J.J.'s Journal

Okay so two things popped into my head that I wanted to say and this was the medium for it.

1. I'm doing video now. I've started a vlog and put up a few vids of my life in Denver and commentary. It'll expand later. I've got about 4 vids I need to edit and post. I'm trying to find time to do so, especially since I've got the kung fu going on during the week and this weekend I'm supposed to be doing ghost hunting at a friend's house. That should provide some interesting footage as well. Even if we don't catch a ghost on tape, we always have huge amounts of fun together. You can check my videos out at http://www.youtube.com/jjkeeling.

2. I had a dream about a friend this morning. In this dream, he told me to email him at his new email address, because he hadn't heard from me in a while and was wondering why, at which point I reminded him that he never gave me his new address. He felt bad and apologized, but when I woke up I got kinda sad because I knew I wouldn't be hearing from the guy and probably never will. Of course, he's not really a big part of my life and never has been, but he's still a cool guy that I've always liked to keep in touch with. So if you're reading this, mister, my email address is the name you know me by - name dot last name at yahoo dot com. You can claim you remembered it and thought you'd say hello.

And really, anyone who wants to contact me can do so. I'm mostly sorta friendly in a way.
JJ

Well, I've been helping a friend look for a house. Got me to wondering if maybe I should do the same. It's quite a daunting thing. So I think I'll go for something that looks easier, and write a novel instead.

Two weeks ago, I was assaulted by one of the biggest plot bunnies I've ever seen!

One good thing about Christmas, even though it was pretty sad because I couldn't go home and see my mom in the nursing home, was that I got money from Dad's side. With said money, I managed to get a AlphaSmart Neo. It should be shipped to me shortly. I can't wait! I could write on a mountain top if I wanted! It freakin' runs on batteries! Three AA batteries! My vibrator takes more batteries than that, and it doesn't run for anywhere near 700 hours! Ahem... well, that was probably TMI. But seriously, I'm going to look so cool tooling around town, opening the portfolio I got to carry the Neo, and typing away to slay the plot bunnies!

So the other stories have been on hold for a while due to emotional and psychological strain. I'll be working on them when I get stuck on this one, which shall be tentatively named Termination Shock. Brownie points if you know what the title means without googling it.

Yeah, biggest plot bunny I ever saw! This could be a trilogy!
JJ

Life has been hectic. NaNo has been slow. This makes for a bad combo. However, I have gotten a pretty good idea about where I want my story to go. I'm looking a bit for a cheering section. Any takers? I'll cheer you through your NaNo. I'll even get onto you if you get lazy!

And hello to my newest reader. Feel free to say hi!
JJ

You know who you are.

Happy double threes!

I'd have done this in email or text and spare the public embarrassment if I'd 1) had your phone number, since my phone crashed and I lost all my numbers or B) gotten your email address as you promised before you moved.

So let this be a lesson to you. Of some kind. It'll only get worse next year if I don't hear from you. I could easily declare your birthday some kind of internet holiday. Please don't make me stalk you. I don't have that kind of energy anymore. Plus the amusement on that has worn off.

Miss the bunny! I'd love to give you a longwinded update. Tons going on these days.
JJ

Today is the second anniversary of the passing of my kittybaby, Calico. Sitting here on the balcony of my new apartment, I can't help but think about how much she would have loved it here.

It is also the birthday of a former friend. Even though he is not fond of me anymore, I still wish him the best and hope for his happiness.

And befitting the mood, it has just begun to rain.
JJ

Let it never be said that I can't do crazy fun things! Those who have known me for ever know about how I once declared a holiday called Purple Fuzzy Feet Day. Not so odd considering Maurice Broaddus recently had a Timmy Day after watching a South Park marathon.

So what mischief am I up to this time?

NONSENSE HAIKU DAY!

It's just 5 then 7 then 5, right? Lots of times it's not even that. I've written haiku that had meaning. I've even had it spring into my head fully formed like some sort of reverse Athena until the migraine forced me to put it on paper just to get the Aegis to stop nibbling on my brain stem.

Right.

So.

This is not about meaningful haiku! This is about stringing any weird words together. It doesn't even have to be real words. Total gibberish isn't all that exciting, however. I'm thinking if you do gibberish, make it more like Jabberwocky type stuff. I'll also allow Bushisms for the term being. Here's the one I came up with this morning:

Ice cream train station
The turtle sneezes loudly
I like to say "crap"

Yeah, it's not exciting, but it popped into my head fully formed and I certainly didn't need an ice cream headache. Or something like that.

