Just a thought

we have to be whoever the fuck we are


life is a blur

dreams are life

mystery and darkness and strange lonely souls are what makes me weep

near death, if the only life"

Shades of Black story by Evana Vleck

She says I look sexy like this, you know with messy hair and all. The fucking humidity has been murderous on my hair, but actually bringing out my natural curl and wave, so if you run into me, I might look a bit different because of it.
It’s not that I try to hide my curl, it’s just that its an uneven curl. Some parts of my hair will remain straight, other parts wavy or curly…all depending upon the weather and that isn’t a good thing, because we have hot weather here where I live, and it’s so hard to get your hair to look and act decent in these awful weather conditions. Well, she says I look sexy, and that makes me feel better about the situation, and needless to say I shouldn’t worry too much about it.

She’s attracted to me. She is, and I’m not to her. Not in the least, I don’t care how sultry her lips are when she says my name, and I pay no attention to her perfectly painted nails – black nail polish is like a godsend to me, really. I love it – no matter who or what, I just find it so sensual. Anyway, her nails don’t matter to me, or the way she tosses her hair in that flirty little way when I walk up to the counter.

“Good morning” says Darcy

“Good morning to you” I said

“Let me guess…large decaf, medium chai with skim, green tea (unsweet), and a cranberry muffin?” asks Darcy

“You are good – that’s exactly what I want, except we have a meeting this morning, and I am ordering 3 large regulars with cream and sweet & low” I utter.

“Ok, that will be $14.90 please” said Darcy

I dig into my big blue purse to find the company card and Darcy interupts by saying:

“Hey, listen, your green is on me, hon” motions Darcy while winking “Thanks” I reciprocate, as I hand her the card.


So she winks at me, and turns around and starts preparing the beverages.

“So, I was gonna say, you know…when you walked in that you looked different to me. Totally sexy.” She says.

“oh, really?” I ask.

“Well….your hair, it’s so messy and hot; I love how you look” she said.

“oh, yea…it’s the humidity. I hate the humidity. Not only am I having bad hair days, but the rain won’t stop and it’s messing up my, my…mojo.”

“Wow, you have a mojo?” she asked.

I sort of smile through the corner of my mouth, and bite down on the edge of my lower lip.

“I don’t know, but yes…yes, I think I have a mojo and it had been fine just right up until it started raining.” I said

“Bummer – listen, for what it’s worth…the humidity is treating you well, and as far as your mojo goes, I think I can arrange something to bring it back to life”

At that moment, I felt a little uneven and uncomfortable. I like Darcy a lot but I don’t know if she knows that I have a boy friend so I just play it off.
“Why are you so quiet; hey do you want a cup holder…let me go and find one in the back kitchen” she said

When she comes back from the kitchen, she places my beverages in a large cup holder, and hands me a piece of paper with her phone number on it and also reads “when your mojo is down…call”.

“Bye, thanks for the green tea, I really appreciate it. I guess I’ll see you again in the morning” I said.

Charles

When I get to the office, my boss is waiting for me in the conference room – I go and place the coffees down and hand him his muffin. “Nice muffin” he chuckles.
“Yea, Darcy seems to think so too” I laugh.

“Oh really, that cute little girl from the coffee shop is still eying you?” he asks
“Yea, she actually gave me her number today –she wants to bring my mojo up to a considerable level” I say.

“Hmmm, sounds hot” laughs my boss.

“Yea well, love is blind…right?

My boss is a pretty cool guy, I actually know him very well; his name is Charles. He’s around my age, and dated one of my best friends, and Charles is also very close to my boyfriend, J – they went to college together, and were roommates for several years. We are practically family; not really, but we are pretty close. Charles asks how J’s interview is going.

“I don’t know, he hasn’t called me, and well, we haven’t been spending as much time together as we used to. I think he’s very involved with work, and wants to focus on that. I don’t know what will happen to us, but I guess time will tell.”

