Fiction Friday the Fifth or Damn, I love alliteration.

This week, I was discussing Fiction Friday with my mom, complaining that it was harder than I thought.  She casually threw out the sentence, "Then maybe you should stop giving your writing away."

WHA?

I'm so used to giving it away. My writing, my voice, my acting, my time, my emotions and my energy.  I don't know any other way.  People have OFFERED to pay me for all of the above things, but I've rejected their advances. Why, I don't know.  But it's something I will continue contemplating.  Who knows where I would be if I insisted? Not me.  It's not my nature.

Ah, well.  Another late Fiction Friday, though this time is was due to watching Monte Carlo until 1 am and feeling depressed and sorry for myself while eating half a box of Cracked Pepper Triscuits.  Mostly cause I'm jealous of Selena Gomez's amazing boyfriend. BIEBS!! (I kid.)

Here it is.  No suggestion from anyone on this.  Just my brain.

Darkness

By This Girl

Slow and stealthy. Sinuous steps. A sigh escapes me in anticipation as I reach the prone form sprawled across the fallen chair that moments before had held a breathing, living being.   I looked at the surprised expression on Gary's face as I grasped the heart tipped pink and red arrow and pulled it from his chest.  Wrenching it out from between fragile ribs, I delighted in the spray of blood that followed a squelching noise of which I had become very familiar.  I was getting better at this. The first few times had been messier, noisier, and less quick for my victims.  Now it was rote. Watch, wait, then shoot.  Always aim for the heart. 

My predecessor had trained me well.  As a young Cupid in training, I had believed wholeheartedly in the idea of true love. I'd signed on for the job of creating romantic feelings between two human beings, of fulfilling individuals by bringing them together with their perfect mate.  I wore the diaper proudly, and the day I received my own bow and quiver had been one of the best days of my life.  I was happy. I'd watch the couples I had brought together frolic through sunshine, have picnics in parks, and marry each other in a ceremony that was intended to cement the love I gave them for eternity.

Then it went wrong. They weren't staying together for eternity.  They weren't even staying together past a night.  Romance and love gave way to carousing and one night stands.  And I watched each and every person that I shot with my arrow of love interpret it as lust and squander the gift I had given them for the next tumble in the sack.

I'm not gonna lie.  I became depressed. So depressed my normally pink and chubby frame lost the baby fat and became gaunt and sickly.  My diaper didn't fit.  My curly blonde locks were limp and lifeless.  My wings went from snow white to smoke grey.  I had no motivation. I could barely hold my bow, and my arrows were careening so far from their intended targets that I once had a woman fall in love with the Eiffel Tower. They even got married, which would have been a success story were it not for the fact that it was a building and she was a human being.

And then I got mad.  How dare these human beings not appreciate the gift that had been given to them by the GODS THEMSELVES?!!?!?  How dare they make my job, which I had done every day without fail since I got my wings, OBSOLETE?!? WHO THE HELL DID THEY THINK THEY WERE?

And I snapped. I sharpened the tips to my arrows, and worked on becoming real.  I concentrated, with all my might, on physically effecting the human world.  It was slow work, taking years and years to perfect.  And one day it happened.  I found a lone man sitting in front of a computer, looking at multiple windows on his screen.  One was a dating site.  The other was a streaming adult video. My anger helped send the arrow into his sternum, just missing his heart.  As he screamed, I sent another arrow through his throat, ending his miserable life. His landlord found him shortly after, but the killer, me, was nowhere to be found.  There wasn't even a murder weapon.  And I got away with it.  And I'll keep getting away with it.  WHO'S GOING TO STOP ME?

I've lost track of the number of people I have killed.  They far outnumber the number of people I helped to fall in love. I've even caught up with a few of the no longer couples that so disappointed me. They deserved this fate. They had something that I will NEVER, EVER have and I hate them for having had it and throwing it away.

    

Other New York Song Lyric Here.

