The world of Jenny Mac


It’s been a while since I’ve done any sort of Jenny Mac post. The main reason for that is because I think that the story has so much potential, and that I might accidentally give too much away.

However, I want to keep everyone in the loop or rather keep you wanting/needing to know more. So as carefully as I can manage, I’m going to introduce you to her world.

 

One of my biggest influences for this story has been the 2016 Presidential Election, amongst others would be, WW2, The Civil Rights movement, as well as the assassination of JFK. It’s these combining factors of these events that I began to dive head first, into Jenny’s world.  With this in mind, I’d like to throw a few questions at you…

What if world peace were possible?

Could it remain at peace, or would evil forces destroy it?

How would humanity cope?

What would the world turn in to?

And… Could world peace be salvaged?

These questions are all still bouncing around in my head, along with a billion others, but the question that had been popping up the most was… What if world peace were possible? That was a question that took me a while to wrap my head around, because after all, how would something as wonderful as that come to be? Then like the most interesting ideas tend to do, it hit me (with the force of a freight train.) It would have to be an organization whose sole purpose is to better humanity. I don’t want to give you the name of the organization, but I’m sure that you could pinpoint the organization of which I am referring. It is from this organization that my own little organization is born, the WIA aka the World Investigation Agency. Their job is to help end fighting. This could stem from a dispute between a country’s government and their citizens, to arguments pertaining to or have the possibility to lead to  war. If my protagonist group can aid humanity in settling their difference, then in the book they may actually have a shot at world peace.

If world peace did prove to be a successful venture, then could it be taken away? In fiction there’s a rule, if something good comes up, then it must come down. If we didn’t have this rule, then there would no story. In any good or halfway decent story you want to see struggle, destruction, or the end to an era. If only to hope that the person, organization or what have you, can come back out on top. If world peace did occur, I could think of nothing better to destroy it than good old fashioned politics. My antagonist Joseph sees the world functioning in a different format, that could very well lead to the destruction of humanity.

What would the world/humanity transform into? I think if the antagonist were successful at carrying out his agenda, then the world might resemble a bit of the world we’re currently living in. Because if world peace were lost, then the trust and belief in humanity would be lost, so you’d wind up with loads of chaotic disasters, and people living in fear.

Could world peace be salvaged? This would depend upon whether the human race could pull themselves up and dust themselves off, and show that fighting spirit.

I know that there’s one other question that is undoubtedly floating around in your mind, and that would be, where would Jenny Mac mix in with all of this? Well that’s something that you would have to read to find out. Whenever I actually manage to finish the book and get it published that is.

 

Relapse


I’m in a cold sweat.

Missing your love, girl, I use to have no regrets.

Now I fall asleep, all alone in this queen-sized bed.

Going to bed never use to be something that I would dread.

But now I’m shakin’ drippin’ wet, in a cold sweat.

Searching for a temporary hit, but your body’s far too beautiful, not to miss.

Gotta get a fix, kiss, forshiz the taste of your lips, has got me caught up in a reminisce.

Quick gotta locate the off switch.

Logic is trying to override the cardiovascular system, but that beating muscle in my chest, cannot deny what it wants. So it overthrows what my logic already knows.

Lord knows I’ve tried to quit it and forget ya, but this love’s far too good, far too fanatically, amazing, that you’ve got me hooked.

Please allow me, one more night, one more time, where I’m all yours and you’re all mine. Then I swear that I’ll be fine.

Lord I miss those curves girl.

Tracing em always use to feel, oh so good girl.

Curling up with you all night.

Feelin’ that sweet spot every night, we’d be all night.

Lickin’ till my tongue numb.

Loving till the sun up.

I erupt, when you erupt.

So in tune, so in sync, when we make love.

Never in my life have I had such an adrenaline rush.

Endorphins equal true love.

Okay I admit it I’m addicted, flyin’ high, floating on cloud 9.

Wishing that I could go back to the days when you were all mine.

I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this one last night. This one last time shit, just ain’t gonna do. Now I don’t know what I’mma do, I’m relapsing; and now I’ve got to face reality. Deal with the fact that I lost you.

I’m having a relapse with you.

Going down, just thinking about you.

Hands are shakin’ and I’m, drippin’ wet in a cold sweat.

I never use to live in regret.

Now I’m running on fumes, and dammit I just want a fix, I need my hit.

Tie a band round my arm, pick a vein, hook me up, give me something to remember your touch.

