Note to Self (212) I Don’t Feel It Anymore

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I like this song by William Fitzsimmons. I listen to it all the time when I’m at work. So soothing. I always switch between crazy-hardcore-metal-grunge-techno-music-that-makes-you-deaf-if-you-stand-too-close-to-the-speaker and ultra-soothing-put-me-to-sleep-lullabies because I enjoy my extremes, what else can I say? There’s never a middle ground with me. Like my friend asked me to go for a walk, and I thought we’d be strolling around the park but we ended up walking like five or six miles all the way midtown. My foot hurts now – huge blister – I know, it’s my fault for not wearing the right shoes. Snow boots aren’t made for seven mile hikes. How many pairs of shoes have I worn out since living here? A lot.

We had dinner at this German restaurant yesterday and honestly, the food was alright but not great. Being half-German makes me a picky eater. The strudel was good though. I like strudel. My mom used to make this huge strudel with almonds and apples and cinnamon, and she glazed it with sugar and it tasted so delicious. It would take her hours to make it, but heck, that was worth it.

Strudel is delicious. So are chocolate chip cookies and Jolly Rancher candy, preferably sweet and sour apple. Yum!!! I’m excited for Easter, because I’m going on a road trip. Ah! Finally, I can take my car for a sweet ride.

Road trips are the best. I remember driving my Fiat Seicento – it’s really a small car, Google it – everywhere, and I transported tons of luggage, and five people in it. That car went through storms and let me down only a couple of times when the battery died and I had to get it towed. Between you and me, Italian engineering isn’t the most reliable on the planet.

I watched the most unappealing stuff on the internet yesterday – the Houston 500 – again Google it if you don’t know what I’m talking about – and gosh, porn is just gross. I don’t get it. How can a girl let 500 dudes stick it in her and finish all over her like she’s some piece of meat? Talk about objectification of the woman body. Gee, we’re never gonna go anywhere if guys think a girl is only good to be a receptacle for their crap. I know not everyone thinks this way, but truly, watching this is like watching a really boring low-budget horror movie. If these dudes got their heads cut off at the end of each take, just like a praying mantis, heck, I’d be more entertained. This world is just weird. I’m not supposed to understand everything, and as frustrating as it can be because I’d love to know everything there is to know about everything, I really don’t get porn. UGH.

Oh well. Let’s move on to something more exciting. Like Mondays! And a huge cup of coffee with a chocolate munchkin.

Ah much better.

 

Note to Self (211) Butler, please!

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Blue finger nails, looking electric in the winter cold. I’m awaiting the change of season, eager to drop my coat and finally stop shivering at every street corner when the wind blows so hard it makes me fly instead of walking. How long has it been? Years since I’ve felt the warm sunlight on my skin? It seems that way. Who moves to NYC for the weather, you’re gonna ask?

Growing up on the French Riviera and moving to NYC was definitely a drastic change. I was used to 350 days of sunlight, and temperatures averaging 50-60 degrees all year long. Sure, the summer is super hot, and most people stay inside in the afternoon, but I went to the beach, and looked tanner than I do now. My walks consisted of long strolls by the water, crystal blue on the nicest day, and swims along the shore for hours. I certainly miss that luxury.

But today, I can’t complain about where I live. Sure, it’s freezing outside. And the subway ride feels like a trip to the underworld. This guy plays the guitar and displays this sign in his guitar case that says “the wheel is still spinning but the hamster is dead”. Tourists love that kind of stuff. I also see this lady who sits under this big pillar and sings gospel because the sound is particularly great in this exact spot. I sometimes wonder whether people fight over spots in the subway station. They definitely need some sort of authorization to stand for hours in the same area, and the crowded ones where they can get the most views and tips. Last weekend, some hip hop crews kept dancing to the beat of Michael Jackson’s oldies. It was fun to watch. I usually never take the time to stop and appreciate the art because I’m always in a hurry, but outsiders love the free entertainment. Certainly makes for great amateurish out of focus Youtube videos.

I walked five miles in the park yesterday, and then decided to get a manicure because my hands were frozen. My brain runs on a weird logic sometimes. My blue polish is called “Butler, please!”. No idea who came up with the name, but I loved it, so I painted my claws with it! If someone asks me why, I’ll just reply I needed to uplift my spirits because the hamster’s dead.

