Meghan: just a little sun

She tipped her head back as the light slid across her skin. The tip of her tongue whet her lips only to have the rich touch of the sun pull the moisture right back out. She purred for the places it caressed and shivered from the skin it left bare. Rays dipped against her collar bone and slipped down the curve of her chest.

“What are you doing?”

Her breathe caught in her throat at the sound of the voice and the sunlight fled the room. She slowly slipped her robe back over her shoulders from where it had fallen off.

“Nothing.”

“It did not look like nothing to me.” said the voice that echoed with night and shadows.

“Forgive me Master Dark, if it looked like something more than it was.” She said acidly, “I am allowed to occasionally summon heat in this dark pit, am I not?”

“Pit?” his voice hissed around her ears, chilling away whatever warmth the light had brought. “You dare to call our home a pit? You spend a quarter of my income on your comforts only to say it’s not enough? When does it end, woman?”

“It ends today.” She spit back at him, “When you release me.”

He clicked his tongue sardonically, “Ma Cherie, you know I will never do that.”

She bared her teeth, “You will.”

“Ah, but you’d miss me.” He wrapped his hands in the fabric of her robe and lifted her onto her feet as if she weighed nothing. Then he pulled her forward with the holds and kissed her.

She pulled back from the kiss with a snarl, “I hate you!”

He caught her wrists in his hands, “You may hate me my love but I know the heart that beats within you, and it will not be satisfied with the sun. Without a touch of darkness you’ll die, like a flower without light.” He paused and nibbled the curve of her neck. “I know it; you know it, so stop being such a bitch about it.”

A smile quirked up one side of her mouth, “I love you.”

He kissed the top of her head, “I know.”

She narrowed her eyes, “What do you mean, ‘you know’?”

He sighed and bent, sweeping her legs out from under her and lifting her up into his arms.

“What are you doing, put me down!” she protested

He closed his eyes briefly, “I must be some kind of masochist…”

“Put me down!”

“No.” He said shortly, “I am taking you to bed, where I will wipe every filthy trace of sunlight from your body.”

“What, but—“

“Or I could beat it off with the…what did you call that new toy?”

“I’m going to kill you!”

“But you love me.”
“I hate you!”

He crushed her growling mouth to his in a kiss that left her gasping.

“I know.”

-Meghan

Jasmine: Loki

Doug’s right the blank page is terrifying. No idea what to write. I got sick of staring at the page so I went to play with Loki. There is nothing so bad that watching my cat play with a feather can’t cure. There are times I want to strangle him. I can take his head into one of my hands and crush it… Loki has a small head. But then he’ll crawl into my lap curl into a ball and look at me and the world is just a better place. That’s what Loki does for my life, he makes it a better place to live. Without him… well I’ve done the whole emotionally stunted hermit semester, I’d rather not revisit it.

I know a lot of people who think pets are just pets. It’s just an animal, why would you care about it, it’s not a person. These people don’t deserve pets. In philosophy we’re reading a book written by a philosopher named Singer. Singers big kick is animals need to be treated like people, which I don’t agree with, but one of the points he uses is that just because were human doesn’t automatically grant us the right to live, it is the individual not the species that has the right to live. So that raccoon may have more of a right to life than you, depending on how high it ranks on someone’s scale. This of course brought up the issue of how do we rank things, by whose definition?

(Note: my cat just crawled into my lap and did his cute thing, little attention whore that he is. Scratch his chin= Loki love forever)

Everyone grades on a different scale. Of course that woman who you saw that one time in the baking isle of the grocery store means less to you than your son or daughter or sister or best friend or cat… I brought this up in class and got glared at by the way. For some reason pointing out that I didn’t care about people I have no interaction with, people who do nothing for or against my life, was inhuman. But that is how everyone is, or how most people are. There are a few out there who run into life or death situations for complete strangers. I don’t necessarily mean soldiers, because when they defend their country they are also defending mom, dad, Loki. But firemen run into burning buildings and don’t always come out. They do this for strangers often at the detriment to their own families and cats. But Firemen are serious minority.

