On TV whenever a hot girl sees a guy she likes she will run up to him, do a flying jump and wrap her legs around him as she plants him with a huge sloppy kiss.
NOBODY does that in real life. There would be a trip to the emergency room after he falls and cracks his skull on the pavement, and she falls with him and breaks her arm when it twists behind his back.
I just had to say that.
This morning after a long walk with my dog I fixed coffee and a second cup for Nigel. Being a Ghost, Nigel never drinks the coffee, he just puts his hands around the cup and takes in the aroma.
This morning we were not discussing stupid reality TV programs. We talked about creativity.
“Why don’t you finish anything?” Nigel asked with a sneer, as he shook a lock of dark hair off of his forehead.
“I finish blog posts and short stories,” I said.
“Novels?”
“I’ve finished a couple.”
“You never edited them or had them edited? What the Hell Juliette?”
I made more coffee and ignored his completely true comment.
“I’m writing today,” I said. “I’m working on a novel. I’m going to get a real editor to edit it.”
“What’s the hook? In one sentence,” said Nigel.
“A story that proves that Empty Nesters had lives before they had kids, and deadly secrets the’ll never tell.”
“I’d read that,” said Nigel. “Now give me the hook for another one.”
“Would you rather have a trophy wife on your arm or a raptor?”
“Oh, I like that. Go on.”
“Sometimes you have to die to find a love life.”
“OK. That hits home. Another.”
“After the fourth apocalypse in three years he decided to do something about it, and he didn’t really care what anyone else thought.”
“That one needs some work.”
“After the fourth apocalypse in three years he decided to do something about it, even if he was just a cat.”
“There you go. Is it about a cat?”
“It could be. I haven’t done much with that one yet,” I said. Wasn’t that the truth.
“Tell me another.”
““Get your gun, and get in the motorhome, said Grammy, “We’re going to hunt some Vampires.””
Nigel laughed out loud. “That was unexpected. Another.”
“I’m done for the day,” I told him. I need to write.
Yes, I do need to write before all of the ideas and inspiration drains out of my left ear and onto the floor. I need to write before I notice the floor needs to be mopped. I need to write before the dog needs more food, or the cats lie to me again and tell me they need more food. I need to write before another person drunk dials me, or I get distracted yet again by Ghosts or anyone or anything else.
I have to finish those stories and send those hooks out and catch some readers. My goal is to tell those tales and maybe entertain someone along the way.
And as always…
Talk to your kids
Wash your hands
Wear a mask
Check in on the elderly folks and others in your life you might need extra help.
My kids are adults and missing out. The elder one won’t have a graduation for grad school and is having angst over just being an adult. The youngest is hunkering down and thriving. I was going to write about it all today but my brain is in other places and finding it difficult. Writing about adult children isn’t as easy as writing about high school and middle school kids.
I’m going to take the dog for a long walk and hope we don’t get rained on. If we do get rained on that is ok too, I guess. Also my computer is on the blitz. The mouse isn’t working – or I guess I should say mice. Both the touch pad and the regular logitech mouse just aren’t able to communicate with my MacBook and the computer repair guys are closed. Ugh. But everything will be alright.
This post was first published in 2014, but the message still rings true.
~ Juliette
Everything Will Be Alright
My life is absolutely jam-packed full. But there were times when I was alone in almost every sense of the word. There were times that might have been hailed as opportunities and all I could see was a bottomless pit. There were times when I took opportunities and so the saying goes, ran with it. I ran as far as I could go. Everything eventually changes. Nothing stays the same except maybe our love and I hope our humor.
As a rule I’m reserved around my new clients, that is new Vampires. Yes, just turned a few months ago. She was doing well. Rather pragmatic and accepting about it. As with most of them it wasn’t what they expected. Then again, most of life isn’t what we expect until we’ve been around for a while and gathered that old moss of experience and wisdom.