After spending two hours at the Empire State Building, complete with solo elevator ride and kitschy souvenirs for the family, I stopped at a Starbucks to warm up, pee, and get some hot chocolate. Considering my next move, I remembered sage Tony telling me where everything was located on the grid that is NYC, so I just started walking. Bryant Park was directly ahead of me, so I hoofed it and bought a hat in the adorable kiosks they had set up surrounding the park. I sat watching the ice skaters, in warm sunshine, but realized that sitting on my laurels was not going to get sights seen. Right next door was the New York Public Library, so I swooped in and was able to enjoy an exhibit dedicated to the use of the written word throughout history. Score.

From there, I made my way to Grand Central Station. I've always seen it in films and thought that it would be so so in real life. It wasn't. The hustle and bustle of people running to actually catch trains, combined with the massive amount of tourists made this girl seek a restaurant with peace, quiet and great food...after a number of photos of the beautiful ceiling and the purchase of a book from the Grand Central book store. I headed out the front doors, and immediately recognized Pershing Square from a number of NY based films (I watch a lot of movies) and decided to head into the lush, wood paneled restaurant with brass fixtures. My book and I settled into a table for two, and I ended up ordering a chicken pot pie. A delicious hour later, I was sufficiently full and ready for more walking.

I thought that I was heading in the direction of Central Park, and only realized my folly when the street I was on dead ended into water. To my left, I saw a giant glass building with flags on the outside. Disappointed in myself and my lack of navigation skills, I pulled out my trusty iPhone and got directions to Central Park-about 20 blocks away. As I turned, I heard Tony's voice in my head, talking about the UN building THAT WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. COOL!

Turning around, I continued my walk back towards Grand Central, turning onto 5th and heading for the Park. I passed tourists, business men, kids, old people...people watching at it's height. I was walking with purpose, and almost passed a walkway cutting between two buildings that looked interesting to me...so, I crossed the street to check it out. I was at Rockefeller Center! WOW! I'm way better than I thought.

Continuing on, I gandered at St. Patrick's Cathedral, Trump Tower, and all sorts of amazing architecture on my way to the Park. I finally found my way to Central Park and headed in, not knowing where I was, where I was going, or what lay ahead of me.

I happened upon a visitor center and purchased a map of the Park. On my list of things to see were the Alice in Wonderland Statue and the Belvedere Castle. Again, I trusted my ability to read a map. I shouldn't have. After walking in circles for about an hour, I stopped at a coffee shop in the center of Central Park and asked directions, cause I'm a girl and I know when I'm defeated. He pointed me in the general direction, saying it was right next to the duck pond. There was a pond...with no ducks. But there was a Hans Christian Andersen statue, with an Ugly Duckling that was so adorable my face almost cracked from smiling at it for so long. And just up the way...Alice.

After taking pictures of this beautiful sculpture from every angle, I made my way to the Belvedere Castle. Footsore and chilled at this juncture, I decided to await Tiffany's arrival home at Little Brown, a chocolate themed coffee shop where I purchased a salted caramel hot chocolate that made my evening. My book and I waited patiently, and Tiff picked me up so that we could order some dinner in before I was to catch a cab to La Guardia. Deciding to nix dinner as I was full and slightly ill from 3 hot chocolates in one day, so we watched Party Down until I had to leave.

I walked a block from her apartment after our goodbyes, hailed a cab and had the cab ride from hell. The driver did not believe in staying in a lane for more than 5 seconds. At the tollbooth, he screamed at me in broken English for $6, when at the outset I told him I only had a credit card with which to pay for my fare. Speeding, he hauled it to the airport, jumped out, and threw my luggage out while my head was still spinning and my stomach churning from the toll road action. Checking in, I headed to security, where they picked the woman in front of me (with way too much perfume on for someone about to be trapped in tight confines with others) and myself for a random security check. We were forced into a clear booth with a lock on one end while our belongings lounged on the conveyor belt. I repeatedly saw my backpack and jacket get smashed between bins and other people's belongings as person after person passed by me. 10 minutes later, a security guard noticed me still in the plastic box of frustration, and swabbed my hands before telling me to leave.

WHAT THE EFF, LA GUARDIA?