(cat is now asleep I wish I could fall asleep that fast)

So I guess the point of this blog is that Loki is more awesome than the people who shop at your local grocery store, because you don’t know them, and if you know me you know my cat… probably… you should, cause he’s awesome.

You can keep a dog; but it is the cat who keeps people, because cats find humans useful domestic animals."- George Mikes

There is, incidentally, no way of talking about cats that enables one to come off as a sane person. - Dan Greenberg

"There are many intelligent species in the universe. They are all owned by cats." – Anonymous

"I put down my book, The Meaning of Zen, and see the cat smiling into her fur as she delicately combs it with her rough pink tongue. Cat, I would lend you this book to study but it appears you have already read it. She looks up and gives me her full gaze. Don't be ridiculous, she purrs, I wrote it. - from "Miao" by Dilys Laing

Doug: Longing for Zion

You know who I really respect?

The Jews.

I think it comes from being a history nut, and slowly coming the realization that out of all the civilizations in memory, only the Jewish culture and religion remains and self identifies as the same culture that it was more than two thousand years ago.

The Jewish culture has been through Hell. First it existed as an enslaved people. Then those same people threw off their chains and established an independent state that lasted for more than 600 years. They were sandwiched between two ancient superpowers, the Babalyonians and the Egyptians, yet still maintained political independence for most of those 600 years. It took the juggernaut that is Rome to subjugate these people. Even then, their occupation was primarily in name only. The Jewish occupation government was more or less an independent state paying taxes to a larger one.

When the Romans finally decided to drop the big stick 1,960 years ago, it took three, count 'em, three, full LEGIONS to put down the rebellion. The Jews fought to the death, every man, woman and child was a threat to the invading Romans. In the final battle of the war 967 defenders of the mountain stronghold Masada held off 10,000 Romans for more than two years.

After this the Jews scattered to the four winds, with small communities keeping their religion and culture alive and relatively unchanged for almost two thousand years. In the late 1800s Jewish partisans decided it was time to unite the Jews in the Diaspora. They came up with an idea for a Jewish State. It would reside in their ancient homeland, and they would call it Israel.

As this bright star was rising, an eclipse rose to meet it. The Nazi Holocaust virtually eliminated Europe's Jews and blasted a hole so wide in the cultural memory of the Jewish people that it taints their every thought, every memory and every action even now, seventy years later.

Like a Phoenix from the ashes, the Jews rose again, as they always have.

On May 14th, 1948 the Jews got their independent state. The fledgeling nation of Israel was immediately attacked from all sides by its surrounding Arab states. Faced with superior organization, superior firepower, and superior mass, this was expected to be a short lived spectacle. Surrender and annihilation seemed the only option.

Surrender has never been an option for the Jews. Outnumbered and outgunned IDF forces slowed down the Arab advance long enough for this barely born government to mobilize a poorly equipped, barely trained, but highly motivated army. The Jewish second wave beat back the Arab advance and forced them back into their homelands, taking territory as they went. What started as a fight for survival turned into a rout, with international pressure eventually forcing Israel to keep from pursueing the enemy.

Since then Israel has beaten back three similar attacks from its neighbors. It remains the only fully westernized, modern nation in the Middle East and is a world leader in science, technolgy and military innovation.

I have seen the history of these people. Like America in 1941, they are a sleeping giant. With the right motivation they could rule the world. The Jewish culture is faced with annihilation every day, and what do they do? Do they roll over and show their belly? Do they give up to the inevitable?

No. These men and women bare their teeth in what the ignorant call a smile and say to the world "Do your worst. We have survived it all before. You may kill a few, you may kill many, but you cannot kill us, our people, our race, because we refuse to say die."

-Doug
"Stand beside or step aside/ we're on the frontline."
Pillar, "Frontline"

Meghan: Little Red Riding Hood

Once upon a midnight dreary

I was feeling rather weary

Maybe life is full of shit

Or maybe I’m just sick of it

Budum, Budum, Budum,

Her heart beats like a little drum.

She never should have gone this way, Mother said, Mother said,

Never walk in the dark.