So I'm declaring July 16th the first annual "Nonsense Haiku Day" in honor of someone's birthday, even though he's in a bad mood and refuses to celebrate because he's trying out for the role of Eeyore in the Lakewood production of "Life is Pooh and Then You Die".

Okay, I made that up, but I'm going to ask that everyone who wants to contribute send me an email, reply to this blog, text, etc. with your submission. The results will be printed up and handed to one of my favorite people as a Happy-Birthday-Now-Cheer-Your-Ass-Up chapbook as well as put up on my blog in a nonsense haiku entry for all the world to see and proper credit given (unless you tell me not to reveal that you were the one behind that crap).

If you can't get it in within 24 hours, fret not! There's no telling when I'll be seeing my friend next and it'll be about a week before I put up the results. But seriously, if it takes you a week to put together 17 syllables of nothing, you're thinking too hard.

I would have put this up sooner, but I just now thought of it. If it turns out well, I'll do it again next year and give more notice.

JJ

"I will knock down the Gates of the Netherworld,
I will smash the door posts, and leave the doors flat down,
And will let the dead go up to eat the living!
And the dead will outnumber the living!"
Ishtar, The Epic of Gilgamesh

I've been reading up on zombies lately. I got there through a strange wiki-surf. I had been trying to look up a root word and wound up at a wikipedia entry for Persian fairies. That led me to ghouls, which are much closer to what we think of now as zombies. In fact, zombies originally were merely ghosts or dead which had been raised to become slaves to a bokun, a Voodoo sorcerer. They were without free will and pretty much mute. When it came to eating the flesh of the living, that was a ghoul's job.

Ghouls exist in one form or another in pretty much every world myth. Also in pretty much every world myth? An apocalyptic presence of walking dead, eating the bewildered living and bringing civilization to a screeching halt: the now-popular Zombie Apocalypse. It's even mentioned in Christianity. Don't believe me? Have you read Revelations? Throngs of the Evil Dead storming New Eden in an attempt to take it over and have their revenge on the virtuous. Zombie. Freakin'. Apocalypse. It's everywhere. The idea even predates the Epic of Gilgamesh, quoted above.

So why am I finding this so fascinating now? Well, for one thing I want to write something zombiefied, but I want a different take on it. What better way than to go back to the roots and work from the ground up? Also, I met a guy not long ago who firmly believes that there will be a Zombie Apocalypse started by a combination of cloned, irradiated meat and Ambien. "The dead will walk among us!" he said insistently to some very drunk, and quite possibly high, musical types hanging out at the bar. Personally, I don't believe in such an event. It's fun to think about, a fantasy to muse over, wondering if I'd be prepared, debating with my friends how to best handle it. But it's just a fantasy. Or is it?

I've been doing more study on the topic and it seems the idea has gone back thousands of years and spans pretty much every culture on every continent on the planet. We could go into all sorts of explanations as to how ancient (and even modern) peoples might have developed such fears through superstition and fear of the unknown, fear of death. We could dissect the shock of seeing a loved one so transformed by death into a cold, lifeless thing and how we keep wanting to see them move, yet at the same time pray they lie still in that coffin. We could go into lingering legends, literary themes, movies, sci-fi fantasies, conspiracy theories, and even cellular memory, Akashic Records and universal consciousness. Regardless of where it comes from, it's one of those widespread things. You know, sorta like all those ancient myths about a virgin birth or a dying god that brings life to the world.

Even the Mayans had a ritual of sacrifice of the king where he bled to death in order to bring fertility back to the land. Then there was that one historical figure who, it was claimed, had all the qualities of those myths. C.S. Lewis became a Christian overnight while having a heated debate on myth while drinking with his pals. Why? Because in the course of the argument, he came to believe that Jesus was the physical manifestation of all those world myths. If you take myth from the point of view of prophecy rather than a bunch of cool stories or the belief structures of some ancient culture, that they are all telling the story of something yet to be, then yes, Jesus was the fulfillment of all of those prophecies from around the world (something I personally believe). So why are there so many stories of a Zombie Apocalypse, even in the bible? Is it prophecy from all around the world? Ancient people who were clued in on something and then scattered, their languages confused, and the legends became slightly skewed as the Gossip Game played out for millennia on end? Did they know something that we still bring up in popular fiction and entertainment even to this day?