Hungry now and thinking some sort of sustenance would keep me from barfing all over everyone. I settled into a barstool at the NY Sports Bar, and awaited service. 10 minutes later, the staff had still not looked at me, nor approached me for any kind of greeting, beverage, or even a go fuck yourself. Not feeling too wonderful and being a bit cranky, I grabbed my belongings and stormed out. Luckily, I was saved by a panini vendor, and ended up dining on an Italian panini, POP chips, and Sour Patch Kids. Not exactly the dinner of champions, but it kept me from killing everyone in my path.

I boarded the plane quickly, as it was not a full flight, and ended up seated on the aisle with a lovely elderly woman at the window of a three seat row. To my left was the woman with too much perfume. Nauseated again, I closed my eyes and counted. Moments later, the annoying allergy attack on legs complained to the stewardess that her light was not working, and was moved 5 rows ahead to a seat that worked. I breathed a perfume free sigh of relief, and grabbed my book out of my backpack to hopefully finish it by the end of the flight. The elderly lady had a small notepad out, and as I watched her she skillfully sketched the profile of a Hacidic man in the row parallel to us. It was beautiful to watch, and I mentally thanked this woman for bringing me back from the brink of animosity and hatred of my fellow man.

Nutbag.

I realize that there is a reason that I am single. I was contemplating this last night as I sat in my level 2 stand up class and began crafting a joke about a ring I recently purchased. It's a plain silver band with a round pink stone gently nestled under four metal prongs. It's a rose quartz, and I'll explain why this has anything to do with matters of the heart in a moment. But first, the events that occurred prior to and after my purchasing this ring.

I was home alone as my parents were visiting my grandmother in Ohio prior to the Christmas holidays. I was working a lot, and was spending my off time in my pajamas, laying on a couch and watching BBC television shows on Netflix. I was low. Lower than I'd been in a while. I was basically eating(too much) and drinking (too much), and was wallowing in self pity from being so overwhelmingly alone. No one called. No one cared. So, there I was. Miserable.

A friend called on a Sunday morning and asked me to join her and her husband for breakfast at my favorite restaurant. I decided to snap myself out of this self imposed exile and go. I dressed for the day in a cute sundress with ballet flats, blew out my shoulder length hair, and applied lip gloss to my somewhat overworked (from chewing) mouth. I felt good for the first time in weeks.

Something happened at that lunch. I decided that while I was out, I would go to the local green market and get some healthy foods to stop the constant intake of cheese, crackers, and alcohol. I still felt lonely, and the evidence of families shopping for dinner ingredients, couples canoodling of cannoli's, and old sad looking ladies with their dogs made me want to do more for myself. I deserved it. I'd been through depression, people! A jewelry vendor caught my eye. I walked over, and the lady behind the table told me that they could customize pieces while I waited.

Looking over their massive array of natural, polished stones, I noted that they had several rose quartz pieces. As a teenager, I became fascinated with the idea that certain stones represent certain things, and can create a certain energy if you wear them upon your person. Thirteen year old me started collecting rose quartz, which was supposed to draw love to the owner. During this period of my life, I also wrote intolerable sappy poetry. Here's a sample.

As I look into the sunken eyes
Of the one I hold so dear
I suddenly find sweet release
From unrelinquished tears
His sweet smile, but a shadow
On his work and haggard face
He looks at me with love so strong
And lets out a sigh
And with a weak squeeze of my hand
My love, he says goodbye.

Yeah. Melodramatic, much? Granted I had just lost both of my grandfathers to cancer, but still. A little odd.

So, back to adult Lauren, who is standing at this booth. Single. Still dramatic. Still wanting romance and love to come into her life. Waiting for an epic something to come around.

So, adult Lauren bought a ring. With a stone intended to attract love to her. And she's wearing it, now, as she types this blog. It's on the middle finger of her left hand, the side that is closest to the heart.

Shortly after her purchase, she also got her shoulder length hair caught in her lip gloss. And immediately went to the salon to chop it all off.

Adult Lauren has problems. And I guess admitting it, on a blog, for all the world to see, is a step towards dealing with those problems.

Til next time. I'm off to go and get some lavender and sage to smudge myself. Get rid of the bad juju to open myself up for a new start. And maybe I'll start working on this personality (which may be the real reason I am single to this day.)

Waka waka.