But she had to go, Little Red. Grandma needs her basket of food and Little Red had to bring it to her. “Grandma lives all by herself,” her mother had told her, “She can’t get up to cook anymore and she needs you to bring her food.” But Little Red had wanted to go play by the pond, and then she had to milk the cows, and she thought maybe maybe she could beat the pink and purple fingers of sunlight being drawn down across the horizon like claws being retracted. It wasn’t dark then, not yet, not really. But now the moon was high in the sky like a shiny silver coin and Little Red had her little red hood pulled up around her face to ward off the night’s bite. If she could get to the house she could spend the night and get back in the early morning, early enough to do her chores.

She listened hard, trying to pick out the bad noises. But all she could hear were her own footsteps, quick and shuffling in the leaves and twigs of the forest floor. But Mother told her about bears and foxes and wolves.

Maybe there were no bad things here.

A light shone in her eyes, blinding her. She threw a hand across her face, clutching her basket to her with her other arm,

“Who’s there?” she called in a high, scared voice.

“Is that Little Red?” A deep, gonglike voice rippled through the trees. The light dimmed a little and Little Red lowered her arm to see a huge man striding towards her.

“The…Woodcutter?” She said hesitantly.

“That’s right.” He grinned broadly.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Hunting wolves.” He said, shouldering his axe

“Oh,” she hesitated, “In the dark?”

“The dark is the best time.” He said, “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking food to my Grandma.”

“That’s wonderful. I’ll walk with you; there might be wolves around here.”

She hesitated again; she had heard the things that were said about the giant in the village. Things about his previous home and the Bad Things. Her Mother had said to stay away from him.

“No.” she said slowly, “I think I’ll be okay.”

He smiled down at her, “But you’re in danger.”

She started to back down the path, “I’ll be fine.”

He followed her, one of his steps equal to two of hers, “No, I really don’t think you will be.”

She started running before she even knew what she was doing, screeching like a bird on fire and tearing through the trees. He crashed after her, abandoning his axe.

He knew that he didn’t have to hurry.

She cried, she screamed, she ran, but he caught her and dragged her to him like a trapped butterfly caught in a net.

“Please, don’t, please,” she begged. But his face was like a stone mask; eyes glittering, he licked his lips and tore open her red coat. It lay on the ground under her like red wings. He pinned her arms with one beefy hand, and sat on her thrashing legs.

“Stop it, please stop!” Little Red cried, he tore open her dress and she screamed for her mother, over and over.

“Shut up.” He said as he slapped her sharply across the face. She stopped screaming with a choked gasp, but her tears kept flowing, washing clean tracks in the earth that had rubbed into her face.

She didn’t remember when he started on her, she just turned her head to the side and tried not to feel, tried not to think, tried not so smell…

She came back from the faraway haze where she tried to be nothing. She was lying on a carpet of churned pine needles, leaves, and rich earth. Her clothes were open, torn and ripped exposing pale flesh that still throbbed. Her beautiful red cape was filthy with earth but she still pulled it closed around her as she curled into a ball.

She smelled like him.

She could still feel him on her skin, in her mouth where he’d pushed his lips to hers, and worst of all inside of her. Where she couldn’t scrub clean, couldn’t get him out, where he had been that no one else had. How would she ever fix this?

A noise from the woods made her raise her head wearily. Because really, what worse thing could happen to her? In the brush in front of her she saw a glittering pair of eyes.

A wolf?

“Kill me!” she sobbed, “I might as well die.” She crawled towards the brush but the eyes had disappeared at her cries.

With hiccupping sobs she used a tree trunk to pull herself to her feet. She walked into the brush after the eyes that had disappeared.

She walked, and walked, and walked.

She wanted to sleep, but she remembered that there was a reason she had started walking. She couldn’t remember what it was, but there was a reason. Red kept her eyes glued to the ground as she plodded forwards, not noticing as night turned to day. Her legs were shaking with exhaustion when she walked into her grandmother’s yard.

Red looked around her in confusion, she’d been lost in the haze again and was surprised to recognize where she was. When she saw the small neat garden and the cottage she sobbed in anger and frustration.

“No!” she cried, “I was supposed to die, it was supposed to end!” She collapsed on her knees, “Please come back Wolf, please kill me!”