“That’s too bad, I’ll give J a call later said Charles.

I walk out and close the conference door behind me, and walk over to my desk and read my messages. My heart begins racing a little. Hmm, I pick up the phone to page our secretary.

”Hey Janet… Darcy, called me? Is this the same Darcy from Drips?” I asked.

“Yes, she said that you left the credit card there and to please come by and pick it up, if she’s not there, she will place it in an envelope for you” said Janet.
(sigh) uh, I hate running around town and wasting gas when I don’t have to.

Damn, I’ll just go pick up the card during my lunch break.

As I sit at my desk I rummage through my purse, and sure enough the credit card is missing. As I place my purse down, Darcy’s telephone number falls out, and floats like a weightless feather on to my lap. I grab the number and save it into my phone.


Lunch Time

It’s lunch time and during my lunch break, I typically sit here at my computer and eat a sandwich, I thought maybe this city would have a cool place to go eat a cheap sandwich, then sit and write while looking at nothing in particular, but most of the cool little joints are actually packed during lunch, which is great for business, but horrible for someone who’s looking for quiet.

I thought about saving the credit card for tomorrow morning, since I will be swinging by anyway, but Charles needs it for his afternoon meeting today, so I grab my purse and head out to Drips.

I’m starving so I decide to order a Greek veggie wrap to go, but there’s such a long line, however see no point in eating somewhere else during lunch hour so I stand in line. Darcy is behind the counter, and she’s very busy taking orders and helping out on the food line, but manages to see me and motions me to come to the counter.

I don’t think she realizes I want to order some food, so I stay in line, she sees me again, and motions me with her eyes to come back where she is, so I do.

A few people give me the look, but oh well, I happen to know the sandwich girl. As I approach her, she wipes her hands on her apron, and hands me the credit card.

“Thanks, but listen, I wanted to order a Greek veggie wrap to go, will you make it for me?” I asked.

She looks at me and says “sure babe, I’ll get you a wrap, have a seat and give me a minute; I’ll bring it out to you”.

As I walk to a table to have a seat, I watch Darcy. She looks pretty while she’s working fast like that. I’ve never seen her that busy, and she looks so serious, but fun serious. She’s chatting with the customers and working away on building delicious sandwiches with her lovely black-painted finger nails, and her green eyes fluttering all the while…

I can never do something like that and look that cute I thought.

Darcy walks up to my seat, and asks if she could sit with me. The line is slowing down, and she’s taking a break with a cup of ice water and hands me my wrap. “Made with love” she said.

“I’m sure it is, thanks so much, you know I think I’ll eat it here instead of sitting in traffic” I mentioned.

As I unwrap my food, I realize that Darcy might not be flirting with me at all, since my mojo is off, I could be mistaking her charm for sensuality. Hmmm, I feel bad for thinking that way.

I look up at Darcy as I take a bite of my wrap, and she asks “so is it as good as it looks?” “yea, it’s so fresh and just good, you know?” “Well what about me…do you think I’m as good as I look?” she asked.

Just then, I felt a weird tightening in my chest, and my heart began to race. I don’t know why this girl makes me feel so nervous, but she does. Maybe it’s the way she’s so forward…I don’t know, I’m used to people talking shit, and not really saying what’s on their mind.

“Kaila, I think I’m into you…are you into me?” asked Darcy.

I was quiet, and continued chewing until I swallowed my bite of food. I politely asked for some water, and she handed me her cup and straw. Ordinarily, that would completely turn me off and disgust me; however for some reason her straw seemed innocent enough to drink through, so I took a sip and smiled then said:

“I don’t know if you know this, but I’m seeing someone, and he’s out of town for the week, getting an interview, but you know…we are sorta committed to each other” I say.

“Sorta?” she asks “Yes” I answer.

Well, “sorta means that you are not completely committed, and if something better came along you’d think about it for a while, plus you didn’t answer my question. I asked if you were into me”

“My heart begins to slow down to a normal pace and as I try to stop my hand from shaking I answer “I don’t know”.