Willow had family here and there. Her parents had divorced and started new families when she was about ten. She never saw them much or kept track of them. She had lived with an uncle who’d since passed away. None the less Willow made it through high school and college then on to a career. Then life and love imploded around her. It happens to all of us. She thought of jumping off a bridge but didn’t do it. She was thinking of a lot of things one night when she was seduced by a man who turned out not to be like her. And well, her life changed a lot more dramatically than she could have ever imagined, for Willow had been turned into a Vampire.
It was more complicated than that, but that isn’t the point of this story. The point is that I am in charge of helping Willow finally make the adjustment of living on her own, in a new world. A new life if you want to call it that.
I’d introduce her to the community of the night and teach her to know who is safe and who is not. I’d continue to give her instructions and watch over her until she was ready to be completely on her own.
She was surprised that we (Vampires) were for the most part not the creatures of dark brooding novels and movies. OK we can be dark and brooding and we’re pretty good at it, but the point is that we, like everyone else, just want to be happy. We want to fit in. We need to care and know we’re cared for. That is the Modern Vampire way, and the way for most people, no matter what exactly they might be.
That morning we stopped by a small cottage like house I’d found for her to live in.
As we entered the front door she a look about in a cautious sort of way, kind of like a cat after all the furniture has been moved around.
“Nobody will miss me. Not really. I mean after I died.” She looked out the window into the mid-morning fog.
I put my hand on her shoulder. “This is the beginning Willow. You’re not dead.”
“I…” she started to say, but I cut in.
“This isn’t suicide. It is just being here in a different way. You’ll make it positive. You’ll find success. You’ll find love.”
WIllow looked around some more inside then out back at the small garden. She smiled, careful not to show any fangs.”
We then took my truck in search of furniture and other household items she needed to get started with her new life.
She asked if she could get a cat. Of course. On the way home we stopped by the shelter, the city pound, where she picked out a three-year old tabby with white paws named Jeeves. She said she’d help someone else make a new start too – that they’d do it together – Willow and Jeeves.
I turned on some music in the car and intentionally played “The Middle” by the band Jimmy Eat World. It is one of my son’s favorite songs. It seemed like the right song to play for Willow.
In most cases, no matter how melancholy things seem, it will get better. The stars will continue to shine, cats will purr and new friends will make bonds that last for years.
I try to teach that to my own children who will all too soon be leaving home to go off to college, alone, that there will be times when they’ll feel lost. But they have a good navigation system and they’ll always find their way. Maybe not where they thought they would be going but with any luck they’ll always end up where they are supposed to be.
As I watched Willow unload Jeeves the cat and hold him in her arms, I had a feeling that she was exactly where she was supposed to be too.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
The Middle
Jimmy Eats World – Songwriters: ADKINS, JAMES CHRISTOPHER/BURCH, RICHARD E/LIND, ZACHARY MICHEL/LINTON, THOMAS DARRELL
Hey, don’t write yourself off yet
It’s only in your head you feel left out or
Looked down on.
Just TRY your best, TRY everything you can.
And don’t you worry what they tell themselves when you’re away.
Chorus It just takes some time, Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, Everything will be alright, alright.
Hey, you know they’re all the same. You know you’re doing better on your own, so don’t buy in. Live right now. You just be yourself. It doesn’t matter if it’s good enough for someone else.
Chorus It just takes some time, Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, Everything will be alright, alright. It just takes some time, Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, Everything will be alright, alright.
Hey, don’t write yourself off yet. It’s only in your head you feel left out or Looked down on. Just do your best (just do your best), do everything you can (do everything you can). And don’t you worry what their bitter hearts (bitter hearts) are gonna say.
Chorus It just takes some time, Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, Everything will be alright, alright. It just takes some time, Little girl you’re in the middle of the ride. Everything, everything will be just fine, everything, Everything will be alright.
