Been a While

Its been a long time since I've done any posting on here and I have decided its time I started again. I began a new job on May 19th at Applebee's. My book is being worked on and I have resigned myself to the fact that I may be here for a while. Which is the reason I am in the process of fixing up the place to make it livable. We'll see what happens from there...

Not Much going on today except...

Matt is too busy being a PI to do anything else so I'm left home alone...hoorah!

Tek is an asshole as usual and goes around jumping up on everyone and everything...bloody hell!

I have this great idea for a book but can't come up with a hook sentence to begin...can anyone say inspiration?

Its been too long since I have not had a job and to be brutally honest its rather frustrating.

My back, I am convcinced is completely broken and I think my nether years are going to be spent walking crookedly.

My Favourite Shows - for now

Numbers do not indicate highest rating.

1. Leverage

2. NCIS

3. United States of Tara

4. The Big Bang Theory

5. Bones

6. Life on Mars

7. Criminal Minds

8. Eureka

9. Legend of the Seeker

10. Battlestar Gallactica

11. True Blood

12. Pushing Daisies (dammitt* they cancelled the show)

13. True Blood

Hugh Jackman is awesome!

To be quite honest I did not look at the oscars last evening and neither did I plan on doing so as I had a lot of writing to do. You know when the inspiration hits you just have to roll with the punches but...OH MY GODNESS! I looked at one thing and one thing only this morning - Hugh Jackman's opening act and I was blown away by it all. The man is a genius.

Talk about total package. The man has great looks, an obviously incredible personality and I learned that he is a funny man as well. Can anyone top that? So hats off to the most talented Australian there ever was. If only his name was anything but Hugh, I'd name all my children after him.

New Book Day

Today I woke with a crak in my neck and sunshine spilling out of windows. I can't remember having left the bloody things open in the first place. I must say that while I love the sun, its terrible to have a creak with beautiful bright lights reminding you how wonderful the day can be. Well that just sucks! I figured since I had one thing going against me and another for, I should take it as a good omen and do something constructive.

I need desperately to begin working on a new book.

Did I mention that I listened to the entire audio of Neil Gaiman reading his latest Nebula Award winning childrens book - wait for it - The Graveyard Book? I enjoyed it immensely and of course I have been a huge fan of the masterful Gaiman since American Gods. Frightfully clever piece of work if I may so myself - inspiring piece of literature that anyone with a good brain for reading should pick up.

Now where was I? Strayed off the topic again I did. Ah well yes - a new book is in order after the horrifying "Confessions of a Vampire," which has left a bitter taste in my mouth and the agents that I tried to ship it off to no doubt. Shame on you lass. So I was thinking something more fanciful, less gory, more imaginative, less brooding. I shall write me a book about a girl whose paintings come to life.

Can't say more than that really. And this time I am suggesting to myself a plot. I do so hate plots as the words just come out of me at their leisure but as Mr. Holmes my High School English teacher always lambased. "You must have a plot for anything to work Miss Stoute, for life to work." Bugger that!

Its just a blooming book. Not like I'm about to sign up for helping out with world peace.

Another day perhaps.

I Love the Rain

When I first moved to the US I must admit that I was a bit shocked to find that no one danced in the rain. Were they serious? It was in the middle of a sweltering summer and buckets of pure joy was raining from beautiful grey skies with no one to enjoy it. Imagine my chagrin when I saw students racing by with their umbrellas and raincoats trying desperately not to get a drop of that liquid gold on their outfits. Now I must admit that I must have looked like an awesome fool, standing in the middle of campus with my arms outstretched, face to the sky and feet crashing into puddles as I spun around dizzyingly. (Later I would learn that with rain comes lighting and lightning can strike one dead where he stands but who cares really!)

In those moments when the sky opened I was desperately wishing that my father had moved to the states with me - Daddy is a man who scopes out the weather and can smell the rain hours ahead. With soap in hand, he usually runs out a second before it actually begins raining and we the children would join him to trek through deep puddles and get as drenched as we possibly could. So while I was thinking how much my folks would appreciate the weather, the Dean was being alerted to a madwoman on campus, my coach was foaming at his mouth beacause one of his top athletes was happily catching a cold and my Economics professor stood staring at me, mouth hung open in obvious shock.

