Life is a fickle thing in the way that it repeats itself. Genevieve thought for the second time in 24 hours. Indeed, though she did not know it waking up that day, on an airmattress in the middle of her great aunts living room, it would be her main thought for the remainder of her stay.  The day started warm n joyous, as is tradition when one stays with family. For the first sound that she heard that morning was laughter, and the first smell smelt was coffee. Both promises of a grand day seemingly pulled Gen to her feet, urging her to get ready.  Each year in august her family went out east for a reunion. Well at least they tried. This was the first one Gen had attended in 10 years, so she hardly knew a soul outside of her party staying in town. Not that she minded. She enjoyed talking with her elders and listening to the stories from when her aunt and mom were girls. Even when grandma and her sister (her great aunt) talked. The only way to describe it was rich soil. Coming back to ones roots in family can only be described that way.  There was community, there was trust. They shared everything. Laughter and hurt. On the way out to the party they stopped near a small two story red brick building that had its windows borded up, and a prison of weeds around it. Tucked behind a housing development she was told that this was “the old farm house” (which meant that this was the house her grandmother and siblings grew up in, and where her mom and siblings and cousins had took holiday at in the summer) visiting it could only be described as going to a funeral. There were smiles in some of those sad eyes as her elders remembered all the good times. And there was reproach as they knew that they had to move on, that there wild and reckless times were now over and Gen would (along with her cousins) take wing.  She walked around to the back of the building and discovered a window had been opened and the board pulled off.  Hesitating momentarily as she was in a skirt (a white skirt at that) she eventually just decided to go for it and hoisted herself onto the the windowsill and peeped in. It was an addition to the original house and the roof had quite disassembled itself to the floor. She had entered on the window of an old bathroom. There was still a porcelain washtub in the corner and the top of the sink lay atop the debris that covered the floor. Even the wall seperating it was missing and the doors.  Her mother stopped her for a second, telling her to be careful of nails. Then let her go in, for she knew Gen was as determined as her in her youth.  The trip inside was exhilerating and heart breaking as she glanced in to what was only the remains of a home that was once brimming with life. Now it was worse than dead in its disrepair and vandalism.  She only scoped out the one room she had seen through the nonexistent wall then made her way back. Not having the heart to disturb the corpse anymore.


What in the world. Im am writing tonight simply cause i can do nothing else. I am not tired, though i am exhausted. And i am in a hotel somewhere in Pennsylvania. I am not tired because  every time i shut my eyes there appears in my minds eye a spider.  If you know anything at all about me is that i detest spiders. The second harry potter nearly killed me. But i am not concerned with the spiders at the moment. No. At this particular moment after a long day of music and reading C.S. Lewis i am questioning why they are there in the first place. I havent thought about them nearly all day. (Except for when i saw a web on a tree). So why do they come unwanted and unremovable? Lets start with disecting (ooo bad pun) what spiders stand for.  (To me at least) they represent fear, disgust, and hate. Meaning that i fear them, find them disgusting and think they hate me as much as i them. To my imagination (if thats what it is) they are as stubborn (if not more so) than me. And im a red headed scottish woman whose vertically challenged!  But if i did not put these images there who did? And for what purpose? If i detest them so much then whomever is putting these images about must detest me more. But why? And by what power? Certainly it is not human power. Because it is in my minds eye and i did not put it there. And it is not God for He says to focus on whatever lovely, true, excellent and praise worthy. No where is spider in that bible verse! Ahhh so if it is not God and it is not human, then that leaves one answer.  Give you a hint, its lived spelled backwards. Yep thats right. The prince of the power of the air himself is wasting time keeping me up at night because he thinks that will keep me away from God. Guess what blockhead it wont work. So go away.  See so often we take annoyances and quirks (yes im calling this a quirk for lack of a better word) as just things and fail to scrutinize why and for what purpose do they happen. We complain and dont do anything about it. I tonight have written about my quirk (ok ok one of them) in hopes it gives light to a common issue and to vent some anger.  So there it is. My inkling for the day.

days of old

Do you not miss the olden days? When pirates were villianous creatures who could not be trusted at any cost? Where pixies, more self serving and trixy than considered cute? Where the pugnent smell of dirt and adventure hung in the air untinted by electricity and complacency? Listen! Can you not hear the quiet? The stillness of no automobiles and wildness of animals calling? Perhaps you have forgotten, worse yet, perhaps you are of the race that has never known the breath taking ability of dreams that come alive. Whether or not reality or make believe but the scares on your heart are still there. They are pounding in the back of your mind like a war drum ready for battle. They are begging at the door crying to be let in.