Oh lord girl, I miss your touch. I never thought a break up could be so rough.

Damn girl I want your love.

Ooh, Ooh, Ooh.

I’m in a…

Cold sweat, drippin’ wet.

(Relapse.)

I’m having a.

(Relapse.)

Working Class Stiff


26 and blessed beyond my wildest dreams.

For almost a year, I’ve been living a circumstance that seems unrealistically fictitious.

From the house to the pre-owned above ground pool, I feel like I am constantly waking to a daydream.

As if at any given moment I’ll find myself, along with my family shoved back into reality.

Living back on McKinley; draggin’ home a fully loaded grocery cart from Target, legitimately starving, just trying to make it.

I think that I can vibe with Rowling’s skepticisms, for this new life, this new reality, I just cannot bring myself to accept it.

How’d I get here?

I know the answer’s logically sound, that every T’s been crossed, and every I dotted.

Still I can’t seem to shake this dreamy sensation, and I’m not even on any sort of medication.

(Chorus working class stiff, working class fam.

Where we never do things according to plan.

My mama never did live the life of a soccer mom, sporting the classic minivan.

Instead she played both of the roles as my mom and dad.

I remember her continuously teaching me how to work hard.

Each of us scrubbing toilets, making 25 dollars in two hours.

Putting a week’s pay toward the necessities.

We might have been flat broke, and could barely breathe, but at least we earned our keep.)

You on the other hand, have grown up with certain expectations, use to a certain level of comfort.

Creatures of habit, but let’s face it you’ve never once had it like we’ve had it.

You never once had to push, flush, rush, be constantly continuous, cause you’re not us.

Living on the wrong side of the tracks, dealing with those fucked up wacks. Never quite on track, putting up an act, without a single brain cell left intact.

I always felt kinda bad, even though their addictions were bad they’re still apart of the human race, yet Richie Rich bastards like yourselves, wouldn’t even care to remember their face.

Your heart’s are cold and twisted like a maze.

Unfortunate as it is, this is something that we can’t escape,

I hate the fact that you think, this is a part of my blood that I must – should embrace.

Honestly I hate to be the one to break it to ya, but all of your attempts are a waste.

I’m not high class, I’m working class all the way.

(Chorus working class stiff, working class fam.

Where we never do things according to plan.

My mama never did live the life of a soccer mom, sporting the classic minivan.

Instead she played both of the roles as my mom and dad.

I remember her continuously teaching me how to work hard.

Each of us scrubbing toilets, making 25 dollars in two hours.

Putting a week’s pay toward the necessities.

We might have been flat broke, and could barely breathe, but at least we earned our keep.)

What’s a matter Brown clan, afraid your cash won’t win my allegiance?

That my love for my working class blood, out ranks the family name?

What, can’t think of anything witty or intellectual to retort?

I gotta tell ya right now, living your way, your lifestyle would be my last resort.

So go ahead, play it safe, play your game, and we’ll all go our separate ways.

I’ll take my place as the little baa, baa, black sheep, with the high class fam, and stick forever close to my working class fam.

Because at least with them I know where I stand, forever a working class woman.

Contractor Don’ts


To be perfectly clear this post has to do with a contractor who really sucks at his job. This post is not meant to be a guide on which contractors to avoid, though you might take a tip or two away in this post.

I hired this contractor in late June to re-build my second story deck, which runs across the length of the back of my house. The old deck had seen its best days perhaps forty years ago. At first the guy seemed great, he had given me a good price and began to re-build the structure immediately. That first week was paradise he had the old deck torn down within three days max, and began to build the frames for the new deck.

As I said that first week paradise, now it’s August 9th and I don’t even have the flooring fully in, so now that you’ve gotten an idea of what I’ve been dealing with I’ll continue.

For privacy sake I’ll be using a different name for my crazy, nut job contractor, we’ll call him… Loony Larry, or just Larry for short.

Hmm, let’s see what was the first indication that Larry was indeed loony, ah yes the garage door moment.

Friday, 10:30AM, July 29th, location: driveway/garage.

I came around to the back of the house to ask Larry a question about the deck, I expected to find him up on the deck. Instead I find him sitting again one of my garage doors, with his radio sitting beside him. The radio was cranking out country music, I’m pretty sure I heard Reba McEntire’s For my broken heart playing.