“Red?” her grandmother tottered out of the cottage, “Oh Little Red, thank goodness, I’ve been worried sick where have you been? What happened to your clothes?!”

Red turned a tearstained face to her grandmother, seeing her life fly before her eyes. Maybe the bad man would be caught but Red’s life would end. Maybe if she could forget, then it would all go away and she could find a little bit of peace. Peace didn’t seem possible after the hell she had been through, but maybe…maybe she could try.

“There was…” Red hesitated, “A wolf.”

“A wolf!” her grandmother squeaked, “That’s terrible; it’s incredible you escaped alive. Come in; let’s get you fixed up dear.

Yes. Incredible.

-Meghan

Doug: The Creative Process

I always write my blogs on word before I post them online.

Why?

Blank pages intimidate me.

I have ideas in my head, stories formed and reformed a million times between neurons, burning, eating up my insides trying to get out.

But when I see this blank page in front of me I freeze.

Deer in the headlights.

Bang. Endgame.

I get this feeling in my gut. Sort of like being kicked in the balls. A little nausea. Plenty of fear.

What if I fuck this up?

Sometimes I get the courage to type a word. A sentence.

Sometimes stories come out. Some good, sometimes.

Occasionally brilliance strikes. Lightning. Something tumbles out that I can be proud of. I’m kind of embarrassed about this. Normally I’m wondering how I got lucky enough to write something worthwhile.

I’ve got this thing bouncing around. It’s big. Not big, massive. I’m creating an entire universe within my skull. It’s got planets and spaceships. It’s politics and true love. Some peace, mostly war, Swashbuckling heroes and nasty bad men. I’m planning it down to the Ts and Is. This idea is too big for me. And it’s only coming in flashes. I’ve only really got the first scene in the first book down. There’s going to be at least three.

I have other characters. The main guy and the bad guy elude me. I’m having real difficulty defining true evil, as opposed to just misunderstood. Too many shades of grey. It’s just like my life actually. Way too many shades of grey. Sometimes it’s hard to tell if it’s not really your friends who are your enemies, and your enemies your friends.

Try saying that three times fast.

This will come out of me eventually. I am not pulling it out of the cave, I’m gaining it’s trust, soon we will join hands and step out into the light together, this story and I. I swear this on all the gods, dark and light.

I will bring you into the light.

-Doug

Jasmine: Heads you live tails you die

Life is really like this. A game of chance. Every day we open our eyes and decide to keep breathing were taking a chance. Some people like to believe that it’s only those who put themselves at risk, those who go off and fight for their country or vacation in Africa, they are the ones taking chances, but at any moment our lives could be snatched away. The very act of living is throwing the die in a game no one knows the rules to and eventually everyone loses.

Tonight I went to dinner with my aunt and uncle and among the things we discussed, climbing 5.10’s, me needing a job, Abe/Molly and such, we got on the subject of the news. I have no tv, and I don’t normally remember to look at the world, much less at my own backyard. But she does. She likes to find out just what’s happening out there, not because she has any great urge to do something about it, but because she’s curious. My aunt is eternally curious.

There’s always tragic happenings, and sometimes some really random happenings. A man at century rio, was carrying a gun. He stood up and this gun fell out of his waistband, holster, not sure, and upon hitting the floor it discharged. The bullet went through a woman’s ankle. This man did not have a concealed carry license and is now facing some fairly serious charges. For my aunt this was a discussion of how peoples lives can get destroyed by the stupidest things. In this case chance was like fuck you man with a gun, and fuck you woman with the ankle. Of course if he’d had the permit the charges wouldn’t be so steep, but the woman would still be injured.

My aunts points continued onto people who destroy their lives for idiotic things. Or who are just plain stupid. She can not understand the reasoning behind some of their motives. A woman in Arizona flew to Florida and essentially treated herself. She got her nails done. Her hair done too. She went shopping and had a grand old time. But before she did that she either killed her eight month old baby and threw it away, or gave it to some people in the park. She has claimed doing both of these things. No one knows which is true or where the baby might be. The father of the child is bereft. He didn’t join the army and go to Bagdad, he’s not a bad person, and yet his life seems to have toppled over in the sand and no one knows how to right it again. The woman has destroyed herself for no seeming reason. She is currently in an Arizona prison. My aunt is confused.