Now that Lilian had thought about it her name did seem rather odd to her. But why? It was familiar and she responded to it.. perhaps she had had a nickname… yes that was it! Loved ones used to call her lily! Dorrious and Diggory continued to escort her down several long and winding dirt roads. Many surrounded by fields and to her delight, forests!
“It is as if I had fallen into one of my dreams!” She once declared. Her escorts thought this amusing and and continued to ask her very bizzare questions like “do you put butter or jam on your toast? Both? Now do you eat it with them facing up or down?” To which she replied “up!” She thought it strange that anyone would eat their toast upside down, though secretly she wanted to try it.
They stopped once midday on the edge of a forest that had a stream conviently a short distance in. As they sat (mostly in silence, for that is what people who do not know eachother do) as they were sitting the third bizarre thing happened. “Ouch!” Lily exclaimed in alarm. “Stop that!” The two men exchanged looks “stop what lady?” “Ouch! That’s not funny!” As she drew her hand away from her head she discovered something gooey and red was sticking to it. “I’m bleeding!” at this her knights (not that she owned them, but it did seem to her they were in position to guard her.) Stood and drew their swords. “Reveal yourself villian!” Dorrious shouted. In response came the most unexpected sound: laughter, sweet melodious laughter. It was perhaps the queerest laughter Lilian had ever heard. It was undoubtly sweet, but at the end there was always something almost sour. Then came a nymph, a beautiful tree girl who was there but not. “I was only playing” the girl said, brushing a bug off her shoulder. Lilians eyes almost popped out of her head. “Playing! You made our fair lady bleed ma’am!” At this the girl bursted into giggles, light shining in her dark brown eyes. “Look again! See it is but a squished raspberry!” And indeed upon second observation it was true. Lilian laughed then, and the girl too. The girl was not a tree at all but a raspberry bush that grew wild in the forest. They introduced themselves and had a marvelous jaw (jaw is the old word for chat) as if the two had grown up together. At the end the girl showered them with a delicious lunch of berries then said farewell as the three set off again

This is my second enstallment of writing and not second guessing what a I write. it is rather fun 🙂

Genevieve opened her tired, sleep-puffed, blue eyes and glanced at the clock when she awoke and was quite startled to discover that her clock read 12:45 pm. Sitting up, though still rather in a bog she got out of bed and opened her window shade. Pure yellow Minnesota sunlight flitted in and she squinted back in return. It was indeed midday and she had slept in till then!  She recalled the last time she had done such a crazed thing, it was in the northern point of Scotland and her poor 15 year old body had been trying to recoop from the stress of her first summer working at camp and then the massive troll called jet-lag. Genevieve smiled as she recalled that time she had only stayed awake maybe 5 hours total that day, sleeping in late, eating something, sleeping again, waking at dinner then a quick stroll through the clean damp air at the light house then sleeping the entire night again.
“I am not that tired.” she said to herself rather stubbornly and with that she walked into her closet to find something to wear for the day. For today she had plans, despite it being her one day off for the week, and that was to work on a skit for her churches Vacation Bible School with her dear friend Elizabeth. (Who, in fact, had already texted her that morning telling her that it was indeed a gorgeous day!) She responded cordially and told Eliza it wouldn’t be long before she was on her way. Elizabeth lived in the country and was a good 20 minutes away from any sort of town at the least. Genevieve, on that aspect (and many more) was quite jealous; for she herself was stuck in the beginning of the edge of her already large and still growing town. She could not even call it a town anymore, for it was so large and the people getting so… well I suppose the only word to describe them would be sketch, that she did not feel safe enough to even sleep with her window shade open.(for you see she slept on ground level) She doubted that she would sleep with her window shade open even if she was on the upper floor. Debating in her brain she reasoned it would be ok if perhaps she slept in the attic, but that would require her house to have an attic so there was no settling on that point.
All of this was rather rancid, but she accepted it and dreamt that one day she too, like her friend, would live in the country. Indeed the two girls that very day would laugh and perhaps dare to dream of becoming neighbors or incase some horrible circumstance turned up that they would have to live in the same house.
On her way there, Genevieve did a good deal of thinking, talking to herself and once she scolded the antique city of Belle Plaine for having two streets on the same stretch of road for having the same exact name. Eventually though, she found her way back out to the old and lovely house in which her friend lived. Elizabeth was waiting on the front step for her and laughed that Gen had almost missed her house again. They greeted each other with a warm huge and sat on the outdoor deck made by Elizabeth’s father.
It is n0t a proper visit if one simply starts jawing about business, and the two took quite a long time to make sure it was indeed a proper visit. They talked about many things, mainly catching up on the latest of their lives. Neither had that much time to call, and texting was just not the same. Though they did consent to video call every once in a great while. But there was nothing to compare to an old fashioned visit. And after a while the two went up to Elizabeth’s room and rehearsed (though mainly they just had a good jaw and looked through Eliza’s growing collection of old books) The two had many similarities in common, but the oddest one was their love of old novels. Eliza had over 15, where Gen only had about 5 or so.
After this was done they headed back downstairs and went for a walk, both taking a ripe and juicy peach for the road. The day had gotten humid while they had not noticed, but they proceeded with their walk all the same, munching on the peaches and continuing their jaw.
When the time came for Genevieve to go home she hopped into her old jeep (for she had not bothered to lock it) and waved goodbye as she backed out the drive way. To her, this was how one spent a summer’s day.