Darcy gets up from her chair, looks directly at me and says “I think you do know, but are afraid to say it”

She turns around and walks back to the counter. I feel like an idiot, and a little confused too, but what can I do. Just then, my phone beeps, it’s a text from J “Hey, I got a job offer, and they want me to move up here.”

I respond “wow, that’s great; congratulations. Call me when you get back, we need to talk.”

I put my sunglasses on, and walk up to the counter to pay where Darcy is busy cleaning up the counters and putting food away. She tells me not to worry about it, and that my wrap is on the house.

“Hey Darcy, you know what…maybe you can come over tonight so we can paint each other’s nails; I have the perfect shade of black that I think you'll like.”

END

Green Tea

So yes, it is true that I have stopped drinking coffee and have changed my morning attention to green tea. Well, not just my morning drink, but also afternoon, and what have you as this beverage that I'm currently drinking is replacing another to which I consumed on a regular basis throughout the day and evening. I'm thinking of writing an article on the subject, covering various green teas as far as flavor, and effects, this of course might be tricky (effects) as I'd have to stick to drinking one, the same time each day for at least a week, then move on to another a different week and so on until I have at least 3-4 different teas to compare.

I feel that my mornings have been semi-productive as I will get up and stretch and just feel a little more awake then usual. My attention really hasn't been on myself lately, and I feel that I owe myself at least some full deep breaths, a muscle stretch and a little breakfast, maybe some branola bread with natural peanut butter or some bran cereal with milk if I'm up for it. It's hard for me to consume breakfast, my body and mind don't officially awake until about 10 am, so if you are talking to me anytime before that, I am not quite myself, and I say this with all honesty. I do transform into a different person at 10am, if all is well and usual.

Last night I had a dream, and well, it was interesting to say the very least. I felt as if I was hovering over my own body, and could read my own mind (even though I am me), anyway that's how the dream felt. I felt I was another peson looking down on myself and reading that person's (my) mind. Not only that, but I also saw a woman who was trying to hold onto my hand, and at first I shyed away, but after a while I let her caress my hand, and I felt so comfortable and soothed. I really felt like an infant being loved, truly loved.

As an adult I'm not sure if I've ever felt truly loved, sheltered and completely safe. Sometimes I feel nervous, and well, even though I do know I am loved I don't quite feel that infant love...the sort of love that feels pure and soft. You would never harm an infant, or yell, or slam a door with an infant (oh my I realize that some people would and that is a terrible thing), but I am speaking of the norm. This infant love should be practiced, and I myself should begin to source out infant love (instead of the usual adult "i love you" type of love)to those people who mean so much to me because I want them to feel pure and soft. You know it is true, you don't tell people you love them, you show them.

Yesterday, I got home to a huge mess on my living room, and tv room floor. Yes, both rooms were a mess, and covered in chewed up foam. Of course, Odie - our dog went a little cukoo. You know, I can't blame the animal because he is home all alone all day from 8am-5pm and I suppose he got cabin fever. Well, you know if I were home during those hours, I wouldn't neccesarily want to make a mess, but he's an animal and maybe doesn't see it that way. I felt bad for him, but I still punished him. I'm not the dog whisperer, and I do my best to make Odie a healthy pup, but when a dog does something like that, it's for a reason. He wants our attention - he's angry that noone is around to play with him. Poor pup, he went from summer fun, surrounded by people to a bland, boring, and lifeless day stuck inside. Here's the thing, you might ask why I don't put him outside, well here is why: he only enjoys the outdoors when he's with someone else. He will sit on the porch and sulk if he's outside alone, and it's quite strange. Not only that, but lately we have had a horrible time in the valley with swarms of mosquitos taking over our yards, plus the heat can be unbearable. Yuck.