A man shoots his toddler in the head to get back at the mother. The mother is still alive, and somewhere deep down, maybe so deep she doesn’t realize it, she is happy that she was the one to survive. And the man is in jail with prisoners trying to kill the child murderer.

A mother and father beat their baby to the point where it is blind and will never walk. They take it to the hospital saying that it has a fever. Was this stupidity on their part? Did they not realize that the staff would not recognize such abuse? Either way the child is maimed and they’re in jail.

These are some of the things we discussed at dinner. I realize now that they sound really depressing, and horrifying, and yes my aunt and I were outraged. But that wasn’t what the conversation was about. It was about people destroying their lives for confusing reasons, and how fate doesn’t care where you are, who you are, what you’ve done or haven’t lived long enough to do, when it’s your time they cut your strings and let you fall.

Meghan: Ranting

I rarely do rants, but here's one anyway...

Back at school, and so the posts resume.

This is my last semester at this school, and I couldn’t be more scared, more confused than I am right now. Confused because the decision to switch schools will stalk me for the rest of my life and the student in me is screaming in my ear that I’m making a horrible mistake. But the me that wants to be happy is screaming in my other ear. Sometimes it gets so loud.

My New Year’s resolution is basically not to go insane. Am I capable of it? Hell yes, everyone is. I would rather not end up in a straight jacket in a padded room with the nice people in white coats. My dreams have told me that it wouldn’t work out well. But how does one keep from losing their mind? Can you consciously hold onto it, think ‘normal’ thoughts and do ‘normal’ things? But by forcing yourself to do something normal, wouldn’t that be abnormal to your normal behavior and a sign of craziness? Maybe the fact that I’m thinking about these things at all means I’ve already jumped off the deep end.

I’ve been told to relax, to stop thinking, to be happier, but I can’t just develop these personality quirks overnight. I can’t even seem to develop them over weeks. I’d like to think I have complete control over what I do and say, but there are all of those people who ‘just snapped.’ But what caused it? And how can I avoid it?
Calm doesn’t seem to be a part of my vocabulary anymore.
But I want it back damn it.

-Meghan

Jasmine and Meghan: Live Action

Jasmine: so today we did absolutely nothing

Meghan: that is a lie! we did a puzzle

Jasmine: this is true there was also a squash involved and some minor cat torture. somehow I find myself unsatisfied with this minor cat torture...

Meghan: Why does there have to be activity again?

Jasmine: wait... its almost like were taking eachother sides. Jasmine wanted to stay home and do nothing and it was Meghan who wanted to go out and be one of those bad things that happen to good people

Meghan: I'm a complicated person

Jasmine: I bite you and I get what I want. this is all I need to know

Meghan beats on Jasmine. Meghan grabs Jasmine's arm and pronounces loudly that they are now going to Walmart. Loki turns off a light

Jasmine: Damn Cat!

Meghan: he's yours you get to turn it back on

Jasmine: the puzzle's done rules no longer apply. were not going to walmart

Meghan: Okay. Frontier

Jasmine bites Meghan, they do not go to Frontier

Meghan: Hey you were typing. We can go now.

Jasmine: but not hungry...

Meghan: youre not hungry? seriously! I'm hungry! I'll eat you!

Meghan begins sniffing Jasmine, Jasmine continues trying to type

Meghan: You are covered in towel, this is unfair.

Jasmine: I'm winning

Meghan proceeds to try and rip off Jasmines towel

Meghan: your clothes are easier to take off than my clothes

Meghan is standing now so Jasmine rips down Meghans pants

Meghan: standing was a bad idea

Meghan sits and continues to attack Jasmines towel. Jasmine grabs Meghans nipple stopping the fight, however realizing that she cant rebelt her robe with one hand she bites Meghans neck and again gets her way

Jasmine: I always get my way

Meghan knocks Jasmine out with a baseball bat and ties her up in the closet. Then she goes to Hawaii.