A friend of mine believes that there are already tons of zombies out there. Not the flesh-munching, brain-craving kind. No. The slaves without free will. And, oh! how we wish they were mute! Karl Marx once said that religion is the opiate of the masses. I think he might have had a different point of view if he'd grown up in this day and age. Entertainment is now the opiate of the masses. Reality TV takes us away from the world around us. Competition shows drain us of our drive to succeed. Instead, we all stand around the water cooler the next day and talk about the latest twist on Nip/Tuck, Desperate Housewives, and whatever else is popular these days. When the TV comes on, brain function slows to less than if we were sleeping. Our bodies move less than if we were comatose. It's a big part of why I got rid of my television. To quote Dr. Scott, "We must get out of this trap before this decadence saps our vills!"

Too late. Most of the people you see are already nothing more than human cattle, lulled into complacency and drained of their own creativity and any urges to rebel against oppression. Just take a listen to John Mayer's hit "Waiting On The World To Change" where he states "...it's not that we don't care/we just know the fight ain't fair..." Well, that didn't stop our parents in the 60's. And what happened when they did all their protests? We got change! Civil rights. Women's lib. If we sit on our asses, what's going to change? Nothing. And by the time our generation rules the population, as the song goes, we'll be perfectly content to keep the status quo. Whatever happened to civil disobedience? Peaceful protest? The principles of Thoreau, Ghandi, King? Meh, just have a sit-in at your mom's basement and wait for the assholes to die off. There's a good principle!

So we're already zombies, in a way. Fear of retaliation and a generic blasé have made us content to put up with whatever injustices may come our way. We might roll our eyes and do some passive-agressive bitching under our breath, but for the most part The Man has us right where he wants us. Is it something in the water? Perhaps it is. Maybe something is being added to the food supply to make us more malleable and compliant, a better citizen. Zombie slaves without will, punching a time card and sitting in a cubicle all day. Cookie cutter humans in assembly line jobs with no sense of self. Life is nothing more than a value combo set before us anymore. No wonder Romero considered his movies to be a social commentary of what's wrong with our society!

We need a Zombie-Ghoul Apocalypse. If not to shake us up and bring us back to life, then to weed out the mindless, the apathetic, and Lindsay Lohan. Ghoul Vs. Zombie. It would be like AVP except much slower and with a lot more shambling and whining. Who would you root for? Great-Grammy's maggot-ridden corpse or the bitch from down the hall that stole your stapler and then told everyone you made copies of your butt after hours? So come on already, Ishtar! When is the party? Oh, you're watching a Girls Next Door marathon? Nevermind.

What's in your head? In your head?
JJ

see more crazy cat pics

If you like writing and find you need inspiration for a scene or a story, give musecrack a try. If you need something a bit more offbeat, try I Can Has Cheezburger or LOLCats. How can you not think of evil when you see this adorable kitteh?!

And what about this poor feline?

see more crazy cat pics

Carry on...
JJ

So I've been writing the latest short story for quite a while. It was around 9 pages when I hit a kind of block and walked away from it. Now it's damn near 20! I get the feeling that maybe it's not a short story after all. It could very well keep going into the actual novel that I was eventually going to turn it into. And why not? Why make it two stories when it could be just one? It works better considering the little things which have been creeping their way into the story. Plus, the novel would have a couple of chapters which rehashed the short story just to explain how it got to that point to begin with.

So... "Arachne's Pact" may very well be longer than I imagined. I can't stop writing it. It's like it's taking on a life of its own. But hey, it gives me hope that maybe I really can write for endurance! Until the more recent short stories, all I could manage was bad poetry.

On top of that, two more stories are tapping me on the shoulder. One is a story I tried to start a few years ago. The other is something that I haven't quite figured out yet. It's vague, yet it likes to gnaw on my ankles whilst I sleep. It keeps promising me that if I only start, it will do the rest. The heroine seems to be pretty cool. I'd like to write what's going on in her head. It makes me wonder why there aren't more reluctant heroines. There's plenty of the tough as nails type who have been through hell and lost a part of their own soul. There's plenty of those who have some hidden power that they didn't realize that they had which they can use to overcome whatever evil presents itself. But what of the one who knows she has the ability, doesn't really want to get mixed up in it, but winds up beating down the baddies despite the fact that she'd really rather be knitting on a shady porch and drinking lemonade with her friends? Why aren't there more of them? She doesn't have to be without a soul, or missing a vital piece of her emotional self. She could just be like "Oh, here we go again. Gosh, I never get used to these things..." So I'm quite looking forward to writing a reluctant heroine.