That electronic cigarette I bought the other day is the best thing ever! I quit smoking a while back, because smoking is bad for you. The tar, and the smell, and the whole coughing-tuberculosis-I’m gonna-die-within-the-next-thirty-seconds weren’t sexy at all. But now? Heck, I get the nicotine rush without having to stink! Yeep! And I can still exercise and not feel any of the effects. It’s nice. Must come with a price though. Usually nothing is harmless. Even eating a ton of lettuce isn’t harmless. Although lettuce looks pretty harmless to me.

The air we breathe, and the water we drink are contaminated somehow anyway. I remember being a kid after the nuclear plant blew up in Chernobyl, and the radioactive cloud passed over Western Europe, rain pouring on fields and contaminating everything. I must have drunk that stuff in my breast milk, maybe that’s the reason why I got a spider in my brain.

Butler, please! I need a giant ice coffee to wake me up! And a big furry hand-warmer too! Preferably pink. Pink looks good. Spring’s almost there. In two months, I’ll be sweating, but inside my office, I’ll keep the space heater on because I’m a chronic sufferer of climate control issues. Being a woman is just so precious.

Note to Self (210) The Wheels Are Spinning

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There’s a spider in my brain. It eats and crawls through all the cells and drives me completely insane. I hate spiders. How did this one get stuck in there? Maybe it was always there, and I never took a close look at it because I was too busy throwing a pity party for myself. Ugh. Make this ruckus stop! I need to stop getting mad and focus on the positive. Great day today. This bitch on the parking lot was in the way and got angry because I told her to move her big fat SUV. Road rage is the worst. Then a Smart car drives down the road as I cross the street and it makes me think of a box on wheels, not really cute, not really manly looking, just a plain box on wheels that would tip over when the wind blows too hard. And the worst is when people think they’re so smart because they own a Smart car, and park it vertically instead of horizontally, because they think they’re saving space, but how do they open the doors?? No wonder it’s impossible to keep a car free of dents in this town.

The spider is talking to me and all the voices in my head tell me to follow my instincts, but I tell them to shut up because my instincts suck right now. Like I want to go on a date, but I can’t because I’m gonna mess it all up and afterwards will end up crying on my pillow-pet and wonder why my life is so miserable. Dating is so hard. It’d be easier if I didn’t have this spider in my brain though. The spider whispers strange things to me. Like it’s okay to go out and party. And drink a lot. Shush spider, I’m trying to be reasonable and take control of my life!

The world doesn’t look interesting through a pair of regular glasses. I need my broken fishbowl lens to see things the way they truly are. So complicated. I can’t get mad without wanting to choke a bitch and I can’t get happy without wanting to jump up and down like a five-year old! My filters are gone. My feelings are so raw, and they hurt, and they scream, and the spider doesn’t leave me alone! Go away, dammit!

Breathe. One, two, three. I’d like me some chocolate. Ummm. Hungry. Let’s make dinner. The spider stops talking when her mouth is full.

And next time I see this guy at work who keeps bugging me to double-check his work because he doesn’t know what he’s doing, I’m gonna kindly tell him to back off. And I’m putting the effort on kindly. I swear, not getting mad these days is an awful lot of work.

Note to Self (209) Who killed Kenny?

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This time change is killing me. Heck, I love to exit work at night and enjoy a little bit more of daylight, but honestly, my mornings are rough. I’m crawling out of bed, pushing the snooze button until my guilty conscience tells me to get the eff up and jump in the shower, which I do, after feeding my cat because feeding the cat comes first.

The rest of the morning flies by, I walk like a robot to the subway station, my brain aching for a 20 oz. cup of ice coffee. I have no idea since when I decided to love coffee, but the less I sleep, the more I crave it. The subway doesn’t come on time. My phone’s acting up. This new Android software upgrade is driving me bananas. Do I really have to get an Iphone? I so don’t want to.

Life. I try to think of something funny on the train, while multitasking on the latest chapter of my Death By Chocolate adventure. This guy sitting down next to me seems to be enjoying his music. His headphones are so big they look like Mickey Mouse ears. And this girl is wearing neon from head to toe, nail polish and glasses frames included. That other one is smoking his electronic cigarette – that stuff is better than sliced bread! Talk about freedom. Now smokers can smoke anywhere and not bother anyone else because the vapor doesn’t smell. Technology’s nice.

This Eminem song is blasting on my Ipod.

Every flow, got it mastered, so

Every last word that you fuckin’ fags heard

Comes straight from the fish’s ass

Yeah, in other words I’m a “bass-turd”

Looking at me like I killed Kenny

Gas in the tank? Yeah, still plenty

Eminem always helps put me in a good mood. Exactly what I need to get my day going. My eyelids keep shutting and all I want is to fall back asleep. So beautiful out. Maybe I could go for a walk and sit down on a bench, people watch, and take a nap? Gosh, I’m exhausted.

