Light and Darkness

An Interview

I have an interview tomorrow afternoon for management for a food court type store at the mall. Characteristically, I am one of those types that doesn't get nervous performing on stage, giving a speech, talking to a theater full of 500 people when the projector breaks down, handle a crowd of 3000 people when a popper bursts into flames and a building is evacuated, read scripture before a couple hundred people during midnight mass.....or participating in an interview. However, tomorrow I'm nervous. I am so because I need a job and this is only the second interview since my termination and not for trying.

I believe I can do the job. I have experience working in an industry where customer service is key. I've worked with food, projectors, plumbing, elevators, emergency evacuations, etc and thousands of people needing a perfect visit to the movies. I've hired, trained, supervised, scheduled, and terminated staffs that exceeded 120 people. I've spoken to news crews, located lost children, remained silent during customer rampages. So, I believe I can perform as a manager at a smaller scale establishment.

And yet.....I'm nervous about whether or not I can prove my worth and get this job. Guess we'll find out.

Shakespeare Behind Bars

Five years ago I watched a documentary on PBS called What I Want My Words To Do To You. I watched a second documentary on prisoners today called Shakespeare Behind Bars.The two documentaries never try to condone the crimes of the prisoners. No excuses. And I don't think they even try to garner sympathy from their audiences. They are films simply providing us with a peek into the lives of others that we think are so very different from us because they are criminals. However, after watching them both, I find that I am no different than any of them. I make mistakes. I make wrong decisions in the process of living. And I am trying to accept the responsibilities of what is my life and how I've lived it.

Shakespeare Behind Bars is a program at Luther Luckett Correctional Facility where inmates under the leadership of a formally trained actor/director produce and perform a Shakespearean play each year. The prisoners cast themselves and these actors are far from innocent. It appears the majority of the cast have committed heinous acts of murder, pedophilia, and violence.

The film follows the progression of the production of The Tempest, with interviews with the inmates and their interpretations of the play as well as their back-stories leading to their convictions. A play about revenge and redemption, it seems fitting for a correctional facility to use The Tempest. Shakespeare's last play proves cathartic for its cast.

In our every day life, we regret. A past love affair. Words thrown harshly at another. Fights. Money problems. Unresolved issues. We suffer through the guilt and need to reconcile these. But when acts of desperation, rage and emotional fogginess land one in jail, can redemption be achieved? And does society embrace those that seek it?

Mourning Butch Cassidy

Paul Newman died yesterday at the ripe ol' age of eighty-three.

Movies and entertainment have alway been staples of my life. They were simple links that sometimes connected me and my parents. Those bonds were tenuous and any bit that could help was welcomed.

My mother would keep me awake into the dark hours of the night on the weekends watching old black and white films, especially the scary films. I remember playing the trivia game and my mother urging me to call and win the prize. I never got through and I don't recall the prizes, but I always knew the answers.

My stoic, quiet father became a social butterfly when we sat and watched the action and western films on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. We would play a form of six degrees. He would ask me who played in what movie with what other actors. Until his death, he would still ask me such things.

And Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (as well as Paul's full repertoire) was a favorite of ours. Paul Newman represents all those moments with my dad. To see him pass saddens my heart. But again, the man lived a long life giving money and time to charities and causes. We can't be sad that a man lived his life fully.

Still....

Perhaps my Pa is up there having a drink with Cool Hand Luke.

What am I trying to prove?

We know I hate MySpace. I'm not fond of Facebook. I even get tired of the blogosphere. They all tend to make me feel anti-social, which is quite the polar opposite of why they were created.

Truely, I am ecstatic to find friends that I haven't spoken to in years, but reuniting with some of them has saddened me. I have no doubts that some of my opinions contrast, inciting reaction and regret. And I sometimes find myself wanting to apologize for my life, thoughts, beliefs, and words. I can't help it....the co-dependent, fragile Naomi that I harbor steers this hulk of a body. I am a slave to that girl and she wants so much for everyone to like her.

Then I feel such guilt for undermining those friends and family that have faithfully stuck around and given support. These people stayed when my darkness was a terrifying beast. They've understood and appreciated my sense of humor. They've sought me out when needing advice or a shoulder. They've forgiven my 'fuckity fucks' when no other words described my moments of impatience. And they've even said prayers for me when I couldn't stomach God at times.

I am embarrassed that my life hasn't turned out as wonderfully as one expects of the smart girl. I am a college drop-out, a single mother, an unemployed thirty-five year old, a mentally ill and emotionally crippled fatty. And for some reason, there are people, some of the most magnificent people on this planet, that love me.

...

Thank you.

Well....DUH!

Folks, big news story. Clay Aiken is gay.

The Writer's Block

Yesterday, I went to my first writers' group since moving to Texas a year ago.  It's a weekly group that meets at one of the libraries here in town. Small group and it was even smaller yesterday. I was one of four people there.

I go with intention to get feedback and advise from other writers. I hope to be more dedicated to my gifts with a forum that keeps me accountable. I can't say that I'm completely satisfied with the group. I miss Glass Eye and it's sexy founder, Michael; and I do know it is unfair to compare the two. Glass Eye was more bohemian with its community fridge, outdoor setting, and open mic for musician, artist, poet and philosopher. I just need to give this new group a chance and perhaps supplement it with some open mic events.