Anyhoo, hope you all are having a great St Pat's weekend! Don't forget to be Irish. Just drink enough to forget how Irish you were the night before. (And always be responsibly Irish.)
JJ

I've been on a reading spree again. This time it was Kill Jack Haringa in Your Blog Day entries. I must say I'm envious. I wish I could have participated, but I didn't really know about it and at this point I'd be a day late and several dollars short. I'm also envious because I wish I was so loved that my friends would kill me in their stories in nifty and horrific ways. Some of them made me laugh out loud. What's cool is that the man himself thought it was fantastic.

The great thing about reading so many creative ideas on killing a person is that I have gotten many wonderful ideas myself for future stories. So far, I haven't killed off many characters. In fact, I think only one of my characters died and that was my friend lupaslament when she suggested I write a story about Cthulhu fairies. What else would it do? Grant wishes? Consider it a blessing, dear. The rest of my characters wind up tortured by the horrors that haunt them. You got a kissypoo from a fairy!

So the gears are turning once more and I think I might have the itch enough to finish the story I've been typping on about the arachnophobic college student. It's actually a short story that will wind up tying in to a novel length story down the road, and all based in the universe I have forming in my head. Of course, the short story can still stand alone and leave you wondering what's real and what's not. Is it in her head? Did it really happen? Has she just lost her everlovin' marbles? That's up to the reader until the novel shows up.

I also have ideas for a couple more stories. Not sure how long they are. I just have images of them at this point. One involves identical triplet girls. The other involves a woman that a man can only see in the mirror. I don't know about you guys, but mirrors always kinda freaked me a bit because I felt like I was being watched. Whenever I brush my teeth, I can't look in the mirror because I get the sense that someone can see me working the minty foam around my mouth. Could be. How do you know that someone you can't see isn't watching you from the mirror realm? Or is that reflection really a doppelganger standing there, observing your mannerisms so that they can come out, kill you, and take your place? Don't talk too much about your life in front of the mirror. You don't know what might be listening. Talk about identity theft!

Still formulating and plotting,
JJ

Well, it seems that it didn't take long after moving to the new city to start writing again. Moving far away from what you've always considered to be home can always bring about its share of fears and anxieties. The new story is about a college student who moves across the country for school. Apparently, she's arachnophobic. Hey, blazing_jezebel, how do you feel about spiders? I'm almost finished with it and I'll be sending it your way soon. I swear I'll be getting Word as soon as I land a job. Works bites ass!

Thanks for stopping by!
JJ

So I'm now on the verge of having an apartment. There's one place, which was actually the building I was hoping to get into, which I'm sending an application for today. If it goes through and all goes well, that'll be where I go. It's about the same size as where I am now, but $150 less per month. Utilities are included in a flat fee, which means I'll be paying anywhere from $200-250 less per month. I think I like this. I think I like it a lot.

Folks on the job are all sad that I'm leaving. I told the bossman last Monday. Word spread pretty fast! He and another director offered to give me letters of recommendation. I'm receiving word daily of openings in Denver, but I haven't done anything about them. I'm putting up what I have of a resume this morning, since I haven't gotten anything back from the one friend. He told me he emailed it back to me on Friday, but it hasn't reached my inbox yet. I had another friend, one who is a freelance creative consultant, who was mildly offended that I hadn't asked him to do it. I'll be getting with him on it soon.

This weekend, I only did a little bit of packing because I was reading a book. It only took a day for me to read it, which is astonishing considering my dyslexia. I'm compelled to write and I'm dyslexic. How's that for irony? Well, I picked up the book at Walgreens when I went to find something that could be used as a planter for a plant which is overflowing. I've found that if you snip it down and put the clippings in soil, even if they're over a foot long, it takes root and becomes a new plant. Pretty cool. Anyway, so I got the book because it was something along the lines of a book idea I had. I got some nifty ideas from that and then did research on some other things. Wound up with three new ideas, which I'm doing a little more research and taking notes on. Anyone hear anything about a legend of people who live underground and have a greenish tint to their skin? I read about it in one of those little booklet things you get in the supermarket checkout next to the tabloids, but that's the only mention I've ever found of it. Not sure if the Vril of Agharti are the same.