Here goes nothing

Ok, so I'm super excited about having a blog outside "myspace" and couldn't resist to sign on yet again, and even though I haven't told a single soul about this blog YET (as of now), I have received "many" hits. Wow, sorta weird, but it makes me even more excited to keep writing random stuff for complete strangers to stumble upon and read.

Here's the thing:

I LOVE sandwiches. Really, I do. I think they are beautiful and delicious. Sandwiches can be delicate or really you know, huge. I'm taken back by the sandwich, and think I know a good one when I try one. Listen, not just anyone can make a sandwich, I'm sure you know this. And I'm sure you also know that your turkey, provolone sandwich on white will taste completely differently from your best friend's mom's turkey, provolone sandwich on white. Not everyone uses the same sandwich meat, bread or spreads. Even the different lettuces, and the way someone slices a tomato. Oh, it's so strange how I loved my neighbors ham and lettuce sandwiches with mustard, but at home I'd not be as into it. Of course, my neighbor used the fake dorritos and I used the real nacho cheese dorritos to smash into my sandwich, but I'm sure it was more then just that.

Last night I ate an egg salad sandwich with a hot cup of tea and I felt so fancy, and free. I know that sounds weird, and it might hurt your brain to imagine myself eating an egg sandwich and feeling free, but it's true. Something about the whiteness of the eggwhites in contrast to the whole wheat toast made me feel womanly and sophisticated.

Here is another thought for you:

The Coen's are my favorite movie directors, and although I didn't note them as being, I did mention Barton Fink as one of my favorite movies. Here's the thing, however, I enjoy all of their films totally and completely. I also have the biggest crush ever on their movies, and the way they make me feel decietful, loving, secretive, romantic, and a little quirky.

Good Night.

Dear Diary

I haven't written in a diary in years, and a blog can be sort of like a diary, but not really seeing as it's on the internet for the entire world to read. Anyway, it's like a diary in the sense that you might post particular moments in your life, share stories, write random thoughts, maybe rant, (doodle?) and anything else that comes to mind (literally).

I really enjoy diaries. I used to have one, and sleep with it underneath my pillow. The only thing I ever wrote in it were the names of boys that I thought were cute...weird. I was always a journal type of girl. I'd buy journals 2, or 3 at a time because I loved the idea of having journals filled with randomness, poetry and stories.

here is a random thought:

I love the cold rain, and how it fills up the streets on my block so quickly. The rain truly transforms my neighborhood into a solstice of imagery for me. I still do imagine things...I might not be a child, however I still have images of rain creatures, and tree monsters...

I'm not sure how I can benefit from that, but it makes things seem more innocent in my world.

On a different note, don't you hate having a boss? It sucks, and I'm tired of it. I do however get to sit in my office and write poetry that I immaturely post on myspace. Actually yes, I hate myspace but also like it very much. It's so user-friendly, and it's a nice way of communication.

Anway, yes having a boss sucks. Let me try something new. I have A LOT of experience in various things. I worked at a museum for 5 years, organized shows for about 5 years, wrote for different magazines, journals and newspapers, and well, my current job as a "marketing director" has given me a lot of experience. It's about time I do something for myself and maybe concentrate on the paper full time.

I hope I can keep writing. For the past couple of weeks I have been inspired to write - mainly poetry but also a short story that I posted here on my blog. I attribute it all to the rain, as well as to a new coffee shop down town that has a good "vibe".

Good night diary...I will continue tomorrow.

<3
E

Eyeliner, a short story by Evana Vleck

If there's one thing that I know how to do, and know how to do well, it's apply black eyeliner...

Here's why:

I was 17
And I fell in love with it
I felt sensual
But oddly enough, I felt veiled
And it carried me
Yes it did
Through years of
Junk food, love notes, cigarettes, and missed homework assignments
I was placated.

My phone rang, and it was him. Weird, why is he even calling me? I didn't answer.