Because I was unsure about the group, I didn't really prepare for a reading. Folks, never go unprepared because you grab things from your journal and then find yourself embarrassed with what you presented. I didn't want to read any erotic pieces because I never know who is very conservative in belief. For the same reason, I didn't read anything with vulgarity. I also didn't want to flip through my journal wasting time looking for appropriate pieces. So......I pulled out a few typed pieces that had other poetry I had written on their backs. The written bits were questionnable and I read the other. Two pieces. One ok. The other was absolutely, horrifying, grotesquely bad.

Eh.

Not next week. Not this girl. Now I worry that they think I'm just an idiot.

Eh.

I'll tell you what happens next week. Unless, I eat my own brains to opt out of going.

Banned Books Week

Beginning Saturday, 09.27.08 and ending one week later on Saturday, 10.04.08, the American Library Association, First Amendment supporters, and book readers will be recognizing Banned Books Week.

Check out the website, which links you to the Facebook and MySpace pages for the observance. Press kits and BBW kits are available for newspapers, newsletters, schools, etc. It also lists the Top ranking banned (challenged) books and banned authors. Do go there and support the ALA.

And for goodness sakes, pick up a book and read. Use the banned book list as a suggestion. Or the BBC's Big Read of 2003. Like a movie? Bet there was a book at its genesis. Hell, I'll recommend a few for you.

One other thing...spread the word about the Week. Without the wealth of information, knowledge, talent, and emotion offered through books, we would have no growth in our global and local communities, nor in ourselves. And it should always remain in the hands of the individual to decide what is appropriate reading material. 

Beams

During Jolie and my walk this morning, I snapped a few photos of these beams that are laying about the complex. New covered parking is being erected for the residents, and the construction is in various stages around here (although I haven't come across a completed one yet and it all began June).

The beams reminded me of the Passion and Christian symbolism as well as the normal urban development of man.

All three shots have been modified.

Texas Hurricane

Those friends wondering if we're ok with Ike and any evacuation.....we are fine. Many coastal residents are actually coming to this area to escape the weather. We're scheduled for storms and wind and maybe flash flooding but we'll just have to see. I don't anticipate any problems.

My thoughts go out to those who are really having to weather thru this one. I am horrified that newscasters are definitive about casualties. I pray they are being melodramatic queens. I also want to keep in mind those affected by the LA train collision. Prayers for the families that lost dear ones and those hurt.

A Tease and A Tickle

AAG is having a contest for some great Babelad Swag, and I want to win. Boy, do I want to win. I completed my entry and am also positing it here for your delight. If by chance, I get to be one of the people in the running for it, vote for me. It's entirely up to her on what entries get whittled down to the finalists; but I did want to share with you if I don't get chosen. I'm thinking of completing the tale just to have it finished. Within the restraints of the rules, the entry had to be under 500 words and this is what I came up with. Enjoy! Let me know what you think.

Dinner was set to be a mundane gathering with friends where we sat in the same booth, at the same dive as always on Wednesday nights. I begged my love to stay home.

“The same stories every week? Unbearable! Let’s just stay in.” I pleaded.

“We promised, Nae. Besides, I guarantee tonight will be better,” Oliver said, accentuating this with gentle caressing of my ass. I sighed with apprehension and finally agreed after more of his seductive prodding.

After arriving at the restaurant, I moved to get out of the car; but Oliver closed his fingers across my arm and pulled me in for an erotic kiss. Without notice, I felt a box on my lap. Oliver who was only a breath away from my lips, whispered, “I guaranteed a better evening,” and then he gently sucked my lips.

Within I found a pink, S-shaped vibrator buried beneath a layer of the softest, blackest material; and not wasting a beat, Oliver picked it up and turned it on. Instantly, I saw primal longing in his eyes and the restrained power in his forearms as he dragged it across the inside of my elbow. In synch with the toy, Oliver caressed my throat with his tongue. “The Delight,” he grumbled into my sensitive skin, “a small token expressing my desire for you.”

“Then let’s skip dinner,” I murmured into his ear with coaxing sweetness. In automatic response, he moved closer.

“No. We promised.” Oliver moved the Delight down my arms, across my fingers and onto my thighs. I could feel the teasing purr of its skin through my skirt’s fabric, which seemed to only magnify the vibrations. I felt like Oliver, the Delight, and my clothes were trying to penetrate and satiate me. I wanted no boring dinner to impede my ultimate satisfaction.

I moaned with no reservations, and Oliver responded with his own that indicated that he mastered this moment and would be taking me immediately. But with a few more vocal ministrations, I knew I could persuade him to miss dinner in favor for tasting, exploring, and fucking me. Friends and clothes would soon be forgotten.

“Don’t you think we could make better use of our time? Forget dinner. Let’s try this out,” I said stroking Oliver’s thigh enticingly. “I don’t think I can wait a couple of hours.”

Oliver kissed me again. His warm tongue invaded my mouth, eliciting more moans and wetness between my legs. My pussy cried in envy for his tongue between its lips. “Naomi, you won’t. I’m going to fuck you with it during dinner tonight.”

The beginnings of an orgasm rumbled through me; and Oliver pulled me into another kiss that taunted me and stole my breath. I had no time to think as the Delight moved from the tops of my thighs to between them. He stroked my pulsating clit through my soaked panties; and before I could completely surrender to the petting, Oliver stopped.

“Let’s go in. Our friends are waiting.”