Tonight will be spent packing the rest of the dishes, except for what little I'll be using. I'm also going to be taking some things down to the trash. I hate to get rid of my file cabinet in such a fashion, but no one is going to pay me for it and I don't know anyone who has room or use for it. This weekend, I'll be losing the bed and the shelf. I'm still in a daze about the whole thing. Am I really doing this? I must be. It would drive a girl to drink if I weren't on antibiotics to rid myself of this month-long sinus infection. I figured it would have gone away by now. Let's hear it for the employee clinic and cheap drugs!

Coffee time...
JJ

Telling the bossman about the impending move is appearing to be more difficult than I'd thought. The whole thing just seems surreal at this point. I'm getting notifications about job openings in my email. I really need to make sure my resume doesn't look completely stupid. I wonder who I'll enlist to help me with that.

I got inspired by flipping through my Novel & Short Story Writer's Market. There was a part in the spec-fic section that was giving tips on some writing techniques and a story popped into my head as I began to question why I should follow those tips. Night before last, I wrote up a freewrite/treatment of what is either a short story or novella, complete with dialogue. I plan on setting aside at least one hour a day to write. That night, I wrote for a little over two hours. I think the story itself will shape up nicely.

I feel like I'm moving on autopilot. I'm doing these things, contacting these companies, reserving this and arranging that. But the whole time I'm just sitting there inside my skin, watching myself and wondering how I can keep going forward. I'm really moving. It's really happening. Dear God.

And I've also learned recently, much to my horror, that I'm a romantic person. I've just been going about it all wrong. Some people know what I'm talking about. Others are clueless and shall remain so until I meet up with a particular bridge. After I get to that bridge and cross it, I'll be more forthcoming. But it's a shocking thing for me to discover, especially knowing how much I've always appeared to be against it before. I've always been the kind of gal who likes to write little love notes, poems, give sentimental cards for special occasions or no reason at all, buy flowers for my very confused sweetie, etc. Most of the people I did those things for just looked at me like I was insane. "Aren't I supposed to be doing this for you?" they'd ask. "Maybe. So why aren't you?" I'd reply.

I intend on finding a more proper outlet for my romantic nature after I move. I'm really looking forward to being back in the game, the swing of things, going on the market, or whatever euphemism you choose. I have a huge capacity for giving love. I've just been giving to the wrong people. I've never been excited about looking for prospects before, but I'm actually antsy about starting my search. And Mr. You-Know-Who, if you're reading this (since I all but told you where this journal was), don't worry - I don't mean you! Yeah, you're in for a surprise. Turns out my life is a romantic comedy written and directed by M. Night Shyamalan. There have been clues all along the way. Let's see if you can guess the twist.

So because of these internal developments, my writing will probably actually have characters who have romantic interests. I'm not one for romance novels (and I don't read them, although I know many who do read them and even write them), but there's always been the "love interest" in the midst of a horror story. Usually, going through some terrible hardship or some OMGWTFBBQ series of events brings two people together, and the fear of death often brings the "urge" for life affirmation (Hubba hubba! Ahem). I had always wanted to be the one who leaves that element out of a story because I simply couldn't relate to it. Now, I'm considering putting it in, but I'll do it my way. So while I'm not going to be writing smut (even though I do have a talent for it), I will have love scenes in some of my stories. It will suit my tastes and star characters I've always wanted to see. They say you should write the kind of story you'd like to read, especially if you don't see it out there. Well, here I go!

Sometime today, I swear I'm going to tell the bossman I'm quitting. Really. He doesn't have anything on his schedule from 2:30 to 4:30. I can corner him then. Holy carp! (Yes, blessed be the fish because I don't like the smell of dookie even though I'm in it up to my eyeballs!)

