Escape

I got really bored in the library today and found myself wanting an escape...

That Place

Let's return to that place
of innocence and immortality,
of candied clouds and frosted forests,
of delightful days and enchanting evenings,
of smiling suns and merry moons.

Oh, if we could return to that place
before the sorrow, before the pain,
without concern, without complain,
before corruption, before gain,
without darkness and without rain.

Can we return to that place?
Forget the lessons learned?
Run across the bridges burned?
Shall we reject wisdom?
Desire freedom?
Deny truth?
Accept youth?

Yes, let us return to that place
where all was well and good.
Let's return to that magical place
I think it's called childhood.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Alone

Okay, so I'm trying to get better at writing by trying new things. This is my attempt at two things: writing in the present (fully) and writing about "real life" (as opposed to fantasy or period pieces). You know the drill: read and comment.

...

I never feel more alone than when I'm around other people. I'm not crazy. I know I'm not crazy. In fact, I'm quite brilliant at times. But no one knows that except my closest friends and family who've known me for years. I'm not too good at meeting new people.

I have what's called Social Anxiety Disorder--ironically becoming the acronym SAD, which is how I feel most of the time after being forced to meet new people.

Dr. Clark said my "condition" causes me to feel panicked in social situations with large groups of people, especially if those people are strangers. She continued by giving me a long speech littered with medical jargon and lawyer two-face talk but I stopped listening after a certain point (There was a bird hopping on her outer windowsill that held my attention). Our first session ended with her telling me because there isn't much known about my disorder, there's no clinical reason to medicate me.

I guess the problems started in college. I had always been a little shy in high school but I still managed to make some really good, life-long friends. So I never thought I had any trouble with new people. But once we graduated and dissipated to different cities, that all changed. I stayed close to home and went to the state college, thinking that maybe if I stayed close to my roots, I'd have more in common with the people I'd encounter. I was wrong.

Move in day was hell. As I tried to learn the campus on my own, I was constantly bombarded with tens of new, smiling faces asking me if I needed help. They wore bright red shirts with JUST ASK ME printed in bold white lettering. They may as well have been holding flashing neon signs reading STAY AWAY. I guess they were just trying to be friendly. But, to me, it just came off as creepy. Every time one of the red shirts approached me, I could feel my heart pounding harder. When one particularly overly-friendly girl came up to me, waving wildly and flipping her bleached blonde hair about, I literally thought I would faint. "Are you new?" she asked me. Before I could answer, a slew of new questions flew from her mouth. "Freshman? Do you stay on campus? Which residence hall are you looking for? Here, let me show you on that map you're clutching!" I politely shook my head, dropping my eyes back down to the ground and continued to my dorm.

It took me twenty minutes to find the right building. But I was glad to be free of the welcoming committee.

That was about six years ago now...

I share a nice, three-bedroom apartment that overlooks the park with some girls from work. The company owns the whole building and HR works very hard to place people together that share something in common. Connor, a guy I met junior year at college who also interned for the company and eventually got a job there like me, ended up sharing his apartment with guys who had a passion for football. And every Monday night, like clockwork, their apartment is a roar of laughter and cheer. Other than being female, I share nothing with these girls.

Angela (or "Angie" as she insists I call her), the girl whose room is just down the hall from me, is a very attractive and fun-loving woman. She has friends from all over the country who come to visit often, which makes me a bit nervous. But I never say anything because she lives there too, and I feel it's a bit selfish to deny her the joy of having friends over just because I have trouble making new friends. Meg, our other roommate, usually finds some excuse to leave the apartment for hours when Angie's friends are over to avoid the whole awkward situation of being introduced as a butch lesbian--which Angela let slip one very drunken night when Meg returned to get her wallet.

Tonight, Angela's friend Tony.. Tommy..? Todd... Ted... someone is coming in from Seattle and wants to "just swing by for an hour or two before catching his flight in the morning." I look over at Meg, who's already checking movie times on her iPhone.

