Picture the real you

I got a text from my aunt, Walsh's step mom few hours ago out of nowhere  "You need to put on some make-up."

Me-:"Huh? Was that meant for me?"

Aunt-:"I was just noticing that you're not wearing any make-up in your photos. On instagram."

Me-:"I never wear make-up."   which is true, other than eyeliner and shadow.

Aunt-:"You will look prettier when you do yourself up. I have a friend who makes these organic lipsticks, she's actually got a profile on there."  she sent me the link.  

A-ha! This was about money. My aunt is co-owner in like a million different things here in town. She's always pushing some product or business. This had nothing to do with my level of ugliness. Mostly.

Aunt-:"Why didn't you tell me you're on instagram? I would have sent you a ton of links"

Me-:"Cause I just joined the other day. Didn't think about it."

I immediately had to message my cousin, cause his step mom was making me feel like crap. 

Me to Walsh-:"Hey. You're step mom just texted me. Told me I'm not pretty enough for photos."

Walsh-:"hahahahah! How's everything else?"

Me-:"Same as always. I've hit another writer's block."

Walsh-:"Oh? I haven't been to your blog since before Hallowe'en. Give me a bit I'll catch up with the fairy tale." 

I managed to make supper and watch half an episode of Star Trek before he got back to me.

Walsh-:"I don't see anything wrong with it? It seems to me like you're on a bit of a roll actually."

Me-:"Yeah? I'm not feeling it. Dude! I swear every time I comment about how I'm inspired, my muse is taken from me. I talked about how I totally dig the New Company, and like a week later they are no longer on tv."

Walsh-:"hahaha! I think I saw a post about that on their facebook."

Me-:"Yeah. I actually caught that."

Walsh-:"It's dated after you made your comment about it."

Me-:"Yeah, I think I cursed it and myself. The show got cursed because I said I like it. And now I'm stuck without a muse. Writer's block sucks."

Walsh-:"It's not like they are sitting there beside you whispering in your ear what to write."

Me-:"I'm a very out of sight out of mind though, I need to have constant fresh footage to inspire.Why wrestling works so well. Same guys, different stuff."

Walsh-:"They have a youtube you know."

Me-:"This is me sticking my tongue out at you right now, tongue out spit flying."

Walsh-:"You know what? I think they wrote that for you, cause you said they were your new muse."

Me-:"Did you forget to wear your hardhat at work today? A hammer fall off a ladder and smash your brains in?"

Walsh-:"Then I would be dead. Think about it. Even you have to admit the timing of it is weird."

Me-:"Only thing I have to admit is you have a lot of theories that you mind warp me into believing."

Walsh-:"I don't mind warp you, when have I ever mind warped you?"

Me-:"You drilled it into my head about Kevin back in school, about your one buddy few years ago.You are evil."

Walsh-:"Fine! I'm the devil. But, I'm standing by this one. I think they announced because you did."

Me-:"That would mean that someone at the New Company would have to know who I am."

Walsh-:"Well, it makes sense right? We know there are a few wrestlers who do read you."

Me-:"We know they used to, but who knows about now a days?"

Walsh-:"Don't! No pouting! You never know who your fans are till you meet them."

Me-:"I dont' have fans."

Walsh-:"Then what do you call your regulars?"

Me-:"Regular readers."

Walsh-:"Yeah, that's the definition of a fan."

Me-:"No. Fans interact. My readers just read. And talk among themselves, cause my ears burn a lot right after I post the fairy tale each week."

Walsh-:"hahahahah! That's funny."

Me-:"The muse becomes the muse or something?"

Walsh-:"You know what you should do...instagram! Honestly I hate to say it but my step mom is right, you need to use it for dating."

Me-:"You're not funny."

Walsh-:"Not trying to be. Make sure you put up a few photos of yourself in something hot with make-up."

Me-:"You're still not funny."

Walsh-:"I'm just telling you like it is."

Drag my insecurity out of me

I got a message from my cousin Walsh this afternoon while I was at the cafe. I had been scheduled for tarot readings. 

Walsh-:"What happens?"

Me-:"??????"

Walsh-:"In the fairy tale. I saw your post and went got caught up. And?"

Me-:"You will just have to wait for the weekly post like everyone else."

Walsh-:"You suck."

Me-:"Only sometimes. Sometimes you just don't want to even look at it."

Walsh-:"And that's why you're single."

Pussycat was late getting there for work today, Princess had the morning shift and was in a fit because the owner decided to "invite" her to dinner, not informing Princess that she'd invited her son who is home from university.

Pussycat-:"What's wrong with her?"

Me-:"She's angry because she's got a social life. Dinner, a party, going to a concert."

Princess-:"I don't want to have a social life. Take it, it's all yours."  she stormed off ripping her apron off in a huff. "We're out of onions, I'll be back in ten minutes just walking to the grocery."

Pussycat-:"Seriously, what happened?"

Me-:"She's mad because the owner tricked her into a date with her son."

Pussycat-:"Oh! Yeah that's not good. How's you?" he hugged me. "Your phone is lit up like a tree."

Me-:"Walsh. He's trying to worm information out of me."

Pussycat-:"About what?"

Me-:"Just that fairy tale I'm writing. I told you about it." he nodded then looked at me mouth open.