Stressing, but pushing through,
JJ

So Christmas was fruitful. It was good to be around Mu, even though she couldn't see me. P gave me a Novel and Short Story Writer's Market and another book on being a freelance writer and how to get paid. I tried to tell her that the books would be useful, but the word that came out of my mouth was "useless." Yeah. I'll make a great writer. Thank goodness my writing is better than my talking. She also gave me a daily journal to chronicle my Denver experience. It's pretty. It has the date in the upper outer corner and a ribbon to keep track (in case I forget what day it is - it's been known to happen!).

P got herself some books, among them a compilation of horror short stories. I checked to see if I noticed any familiar names. I saw Brian Keene and got excited because I actually met him. Let's hear it for Hypericon!

As hectic as life has been lately, revision of my short stories to prepare to send them out into the world is probably going to have to wait until after the move. I have several that I'm going to try to put out there. It's just a matter of reading back over them and clarifying anything that needs it. It would rock to have someone read them and give me some constructive criticism. That's a hard to find commodity these days. It was so much easier in high school when most of my writing was for some class and we were usually made to sit in a group and critique each other's pieces. I could really use some of that now.

I've got a couple of novel ideas, but those will have to wait until after the move as well. There's just too much going on right now. Life itself has been crazy enough, but with all the planning that goes into picking up everything you own and running across the country with it has thrown such an uproar into my life that nothing other than that and the usual day-to-day function can be done.

Wish me luck, folks!
JJ

HAPPY HANURAMACHRISKWANSOLYULIVUS!!!

Did I leave anyone out?
JJ

Once upon a time there were two little queens who ruled the world. Their names were Celeste and Hollica. They divided the known planet between them and battled the forces of X-Rated, Psycho Cindy, and their minions. One day, Queen Celeste moved away without a word. This made Queen Hollica sad.

Many years later, Queen Celeste ran into Queen Hollica's mother at a Walgreens drive-thru. Queen Hollica went to the Walgreens to look for her, but was informed that Celeste's work hours were the exact same as her own, so she would not be able to meet her there. So she wrote a note for Celeste and gave it to her Other Mother to relay a message for her. She took care to seal it in wax, like any official royal correspondence. The note was lost somewhere in the mile and a half between their apartment and the store. So Hollica took time off from work to see if she could catch Celeste and speak to her. Alas, she was notified that Celeste didn't work there anymore. This made Queen Hollica sad again.

She searched and scoured the internet for years, trying to find a hint of Queen Celeste anywhere. There was no trace to be found. Queen Hollica is on the verge of calling Celeste's father, who is the only person she's been able to find who might know her whereabouts. But should she bother? I mean, it's been 22 years since they last spoke. For all she knows, Queen Celeste wants nothing to do with her after all these years. It was just a silly notion anyway. And what does it matter when as soon as she finds Celeste, Hollica is just going to move to a far away land herself?

Fairy tales don't always have a happy ending, do they?

Thoughts?
JJ

People wonder why I'm so against Christmas, how I can manage to avoid all the fake cheer, not decorate my apartment in blinking lights and shiny balls, and never manage to get into the "Spirit of the Season." It's pretty easy for me.

It started off when I was a small child, the only grandchild on both sides of the family. I'm still the only biological grandchild on both sides. So it was all up to me to make the grandparents happy by letting them spoil me with gifts I didn't really want. I had to pretend to be happy and even when I was genuine, it wasn't enough. I was later told how I needed to have bigger reactions and how displeased my grandmothers were because I didn't seem "grateful enough." Hey, there's only so much an autistic kid can do as far as facial expressions go.

This plus the fact that I knew my moms didn't have much money and so because of that I got in the habit of not wanting things for myself, opting to ask for things we sometimes did without - like electricity, running water, and food - more important to me than the latest Tickle-Me-Barbie, My Little Care Puppies, Easy-Bake Strawberry Patch Kids or whatever. Christmas seemed all about glitter and greed from the get-go. When I got back to school, the other kids would judge my worth based on what I got for Christmas. I got a hot bath without having to go to a neighbor's house for the first time in six months. I think that beats your He-Wars action figure any day of the week.

So my friends have two choices when coming up with a Christmas gift for me: either they know me well enough to know that some sentimental gift that they happened to see which reminded them of me would do or they can ask me what I want.

What do I want? You think I am going to be lusting after toaster ovens and DVDs when we have shit like this going on and even - oh how can ANYONE think this is a good idea?