A few more steps and I’m here. Card-key in the reader, the elevators open and I climb to the top of my dungeon for ten full hours. Ummm.

I miss my pillow.

Note to Self (208) Terrible Tuesdays

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It has come to this. A weird rainy afternoon, with my purple rainboots, walking across puddles, not even protecting myself with an umbrella. But why do I need an umbrella if the hood of my coat is big enough to shield me from the rain? I guess if I had an umbrella, I could poke a few eyes out on my way. Small joys really.

The city has awoken. Tourists swarm around the billboards of Times Square and I dodge them like I’d dodge flying balls, it almost has become a skill not to run into people while texting on my cellphone. Can I add that to my resume? I’m very good at it. My word against everyone else’s.

Being great at texting while walking doesn’t seem too hard to achieve with 100% success rate though. Look at the guy behind the window at Starbucks who’s preparing coffee. I’m pretty sure if we had a texting while walking contest he’d beat me.

So what else am I good at?

I need to draw attention to these words, make people aware of my raw talent, show them stuff they haven’t seen before. Maybe I should reinvent the wheel, or repackage it, however you want to look at it. Not easy to be an artist out there. The funny and the lame stand together on opposite sides of the sidewalk. They see each other every day, mimic each other, hate each other. One is successful, and the other isn’t. What makes them so great and so awful? The talent is there, and then lots of work is added to the pile of inspirational ideas – a million of them end up in the garbage too.

I give myself a few seconds every day to be genius. It doesn’t come easy. And my genius remains unnoticed half the time. That’s okay. As long as I keep going at it, I’ll be good at it. Or I’ll just be good. Thanks for the tip Lil Wayne.

Another skill I have to develop is how to refrain myself from lashing out at people – mainly because they block the entrance to the subway or the grocery store – and usually any spot that couldn’t be more inconvenient. Do they have an app I can use to tell people to eff off without them getting mad at me? Maybe something with ultrasound that instantly triggers the muscles in their legs. That kind of technology would be nice.

Instead, I have to learn patience. And cut down the sarcasm so I don’t sound like a frustrated bitch. Um. I really like my sarcasm though. This girl at the corner looks so pretty today, especially because her headband matches her rainboots. I see she put a lot of effort into this. And then this bum comes begging for change again. Sorry. I’m broke today. Had to pay way too many bills yesterday.

Another dawn, another day. Maybe a little UFO will fall from the sky and pick me up on the way, take me somewhere happy and warm. Bond fire, good jokes, lots of oatmeal raisin cookies and doggies to play fetch with. That sounds like an awesome time to me. I don’t need to pack much. I’m ready for boarding now.

I promise to be nice. At least I promise to try to be nice. Can’t be too demanding. I’m only at the beginning. Is someone breaking a hole with a stapler on the other side of the wall? Where’s my privacy guys?

Just be good. The rest shall come later.

Note to Self (207) It’s a matter of life and death

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I haven’t been very active on this platform and I sincerely apologize, but I have been extremely busy dealing with a few pressing projects. I’m working on the second volume of Death by Chocolate, and honestly, I wouldn’t have thought it’d be so difficult to finish this story. No idea whether it was easier to write drunk, or whether I’m stuck because this story is too complex to be finished in one night, but I’m struggling. That’s alright, I still find the time to write, and it will be done very soon. I’d expect a release this summer.

My other project The Manicheans will also become my daily routine because this one has been dormant for over two years and the first volume has been rewritten at least five times by now. It’s screaming to be published. So I’m going to tackle this project as soon as Death by Chocolate is completed.

If you haven’t had a chance to get your copy of Death by Chocolate, please visit Amazon or Barnes and Noble. The current edition is available as an e-book, but I expect to release the full copy of Death by Chocolate – Vol 1 and 2 – as one big book and you’ll get the chance to actually buy a physical copy.

I’m pasting the links to Amazon and Barnes and Noble. Grab a copy and leave a review! I’d really appreciate your feedback.

If you don’t know what Death by Chocolate is about, watch the trailer below! Catch you later guys!

Wilde’s Fire by Krystal Wade #Promotional Event

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Wilde’s Fire is FREE!WF

March 4th – 6th only, the unforgettable fantasy, Wilde’s Fire, will be Free on Amazon! Make sure you download your copy and tell all you friends!