Pussycat-:"You are totally coming to this thing I have to host this week. I'm sending you the invite on facebook right now. You'll doll, love it! LOVE IT! My girls will be there."  he meant his drag queen friends. "It's a queer night, but don't mind that because because...there sent...because you can't drop a tiara without hitting a straight person. Besides, this is a Hallowe'en thing. Everyone will be there. We're going to get you a social life too if we have to drag you kicking and screaming. Get it? Drag."

A handful of customers came in then and I went off to my little corner table where I had the cards set up.

Walsh-:"Does he actually like her?"

Me-:"What? Who?"

Walsh-:"The new lead stupid. You said you chickened out of what you wanted to write."

Me-:"Oh that. Um...if I tell you, you won't read it. Dude."  I started wondering what might be going on in my cousin's life if he's back reading my stuff?  Last I heard, everything in his life was fine.  "You doing okay?"

Walsh-:"Yeah. Wife went to her sister's for the weekend for a wedding. Youngest is at soccer, oldest is staying at friends over night. By myself. You seriously not going to tell me? Not even a hint?"

Me-:"Nope."

Walsh-:"Okay, I'll bite. Why did you chicken out?"

Me-:"I don't know, just couldn't do it."

Walsh-:"Why?"

Me-:"I broke down crying when I wrote it. It hit a nerve that I didn't realize I had to deal with so I chickened out."

Walsh-:"Ah. You need to let go of your insecurity."

Me-:"Yeah yeah. I know I know, get over my crap and Mr. Right will finally arrive."

Walsh-:"Mr. Scratchy is there, just silent."

Me-:"I didn't say Mr. Scratchy, I said Mr. Right."

Walsh-:"Same thing."

Me-:"Actually, I don't think anymore that they are the same person."

post it note October 9th 2016

Happy Canadian Thanksgiving, Herman.  I will never understand why we celebrate it a month apart?

Anyways, I don't know if you caught today's section of the fairy tale or not, but I think I over thunk it. Got too wrapped up in my own fears of what people might think of it, undid a whole storyline I was going towards. Turned a great new leading man into the same old excuse to pull out the same old plotlines. Doubted myself, and chickened out of where I really wanted to take the story.
When I started writing the fairy tale, I knew beforehand what I wanted the personalities to be like of the main characters, had a plotline figured out. But this new hero, totally sideswiped me. Never saw him coming. Weird how that works Eh?  Few months ago, I was bored ready to throw in the towel on the whole thing, desperate for inspiration. Then one Sunday; turned on tv and there was the answer. My area got a new sports channel, with new wrestling shows and guys I've never heard of before. Wanna hear the really ironic of it...the one who has become the sidekick in the fairy tale, he was suppose to be the new leading man. Yeah, was all set, even introduced him first into the fairy tale. But, the one character who was actually suppose to come in for one part...well to put it simply, he stole the show.  Sideswiped!  Can't seem to figure out what the character wants? It's almost as if his personality is evolving as I write? Like I plot out the main key points of the fairy tale on day one of the writing week, and by post time, completely the opposite ends up on the page.
Like today, with me chickening out of where I was planning on taking the next few chapters. I let my fears of what my readers would think if I went with what my gut was telling me to write, get the better of me.
What the hell does that say about me? Damn Eh?, I finally create the "perfect man" and I resort to shifty tactics reducing him down to "questionable at best". Maybe this is why my Mr. Right, hasn't come through in real life yet? I have a difficult time believing a man when he is nice to me. And it shows screamingly in my writing. 

Anyways Mr. Scratchy, Herman dear, I imagine you checking in today, a bottle of bourbon beside you, those wire rimmed glasses on that I think you wear, no scratch that, I don't think it's bourbon today, I think you've got a cup of coffee beside you. In a cartoon character mug. Something you picked up in some dollar store somewhere. I imagine you in those black track pants, and grey hoodie shaking your head at me, unable to hide your grin.

I'm going to leave you with this thought; two episodes from season 2 of The Munsters, episodes 10 of the season (48 of the series) A Man for Marilyn, and 17 of the season (55 of the series) Just Another Pretty Face. 

as always smile, smirk and snarl.

8:48pm something something

You know you've hit rock bottom when you realize that you've managed to binge watch the entire catalog of Hallmark made for tv movies in a week, and go through a bucket of chocolate bars and a full bottle of wine alone while doing so.

Welcome to rock bottom. Feels like you'd expect it to...rough and cold. Like falling down an endless pit of despair only, there's no light at the top to shadow down on you.

This was suppose to be a time to reevaluate things, meet new people, and write. I haven't left the sofa in god knows how long, and the only thing I've written is one piece to the fairy tale. It's like every time I sit down to get started on anything else, the fairy tale nags at me, guilt tripping me into working on it yet again! Not that it's a bad thing, but it's really time to work on something else even for a few weeks.

Have not seen Jon the repair guy around at all. Nor has Mr. Freeze said anything else to me. So zero for zero no win situations.

Had a really crazy dream though the other night about wrestler Jimmy Jacobs and my former buddy the Musician.  Dreamed Jimmy Jacobs was going around the building with a clipboard checking people's hall closets for neatness, and that he barged in ripping mine apart reorganizing it. And that my former buddy the Musician was behind him mopping up muddy footprints handing him fresh pens every few seconds because every time he checked something off, he tossed the pen over his shoulder. Crazy enough right?
Damn, I havent' seen or heard from or even thought about the Musician in about four years. Wonder if he even still lives here?