You really want to get me something this year? Adamant about it? Here's what I would like you to do. This is what would make me happy:

1. Donate money to one of my favorite charities.
2. Don't do it in my name.
3. Want to make me even happier? Don't do it in your name either.
4. Want to make me ecstatic? Don't even tell me you did it.
5. For an added bonus, spend time volunteering for one of those causes. Repeat step four.

That is what would make me happy. That is what I want for Christmas. You can do it every year as you think fondly of me. I'll also accept this as a birthday gift. If you don't know when my birthday is, pick any day out of the year that suits you. It doesn't matter to me. It doesn't even have to be the same day each year.

So pick your poison antidote...
Here is a list of my favorite charities:
Amnesty International
Farm Sanctuary
Nashville Cares
Human Rights Campaign
Meals On Wheels
Room In The Inn
Big Brothers/Big Sisters of America
Dede Wallace Center/Centerstone
Rape and Sexual Abuse Center
American Red Cross
Salvation Army
Goodwill

All of these are charities that are near and dear to my heart. Each one is either an organization that is involved with causes I care about, have given my own time to, or that have helped me personally (or someone in my immediate family) over the years. What do I want for Christmas? I want for these charities to not have to exist anymore. I want these problems to go away. I want to teach the world to sing in perfect harmony. I know I can't do all of these things, and I know changes for the better will never be overnight. But if you love me and you want to do something for me, do this.

Maybe I do have the "Spirit of the Season" after all. Maybe I'm one of the few that has it right. Think about that while you're shopping for that TMX Elmo and i-Pod shuffle. Think about that while you're decking the halls or driving around the neighborhood to gawk at lawn displays. Think about that when you spend $500 you don't even have on junk your family won't use at the Wal-Mart and then toss your spare change, pocket lint, and a button into the bell-ringer's bucket. Think about that when you curl up in your safe, warm bed to dream of sugar plums and flat-screen HDTVs. Try to remember that the charities listed above aren't helping people you don't know and will never meet. They've helped me, my mother, and quite possibly your co-workers, closest friends, classmates, and maybe even the girl who rang up that $500 worth of Wal-Mart you just bought.

I hope you find the Spirit of the Season this year.
I hope you help someone else find it, too.
JJ

I hate Christmas.

Those who know me, know I hate Christmas. I always have. The pressure to come up with a list of things to receive, the repetitive music, the feigned excitement of everyone else who feels the pressure to conform to the ersatz merriment. And I also like to complain that it's not my birthday, so you should give a gift to the one the celebration is really supposed to honor. Of course, I never do that myself, so I'm really a big hypocrite anyway.

But now I have a new reason.

Okay, it's really an old reason. It's a reason about 18 years old, at this point. It's a reason that I intend to remedy in my new location. A reason that's got my name written all over it. That's what happens when you have a name like mine, I suppose. Do you have any idea how many "personalized" gifts I've received that have my name strangled in accursed holly, drenched in jingling bells, and swathed in garish and eye-jabbing red and green combinations? And it consistently amazes me how each person who does so thinks it's something cute and new!

No, I've been going by "Joy," my middle name, since 1989. It's not new. It's happened every Christmas season since the switch. My solution? Since I can't change human nature, I'm going to change my name. When I move to Denver, I'm going to introduce myself to people using my childhood/family nickname, JJ. It's a good name. It's not as sucky as Janice and nowhere near as open for creative interpretation as Joy. It's genderless, which is a bonus in my eyes. It's catchy. It's hip. It indicates a fresh start and, at the same time, a return to my roots.

So at this time of year where we wish Me to the world, repeat the sounding Me, and wish everyone tidings of comfort and Me, I find refreshing the thought that I will be moving to a new city soon - a city where I can go by something else. Tis the season to be changing names! It will be nice to hear someone shout "Oh, Joy!" and not immediately wonder if they're trying to get my attention.

And for the record, I don't care what Jeremiah was. Bitch stole my wine.
JJ

So I'm blaming reannon for this one, for broadcasting that weird dream about saraphina_marie being blasted into space. Writers aren't the only ones who get weird dreams, but we seem to be the most ready to offer them up to people, especially if they seem more like an entire story. Mine turned out to be a movie.