"What about you, Jeannie?" Angela asks. I've told her thousands of times it's Jeanine. But she has this thing about nicknames.. I can't figure it out.

"Yeah, sure, it's fine." I say, wondering if Meg wants company for her movie.

"I swear it'll only be a couple of hours. Tim has an early flight out tomorrow morning. But we haven't seen each other in two years. Oh, he's going to be so excited!" She flutters off to her room, dialing Tim on her way down the hall. From the kitchen, Meg and I can hear her giggling like a schoolgirl as she invites him over.

Meg sighs. "In that case, I better make that a double feature."

I pray it won't be that bad.

When seven o'clock rolls around, I'm in my room with the door open (a simple thing Connor told me to do to "show the girls I was more open") reading a book. After knocking, Meg pokes her head in. "Angie's painting on her face," she inclines her head towards the bathroom. "Last chance. Sure you don't wanna join me? I was thinking of getting some dinner at that place you told me about last week. You know the one."

Poor thing, she's trying so hard. Since I've never brought any guys over other than Connor that one time, I guess she thinks she has a chance. "No, thank you. It's only a couple of hours. I'll be fine. Jodi and I can manage until then."

Meg frowns a bit. "Picoult again? Suit yourself." With that, she turns and leaves the doorway. I hear the door open and shut right after each other. I wait until I can hear the jingle of her keys lock the door back before returning to my novel.

Click click click click click. Angela flies down the hall wearing a black dress that leaves little to the imagination, a face full of make up, and bright red heels with a matching bracelet. Click click. She backtracks to my door. "Oh, you're still here. I thought I had the place to myself tonight. Is it alright if we use the living room and kitchen tonight? Tim wants to make me something he picked up in Italy. And then we'll probably watch a movie."

I nod, wondering how that would take "only a couple of hours." Damn, I should have went with Meg.

There's a knock at the door and Angela moves quickly--too quickly for someone in heels and a dress, if you ask me--to answer. "Shit. He's early." The door opens and I hear not one, but two male voices.

"I hope you don't mind, Angie, but I brought along my buddy, Robert. We met at a sports' bar downtown. Turns out he's in Chicago on business as well." says the first voice.

Angie clears her throat. And though I'm all the way in my room, I swear I can hear the fabric of her dress being pulled down as she realizes the night not going where she originally planned. "Oh, sure, the more the merrier! Robert, is it?"

"Anyone as pretty as you can call me Robbie." His voice is like silk. He's a smooth talker like so many of the men Angela parades through the apartment. Perhaps the night will go well for her after all. They all laugh hardily and the sound of three pairs of feet move across the living room floor. Angela offers the guys wine and they both accept.

Forty pages later, Robbie has become a regular Adam Sandler, sending both Angela and Tim into fits of laughter with sentences that just make me roll my eyes with their simplicity and vulgarity.

"Say, Angie, where's your bathroom?"

"Oh, just down the hall." I hear the sound of her bracelets chime as she extends her arm. There's the shift of a bar stool and I hear footsteps approach my door. "And don't you go poking your head in my room!" she calls after him.

"Got something to hide? Hm.. I think I may need to take a piss, too, now that I think about it." Another bar stool shift, followed by the click of Angela's heels.

"Don't you dare!" More laughter.

I intentionally bury my head further into my book, wanting to avoid contact with Tim at all costs. He's a stranger. And, worse off, he's been drinking. Heavily. He passes by my door without saying a word. Good. The toilet flushes. I wait for the sound of the faucet, but it doesn't come. The bathroom door swings open and he returns to the party.

Robbie and Angela stop whatever they were doing quickly because the living room becomes eerily still. "You got a roommate?"

Her voice is lowered but I can make out a "yeah" and something about shyness. Taking the cue, Tim lowers his voice too and says something about rudeness. Robbie, seeming to forget his manners at the bottom of his glass pipes in. "Well, hell, there are more women here! Oh, Angie, I'm offended."