Warning this may be horrible and full of danger and weirdness. But I am about to attempt writing with no rules, and no second guessing myself. Which means no delete bar (unless bad spelling). Here it GOES!

The door opened and out came a toad. That was the second one which had come from within her closet. Gen got up, now extremely curious and rather disturbed at the fact that there were amphibians seemingly coming from within her closet. Not to mention the fact that they could open the door. The moment she stepped towards the two green things however they turned into knights! No longer in swampy green color but in bold green and black attire. They were not sinister looking but rather pleasing and had a great ease about them. “What in the world!” She exclaimed. But it was too late, they each grabbed a hand and brought her into her closet. Though now it was no longer a closet and now she was soaked and gasping for breath as she just came up from under water. She wondered (rather foolishly for a first question) if there were aligators in this swamp as well as knight frogs. The two had not turned into frogs again but silently helped her out of the water. She did not fear this, though she had every right to. They kept leading her onward and she felt as if she knew the road she was being lead down! Indeed she may know the entire world she was in, for she felt as if she were coming home. They began to talk, and it was all charm, just as you would expect them to be. And more matter of fact than flatter. Which was well decided on their part. Had they decided to be flirtaious her red headed temper may have gotten the better of her (having a dream come true only to be spoiled by un-well bred young men is too much for a maiden to bare on any day.) “My name is Dorrious” Said the one on her left. “And mine Diggory. Please ma’am what is yours?” She hesitated, “Well mine I suppose is Lilian.” She did not know why she supposed, for her name had always been Lilian, hadn’t it?

Well it is rather late and I have work later today. I may continue I may not. We shall see.

Genevieve sighed. But it was not an unhappy sigh, nor was it a content one. For indeed she much enjoyed finally being able to sit down and draw, as much as she liked the fact that she could listen to something while she drew. Both things she felt very blessed with.

But indeed she was not content with much of the world at the moment. Her state had been shut down for the better part of two weeks with no immediate look of resolve. Both sides of the arguement were pointing fingers and what seemed to be sitting back in arrogance while the common man suffered and had his hair turn white with stress.
For even though she was but 19, nearly every morning she would throw down the newspaper in a temper and mumble something about the current situation and worse yet, the fact the common man could not do anything about it. The fellow she worked with had made the comment that “perhaps if we turn off the cooling system in their building, then things would get resolved quicker!” She grinned and agreed.
But the government, or lack there of, was only one thing she was upset with. For sometime now she had been mulling over what the school systems taught. She had made it through high school without learning how to navigate by the sun, which plants were edible or poisonous, how to manage finances and how to see if someone was scamming someone or not. To her this was ridiculous.

“If there were a word beyond ridiculous that fit the bill I would use it.” She said to herself. She did not think the things that children learned in schools these days was wrong, not necessarily. But rather useless. She had yet to use advanced algebra in anything, or to dissect a small piglet to list off the internal organs again. (Which in that aspect, she rejoiced greatly.) But she had had to unplug a toilet, and she knew sooner or later she’d have to learn how to change a tire, and with the way things were going she was thankful her mother had taken the time to teach her how to mend clothes and do garden work.

Thinking back to high school, many times people asked what in the world would we use this for in real life? And many a time the only answer the teachers came up with was “college”. Though college was getting to be a necessity of life, and it was a real part of life, eventually one did have to graduate. She longed for schools to teach the importance of being able to speak and write well, to value helping others beyond getting ahead in the rat race, and even bring back some etiquette lessons. Not chauvinism, but respect for the opposite sex. It was essential. Today you can barely find a man to open the door for a woman, much less one who you could trust to help carry groceries to your car. That all started with respect, and society admitting there must be discipline to bear fruit.

She sighed again, much more frustrated this time. How could she turn this about? Who could she talk to? Scratching her head she thought of the possibilities and decided to have a chat with her aunt the next time she came around, then, ask if she could turn a switch she happily went back to drawing and listening to her book.