Wet as I was I made it to class on time but was escorted out within seconds amidst the laughter of my classmates and the severe frown on an Accounting genius of a teacher who possesed nary a fun bone. I skipped and hopped and danced my way back to my dorm as happy as an uneaten clam and sat on the steps of the Administrative building enjoying nature at its best.

To this day people still look out for me when it rains because of course I never let a downpour go unappreciated. The weatherman is not always correct but when he is you can find me soaking up a good rain shower, oblivious to the hundreds of eyes staring at the obviously crazy girl whom they secretly envy. The thing is that most people would love to go dancing in the rain, they are usually scared however, that they may be looked upon unfavorably. That's life for you I guess. Me, I don't really care what people think. The rain makes me happy, it just does.

So next time you hear the tip tap tapping on your window pane look out and see what it is. If the heavens see it fit to bless us with something so beautiful, the least we can do is enjoy it a little.

Valentine's Day - A Day Later

I have never been a big fan of the Valentine's Day holiday since I believe that it is a conspiracy developed by man hating females to get those of the opposite sex to spend exorbitant amounts of money for no apparent reason. I still feel that way by the way but after having gone out yesterday and experiencing a banging good time I can now say that you do not need wads of cash to a Valentine's Day make.

That's all I have for today...later probably i'll come up with something else.

He he

Can't wait to go Home

Videos of Tek

The first video is Tek and myself playing in the snow. In the second, he has an infection in his eye but refuses to take his meds unless there's peanut butter involved. Too bad he's already eaten the entire container.

Tommorrow I Die

But for today can I just be?

I saw...I pondered...I made a video...

Its not everyday that one gets to make a video as a job application and after reading about 'The Best Job in the World," I decided that I should at least give it a try right? After all I have absolutely nothing to lose and everything to gain and so do the thousands more who applied. Needless to say I am sort of debating whether to send off this bloody vid or not. Ah well, here goes.

Wanna Go Home

Life gets at me sometimes...not everytime, but sometimes when I am awake it creeps up and tries to convince me that I am actually asleep. Life can be cruel like that. I have the oddest dreams that I am asleep and waking nightmares invade my every moment. I am no longer free and to be quite honest I do not know the reason why. So here I am writing this in the middle of the early morning hoping that my brain will find the difference between my dreams and my waking life. To sleep again peacefully would be incredible but alas, there is no sleep to be had here.

It’s Football not Soccer

Seriously, I am a little miffed when people correct me after I explain that I am about to play some football. “You play football?” I am usually asked in a disbelieving manner, “Aren’t you scared of getting hurt?” Well obviously not, which is when I have to go on to explain that it’s actually real football that I am speaking about, not handball.

Don’t get me wrong I love the American game. It’s fun, fast paced and the commercials are great but it can never compare to bicycle kicks, shoulder tackles or salads. There’s just no competition there. And its not Soccer either…its Football damn it!

Stephen King On 'Twilight' Author: 'Stephenie Meyer Can't Write Worth A Darn'

Well it was about time somebody said it and I will make this short. Stephanie Meyer can't write to save her life and she just keeps sucking the creativity out of the gullible teenagers who think Twilight is something special. Well let me tell you something special, it isn't!

I was mortified when I heard the accolades that trash of a novel - or should I say novels was receiving by critics in the literary world. I mean to read the thing for pure entertainment purposes only is cool but to give merit to the writing? Incesed could not describe my state and its not because I would like the success that Meyer is receiving. I would be so ashamed of myself if I had wriiten Twilight and she ought to be too.

So, when Stephen King finally came out and said that she was a horrible writer, I cheered for joy; especially after a few nut jobs compared her to JK Rowling. OF ALL THE NERVE. The Harry Potter books are well constructed, immaculately written and entertaining to the ninth degree. In comparison, Twilight is an insipid and lackluster affair that would be better off feeding the flames to keep a cold room warm.

According to Mr King., "Both Rowling and Meyer, they're speaking directly to young people... The real difference is that Jo Rowling is a terrific writer and Stephenie Meyer can't write worth a darn. She's not very good."

Mr. King, while not a fan of Meyer, understands the books appeal - gag!

"People are attracted by the stories, by the pace and in the case of Stephenie Meyer, it's very clear that she's writing to a whole generation of girls and opening up kind of a safe joining of love and sex in those books. It's exciting and it's thrilling and it's not particularly threatening because it's not overtly sexual." Say wha!