Dirty Laundry 51

I got a message from my cousin Walsh bit ago. "You're giving up?"  I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, and pretty much figured it was meant for someone else and he just had one of those days.  Then a second message came in. "You undead? hahaha."   yeah that one was meant for me, anyone else he would have asked if they were alive, like a normal person.

Me-:"What do you want?"

Walsh-:"You were not at the cafe on Monday. I was there and you weren't. Though you liked it?"

Me-:"Did. And doesn't matter."

Walsh-:"You home?"

Me-:"yeah."  

He banged on my living room window about an hour ago, scaring the hell out of me. I let him into the building, thinking I didn't want to see anyone.

"You're not giving up are you?"

Me-:"Maybe for now. Why?" I was still in my pajamas, am still as I write this. Okay, haven't gotten out of them in a few days but who cares right?

Walsh-:"You shouldn't give up. I think you need to do this, continue with the readings."

Me-:"I don't want to. I don't want to do much of anything right now."  I ended up sitting here listening to him lecture me on being a quitter. Fun times. He picked up a book I'm reading on the history of voodoo, flipping through it laughing. Jerk.  Told me he read the latest on the fairy tale, asked why I did it that way? Then was going on about wrestling, which I think I grunted.  Seriously, I just wanted to punch him. "Haven't watched it in like two weeks."

He laughed, not believing me. Understandable. He asked me something that I couldn't answer from one of the episodes, which then got a look of realization from him. I think I just broke my cousin's heart.  He left had to get back to work, and I sat down to write. Ended up staring at a flashing cursor for a bit, my muse it seems gone and writers block starting again. So, I ended up posting this. Which of course, I would have anyway. Good thing I believe that everything is copy, or I'd never have anything to write about anymore.

Dude, my muse is gone. At lest it feels that way.

Bad day?

I got a message from my cousin Walsh this afternoon "Was the show on last night?"

Me-:"Yeah. Why?"

Walsh-:"Just cause it never recorded. Thought the dvr was broken."

Me-:"What's up?"

Walsh-:"Nothing. Just getting off work, What's up with you?"

Me-:"Just making sauce for dinner. And trying not to have a breakdown."

Walsh-:"What happened?"

Me-:"Lost three years of my time is all."  I proceeded to tell him about a novel I was working on and how the manuscript is missing.

Walsh-:"Like what do you mean missing?"

Me-:"As in I haven't seen it since the move. I spent the day going through the rest of the boxes with paper, notes, etc in them and can't find it. I only had the one copy of it printed out."

Walsh-:"Haha! That's what backing up your work is for dumbass."

Me-:"First thing I did was put the back up in the computer. Back up doesn't work."

Walsh-:"What do you mean it doesn't work?"

Me-:"Oh my god, okay, the novel was written on my old computer on a program that is out dated, and therefore when I tried to open it on this computer, it read it as just code and symbols and is useless."

Walsh-:"Ah, why didn't you just say that. What's having the print out going to do if you can't work on it anyways?"

Me-:"Then I don't need to worry about the back up not working, cause I'll have a hard copy. But, can't find it and I spent three years working on that novel."

Walsh-:"When was the last time you saw it?"

Me-:"What part of I had it just before the move did you not understand?"

Walsh-:"Re-write it."

Me-:"I might have to try. I started writing that back in 2006."

Walsh-:"Any news on your dad?"

Me-:"They moved him to a long term care hospital."

Walsh-:"Other then your manuscript missing everything else alright?"

Apparently, my frustration was coming through in my texts. "Nope. Don't worry about it."

I finished making dinner and started to think about it, decided to blog it given it was Walsh. Biggest mistake I made was blogging about certain people and letting them know about it. They all either hate me now or just want to see themselves in writing.   There was a knock at the window, Walsh had shown up. I almost didn't let him in, but I did.

Me-:"You did not come here because I wouldn't answer you. What's up?"   He shrugged like he always does, and just hovered inside the doorway.

Walsh-:"Just out in the truck. So what's wrong?"

Me-:"I think I'm done."  he looked at me with his chin sticking out waiting. "I think I'm done trying to write. I'm 41 and the best I can show is a handful of blogs. I think it's time to just...you know?"

Walsh-:"I give you a week. Four days tops."

Me-:"No I really think I'm done. Nothing left in me, nothing good anyways."

Walsh-:"Fairy tales going well. I think."

Me-:"Fairy tale really sucks. I've sort of lost my muse again. Mad Hatter, Rebel without a Cause, Werewolf King, Dimmer, boring the snot out of me. He won't die. I keep trying to kill off the character based on Mad Hatter, and it's like the universe won't let me. Like every time I write the scene, he's standing there beside me yelling at me to save the character. Anne Rice once said that's what writing the character of Lestat was like for her. I'm being haunted by my own writing. I dream of the damned story all the time. The scenes taking over everything."

Walsh-:"Don't say that. You'll hurt his feelings."  he started to laugh then just stopped. "Okay seriously. What's really bothering you?"

We talked for awhile, me crying more than once.

Of all the stuff I've contributed to over the years online, this blog is where I've been able to be the most honest, most raw part of myself. I know more then half the time, there are readers who think I'm nuts, and I admit, even to myself sometimes I think if I was some random reader I'd think I was brain fried too.
But, this is me. The messy details of my life.   I've had readings done, horoscopes drawn out, blah blah blah, all saying that this is the big year everything is suppose to fall into place. The missing puzzle piece.  I've believed that so many times it's funny. Painful, but so funny.
I'm tired of having my dreams made fun of, tired of falling for the wrong men and getting my heart shattered. Tired of feeling like I just don't belong.
This is suppose to be a time of major communication, so this is me, trying to communicate my disappointment to the universe...and confusion.