Dear Diary:
Dev broke up with me. I told him I didn't love him, and he said well then fuck off. Since that moment, I have felt the following:
Scared, relieved, anxious, rebellious, and hungry. At first, I felt like dying, or at least I felt as if I WERE dying.
And now, I'm over it – totally over it, and you know what? He knows I'm over it, and is calling non-stop since he has realized it. Here's the thing: I did love him – I did, and in THAT way. Yes, that fluttery, kiss in the cold rain type of love: the type of love that will stop you from eating, and stop you from talking and hanging out with your friends. Now, who's to say if that is healthy, probably not, but being 17 – who really cares, it's a part of life and maturing. Yes. In order to feel, feel at all, you have to go through devastation.
Good night Diary – I will write you later – love, E.


THINK

I'm lying in bed, with my legs to the wall staring at the posters on my ceiling. My candle's burning by the window as tree branches are brushing up against my window pane.
As I lay there, I come to wonder if he's thinking of me. He must be, I am of him, and I'm listening to the mixed-tape he made for me. (My stomach hurts, I should eat something.)

I love mixed tapes, especially titled – you know, a thematic tape filled with songs that each hold a special meaning.

Of course, some mixed tapes are cliché and silly, but the ones Dev would make for me were really inspiring to me, I mean, listening to them makes me want to do something amazing.
Here is a general overview of what Dev's tapes consist of: Napalm Death, Morrissey, Judy Garland, the Pharcyde, Mudhoney, Miles Davis, Sinead O Connor, random quotes from movies like Fast Times at Ridgemont High, and Othello.

His listening taste is romantically smart, and edgy, and reflect his outter persona - he's sorta short, but taller then me, has messy hair, and a thick beard. He's modest, and is a jeans and ugly tshirt sort of guy. Anyway, his music taste might be a little random, but I dig it because some of the lyrics are words that I need to hear, not only when I'm down, but also when I'm up to keep myself up.

I don't always have time to hang out with people and I'm not one to spread my emotions out onto the floor for people to ignore, and walk over – I'm sort of quiet and keep to myself, I don't have many close friends except for this girl, Val who owns a smoke shop. She's like 35 and knows about relationships, and how much life can suck. She is the only person I feel comfortable around, and has always offered her time and advice to me. I don't see the need in telling other people my problems; after all, all they will do is judge me.

Ok, maybe I'm not over him, but it's too late to do anything about it. I don't think he wants to work things out, I think he just wants to call and make me feel dumb.


BORED

I'm bored, so I climb out of bed, and put on some black eyeliner.
I grab my shoes and go. Too bad I don't have a car, but I guess I don't really need a car since I have no idea where I am going to begin with.

I live in a pretty cool area of town, there's a record shop down the street, a dark, and quiet bistro that serves delicious mushroom soup, an herbalist and smoke shop a few blocks down, and a library right in the heart of it all.

I don't need much else and am fine with not having a license or a car.
Now, I have this horrible habit, I enjoy smoking fresh rolled cigarettes, and happen to really enjoy American Spirit tobacco.

It's a disgusting habit to some, I know, however for me it's a release more than anything else, plus I just really like the flavor.

Since I'm out of tobacco I head straight to the smoke shop.
This is where I met my ex, Dev – he's 19 you know, and very mature – he introduced me to fresh tobacco and well, this shop has so much sentiment to me because Dev is the one person in the world I ever loved in that way. The owners are Val and Robin, two girls who have come to become good friends of mine, especially Val.

When I walk in, Val is the first person I see – she has her boyfriend's little boy sitting down inside of a play pen, watching the Care Bears.

"Hey there" says Val.
"Oh, hello – I see you are watching Max today – how's it going?" I ask.
"Interesting day – I'm surprised to see you around here today" notes Val.
"Interesting? Why's that…is something wrong?" I ask.
"Hmmm, well, not wrong, but you know Dev has been coming by a lot and he actually has been alone and quite depressed. He says he's been trying to call you, but you have been avoiding him like the clap" chuckled Val.