LINK TO AMAZON: http://www.amazon.com/Wildes-Fire-Darkness-Falls-ebook/dp/B0082RBAXE/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1361805147&sr=8-2&keywords=wilde%27s+fire

“An unforgettable experience in magic, adventure, and love. I was immediately captivated by the story and couldn’t stop turning pages.”  – Vicki Keire, Best-Selling YA Author

“Krystal Wade’s world of war, prophecy, and darkness takes readers on a twisting journey where the fate of a people is at stake and, through courage and faith, love and peace are the ultimate reward. If you’re a fan of YA fantasy, look no further than Krystal Wade’s debut novel WILDE’S FIRE.” – Sarah Balance, Romance Author

“There is no pain in this death, only peace, knowing I am going to die with the one I love the most.” – Katriona Wilde.

Katriona Wilde has never wondered what it would feel like to have everything she’s ever known and loved ripped away, but she is about to find out. When she inadvertently leads her sister and best friend through a portal into a world she’s dreamed of for six years, she finds herself faced with more than just the frightening creatures in front of her. Kate’s forced to accept a new truth: her entire life has been a lie, and those closest to her have betrayed her. What’s worse, she has no control over her new future, and it’s full of magic and horrors from which nightmares are made.

Will Kate discover and learn to control who she really is in time to save the ones she loves, or will all be lost?

Krystal Wade can be found in the sluglines outside Washington D.C. every morning, Monday through Friday. With coffee in hand, iPod plugged in, and strangers–who sometimes snore, smell, or have incredibly bad gas–sitting next to her, she zones out and thinks of fantastical worlds for you and me to read. How else can she cope with a fifty mile commute?

Good thing she has her husband and three kids to go home to.

They keep her sane.ME

www.krystal-wade.com

www.facebook.com/author.krystalwade

Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5773867.Krystal_Wade

@krystalwade

#Indielicious Death By Chocolate

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Oh, Sunday!! This week flew by faster than I thought. Based on the feedback of the past few weeks, I can tell you’re enjoying Julie’s gullible tribulations… Hehe. We’ll see how she grows up in the upcoming chapters then. A little excerpt for you to enjoy!

***

We went fast. Really fast. Everything around me became a gigantic blur, just like catching a glimpse of a speeding car on the left lane on the freeway.

We were literally flying through trees and bushes. The boy held my left hand while my right hand held the box of chocolates. I couldn’t let go of it, even if I wanted to. Maybe my fingers were glued to it or something. Mostly, I couldn’t wrap my head around what just happened! First, I woke up in a place I didn’t recognize. Second, my encounter with another human being started with the word “run”. Third, I had no clue how or why I was able to sprint as though I didn’t feel my legs. I’ve never been good at running. Ever.

I stared ahead and all I saw was a warp of green, brown and white flash around me. The boy didn’t slow down or stop but strangely enough, my heartbeat remained calm and steady. I wasn’t panting. I wasn’t tired. No air hit me in the face. It was as if I stood behind an invisible shield, and was transported from one place to the next like on a train or an airplane. My run felt effortless.

My mind, on the other hand, was all over the place. So I focused on the movements of the muscles in the boy’s back, which strangely reminded me of Mark without a thing on him. Tall and slender, my ex hated exercising, but a two-packs-a-day habit does do wonders for metabolism…not to mention a bucketful of other stuff that makes me angry just thinking about it. Don’t get me wrong. Mark’s a smart guy, but did he have some serious issues! How did I fall for him? I’m not sure anymore. His smile, his glance, everything about him cried for my attention, and love never gives a warning.

Okay, the scenery was gorgeous. The aforementioned muscles rocked. Why was I still thinking about Mark?

When we finally stopped running like torpedoes, the low murmur of waves hitting the shore brought me back to a place dear to my childhood. Sand stretched for miles on a deserted beach that strangely reminded me of Oceanside, California, where I used to live until I was about fifteen.

“Where are we?” The water formed a perfect mirror that reflected the brightest sunlight.

“We gotta go!” The boy pulled on my hand but I didn’t move an inch.

“I’m thirsty.”

“Really?” The boy puffed. “There’s water here.” He pointed ahead of him.

“Oh yeah?” I puffed right back, “Where do you think I’m from?” and held his stare until he looked down.

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Where do you come from?” He tilted his head just enough to glance at me, and I caught a mocking spark in his eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I slowly started to feel uncomfortable. “Where are we?”

“If we stay here, we’re going to get killed.”

“That’s hilarious. And who’s going to kill us?”

“You don’t want to know.”

His somber gaze ratcheted up my uneasiness. “What’s your name?” I barely managed before my legs wobbled under me.