Sunday night late

Got a message from my cousin Walsh about an hour ago. I figured it was the same old same old about the ppv, so didn't bother to check it right away. Waited till after the ppv was over to bother to look. And it wasn't about that.  He asked if I was okay?  Told him I was fine, then asked why?

Walsh-:"You killed the fairy tale. What's going on?"

Me-:"I did not kill it. Everything is fine."

Walsh-:"You broke up the leads. Are you sure you're okay? Depressed?"

Me-:"No. Totally fine."    I did decide to move the fairy tale into a new direction, hell after almost two years, it's time to get that soap opera some new blood. 

Walsh-:"You talked about not being interested in Mad Hatter anymore, then you kill the story...so asking..."

Me-:"You worry me. You are way too invested in my fairy tale. Get a hobby..."

Walsh-:"I have more then enough hobbies...don't have enough time for my hobbies at it is. I like reading your stuff. So all this time, I thought the lead male was based on Mad Hatter and the lead female on you, but you had the male do your stuff..."

Me-:"I'm the writer, everything the characters do is my stuff. Where is this going?"

Walsh-:"Nowhere I guess. What did you think of the ppv?"

Me-:"Fine, nothing overly special. I have hobbies too you know."  

Walsh-:"Yeah yeah. so, you going to fix it?"

He seemed very determined to have me change the new direction back to the old boring direction. "No. Don't think so. Think I'm going to see where this new direction takes me. I haven't worked Cinderella into it yet or Jekyll and Hyde."

Walsh-:"Jekyll and Hyde isn't a fairy tale."

Me-:"To a point it is. It's a version of Beauty and the Beast."

Silence for a few minutes.  "Okay, I'll buy that. Hang on..." more silence. "I've picked out Alice in Wonderland, Red Ridding Hood, Hansel and Gretel, Rapunzel... Miss anything?"

Me-:"Sleeping Beauty, Frankenstein, Dracula, Robin Hood..."

Walsh-:"Robin Hood! Okay yeah see that now."

Me-:"Obviously, Beauty and the Beast."

Walsh-:"Obviously...okay, carry on. Just make sure you patch up the leads. They really belong together."

Me-:"They need some strife. Can't be all roses and hearts."

Dirty Laundry 41

Ever have one of those days when you just can't seem to get any work done? Not for lack of trying, but because no one will leave you alone?

Been in a pretty steady groove lately with the fairy tale, and managing to get some notes for a new story, then today gone out the window. Why? Because my phone has been psycho. Here's the thing, I don't give my number out.  But I've gotten this bizarre bunch of calls and texts from people looking for a guy named Carl. This has been happening since last week. I put the first one off as a simple wrong number, but, it's gotten to the point one person said they talked to him just this morning on this number.  The phone company had no explanation  And I've had the same phone number for 8 years. Crazy right?  Either way, it's disrupted my train of thought.

That was the lesser of the badness.  What really got my heart to catch in my throat was a twitter email. I have one, I just refuse to use it. Anyways, I got one of those "do you know blah blah blah?" with a list of so called famous/popular Canadians.  Mr. B. was on the list. (talked about him before "Cursed-id-ed" was one)
This is a guy I haven't talked to or seen in 20 years, and suddenly he's being offered up as a possible contact?  I thought about it. Damn, I thought about reaching out and saying hey. But, I thought better. Didn't do it.
Instead, just sat there staring at his photo for five minutes before deleting the email. Then I sat there for another twenty minutes mindlessly looking into the depths of my coffee cup while listening to the Dracula soundtrack.

You've heard of emotional affairs. I believe they are rare but extreme. My sister has always referred to Mr. B. as my real first love.  Everyone was in love with Mr. B.  He just had that way about him. It's weird how one little thing can get your mind racing to what ifs and shoulda coulda wouldas...
This dude, was Jim Morrison/Hunter S. Thompson/Jon Lennon/Trent Reznor/Jack Kerouac all rolled into one. From the photo, he's still got it.
So now, he's all I can think about, which doesn't help my writing.

The 6 of Cups has been popping up in my tarots lately. That's the card of remembering, past, nostalgia, forgotten friends. Now I know why.

Emotional affairs.  This is like the term of the last decade, the term made popular by internet relationships/affairs. It's become a cop out for a lot of people, and a dirty word for others.

Dirty Laundry 40

I had turned off my phone to charge last night, and seems I missed a message from my cousin Walsh. Which of course was the usual "you watching the show?"

Me-:"Yes, I watched the show."  this I sent few hours ago.

Walsh-:"So you saw then?"   he replied about forty five minutes ago.

Me-:"Just said I did."

Walsh-:"No I mean your man and the arm."

Me-:"That a Twin Peaks reference? Don't remember any little dancing dwarf." 

Walsh-:"Funny. The promo in the ring with the crash test dummy."

Me-:"Was pretty spiffy. Wonder if he writes his own stuff or just goes off the cuff?" which I've wondered many times.

Walsh-:"I thought you wrote something close? Like in your fairy tale or something?"

Ah right on, good to know someone is still reading my stuff.

Me-:" but I got the idea from that old promo Mad Hatter did for the indie company...so no."