He also adds that "A lot of the physical side of it is conveyed in things like the vampire will touch her forearm or run a hand over skin, and she just flushes all hot and cold. And for girls, that's a shorthand for all the feelings that they're not ready to deal with yet."

Well said Stephen. Anyway, it just struck me as odd that no one was really raising a stink about the inappropriateness of the series. True, Ms. Meyer says that sex is not part of her books but how about Bella trying to kill herself when Edward leaves? In my line of thinking that is considerably worse but who am I to say anything? Its not like I am a published author or anything; just another girl who actually appreciates good literature.

A game of Cricket --- and not the insect either

It’s been approximately three years since I held a cricket bat in my hands, two years to the day since I threw a spin ball smack into the middle of a stump and much too long since looking at a game live, or on the television. I am doomed. See, back in the day when I my permanent residence was Dominica, I lived for rainy days when we played cricket in the through the downpour with our mothers screaming at us if we caught a cold.

I existed solely for pick up matches and Sunday afternoons when my dad and his team competed with opposing villages for the title of head honchos. Of course back then they substituted tea for shots for rum, were drunk by the first inning and never completed a single game. Still, those memories keep me sane on the bitter cold American evenings and early mornings when I cannot sleep because the sound of engines drive me insane.

Yesterday I spoke to my little sister who rubbed in my face the fact that she was about to play cricket with the boys on the beach. It serves me right doesn’t it? I mean I practically ran away from home to come to the US without thinking of the consequences. True, I have made a little life here for myself but what is life without cricket? It’s like telling a hardcore football fan to give up his life’s passion; like keeping a whale from the water…that’s not fair right!

And so today I wanted to remember all the great things about the game. Wooden stumps collapsing from a hit, LBW’s called before they are even made, village children playing in the dirt and rain, the spirit of togetherness and eleven players all dressed in white.

Which brings me to the subject of white uniforms; everyone wants to know why cricketers wear white? Well it’s for the simple reason that the ball is red and therefore white is the best dress for visibility. In a white background, the ball can be seen clearly by the man about to hit that cricket ball into history. I myself like to think that it’s because we are purists. The game of cricket is so pure that we do not want to sully it by wearing anything but white.

So the next time you feel the need to make fun of the game of cricket, or laugh and the wonderful men and women who drink tea during breaks, think of the millions more people out there who are staunch supporters of the art. Yea I said art because that’s what it essentially is. Cricket is a blooming art form that many have tried but few have mastered.

Think Sir Jacob Hobbs, Adam Gilchrist, Sachin Tendulkar, Sir Garfield Sobers, Vivian Richards, Don Bradman and all the other cricket greats who have made the game both remarkable and memorable.

To be quite honest there isn’t another game like that of cricket (not in my book anyway). And the next time you are lucky enough to visit England, Australia, Pakistan, India and any of the 700 and some Caribbean Islands, feel free to ask where you can play a pick up game. Not only are we willing to share our art form with you; it’s always nice to indulge a stranger in a spot of tea.

Adios...and good playing.

The Olympic Bird Nest Flop

Can you believe that the multi-million dollar Olympic bird nest built in Beijing has now become a rotting mess? Well it has. Prior to these events, the structural masterpiece was receiving raves from critics all over the world but today that has all changed. Not only is the paint peeling off but it costs 8.8 million a year for mantainance alone. What a drag! The chinese are such an ingenious people that I personally think its only a matter of time before they come up with a few ideas to keep it in one piece.

So far, I have heard that the area around Beijing’s massive Bird’s Nest stadium will be turned into a shopping and entertainment complex in three to five years. How appropriate! The only confirmed event at the 91,000-seat stadium this year is Puccini’s opera “Turandot,” set for Aug. 8—the one-year anniversary of the Olympics’ opening ceremony. Aaawww...here are a few ideas of mine as to what can be done to help the situation.

1. Call up Angelina Jolie - The UN-representative half of the Hollywood power couple has always been willing to help out a worthy cause. From adopting tots off third world countries to lending a sympathetic ear to to those less fortunate; I'm sure she would be delighted to assist.

2. Turn it into a housing development - With a population of over 1.3 billion, goodness knows housing projects are needed just about eveywhere in China. How about turning the masterpiece into a housing development. I'm sure the good folks over there would appreciate it.