My movie involved Will Smith. It was a sci-fi thriller about injustice, unearthed truths, and stasis fields. I can't go into details because they all faded away as soon as my eyes opened, but Will (the character probably had some name) had written a book recounting something that he had witnessed as a child. It began to receive some acclaim when it came to the attention of the perpetrators of the event, who were all authorities in respected positions in a rather small town. Afraid that the book would lead to them having to face the music, they trumped up charges against Will and prosecuted him.

Rather than go to prison for something he didn't do, he managed to escape custody long enough to say goodbye to his family. His ex-wife, a rather pretty Asian-American woman not-quite Lucy Liu, and their two children were very upset. He had contacted a crazy old friend of his who was big into "sustainability" and green technology. He had built an underground stasis field in which a person could be held potentially indefinitely. It wasn't cryo (thank goodness, because that's SO overdone) but still did the job. There was enough room for four (why? because that's how the movie would be - convenient!) and so the kids wanted to join their father in the stasis for 250 years. Not wanting to be without her kids and out of a still-burning old flame for their father, the ex-wife joined in. They all go in and in 250 years, the hatch opens. Will pokes his head out and sees a man standing directly over the manhole sized doorway bent over and peering down at him.

"Are you [insert character name here]?"
"Yes..." Will says, blinking wildly and slightly fearful.
"It's him! It's [insert character name here]!" the man says to a crowd yet unseen.

Cheers erupt from the massive crowd. Will comes the rest of the way out of the portal only to discover that the stasis field is no longer underground but has been dug out and is in the town square of a nice mid-sized town. The man is revealed to be the mayor and the entire town, as well as visitors from all over, has gathered to see him come out of stasis. There's a parade gathered and the mayor gives Will the key to the city. It seems that shortly after he had been convicted on trumped up charges, a teenaged boy he knew (who had a crush on [character]'s daughter) began researching the events and discovered that the people who were trying to put Will in jail were the ones who did the whatever that was outlined in the book. He started spreading the news all grassroots style, so as not to arouse suspicion. This eventually leads to those "respectable" people being ousted from their positions and a major cleanup of the town itself.

The town becomes so grateful to their missing hero that they named a day in his honor - the day of his conviction and disappearance. But where is he? He's been gone for several years at that point. His crazy friend reveals the fate of his missing comrade and the townspeople are saddened because the stasis field/underground bunker cannot be opened because of the construction/settings/whatever sci-fi what-have-you that prevents it. So every year, they would celebrate [insert character name here] Day. The celebration spread and he became a legend. His name became synonymous with rooting out governmental corruption and cronyism nationwide and internationally, being such a public martyr for the cause. Laws were enacted to keep a watchdog on local, state, and federal government and named after him.

"Man, all I did was write a book. It didn't even have anything to do with this stuff!" he exclaims to the mayor and the rather large crowd.
"Yes, but it started the ball rolling. It was the new Boston Tea Party. You were the Crispus Attucks of our day," a familiar voice says from behind him. Will turns to see his friend smiling at him.
"[Insert Crazy MadScientist Guy's name here]! You're still here!" Will exclaims as he goes to hug him. His arms go right through him and it is revealed that he is nothing more than a hologram with his friend's personality programmed into it. Hologram chuckles.

Wide-eyed, his family has all emerged from the stasis compartment and seen their brave new world laid out before them. The parade starts up and everyone is cheering [insert character's name here]'s name. Roll credits.

I can't have dreams like normal people? Well, it's better than the werewolf love story I dreamed with Winona Ryder. Furry men are just not attractive.

JJ

So I'm sure a few folks are probably wondering how NaNo is going for me. It hasn't been. To say I've been distracted would be an understatement. Things have been so very crazy here that I feel like I'm losing my mind. I haven't been getting a heck of a lot done in any respect lately and I know it's time for me to buckle down.

Well, I've got Friday off and if I can manage to stay awake, I'll be cleaning up my apartment and writing some more on my NaNo. I know I probably won't be reaching the goal, but at least I will have not given up. That's the most important thing, really.

In other writing news, Dud has asked if I would write up his dreams as short stories. I think that's pretty cool. Apparently, I get my writing genes from his side of the family. His grandmother was a songwriter. I've been writing poetry and lyrics since I was 7. Short stories since I was 14. Novels? Well, they're yet to come. I know they are. I have them inside of me and they're dying to come out. If only life wasn't getting in the way. I keep telling myself that life will start to settle down a bit once I move and get settled in the new city, but who am I kidding?

I've got to get to writing.
JJ