My heart begins pounding. I start trying to calculate the speed of a 20-something year old male with an impaired sense of mobility against that of a 23 year old female. If I could just make it to my door before him... But before I could throw my book on my nightstand, there was Robbie at my door. He leaned against the door frame a bit for support as he examined me. "Evenin'," he says, his voice not as smooth when he's slurring words.

"Uh, hi."

"I'm so sorry," Tim appears in the doorway tugging on Robbie's arm. Now there are two strange men at my door. Lovely. "Please forgive my friend. He's drunk. I'm sorry. He won't bother you anymore. Come on, let's go."

"Wait just a minute," he says taking his arm back, "Now, I believe you owe us any apology, missy."

I don't like this. Where the hell is Angela? Can't she control her guests for God's sake? My hands are shaking, I can hear the pages of my book rattling in the wake of all the motion.

"And why is that?" I ask, trying my best to sound confident even though I'm quite sure I'm suffering from a minor heart attack at the moment.

"Well," he says trying to take a step forward into my bedroom but is thankfully held back by Tim. "Here you are, keeping all that cuteness to yourself while we suffer in agony up there."

"I heard that!" Angela calls back. "Leave my poor roommate alone, you two. She obviously doesn't want to come out and play." Oh God, she's drunk. Either that or she's doing that giddy-girl thing that she often does. It's hard to tell with Angela.

After some coaxing from Tim, Robbie sighs and begins backing away from my door. "Alright, alright, I'll go. But the offer still stands, little lady." He winks at me.

I shake the dirty feeling from my body and quickly shut my door, turning the lock. Their voices are muffled now. Ten pages from now, they will cease to exist in my mind. Dr. Clark tells me it's good to escape, to try to imagine myself in a far away place when I become panicked like this. It's worked so far. I return to my book, gladly welcoming the soothing sound of Jodi's voice in my head as I scan the words on the page. Goodbye Angela. Goodbye Tim. Goodbye Robbie. Goodbye Chicago. Goodbye fear.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Wait, what?

I've been told that I "talk funny." Or differently. Or, if you're my sister, I talk "like a book." Which, I find funny because I always talk when I write. That is, I say things as I'm typing them, so my writing often reflects my speech. I just never thought it could work the other way around as well.

Anyway, it has come to my attention that, yes, I do use words differently. Or use words as I have come to understand them (which is often wrong). But there are some words and phrases that I fully understand and irk me when I hear people say them.

So here's my placeholder blog/rant about things that I have actually witnessed people say that make me stop and go, "Wait, what?":

1. came out of nowhere

This is usually used by some new-licensed teenager describing the events leading to cause of the dent in their parents' car. I swear, I was being careful but this truck came out of nowhere and just BAM! Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but the truck (or whatever) did, in fact, come from somewhere. It had to. Everything comes from somewhere. Nothing comes from nowhere. You just didn't see it.

For it to "come out of nowhere" or "come from nowhere," the truck would have literally had to materialize before your eyes seconds before impact. And even in that case, it existed somewhere before being hurled through the space-time continuum and hitting you. And even then, it still came from somewhere. Some place. Some time. Some date. You just don't know where/when that is.

Or is it because you didn't see it, it didn't exist in your mind until it was damaging the paint job on your daddy's new toy and forever crushing your chances of extending your curfew? And if that's so, that's quite... interesting, actually. Things we don't see, don't hear, don't experience can't exist to us. Right?

Whoah, I'm getting off subject here. I talk with many tangents and, like I said, it's reflected in my writing. Right then, back on target:

2. alone together

I heard this on some trashy teenage drama one night in my dorm. Alone. Together. Textbook definition of oxymoron. Yet, it's still used. Usually, by some seductive female lead trying not to break her newly-botoxed face(less she expose the fact she's really 26 still portraying an 18 year old) as she strategically strokes the arm of the overly muscular male lead who seems to have a problem keeping his shirt on. Which begs the question: Shouldn't you know better than to use phrases like that?