Walsh-:"Oh....I really thought he was giving you an inside joke type of thing."

Me-:"Don't think so. More like the other way around."

Walsh-:"Well...the fairy tale is better. No more writer's block?"

Me-:"For the moment all is smooth...how's things with you?"

Walsh-:"Same old same old. Got the guys coming over on the weekend for the ppv."

Me-:"Tell Duncan I said hi."  I sent the text instantly regretting it. I have no idea why I even thought of him.

Walsh-:"???? What? Now you're interested in him? He's got a girlfriend sort of now."

Me-:"Then don't tell him I said hi."

Mint equals Cereal?

I once asked the question can you miss someone you've never met?  The answer is yes. As time goes on, we end up missing our favourite bloggers, or our favourite twitter/facebook personality etc, when they stop communicating. I'm having one of those days today.

Few years ago, I would spend hours a day, literally hours, following my favourite bloggers. I would get up have two cups of coffee and just block off about four or five hours a day reading other people's blogs. People, who over time for whatever their reasons were, stopped blogging. After awhile, I stopped checking, stopped following. Just stopped caring.

One of my favourites, was run by company number two. There's a shocker for ya eh? And for awhile, The Celebrity and The Other Guy had control of it. I miss reading it. I have to say, it was one of my favouirte blogs at the time, not just because those two wrestlers were writing it, but because of how they wrote it.
They had a way of making you think you were reading something less promotional and more personal. Even when it was clearly a topic for the show.  I miss that. 

I was sitting here having a cup of coffee, when the scent of menthol overpowered everything. It was coming from the hall. When I opened the door to see what was going on, there was a guy standing there, with a cut on his arm and a bottle of mint extract, wearing a faded t-shirt with a logo for Captain Crunch cereal.  Crazy as it seems, it got me thinking of that whole blog.  If you ever read it, you understand why.

So on a day like today I couldn't help but wonder...how many people have we left our mark on without even realizing it?

Dirty Laundry 36

Was making dinner, when the phone buzzed. It was my cousin Walsh. "Are you home?"

Me-:"Yeah."

Walsh-:"I've been ringing your buzzer for five minutes."

Me-:"They still haven't fixed it."  I went out to the main lobby of the building and let him in. "What's up?"

He followed me back down the two long hallways to my apartment not saying anything. My cousin went from room to room checking the place out.  "You're still not unpacked?"

Me-:"I need to get some more book shelves, and stuff. Everything okay?"

He nodded opening and closing the cupboards in the kitchen. "Yeah. What were you going on about last night for? I caught up with the fairy tale and the piece you wrote last night was good."

Me-:"That short piece took me three hours to crank out. I'm hitting that wall again."

Walsh-:"You're over thinking it."

Me-:"Always. So, what's going on?"

He shrugged. "You said you needed to talk last night. So...did you?"

Me-:"And you are referring to?"

Walsh-:"I don't understand why you insist on being so stupid? Talk to him. That's what the internet is for, breaking down the whole famous thing."

Me-:"Well, with your theory, goes both ways. If a famous person wants to talk to their fans, specially if he's as you believe Mr. Scratchy, then he knows how to get a hold of me."

Walsh-:"You believe it too."

Me-:"Tell you what. I'll give him till the next ppv. Then...I give up completely."

He looked at me sideways as he reached for his cigarettes. "Can I smoke here or is this a non-smoking building?"

Me-:"You can smoke in the apartment."

He nodded lighting his cigarette, leaning back against the sink. "You'll give up as in take my advice or give up-give up?"

Me-:"I will find a way to find the real Mr. Scratchy. If he's still alive."

Walsh-:"Yeah, that didn't answer my question. And you know, you know Mad Hatter is the real Mr. Scratchy. You're just being a douche about it."  We heard a door slam and a male voice screaming about something, not in English. "Home sweet home."

Me-:"I think he's having an affair."

Walsh-:"Mr. Scratchy?"

Me-:"The dude in the hallway. I think he's cheating on his wife. She was out there all morning crying."

Walsh shrugged again butting out his cigarette in a candle holder I had sitting on the kitchen table. "Okay. Just stopped by to see what you had done with the new place. I have to go get my oldest, she's at a friend's place. Have you made any new friends?" he smiled at me, blushing like he does.

Me-:"I'm too old to make friends."

Walsh-:"Na, you're just too scared. Never too old." he ducked out the side door before I could say anything else.

Dirty Laundry 35

I sent a message to my cousin Walsh. "I've lost it! Totally gone."

The phoned buzzed a few seconds later.  "What? Was this for me?"

Oh crap! I sent it not to my cousin but to my Naked Neighbour. His number was next to my cousin's.

Me-:"Sorry. No not for you. Sorry."

NN-:"No worries. How are you?"

Me-:"Good. You?"

NN-:"Not bad. Would be better if I had more beer. So what did you loose?"

Me-:"Uh...nothing."

I tried again sending the message to my cousin Walsh, double checking this time.

Walsh-:"????"

Me-:"My muse. Gone! Have you been reading the fairy tale lately? I don't know what I'm doing, it's turned to crap and I need to talk."

Walsh-:"No, haven't had a chance with work. I'll check later. How can your muse be gone? I thought you were totally inspired by Mad Hatter and them?"

Me-:"Was. Now...nothing. It's like dried dirt."

Walsh-:"Haha! That would be dust."

Me-:"Exactly."