"Yea well, he told me to fuck off and I did. It's what he wanted, and I know he meant it. He was looking for a reason to shut me out – so I gave it to him. I told him I didn't love him, and well who cares, you know?" I motioned.

"Uh, I think HE cares, actually. Can I ask you what happened – why did you stop loving him? One day you guys were at the edge of a cliff staring the world straight in its soul, and the next day you are broken up??? What gives?" asked Val.

"I'm only 17. He's 19; that might not seem like much, but it is when you're still in high school, and your boy friend isn't. I'm fucking tired of my life, and just want to drop out of school and leave. Ugh. He's fucking stupid. I can't believe he's been coming here when he knows that this is MY hangout. Well, it was his first, but you are all I have, you know?

"Yea, I know" says Val - oh by the way, your tobacco is on the bottom shelf she says, as she picks up Max from the playpen, and feeds him a bottle of baby formula.

I like the way baby formula smells. I don't know what it is about It.; it's a powdery, soft baby smell that's a little sour however makes me feel soothed. I love the sound a baby makes when he's drinking and suckling on his bottle. It's the sound of the softest thing ever, like dropping a ton of cotton balls onto a pile of feathers – soft, clean and loving. It's one of the sweetest things to me.

Max pushes the baby bottle out of his mouth and says "mama", he looks directly at me with the saddest eyes in the world, and I walk up to him with a simple winding smile and say "no baby – I'm not your mama".


At the Bistro

I'm so hungry, and the only thing I can picture stomaching is the Bistro's yummy mushroom soup. I walk in, and Danny is sitting there on the sofa strumming his guitar about to fall over and fall asleep. He looks so sweet and quiet. His clothes are messy, and his hair the same, but has the most delicate smile that can catch you and grab you in. Really, it's that nice his smile is.

"Hi Danny" I say.
"Hey cutie – how's it going; want some soup? I had some scallions leftover from a dip I made last night, so added them to the soup, and wow – it's exactly what it needed" said Danny.
"Sure I'll have a cup of soup please" I say.

Danny is only 20 years old, and owns a bistro. He's a cool, laid back guy who I don't really know, but know enough to chill at his bistro and talk about life with.
As Danny gets up to prepare my cup of soup, I look across the room, and see a familiar face. It's him…its Dev walking in.

What do I do? Damn…I'm scared and immediately I lose my appetite.
Fuck – what the hell is he doing here? I stop to take a moment and breathe in deeply; I take out my tobacco and begin rolling a cigarette very quickly.
I step right onto the side porch and light up my cigarette, taking in a large hit.

I hear the bells on the front door cling, and see Dev standing there talking to Danny – I make eye contact with Danny and Dev turns my direction and sees me standing outside and walks over to the door.

As Dev walks outside, he asks for a cigarette, and of course I hand him the tobacco and papers so that he may roll his own.

"How are you" asks Dev.
"Oh you know – I'm good…just been keeping busy, I just came from Val's and got hungry, so I came over here to Danny's place for soup" I said.
"Ah – your favorite spots, huh? I hope you don't mind me intruding, but you know I got hungry and I decided to grab a bite to eat".

As I stand there, in an uncomfortable way – Danny walks out and asks if I want my soup served outside. "Actually will you please keep it warm for me?" Sure he says.

Dev looks at me as if I'm some sort of lost puppy. He says thank you for the cigarette and strikes a match and also takes in a large hit. He places his hands in his pocket and whips his hair out of his face, as the cigarette comfortably lays on the edge of his mouth, not dangling, but cradled. Dev takes his hand out of his pocket, and takes the cigarette out, looks directly at me and says:

"There's nothing more that I want then this moment."

My hands begin to sweat, and I put out my cigarette. My eyes begin to swell, and tears are running down my face. My eyes start to burn a little from my eyeliner. I know that I must look hideous with lines of black eyeliner and mascara running down my face, but instead of wiping it away, I sit there and say "me too".

END