In my home I have a wall of bookshelves. Don’t we all. There are also more books scattered all over the house on other shelves as well. One of my favorite quotes of all time is from film maker John Waters, ““If you go home with somebody, and they don’t have books, don’t fuck ’em!”
John Waters also said, “It wasn’t until I started reading and found books they wouldn’t let us read in school that I discovered you could be insane and happy and have a good life without being like everybody else.”
But back to what I was looking for. I was looking for a book about California art, but ended up on the other side of the wall looking at poetry and literature.
Then something in my mind just shattered. It was my current WIP (work in progress.) The structure is there but there had to be more. The characters need to care more about each other.
So there you have it.
Over the years, and I’ve been over quite a few, we adults find that things like work (jobs), school, judgmental friends and relatives, and society in general has totally beaten any inspiration and creativity out of us. Or at least they try damned hard to.
I never understood the disdain some people have for creativity, change, innovation, and inspiration. The artist is revered but damned if anyone wants to study art. The writer is mocked as a quaint hobbiest. The inventor is mocked with the mythical idea of the man who would rather spend his life inventing a better apple peeler, or mouse trap than feeding his children.
My advice to my children, and anyone else who finds everyone around them is trying to suck every bit of inspiration out of them, is don’t listen to them. Shut out those who say no. Shut out those who make condescending remarks. Shut out those who say your creativity, be in art, music, writing, or even science, is a waste of time. Shut them out. Make them more of a pariah than they want to make you.
Inspiration isn’t just some stupid workplace poster that usually insults rather than inspires.
Inspiration can come in any form. It can be love. It can be acorns that have fallen on your car. One idea inspires an entirely different idea out of nowhere. Just go with it. Don’t think about it too much. Just don’t listen to the assholes. They don’t want you to be inspired. Being inspired makes you dangerous. That is a good thing.
I also tell my kids that if they’re around those who are boorish and lack imagination, and lack empathy, and want to be jerks, to just keep their ideas to themselves. You don’t have to share your world with assholes.
Creativity doesn’t have to be monetized either. Don’t ever forget that.
And when you’re young, and even if you’re not, it is OK to just move on.
Let yourself shine, even if it is just on the inside. Have satisfaction knowing that you aren’t like them.
Then share with those who care, and understand, and those who feel safe sharing their ideas with you as well. Yes, know you can always be inspired by listing to others. Your story is wonderful, but it isn’t the only story. Don’t shut others out.
In the meantime, since I’ve turned this post into a vent rather than what I was going to write (don’t mind me, I have other things to share so just move on to the items below.)
I recommend you check out the books below. These are four of the books that distracted me and got me thinking about other things. They are by two authors I admire and respect. I am honored to consider both friends.
They both have a reverence for words, and actually see the world around them. They’re observers of life, and love, and everything.
You might be inspired. You never know.
Sack Nasty
Prison Poetry by Ra Avis
Dinosaur Hearted
By Ra Avis
Centripetal Force and Other Stories
By Jon Obermeyer
Wingspan
By John Obermeyer
One last quote. This is something we don’t say often enough to each other.
You are loved. ~ Ra Avis
For those looking more for the Vampire side of things, I understand Vlad will be back soon with mire diary entries.
I tried to come up with something, not exactly a metaphor, along the lines that if you beat a dead horse long enough you’ll get horse burgers, and a nice horse skin coat. Then it just seemed disgusting. Keep writing, and rewriting, and rewriting.
Over the past year, outside of this blog world of mine, I’ve felt attacked. I’ve felt marginalized. More specifically I have felt as thought my opinions don’t count. Right now I know a lot of people feel this way.
As I look back I’ve found that this feeling of being discounted is not a rare or isolated thing for me. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like someone was going to attack me out of nowhere for my opinions, lifestyle, or just the fact that I exist.
That said, I will always tell my children that their opinions count. Their voices count. They have the right to be heard.