3. Have an annual pillow brawl -

TAKEN – Love or hate him Liam Neeson is a god

Die Zeit für Rache ist gekommen. (The time for revenge has come.)

To be brutally honest, as an eternal fan of action flicks, the previews of the upcoming movie TAKEN had me on edge. Not only am I a fan of Mr. Neeson with his stunning good lucks and seductive voice, I am a fan of revenge. This movie seemed too good to be true. Imagine my surprise when I learned that it was all that it had been hyped up to be – and then some.

TAKEN is the most thrilling movie that I have seen in a long time and I have seen a few good movies. I remember trying to get into the theatre to see the movie 300 with my javelin and being told that I had to leave it outside; what a bummer! Suffice to say, after witnessing Gerald Butler in all his male glory (and getting over my initial angst at not being able to transport my lance into hostile territory), I wondered if there would ever be another hero to steal my heart. Ladies and gentlemen I give you British royalty Liam in full James Bond, Jason Bourne mode. I do think that a franchise should be created with that man heading the new – well maybe the ‘not so new’ generation of super spies, but I digress.

From beginning to end I must admit that I was enthralled with the enigmatic Neeson as he makes his way to France and fights perverts’ one section at a time. During the course of the film, we get many a glimpse of the web of human trafficking and the victims hidden behind the curtain that should not be hung. You can therefore understand why I felt not an ounce of remorse when a man was tortured for information and then left to die within darkened chambers. Neither was I moderately annoyed when Mr. Neeson shot the wife of a former friend in the arm to learn the truth from him. Like he explains for all those interested, ‘it’s only a flesh wound but I will kill her if I have to,’ or something to that extent.

All in all, my ‘impressed’ factor rose to the roof after a death defying car chase, swash buckling jumps unto a moving boat and super ninja skills to take out more than half a dozen highly trained killers. Did I mention that I was impressed? After it was all over I could have cried because I wanted more – so much more, which is why we need a TAKEN franchise people. After you have seen this god of a man take out bad guys you will understand. And all in France no less. What could be better than watching your favourite spy kicking some terrorist ass in the most romantic city in the world!

Like someone said, death has never been more satisfying to watch.

Oui, oui, oui

On to a more serious note, while the movie was solely an action one, the crisis in it was all too real and I got to wondering, what someone like me can do to help the situation? It is a sad state of the world when young girls and women are being sold in the name of profit.

How Cold Was That?

The cold warmed my bones though I'm not sure how. It came in sweeping yesterday with a raging fury and deep chill that should have frightened me; it didn't. Instead, the snow fell in beautiful, perfect flakes and covered the world in white. The beauty of it all called to me and in an instant I was outside enjoying the fluff.

It should have been cold alright, especially since I was not wearing any shoes or winter jacket. Not because I hate the bulk but dues to the fact that sometimes you have to let go a little. I prayed to myself that there were no bits of broken glass lying around - there wasn't.

My Night Out on the Town

On the rare occasion that I go out I tend to try enjoying myself as much as possible since it may be a while until someone can lure me out from my den again. During the oh so cold winters, I would much rather remain indoors cooking up a new book instead of traversing through the gunk and to a new bar as many are wont to do during those times. Well, unless it’s snowing. I love the snow and I will endure the cold for half an inch rather than stay inside. These are the pictures taken on my night out with a few friends.

I THINK

Home

I think I left myself there
In the depth of your sermons and love letters written badly
Within songs unsung and poetry from bleeding hearts
Among my old things in the dark basement where I once existed

I think I left myself there
Beneath the rotting mango leaves and coconut palms
Together with a folded up raincoat in my fathers arms
Next to that old grey house where we sat at lunchtime. Once

Funny thing is…I can’t remember where there was
Or will be
I just…THINK

Who said I hated clothes...

Growing up my mum was constantly reminding me that I needed to put more clothes on when folks dropped by the house. Ok, not to be a brat or anything but shorts were invented for the purpose of wearing them am I right! Anyway, I grew up on an island. Not only that, I grew up in the countryside. Think lots of trees and a great deal of rivers and the ocean a mere skip and a jump away. Why the hell would I want to wear clothes when a simple bathing suit would do?