Walsh-:"Well, maybe you just need to stop for awhile and write something else?"

Me-:"Why didn't I think of that? Oh right cause nothing is coming to me! At all. I tried that and got two sentences in an entire day. I can't go through writer's block again! Last time it was over two years with it and I can't..."

He went silent and I started flipping channels till I got to the Food Network. Just sort of zoned out and had a cup of tea, waiting. Writer's block has become an issue for me the way not having enough money to pay bills does for other people. It sends me into such a panic, and the longer I can't seem to break out of it, the more it weighs on me. 

Phone buzzed again with a message from Walsh. "I think you should talk to him."

Me-:"Don't start. Did you read it yet?"

Walsh-:"No, will later. Facebook, Twitter..."

Me-:"Shut up! That's creepy."

Walsh-:"It's what it's there for. For fans to stalk their heroes. Haha!"

Me-:"You're not helping. I need inspiration."

Walsh-:"That would inspire me, talking to my favourite wrestler."

Me-:"I'm not you."

Walsh-:"Coward."

Fine, I'm a coward, a big coward.  Big coward with writer's block.

Sunday post it May 4th

Dear Herman:

About an hour before the big monthly ppv, and I thought I'd come in and slam out one of these for you.  I imagine you checking in, pretty much ready for the show. I think you've got a coffee in hand, and that you're sitting there slightly over tired. I also think you're debating if you should check the fairy tale before the ppv or wait till after?  I imagine Igor tossing paper planes around the room. I have no idea why...

Well, just thought I would write a short post cause...um...I have werewolves on the brain. Werewolves and goblins.

Smile...I make less sense to myself even.

Thursday May 1st

I got a message from my cousin Walsh earlier today, asking first if I had seen the wrestling from Monday and if I so, did I have it on the dvr still?  I told yes to both.  He showed up around 3:30pm to flip through the episode.

Walsh-:"You look freaked, what's wrong?"

Me-:"Issues with my main blog. It's vanished into thin air and the blog host isn't responding."

Walsh-:"What?"

Me-:"The name needs to be renewed but there's some glitch and it's just lost. So I'm just a bit...distracted."

He grunted pausing the wrestling to get up and get a coffee. We continued watching the episode, till we got to the Pack's promo. "See what he did there?"

Me-:"What?"

He rewound the promo pointing to Mad Hatter. "The wall by the window."  I shrugged.

Me-:"Just tell me what you want me to understand cause I'm not paying attention."

Walsh-:"Your story. He's doing what you wrote the character...he's letting you know he's still paying attention."

Me-:"Your crush on him is way bigger then mine is. Admit it, you want him." I grabbed the remote and watched the promo paying attention to what Mad Hatter was doing.  "Okay...yeah that does seem like the scene I wrote the other day..."  I have no idea how I missed something like that when I watched it live the other night?

Walsh-:"See, don't give up hope." he elbowed me gently. I slapped him cause my ribs are still bothering me after almost two weeks. "Heard my step-mom was trying to set you up."

Me-:"I wouldn't call it a set up as much as her telling me to stalk the poor boy."

Walsh-:"I think for once, she's got a good idea. I've seen the reporter around town doing location segments, and he seems really down to earth. If I was you, I would stalk him."  he air quoted the word stalk. "You know, get on twitter or facebook and friend him, start a conversation about something. That's why her and her friend wanted you to show up at the cafe eh?"

Me-:"I'm guessing."

Walsh-:"You've got to start somehow. You've been hiding for too long."

Me-:"Hiding? You think that I'm hiding?"

Walsh-:"Um yeah no doubt. You've been hiding since before your knee injury. And if you don't blog this then I know you're a coward."

Me-:"Tell you what. If I bump into the dude while out I'll start a conversation. That work for you?"

Walsh-:"Suppose. Feeling any better?"

Me-:"Nope. I ran that blog for four years..."

Walsh-:"Not the blog, the fact Mad Hatter is still reading you. That Mr. Scratchy is still reading you."

Me-:"Honestly, I'm not sure anything would make me feel better right now."

Walsh-:"Not even if Mad Hatter opened up and started talking to you?"

I let out a breath, closing my eyes. "That would be golden but dude, it's just been years. Dimmer on the other hand, I could see him reaching out. Ever since that one promo he did last year..." I looked at my cousin then sort of started off into space before grabbing the laptop and pulling up the promo of Dimmer from last year with the fake glasses. I showed it to Walsh not sure why suddenly it seemed so damned important? "We missed something here. I think Dimmer has more to do with things then I ever thought?"

Walsh shook his head shrugging. "Stick with Mad Hatter. I think he's more your type."

Me-:"Right now, any guy between 28-37 who's breathing is my type."

Friday afternoon

The buzzer went just after 4pm. My cousins Walsh and Mavis were standing there, holding Mavis's overnight bag and a giant stuffed animal.

Me-:"Aren't you like four hours early?"

Mavis-:"Mom had a meeting right after school and daddy had to go to work."  she tossed everything at me, sticking her foot up for Walsh to help her with her winter boots.

Walsh-:"Come outside, I need a smoke."

Me-:"I'm in my pajamas bud." 

He shrugged. "Throw your coat on, no one will notice."   We went and hovered just outside the door of the building. "Okay, you need to get your ass up the other side of town tomorrow, cause you need to be at the cafe."

Me-:"Um no. Why?"

