Thursday, May 6, 2010

Ack I've been tagged!

I was tagged by a fellow YA writer and blogger, Miss Kierah Jane:

So, that means that I have to answer all these questions, and tag five fellow bloggers, who also have to answer these questions. (Crap, I don't even know five fellow bloggers! Except Carly. HA! I am totally tagging your *ss! time to come out of the blogger closet...mwahahaha!)

Question 1: Where were you five years ago?
1. About 6 months pregnant with my son.
2. Training for a job as a Service Representative with SSA.
3. Getting ready for Jenny's Bachellorette party in San Diego (we went to Temecula and I couldn't DRINK! AHHHHHH!!)
4. Living in a much smaller house (less than half the size of my house now)
5. Adjusting to being a newlywed, new hire, and getting used to the concept of being a parent (still adjusting).

Question 2: Where would you like to be in five years?
1. A published writer.
2. Alive and happy.
3. Debt free.
4. No longer paying an arm and leg for daycare (yippee!)
5. Going to Temecula and actually tasting the wine!

Question 3: What is your to-do list today?
1. Go to work, get all those pesky manual paper inputs done. Yuck! (half done)
2. Register Cole for kindergarten. (done!)
3. Blog. (doing!)
4. Put away some freaking laundry. Yes, "freaking laundry" is the technical term for the massive amounts of laundry my family produces on a regular basis. (Plan on doing after this)
5. Revise more chapter two of my novel so I can post it on my favorite Writers Extreme Forum! (SO not going to happen at this point in the day)

Question 4: What snacks do you enjoy?
1. Bagel with bacon and cream cheese (thank you Meg Cabot)
2. Nachos
3. Potstickers
4. Reeses Pieces
5. Flavored Fritos (they have like 400 million grams of fat. That's why they are SO GOOD!)

Question 5: What five things would you do if you were a billionaire?
1. Give some to a charity for disabled children. Maybe UC Davis.
2. Pay off bills, buy house in town.
3. Travel. A LOT. With my family. I want my kids to see how the rest of the world lives.
4. Quit my job, write full time.
5. Live in an Ashram in India for a few months.

Now it's Carly's turn! Visit her blog at:

She's a really great writer, even if she won't cop to it ;)

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Sometimes I give myself the creeps

Some memories remain intact because they are milestones: first kiss, graduation, wedding, birth, death. Other memories are sustained by our perception of them: a great night out (or a really awful one), a trip somewhere, a fantastic concert.

But, sometimes, a seemingly innocuous event is branded into your memory like a tattoo. An outsider observing the memory may think it is nothing. Forgettable. But you know better.

When I was thirteen, my mother separated from my abusive, most likely clinically insane step-father. She sent me to stay with my uncle in southern California for the summer, while she and my sister moved our belongings out of his house.

When I came back to Reno from SoCal, summer was almost over, and I was getting ready to start my freshman year of high school. We had moved into a small property close to the UNR campus. It had two bedrooms, one bathroom. My sister got one bedroom. My mother got the other bedroom, that was adjacent to the bathroom.

I got the dining room.

I had one door leading to my sister's room, one door leading to my mother's room, and an open doorway (no physical door necessary) that led into the kitchen.

Privacy? Nil. For a thirteen year old girl? Absolute torture.

The week before school started, there was a morning where I had the whole house to myself. My mom was working, my sister was probably off with one of her boyfriends, and I decided to remove myself from my multi-doorwayed room to my mother's much more secluded room. Just because.

I was laying in the bed, half alseep, when I heard a girl's voice. Probably someone a few years older than me. Her voice grew louder and clearer as she moved down the alleyway, and then passed our house. She was singing.

Sometimes I give myself the creeps. Sometimes my mind plays tricks on me. It all keeps adding up, I think I'm cracking up...

I remember laying there thinking: what a weird song. It made me laugh, a little. And then I remember thinking, it sucks that I don't have a room. But, it could be worse. I could be living with the stepmonster. I was lucky I had my mom, and my sister (who hated me, but I still worshipped anyways).

At that moment I knew, somehow, that things would get better, eventually. And they did.

Now, every time I hear that song, I think about that moment, and about how sometimes things really suck, but then they get better.

Thank you, Green Day.