Larry sits against the garage door, his face, the definition of gloom. The lyrics, (I guess the world won’t stop, for my broken heart.) Play on, making the gloom on his face even more defined. I approach him cautiously, for fear that I might be seeing apart of him that he wouldn’t want one of his customers to see; or at least I certainly wouldn’t if I were in his shoes. He looks up and sees me, suddenly I feel awkward, as if I’ve intruded on a private moment. But then the business side of my brain pops into play with, he shouldn’t be having a private moment while on the job site. This propels me forward and I stand near him waiting.

Larry: (Turns down the music) Sorry Chelsea, I’m just feeling a bit blue at the moment.

Me: (Can’t help feeling sympathetic, though I don’t even know why he’s depressed.) I’m sorry to here that.

Larry: (Kicks at a piece of gravel.) I’ve been working so much, and I guess I’m just worn down.

Me: We all get worn down, but I wouldn’t get depressed about it.

Larry: It’s not so much that, it’s really the fact that I had to fire one of my guys last week, for stealing tools.

Me: (I have heard this story a dozen times since the termination of the employee’s position. I know the details so well, that I could recite them. So I do; out of pure annoyance and frustration.) I know the guy worked with you for years, and you’ve known him since you did flooring installs for Bob’s furniture. But the guy can’t have been that great if he stole from you.

Larry: (sighs.) I know you’re right, but he was a good friend, and I miss him.

Me: (I feel the need to repeat the last bits of what I just said to him, but decide not to because he’ll yammer on and on about the guy, and all I want Larry to do is get to work on the deck.) Say you know what would help take those blues away? (He looks at me perplexedly, then shakes his head.) Good old fashioned hard work, so roll up those sleeves, and I bet you’ll be feeling better before you know it.

Larry: You know something Chelsea, I haven’t had to use. (He raises his fists.) Old Betsy, and Bertha, since I was in high school. We’re talking fifteen years.

Me: (Tried as I might to avoid this, he’s started to yammer, great.) I’m sure that fight is a hard thing to come to terms with. But I’m telling you the kind of work that you do, building things, that probably just makes you feel so good, and releases your tensions. Perhaps I’ll join you up there, that is if I weren’t afraid of heights.

Larry: Chels you’re gay right?

Me: (wondering what in the hell my sexuality has to do with this conversation?) Yes, why?

Larry: (beginning to sob.) I- I- was just wondering if you could tell me why guys are so mean?

Me: (He’s joking right?) Well that’s hard to say considering I’m a lesbian and have never dated guys.

Larry: (Now sobbing into my shoulder.) It just sucks, why can’t you just be able to trust an employee anymore? Why would they just rob you blind, I mean he was paid a decent wage.

Me: (Creeped out and losing my patience.) Sometimes people just suck and you just need to get over it. (I pick up his hammer and hand it to him.) I’ve got to get going, so you should get back to work on the flooring install of the deck.

Larry: Yeah, I should. (He begins to sob again.)

Me: (For Christ sake.) What now?

Larry: Nothing, it just, this was Kevin’s hammer.

Me: Look there’s another hammer in the garage, I’ll be by later to see how things are progressing.

It’s ten days later and I’m still waiting for him to finish the flooring, but he has at least attached all of the railing and some of the stairs. Apparently I attract the same type of contractors as the type women that I date, both are crazy, and are full of excuses, and are extremely lazy.

 

 

Labels


I’ve had this post/vent on my mind on and off for a few months now. What finally lead me to blog about it is my current excursion into this dating app that I’m trying out.

One of the questionnaires that you have the option to answer is regarding your sexuality. For instance, are you a? Lesbian, bisexual, pan sexual, Gender fluid, demisexual, transgender, etc. This got me thinking, why in the hell are we using so many different labels? For instance the use of pan sexuality, why not just say that your bi, because your are basically attracted to both genders. Or better yet why don’t we just stop using all of these labels? If you’re a man who happens to be attracted to men; why couldn’t you say I prefer the company of men, and just drop the “I’m gay.”

Perhaps it’s because as human beings we cannot resist the urge of defining who we are. Or is it perhaps society? To make this world function properly we must have a name, a word, or a label for every single thing. Or perhaps it’s the fact that Obama’s term is coming to a close and we may very well be subjected to the horror of having a President Trump; who plans on overruling the supreme court’s marriage equality decision. Whatever the reason behind the labeling, I wish that we didn’t have the need for them, because we all are human and I’d like to think that we’ve progressed, minus the fact that we have a life size troll doll running for office.