As I grew older it was my brother who took offense at my choice of clothing. As a track and field athlete you do not want to restrict your movement dear friends so of course spandex and sports bras were the rage with me. Oh but brother dearest banned me from his social life. He was not to be seen with the ‘back flipping - javelin throwing - love wearing very little clothing sister’. I was banished. The question remained, would I choose my comfort over my blood. Guess what? I wore his trousers and his shirt and even his shoes. Braided up my hair like a hippie and prowled the town looking like a tomboy.
The girls found me rather attractive as a boy (of course they had no idea that I was merely imitating one), and the boys - well lets just say I always got along with the opposite - same sex that day. My brother was less than thrilled and he called my parents with every threat imaginable to banish me from his entire existence. Needless to say his pleas did not fall on deaf ears and mummy called to say that she was proud of me for wearing clothes for once in my life. That ought to have taught him. My dad as usual remained quiet and one evening when I walked into the house told me that I should remain true to myself. My father hardly ever says anything unless he's trippy or had a few so imagine my delight. I have followed his advice ever since.

These days I am wearing a lot more clothes but that does not mean that I don't like dressing down a bit now and then. Of course now I live in the United States and the tri-state area tends to get a bit cold in the winter time. Oh heck what am I talking about, it’s usually freezing. Which is why I have those wonderful pictures to remind me of the days when clothes were optional.

And so I dedicate this to all the folks out there who, after a hard days work just like to breathe a little. To all of you who are scared to show a bit of skin or have been hiding a slight gut for a few months now. It is to the man who is scared of being true to himself and the young woman afraid that someone will judge harshly. I say screw the critics yes! How about you do this one for yourself. After all, it does feel good to defy silly expectations.

So go bare and don't care...well feel free to leave a little to the imagination actually. Never hurts. And to my big brother who's all grown up now...ha ha. I get to create posts like these and remember the days of opression. Just so you know. Eat my shorts Anderson Stoute!

Who said I hated clothes anyway? I just don't like much.

Highway of Tears

Yesterday I came across an article on the internet that chilled my blood and had this intensely fearful feeling trying to burst out from the pit of my stomach. Now, you may think that I am being paranoid or even crazy but after I had read my fill I decided to try getting more information about the highway of tears. It seems that this stretch of highway in British Columbia called the 'Highway of Tears,' has been known to attract many young female hitchikers and ultimately claim their lives.

This may sound like a ghost story but the enormity of the situation is not lost on someone like myself who has been known to enjoy a daring hitch hike with my sisters on occasion. Of course I am from a small Caribbean where murders are few and caring motorists are many.

The murders of women--most of them Aboriginal--along Canada's Highway 16 in British Columbia stirred advocates to request a shuttle service to reduce hitchhiking on the dangerous road. A year later, women are still sticking their thumbs out.

The Highway of Tears MISSING and MURDERED are officially thirty three, however, the numbers are believed to be much higher with cases going back as far as 1969. That amounts to thirty years of young, mostly Native girls disappearing.

There are a few websites dedicated to the missing but I thought that I should add my two cents because firstly, I am a young woman and ultimately as a human being this does concern me greatly.

For 3 decades now over 36 females have disappeared along desolateHighway 16 in Canada, which winds for 450 miles from the Rockies to the Pacific. Along this remote highway, women, mostly in their teens and 20s, have been found murdered in the past 30 years. Dozens more have disappeared.

My heart goes out to these young women and their families and they will be forever in my thoughts and prayers. Below are the links to the various websites where you can find more information about these happenings.

Adios...Cherry

http://www.highwayoftears.ca/

http://wordpress.com/tag/highway-of-tears/

http://news.webshots.com/album/559930185qtTnAK

http://crimsonshadows.net/content/view/31/49/

http://au.lifestyle.yahoo.com/b/marie-claire/4256/highway-of-tears/

http://www.womensenews.org/article.cfm/dyn/aid/3388/context/archive

Is there a God?

I was browsing the news today and came across this artists impression of a London bus with the slogan 'There's probably no God. Stop worrying and enjoy your life'. Of course there has been numerous complaints and criticism by those staunch 'Christ' supporters but would you have expected anything less?

We see images of Jesus Christ everywhere we go and we are constantly bombarded with quotes from the bible in our everyday life. Now for those who believe in a higher power that is all well and good but what about those who don't?