3. you know

You know how people overly use a certain word or phrase? Like.. uhm.. kinda how.. you know? Or use said word or words as a period and you're left wondering if they're actually finished or have just misplaced their train of thought, you know. So, there you are, trying to remain cordial and not cut them off but you're just staring at each other, you know. My usual response is, "No, I don't know," you know? Hence the reason we're discussing, you know?

---

There are more. But I would have to hear them and be reminded. And I know I'm guilty of saying things that are incorrect as well. Very often, in fact. But I try to correct myself. Try. Sometimes.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Wildfire

I'm beginning to lose faith in people. Quickly. Why should I continue to give people the best of me when all I get in return in the worst of them? Isn't it possible for me to just live my life without commentary from those who should just mind their own business? I mean, is your life so pathetically empty that you need to discuss someone else's? Mine. What pleasure will come to you by destroying my reputation? What reward? What... point?

So, yeah, Hawkins is dealing with some drama. But I won't let it get me down (more than it already has). Shouldn't complain about inspiration, I guess.

Wildfire
n

1. a raging, rapidly spreading fire
2. something that acts very quickly and intensely
3. any large fire that spreads rapidly and is hard to extinguish
___________

"Wildfire"
(This was originally meant to be a poem. Now it's... an extended metaphor. My feelings are too jumbled to fit into a nice, pretty poem.)

It only takes a spark to light a fire; one moment of carelessness and disregard to start the heated flames. And once they catch light, there is no stopping the birth of a wildfire-- Flames are teeming with hatred and pettiness, devouring everything in its path. Honesty falls victim to the destruction; Truth lost in the chaos and dismay. The once hopeful and innocent skies are now darkened with the thick, black clouds swirling above the smoldering ashes of once happy lives. There is nothing that can quell a wildfire's hunger for more. More destruction. More chaos. More anger. Burn, wildfire, burn.

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.

Dear John

Haha. This made me lol. And it was fun.

Dear Glenn,

I don’t really know how to tell you this, but our romance is over. I think I realized it last year when you peed your pants in your car and I saw you hit on my salt-beef bucket. I’m sure you’re middle class enough to understand that Santa doesn’t exist. I’m returning the couch cushions to you, but I’ll keep the results of that blood-sample as a memory. You should also know that I always wanted to break your legs and I haunt you when I’m reincarnated as an Eskimo.

Go drown,
Kaylyn.
_____________

Want your own?

1) What's the color of your shirt?
Blue - I'm in love with your cat
Red - Our affair is over
White - I’m joining the Convent
Black -Our romance is over
Green- Our socks don't match
Grey - You're a leprechaun
Yellow - I'm selling myself for candy
Pink - Your nostrils are insulting
Brown - The mafia wants you
No color - Purple hedgehogs want to destroy you
Other -I dislike your eyelashes

2) Which is your birth month?
January - That night you picked your nose
February -When I quoted Forest Gump
March - When your dwarf bit me
April - When I tripped on peanut butter
May - When I finally changed my underwear
June - When you put cuffs on me
July – When I saw the purple monkey
August - When you smacked my butt
September - Last year when you peed your pants
October - When we skinny dipped in the bathtub
November - When your dog humped my leg
December - When I threw up in your sock drawer

3) Which food do you prefer?
Tacos - In your apartment
Chicken- In your car
Pasta -Outside of your office
Hamburgers - Under the bus
Salad – As you were eating Kraft Dinner
Lasagna - Outside the mental hospital
Kebab - With Jean Chrétien
Seafood - In your closet
Sandwiches - At the Elton John concert
Pizza - At the mental hospital
Hot dog - Under a street light
Annat- With George Bush and Stephen Harper

4) What's the color of your socks?
Yellow - Ignore
Red - Put whipped cream on
Black - Hit on
Blue - Knock out
Purple - Pour syrup on
White - Carve your initials into
Grey - Pull the clothes off
Brown - bite off
Orange - Castrate
Pink - Pull the pants off of
Barefoot - Sit on
Other - Drive over