 

Stephen King’s Carrie


 

Stephen King’s legendary debut, about a teenage outcast and the revenge she enacts on her classmates.
 
Carrie White may have been unfashionable and unpopular, but she had a gift. Carrie could make things move by concentrating on them. A candle would fall. A door would lock. This was her power and her sin. Then, an act of kindness, as spontaneous as the vicious taunts of her classmates, offered Carrie a chance to be a normal and go to her senior prom. But another act—of ferocious cruelty—turned her gift into a weapon of horror and destruction that her classmates would never forget.

 

Carrie, the first novel that we saw from Stephen King.

I had received this as a Christmas gift from my sister, and had gobbled the book down by mid-January.

This book drew me in, with Carrie’s telekinetic ability; along with her backstory. There’s just something about a God crazed mother and her manic parental practices, that not only keeps you reading, but makes you feel for Carrie white’s home life situation.

What propels the story forward is pure jealously mixed together with spoiled brat syndrome from the main antagonist Chris. Her desire to taunt Carrie White lands her in detention where she discovers she will not be permitted to attend her senior prom as she had been planning.

What follows is a most cruel plot to ruin Carrie White, but might actually blow up in her own face.

It’s a story of revenge, on all sides of the spectrum, which leaves a mark on the townsfolk of Chamberlain.

The story is gripping the only down side to it, is the back and forth between the action and the stories from the townsfolk. One moment you’re smackdab right in the middle of the action and things are really beginning to heat up; and then with a flip of the page, or end of the chapter. You’re reading sworn testimony by an onlooker, or a neighbor of the White’s. It was quite a bit of stop and go, though it was necessary I really felt that it took away from the excitement, you’d go from 60mph to 5mph and then back up again. He more than likely was going for that sort of roller coaster effect, but for me it had the opposite effect.

All in all, the story was pretty good and I can see why it became such a must read at the time of its publication, and why it’s now considered a classic Stephen King read. It’s one of those rare titles that’s definitely worth rereading.

Twilight: New Moon


New moonFor Bella Swan, there is one thing more important than life itself: Edward Cullen. But being in love with a vampire is more dangerous than Bella ever could have imagined. Edward has already rescued Bella from the clutches of an evil vampire, but now, as their daring relationship threatens all that is near and dear to them, they realize their troubles may just be beginning….

Legions of readers entranced by the New York Times bestseller Twilight are hungry for more, and they won’t be disappointed by this gripping sequel. In New Moon, Stephenie Meyer delivers another irresistible combination of romance and suspense with a supernatural twist. Passionate, riveting, and deeply moving, this vampire love saga is well on its way to literary immortality.

 

You may be wondering why I have decided to review the second book in the saga, instead of the first? The reason being was that this book in comparison to the rest, was so depressing. It was one of those reads where you’re thankful above all else that it’s over.

In the first book we become acquainted with the first sparks of first love, which is so exciting; with its new/unexplored experiences. The first kiss, first hand holding, secrets shared, or in this case secrets found out by Bella, from her friend Jacob. Going into New Moon you know that the love between Edward and Bella would surely have its obstacles given Edward’s vampire background, along with the danger that Bella faced in the first book. What I did not expect was the sudden vanishing of Edward from Bella’s life. It’s the suddenness of Edward’s departure that both Bella and Edward begin to slip into the cloud of depression.

It’s a difficult process when the first love ends, even when the reasoning behind the split is with good intentions. In this book it proves to be impossible to get over. There’s a few tilts of the hat toward Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Personally from a writer’s point of view, I think that Stephenie Meyer might have been curious to see how Romeo and Juliet would have turned out in this day and age; mixing it all up with vampires and Werewolves. It was interesting but as I said before, it was also depressing. Bella remains trapped in this fog of despair that only Jacob can somewhat pull her out of. There was also a lot of contemplation of suicide, which rubbed me the wrong way. But then again, the mere idea of teenage suicide saddens me. Perhaps Meyer was trying to put in a clear message that suicide and the heartbreak of first love should never go together. Or maybe it was just the modern day spinoff of Romeo and Juliet; of which the thoughts stemmed from. It keeps you turning the pages, and you’ll let out a sigh of relief once you reach the end of the book, but it wouldn’t be a book that I’d want to read more than once. The other books I could, but this one not so much.