I cannot condemn, nor accept since it is not my place. For that matter, everyone should be given the reign to make their own choices. Remember the crusades when so many died for the church? Look at the killings going on in the name of Islam. Are we a better society because we believe in a being that we are not entirely certain exists or is it just an excuse to continue with our narcissism.

To those who are livid at the bus company slogan I say get over it. Live and let live should be the new motto of this world. Believe in your God, or gods in some cases but learn to accept those who do not. The world is changing and we along with it - stop complaining and start living.

THE KINLAND JOURNALS BOOK I - LILLITH

There is a legend as old as time itself. A prophesy written on parchment so ancient it is said they precede the earths creation. In darkened chambers they lay protected by the Nightguards, creatures so deadly that even the greatest warrior kings have not dared stand against them. Many speculate that the day will come when those chosen will retrieve these scrolls which will either protect or destroy the ones who bear them. The time is at hand. The day draws near. And the evil queen who almost became Keeper of the Scrolls once a thousand of years ago is being released from her dungeons.

A strange beast rose from the darkness. It cast shadows upon the cold grey walls leaving a feeling of dread wherever it fell. Silenced beckoned the hollow prisoner. Its skin dropped in places where skin should not be. Cold, grey eyes stared into a million pieces of darkness that rolled into one, leaving the room an empty pillar of midnight that ran on forever.

There was a reason why the lights were never on. Down in the deepest cauldrons of a personal hell, the notorious princess Nebula of the skies had been transformed into something gruesome, a terrible creature with ill fitting skin that cried at its very reflection.

A loud noise echoed within the great walls. The large doors were thrown open allowing slivers of light to enter the damp room. A single black boot stepped forward and the horrendous creature inched back against the moss green walls. The second boot stepped in followed by a loud thump as a huge guard stumbled down the steps and into the night.

Nebula scurried along the floor and into the deep black hole where she had hidden for more than a thousand years. She looked on as bright lights filled her prison when a dozen moon riders came into view. Who said the moon only reflected light she thought as the blinding spots of lights inched down the narrow stairs and rested beside her cot.

“She is not here,” a rider whispered. His light was fading fast but she could make out the confused expression on his face as he stared into the dark.

“Where else would she be?” another demanded. Piston had come. She could see the cruel twist of his mouth and a blue scar that split his face in half. That had been the price he had paid for fighting on her side. Loyalty such as this did not go unpunished and he had felt her father’s wrath.

“Maybe she escaped already,” There were loud murmurs as they discussed the possibility among themselves.

“Had she escaped no one would have been left alive,” they finally decided. Nebula smiled at the thought of ripping out the hearts of those who had kept her captive. They would feel her wrath she decided, her brother most of all for his blatant betrayal.

“Your majesty,” Piston called. He was merely a pale wisp of light by now but the blue scar throbbed horribly against his face like a giant tic. She tried to speak but no words came for the form in which she had been imprisoned made it impossible to utter a word. She threw a clean white bone in his direction and stared as twelve pairs of feet got into battle formation and advanced as a single unit. When they came to the mouth of the cave the soldiers stopped and Piston alone moved into its depth.

“Stay back,” he warned the others. She may not want you to see her right now.” He crouched low and entered the cold space where his former mistress now pressed, moaning loudly in an effort to speak.

“Your majesty,” Piston called once more. He became brighter until the light was blinding and the creature dashed away from him, finally settling against the far wall.

“What have they done to you?” he asked. The pity in his voice was obvious and it was more that the former princess could bear and Nebula melted into a large vat of tears onto the floor.

“Bring the Charions here,” he demanded referring to the coven of witches who once did her bidding.

“Why do we need the Charions?” Star, a young Rider called from the fold.

“To get our queen back,” he responded, “now do as I command,” He turned to look at the puddle which was slowly turning back into its ghastly form.

“What have they done to you?” he asked again. It was only then that he noticed the discarded human bones shaped into the form of a single word on the ground. She pointed at it and burst once more into bitter tears.

L I L L I T H they spelled. The rider gazed at the word until finally recognition grew in his eyes and suddenly Piston understood.

“LILLITH,” he whispered in the glowing darkness. The skies moved with a loud roar and the creature nodded its ugly head.

“Queen Lillith.” The Rider said once more and he bowed deeply in the blinding darkness.

Barack Obama Inauguration Day Pictures