5) What's the color of your underwear?
Black - My boyfriend
White - My father
Grey – The Catholic Priest
Brown – The Montreal Canadian’s goalie
Purple - My corned beef hash
Red – My knee caps
Blue - My salt-beef bucket
Yellow - My illegitimate child in Ghana
Orange - My Blink 182 cd
Pink – Your ‘My Little Pony’ collection
Other --The elephant in the corner

6) What do you prefer to watch on TV?
One Tree Hill - Senile
Heroes- Frostbitten
Lost - High
Simpsons- Cowardly
The news - Scarred
American Idol - Masochistic
Family Guy - Open
Top Model - Middle-class
Annat -shamed

7) Your mood right now?
Happy - How awful you are
Sad - How boring you are
Bored - That I get turned on only by garbage men
Angry - That your smell makes me vomit
Depressed – That we’re related
Excited - That I may pee my pants
Nervous - The middle-east is planning their revenge on you
Worried - That your Ford sucks
Apathetic - That you need a sex-change
Silly - That I'm allergic to your earlobes
Sleepy - That Santa doesn't exist
Ashamed - That there is no solution to you being a dumb kid
Other - That your driving sucks

8) What's the color of your walls in your bedroom?
Grey - Your toe ring
Yellow - Your love letters to me
Red - The pictures from Vegas
Black - Your pet rock
Blue - The couch cushions
Green - Your car
Orange - Your false teeth
Brown - Your nose hair clippers
White - Our matching snoopy underwear
Purple - Your old New Kids on the Block blanket
Pink - The cut toenails
Other - Your Hannah Montana underwear

9) The first letter of your first name?
A/B - Your neighbours dog
C/D - Your photo with the mustache drawn on it
E/F - My virginity
G/H - The oil tank from your car
I/J - Your left ear
K/L - The results of that blood-sample
M/N - Your glass eye
O/P - My common sense
Q/R - Your mom
S/T - Your collection of butterflies
U/V - Your criminal record
W/X – Your sucide note
Y/Z - Your credit cards

10) The last letter in your last name?
A/B - Love your sweet, sweet butt
C/D - Always will remember the pep talks
E/F -Never will forget that night
G/H – Will not tell the authorities that you stole the whale from the backyard.
I/J – Mocked you behind your back constantly
K/L - Hate your cooking
M/N - Told in my confession today about the moose poaching
O/P - Told my psychiatrist about the bruises
Q/R - Get sick when I think of your feet
S/T - Always wanted to break your legs
U/V - Will try to forget that you broke my heart
W/X - Am better off without you
Y/Z – haven't showered in a month

11) What do you prefer to drink?
Wine- Our friendship is ruined
Soft drink – I’m off to lead a new life as a lemon
Soda – I will haunt you when I’m reincarnated as an Eskimo
Milk - The apartment building is on fire
Water – I'm scratching my butt as you read this
Cider– I have a passionate interest for mice
Juice – You ruined my attempts at another world war.
Snapple/Vitamin water – You should get that embarrassing rash checked out
Hot chocolate – Your Cucumber-fetishism is weird
Whiskey - I love Oprah Winfrey
Beer – I threw up yesterday
Other – you should stop picking your nose

12) To which country would you prefer to go on a vacation?
Thailand – Greetings to your frog, Leonard
Australia - best of luck on the sex change
France - Love always
Spain - With tears of sadness
China – You make me sick
Germany – Please don’t hurt me
Japan - Go milk a cow
Greece - Your everlasting enemy
USA - Warm tingly sensations
Egypt – Kiss my butt
England - Go drown

Dear(someone you recently talked to),
I don't really know how to tell you this, but (1). I think I realized it (2)(3) and I saw you(4)(5) I'm sure you're (6) enough to understand (7). I'm returning (8) to you, but I'll keep (9) as a memory. You should also know that I (10) and (11)
(12),
(Your name)

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.