I’ve also tried to teach them – maybe tried is not the right word because I have been successful – I have taught them to be clear with their opinions. While I tend to use emotions and bad words (not always, but too often), my children use calm clear voices, with soundly based facts and logic. They use calm emotion that rings true and inspires those who listen. They speak eloquently and beyond their years.
Even if others do not agree with my kids, they DO listen to them.
I am proud of them for not being like me in that way. They know how to project their passions, and their opinions in a way that should make many out there feel afraid. And they will also make many feel inspired and safe.
Summer has been quiet this year. Yes, school is out. Kids are home. My kids are busy but they are older and more independent now that they’re older. They ask me to make coffee for them too. They sleep a lot. They spend time with friends. They study. They come up to me when I’m working and give me hugs. In a few days we will all be going to the Van’s Warped Tour. Oh boy.
We’re busy. Super busy. Yet it is quiet. Low key. Calm.
I keep my children close this summer. I trust them and let them do their own thing, but I keep a close eye. I trust them, but I keep watch, of others, of other things.
They are not followers, my children, so I don’t have to worry about them being twisted and turned in directions they shouldn’t go. Their young judgment is sound, or at least, I feel, more sound than others their age.
This morning, while my children sleep, I was out giving a rare drink to my drought stricken trees. Burrs and fox tails stuck to my shoes and pants as I hauled the hose down the hill to the orange and lemon trees. Not a green blade of grass was to be found. Leaves curled up due to lack of water and love. It reminded me of a story – something a friend recently told me.
Last night I was talking to my friend Ben. I Benjamin and I have been friends for a long time. He is also the father of my son’s best friend Randy. Anyway, he told me a story I’d never heard before. I knew he was a homesteader at one time but this is what I learned.
In the 1870’s Ben traveled to the Western plains to become a homesteader. He’d gone with his friend John, John’s wife Alma, his cousin Will and Alma’s sister Mary.
Life was hard and dirty. Bugs, mainly flies and lice infested their house. Everything was covered with dirt that could never be cleaned off. The human company proved to be no better than the insects. Will appointed himself in charge. In the isolation of the prairie he demanded obedience body and soul of the rest of the party.
There was no place to go. They rarely saw others. Life was harsh – not the new beginning Ben had thought it would be.
A year into the homesteading experiment, a visitor came to their sad farm.
Two men and a young girl stopped by and asked if they could stay for the night. One of the men, a Mr. Kent was a poet. He read to them by the light of an outdoor fire. Ben felt alive for the first time in months. The strangers spoke of news of the cities in the rest of the country. They brought books. They gave bars of rose scented soap to the women.
When the strangers were ready to leave they asked Ben if he would like to go with them. Of course the answer was yes. Ben begged Mary to come with them. He’d assumed they’d be married, but she said she would be Will’s husband.
Ben told her that she’d have a life of hardship under Will’s brutal hand, but she stayed.
When Ben arrived in Sacramento he asked Mr. Kent to turn him into a Vampire. Later he heard that his friend John had killed Will during a blizzard and left with the women. They went back east and Ben never heard what happened to them after that.
So while I picked stickers off of my shoes with one hand, a hose in the other hand, I thought of Ben’s story.
Where I stood, gold miners came to seek their fortunes in the 1850’s. The land went back to oak forests. A hundred and fifty years later houses were build. I moved in. Holy crap, I could never be a homesteader in a sod house.
Ben and I talked of our children and the adventures that they would have. Their adventures will take them many places, but I think, I hope those adventures will be all good.
“Are you still glad you became a Vampire?” I asked Ben.
“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
In the quiet busy summer I’m trying to be inspired but trying too much. My blogging mind sometimes feels as dry as this drought.
It is funny how something like dragging a hose over a dry hill will bring stories to my mind. Or how a story from a friend will beg to be shared.
I hear movement from upstairs. I hear a cat running up and down the hallway. I hear my children laughing. Summer is here, but rather than dry, it is rich and blooming.