Walsh-:"I have no idea, that's what my step-mom's friend told me to tell you. She said she couldn't find your email to tell you herself. She's got something happening there tomorrow afternoon, that she seems to think you need to be interested in."  he blew smoke at me.

Me-:"Sounds like trouble. I don't think it's going to happen."

Walsh-:"Why?" he pushed my shoulder causing me to scream.

Me-:"Cause dumbass, my ribs still aren't better yet and a two hour bus ride is completely out of the question. All that being tossed around would kill me."

He made a sound, blushed for the punch and mumbled he was sorry. "Speaking of the story..."

Me-:"Change the topic go ahead."

Walsh-:"Did I miss a piece? I got totally lost with the whole corduroy thing."

Me-:"Uh, no. While back I had been watching wrestling, thinking that Werewolf King never looks bad. Like, it's not humanly possible for the boy to have a bad hair day or something, so I sat down and wrote that one part of the story with the intention of making the character based on him just look like crap."

Walsh-:"Okay sure." he yawned. "And?"

Me-:"I don't think that even I could create an outfit to make him look bad, even on paper."

He laughed stubbing out his cigarette butt. "Lest you tried." he laughed at me some more then pointed at me. "That explains the website."

Me-:"What website?"

Walsh-:"Go to company #1, they had it on the front page this morning. Thing about clothes."

Me-:"Can you vague that up for me there, don't think you were cryptic enough." I turned heading back into the building.

Walsh-:"I could, but that would mean trying and thinking. I'm too tried to think."

Me-:"Story of your life." I turned then just as we were walking into mom's apartment. "So, I'm guessing those two buddies of yours that went to Toronto are grabbing a beer and dinner before going to the wrestling tonight." 

He shrugged again. "I should have told him to get you Mad Hatter's autograph." he elbowed me causing another ripple of pain through my ribs. "Sorry, forgot."

When you're strange

"Dude you sound sad and pathetic."  my cousin commented. He had come over to watch the wrestling he'd asked me to tape on Monday.

Me-:"Why thank you. I try."

Walsh-:"The question is what's going on?"

Me-:"Vague that up for me."

He stole the remote control, fast forwarding through the commercials. "Uh...you're not acting like you."

Me-:"Meaning what?" I handed him a cup of coffee.

Walsh-:"What part of that sentence did you not understand? You, are, not, acting, like yourself. You're acting all...strange. Well, strange for you. So, what's up?"

Me-:"What, you've never had a bad time of things?"

Walsh-:"Um, yeah all the time. Any of those cabbage rolls left?"

Me-:"They're vegetarian."

He nodded, hitting play on the dvr. "You getting the ppv on Sunday?"

Me-:"Thinking about it. Why?"

He shrugged. "Your rant the other day made it seem like you weren't. So you are?"

Me-:"As I said, thinking about it."

Walsh-:"Don't think too hard, could hurt yourself." he finished watching the show and got up to leave. "Read the latest part on the fairy tale. What was up with that? You make yourself sound so..." he made like he was going to strangle me. "That's why you're single. You know that right? If you see yourself like that, how is anyone else going to see you as any other way?" he got his cigarettes out of his pocket as he headed out the door. "I caught it, so you know when your boys read it, they'll catch it too. Makes you look really bad man."

Me-:"Well, yeah guess it does. But you sort of missed the point."

Walsh-:"Which was?"

Me-:"The bathroom scene. The characters can't get past their egos. They keep getting separated but there's that bond that drags them back to each other. It's their weakness. Actually, their weakness is each other."

He just stared at me, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth unlit. "Ah I see. You've really got to get over your self esteem issues, or you'll never get a date again. Ever."

Me-:"God, you sound like your step-mom."

Walsh-:"Cause I'm right." and with that, he left.

Cosmic

I got a message about ten minutes ago from my cousin Walsh. "Are you at auntie's?"

Me-:"Yeah, weather got bad, stuck."

Walsh-:"So you're going to watch the wrestling? Can you tape it?"

Me-:"Yeah, why?"

Walsh-:"Kids having a party, dvr taping overload for wife."

Me-:"Sure."

Walsh-:"Thanks. Anything new?"

Me-:"I was writing today on the fairy tale. Think I might have cracked it."

Walsh-:"Cool. Oh I came across the notes from that psychic fortune teller from that party last year. You remember the part about a champion?"

Me-:"Not really."

Walsh-:"Mad Hatter's a champion. Hahahaha!"

Me-:"I hate you."

Walsh-:"I haven't done anything, other then point out to you stuff."

Me-:"Driving me nuts. He's everywhere you know that?"

Walsh-:"???????"

Me-:"I was watching a country music video on youtube the other night, and a video of him was in the sidebar, like not connected to anything. So crazy. Then I was chatting with this chick on this Stephen King fan site, and she changed her id photo to one of him in the middle of the whole thing. And when I went to the fashion site few hours ago, scrolling through the latest projects for colour blocking, and this teenager, not even the same chick from before on there, had a project about her dream date with him. Dude, Mad Hatter is like everywhere."

Silence for a few minutes.

Walsh-:"See, as my step mom would say, the universe is telling you something...didn't you say when two people are meant to be they can't help popping up in each other's lives?"

Me-:"Yes, I said that...but this doesn't count!"

Walsh-:"Oh this counts. Just give in."

This doesn't count, can't count because it's all one sided. He's famous, so makes sense...right?

