fun kind of course. Distracting myself from the numb pains and the dull aches, you know the usual.

I think I shall go bowling soon.

Oru!

Know Me?

What is my favorite color?

Seeing people yesterday that I haven't seen in months really puts certain things in perspective for me. They were friends of a certain former significant other, and the location was at the mall.

Why do I always see these people at the mall, exactly? Is there some sort of commercial magnetism that draws people together? People I haven't seen in months, or on the rare occasion, YEARS? And I wasn't even there for more then an hour.

I was actually very glad to see them both, all sarcastic smiles and asinine jokes aimed at my current companion in crime. The same old guys, meandering about and doing ... what they've done for the past years and years and years I guess. I wish it was that simple, I really do, sometimes.

Now, upon meeting up with them, we all go out for a smoke, lighting up and puffing like movie stars, letting the smoke curl up our cheeks with narrow-eyed pretensions. They pull my comrade to the side (He's been friends with them for much longer then I have) and I get the distinct impression that I am one of the topics discussed, and for some reason it doesn't bother me. In a sick way I wanted to pull my friend aside afterwards and drill him for the juicy details, but I refrained. Instead, we talked about my Former Significant Other as an outsider, the boys telling me that they were shunned for behavior that they frowned upon.

I found myself pleased.

Then one of them looks at me and grins, saying, "man, you weren't like this before. You're like, all high strung and happy now."

"I was happy then, you know." I retort, cigarette dangling from my lips.

"Right. But now you're high strung. More out there. It's cool."

I don't really know what to say to that. I merely smile and nod, grinning with a shit-eating smile, and then we all swap numbers. I let them convince each other that they're actually going to call me to hang out this weekend. Then, we part ways.

Now my concern here:

How well did they know me that they could make that observation about me now? Have I changed that much? I have to say yes, because even I, in my delusional denial, can't avoid the obvious changes in me. But these boys that barely knew me saw it? I find myself slightly unnerved, but... strangely glad for it.

Which brings me to the real meat here. How well do you know your Oru? I don't want pretenders who feel me after never having met me. I don't want the kinds of people in my life that think they know everything about me after one encounter. I have had enough of people looking into my eyes and telling me what I'm thinking - and being right. I don't want to be an open book, and I most certainly don't want to be predictable.

So I won't be.

Oru

Memories Drift

Standing perched on one foot behind the front desk for hours on end often gets my mind turning. I need something to distract me from the way my feet are pulsating from the constant pressure my body pushes down on them. On occasion I will be gifted with a task that involves more movement then mindlessly shifting my weight - but unfortunately those times are few and far between.

So, I think.

I think about things that have held me together. Then I think about how those things inevitably tear me apart. To avoid an onrush of unecessary angst, I will change gears, and dwell on any good spots of light in my darkened little heart. Dispite the row of pristine flourescents being sumarily blown to pieces by an M16, (whose name I try my utmost never to utter again, though fail on occasion,) there are still little runners glowing down the hall, and every hundred feet or so someone will have lit a fire in a barrell, or mounted a wall-sconce to light their way.

I am somewhat of a maze to begin with. And the fact that the lights are out isn't making it easier for anyone else to get to know me. Get close to me, become my friend... And I feel that this is driving a rift between my memories, myself, and the real world surrounding me.

Time for a deep moment. Cover your ears and hum please?

I find myself, every once and a while, craving his voice. I wonder how he's doing and part of me hopes his family is well, and wishes to see them again. I know he doesn't deserve the dirt on my shoes, or the spit in his face, but for being in the light for so long, basking in it, enjoying the warmth... how could I not want it back? After being thrown headfirst into the darkness following the burst of rapid-fire, the shimmer of sparks, and then the inevitable silence?

Think what you want. It happens to everyone. I wish I could taint every memory of him with a doubt, but there were none. I wish I could look back and say, "I should have known. I should have been ready for this. I set myself too high." But everytime I try, I can only think good things, I only hear his laugh.

I wish I could hate him as easily as I have been able to hate other deserving parties in the past. But I am dismayed to see that it isn't as easy as I hoped.

So now my mission is to make new memories. Better ones, ones that outshine the sterile brilliance of an old love. I will break down the walls of this hall and let in the blinding sunlight of a new life, filled with genuine smiles, affection, and ties only to those who won't do me harm.

I've taken the apropriate steps. And now to have it completed.

I have chosen to accept this mission. The only thing - no self destructing message please.

I'm not that kinda gal.

Oru

Self Defense

For a brief period of time, I took martial arts and self defense. I took one sample of Tai Kwon Do and hated the uniformity of every gesture. I let my brother try and teach me fencing, but found that I didn't posess the inherant grace needed to perform quite as well as I wanted to. Then I took a few months of Jeet Kune Do and found that I didn't necessarily need grace to defend myself. At least physically.

When it comes down to defending myself mentally, however, I'm convinced I am very well equipt to avoid any serious damage. Or perhaps - I am just very efficient. Efficient enough to get damaged and then work around the depleted part of me. It's just like Rome - when it was firts built, it was pristine, marble lined and grand. Then of course, as it happens, time eroded pieces. Society crumbled. It was raided and destroyed. And then, as civilizations often do, they built their great city over the ruins, making it whole again. Not necessarily better, but different. Incorporating the old with the new.

So, my fortifications aren't particularly as durable as I would like, crumbling to dust like disentigrating mosquito netting; however once past that screen, it's like assaulting an amorphous blob of water. Ever shifting and moving to accomodate around the newly severed piece. But never really falling.

Meh, at least thats what I'd like to think.

Oru

Curtains.

The origin of the phrase "Curtains", in the context of death and dying.

Of course, you are familiar with the concept of a curtain-call. The bow the entire cast takes at the end of a show. Each thesbian is damp with sweat and bright with the accomplishment of performing; Performing something to the best of their abvility, heart racing, eyes wide and gaping at the bright, back-lit applauding crowd before them.

They clasp hands and raise them up, swinging them down in a flourish, their bodies bowing in unison as a white, rushing roar fills their ears and a sweet, almost sickly sweet euphoria bubbles up in their throats. They will glance at each other, smiling and laughing and then extending a hand towards heaven or hell - the sound booth, the pit. And then, with a final triumphant stare out into the sea of unfamiliar and yet amazingly appreciative faces - they all turn and dart back behind the scenes, like specters, as if they never really were there to begin with. And then, the curtains close behind them, and the show is over.

Well this phrase comes from something a little less exciting.

Imagine a one man show. Imagine the nerves, seared throughout the performance, voice raw with emotion. Nothing and no one to feed off of out there amid the burning lights. Imagine the panic of no response - your own ears muting out the sound of 'oohs' or 'ahhs' from the audience simply from the rushing of your blood. Imagine the fear crawling in your gut when the last lines fall from your lips.

Imagine the poignant silence, the pause, the dead, weighty emptiness when the last word tumbles out and you are cast alone in the dark before the end. The lights are out and it is suddenly colder there, alone on the stage. No faces visible past the proscenium, no coughs, no cheering, just silence. Imagine the fear then. Imagine the fear as you step forward alone.

There are no hands to hold. They are empty at your sides as the light explodes above you, showering you in the heat, blinding you to the audience. Empty, sweating hands extended, you take your shaky bow. You might smile. Or be somber. Or proud, or cocky or even relieved. HOw will you feel?

No one will knwo if the audience will applaud or not. No one can tell you when the light is going to come back on to queue you on for your final bow. And when all that chaos subsides, and you can actually HEAR the response before you, and you react accordingly in your final, stage-bound moments... when you turn to leave...

Thats 'curtains.'