He quickly grabbed my waist to keep me steady. My vision blurred.

“What’s happening to me…” I slurred.

“We need to find shelter, and then we talk. Deal?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

I closed my eyes.

“You’re shivering.”

Oh, who were you, my beautiful stranger? Were you sent to guide me to the holy gates of heaven on my last day?

The weight of my body dragged me to the ground to a crescendo of pain filling my head.

“I’ll take care of you,” I heard him whisper in my ear before my whole world turned black.

***

Check back next week for more!! And don’t forget to check the other participant’s blogs.

Meet Kiki Reynolds my alter ego – Episode 14: Kiki Goes to Rehab #KikiReynolds

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Freshly turned thirty years old, living in New York City, Kiki likes to tell her life adventures one day at a time. Nothing fancy, nothing crazy, just the reminiscences of a girl whose spirit remains untamed, no matter what other people do to change that. Kiki’s proud to be a loner. Well, except when it’s Friday night and she’s downing scotch only to wake up six hours later with the worst hangover. Kiki should stay away from the scotch. And mean girls. And guys who think like stray dogs. Um so much work to do… Kiki’s slowly learning how to be a lady in this world of sharks.

Episode 1:

Happy birthday Kiki.

Episode 14:

Kiki goes to rehab

#Indielicious Death By Chocolate

Indielicious, Writing6 Comments

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Oh, Sunday!! How did you like Death by Chocolate last time? This week, I’m giving you a lil bit more about Julie and her interesting encounter with a very cute boy…

Enjoy!

***

“I have something else for you. It will help you find the truth.” She walked to a cabinet. I heard her rummage for something. Lovely, what else would she pull from her magic hat this time? After minutes that felt like hours, she came back with a red heart shaped box wrapped with a bow.

“For you.” She handed me the box.

“What is it?”

“Open.”

I untied the bow and pulled the lid. Chocolates? How long did she keep them in her cupboard? Years?

“Eat one now,” she ordered.

“I’m not hungry.” I stood but she pushed me back down and removed the lid.

“Eat.”

I watched the expression on her face and instantly knew she wasn’t joking. Honestly, I could knock out the rest of her teeth if I tried hard enough. I even mentally prepared myself to land a jab right on her chin if she pulled a knife from her back pocket. But she wore a dress, so would she even have a back pocket? I took a deep breath.

Hitting her would cause even more problems than I already had. Was she worth the trouble? Her eyes were boring into my brain.

Fine! I’d eat the stupid thing, then go!

She stood next to me while I chewed. Well… after consideration, that tasted good, and bitter was my favorite!

I finished and glanced at her. “Ok, I’m gonna go. Thanks for the reading,” I said, but before I could hear her answer, the tiredness dropped me like a rock.

***

I woke up in the middle of a meadow, and didn’t recognize where I was.

What the…? Where was the Gypsy’s apartment? The old witch poisoned me, and I was dead! I knew it! Talk about a lucky day! I started pounding the ground with my fists. This had become ridiculous. My life had turned into a freaking soap opera.

I didn’t stop hitting the earth until my hands hurt. Anger coursed through my body so hard, I was shaking like a leaf. Tears streamed down my face. I cursed and screamed. Would anyone hear me? At that point, it didn’t matter. As I looked around, I saw trees on the horizon. A forest? No clue.

Where could I go? The air felt somewhat chilly. My jacket was in the car. Okay… now where was my car? Oh yeah, if I was dead, I didn’t need a car anymore. How on earth…? Something was moving in the woods. That something was coming in my direction. I squinted. That something was actually someone and that someone looked like a boy.

Okay… He ran toward me, fast. The boy opened his mouth and said something, but I didn’t understand a word. The closer he got, the more I took in the sight of him. His dark hair glistened against his olive skin. His shirtless body was tall and strong, and his muscles flexed as he ran faster, closer.

The boy yelled something. It sounded like “un”.

For a moment I forgot all about my frustration. Instead, I quickly rearranged my hair, smiled, and waved. “Hey!”

Maybe I wasn’t dead, after all, and I was just dreaming. Well, excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but the boy in my dream looked stunning!

He reached me, and I stared into the most beautiful pair of green eyes… Squirm. Did I really squirm?

To my astonishment, he leapt like a jaguar and grabbed my arm in the process. “Run!” he yelled and pulled me off the ground like I weighed nothing.

Why did he say such a thing? I didn’t find the time to question his action because the look on his face was enough to convince me.

So, I ran too.

***

Check back next week for more!! And don’t forget to check the other participant’s blogs.