Friday night 28th

Having a coffee, sitting here, as usual, babysitting. Just get the kid to bed, when I got two messages from my cousin Walsh.  "Was the show on tonight?"   and  "Nevermind the last message, it came on after the baseball."

Me-:"Crap! That screws up the dvr."

Walsh-:"For someone who's saying they can't write, you wrote a lot this week."  he was meaning the fairy tale.

Me-:"Fluff. Total filler."

Walsh-:"Seemed fine to me."

Me-:"When you met your wife, was she your type?"

Walsh-:"What do you mean?"

Me-:"When you met her, was she the kind of chick you figured you'd be with?"

Walsh-:"Pretty much. We had the same interests. Why?"

Me-:"Just wondering."

Walsh-:"You do that too much. Relax."

Me-:"Yeah yeah."

Walsh-:"Your man won tonight."

Me-:"Thanks for the spoiler."

Walsh-:"Just doing my part to ruin your night...I thought you were going to talk to Connie?"

Me-:"I told you to have her call me. She hasn't."

Walsh-:"Your boys won a second match."

Me-:"You get off spoiling stuff for me?"

Walsh-:"Yep...not going to argue with me?"

Me-:"About what?"

Walsh-:"You normally bite my head off when I call Mad Hatter your man."

Okay, he's right about that. "What's the point? If you're right you're right, if you're wrong you're wrong. At this point, does it even matter?"

Walsh-:"You care...you can still be yourself. F*** what you think everyone thinks of you."

Easier said than done.

Ghost in the machine man

One of those nights when odd stuff is happening.  My laptop battery drained in under ten minutes, which seems to happen a lot when I'm at my mom's. And at the exact same time, my mother's computer screen popped on. Her computer is clear across the room, and no one was anywhere near it.   Did I mention it was turned off when it happened.

Freaky much.

Not why I came in to blog tonight.   When your nose is itchy for no reason (outside of nose, not inside) it means you have a secret admirer. My nose is scratched to bits.  Few years ago, I would have loved it, but not anymore.

I'm still having some issues getting my muse back for the fairy tale. Difficult, driving me nuts.

How many of us end up with our ideal type of mate? Seriously, how many people really end up with the type of person they have in their minds as being the perfect person? 
In the last couple of years, my ideal man has changed. I have to wonder, if that's because I'm being influenced just by the people around me, or if that's because the right guy for me doesn't look anything like what I used to think he does?  These are the strange questions that run through my mind when I'm stuck in my writing and take a break.  I actually sat down just to have a coffee and my mind started to wander from the fairy tale to that...blogging (thinking) out loud.

So Herman, Mr. Scratchy...how's your day been?

Morning notes and coffee stains

I once heard an award winning science fiction writer say, that a good writer will piss off a lot of people, but a great writer will piss off everyone alienating themselves from their family and friends.

I have no friends. Barely anyone in my family talks to me anymore because they have all learned by now that everything is copy. Everything ends up in my stories/on video, and in the last few years, online in my blogs.

I've talked about my health, my money situations, my love life, my desires, and the people who are around me.
Some people thought it was fabulous, giving them their 15 minutes of fame in their minds, others just ended up breaking all ties with me.

I turn 40 next week. My dreams of becoming a published author have long since fallen flat. In high school and college, I had a few poems published in newspapers and independent magazines. None of which are still around. In the years since, it's been nothing but rejection letters, broken promises from shifty agents/editors/so called publishing houses, and a mountain of debt for a self publishing group that ended up being nothing more then red tape.
That dream is dead. The few crumbs of blog posts I do now are all anyone will get to read of my work for now.
I will still write, just for myself. I write because I need to write. I enjoy writing, I get a high off it. Cliched, cliched, cliched. But true. No one might ever get to read my manuscripts but me and the few relatives that still talk to me, but I'm a writer. I'm not an author. And the only difference between a writer and an author is a paycheck.

40 next week. I always pictured myself with seven or eight published novels by now, doing weekly/monthly magazine columns as a day job, balancing it with being a horror hostess, married to a really great guy living in Toronto or Montreal. The dream/goal/expectation was when I got to this age, moving to a small coastal fishing community, opening up a studio where we'd work together creating art/films/music, and run a small coffee house as a day job.

Where did my dreams fall apart? None of it happened, none of it looks like it will ever happen. But we all have dreams, things so deep within us that we can't get over the idea that they will never happen. 
When is it time to just let go of the dreams and when do you continue to believe in them?

The only dream I have left, and that's slipping away at warp speed, is to find that great guy. Love. The one dream no one ever wants to let go of finding. Even when the odds are stacked so high against you, you can't even see your own shadow in the sunlight, it's the one dream people seem to hang on to for dear life.
Cause that's what it is isn't it? Dear life. The one thing that makes life worth it.

I don't know if I'll ever be the woman everyone seems to think I should be?  A no-nonsense firmly based in reality pay the bills and shut up type. That's not me. It's never been me. I'm a lets get dressed up for a Rocky Horror Picture Show party in the middle of the day, learn the dance moves to Backstreet Boys'  'Backstreet's Back'  video, embrace your inner geek and wear it on your sleeve fan-girl.

How can I turn 40 when I don't feel 40?  I still feel like I'm that 19 year old kid who had this purse full of notes and ideas mixed in with her favourite Sepultura tapes. When did growing up mean giving up?

So as I sit here this morning, thinking about this horrifying number that is suppose to magically make me into someone respectable, I just can't help but wonder...