Today’s topic? Parents. They just don’t understand, yo!

So there are definitely secrets I keep from my parents. The biggest one being (surprise surprise) this job. But I have other little secrets my parents don’t know about. One of them is my obsession with nail polish and cosmetics of all kinds, really. But lately my obsession has stuck on nail polish and the monkey on my back hasn’t let go! So my dad made me a nail polish rack for Christmas. It’s really nice, too. Like really nice. I can’t even explain how nice it is. And he was so proud of it, but told me that I shouldn’t try to fill it up completely, since the rack can hold 200+ nail polishes. And I just kind of laughed. Nervously. And while I was breaking out into a sweat, I was trying to figure out a way I could ask my father to make 4 more of those racks for my entire collection.

Yeah. I said it.

And the really crappy thing about it is: the new collections have started to come out, and I already purged a lot of my polishes out. I got rid of tons of my mini nail polishes, and some of my LA colors that I picked up at various Ross’ and Dollar Tree stores. I probably can get rid of some of my Sinful Color nail polishes, because there really isn’t anything unique about a lot of the colors from that collection, and I’m not really married to the idea of picking up any more of them. They tend to release new collections that are basically the same fucking polish they released before, but they just add another name to it. I don’t like that. So … the more I think of it, the more I probably will just get rid of those. I’ll peak at them tomorrow and see if I start to cry at the thought of saying goodbye to them or not.

Where was I?

yeah – so my father has no idea. And he was talking about possibly selling these racks to suppliers and collectors. Cuz it’s an awesome rack (why do I feel like a guy describing some chick’s tits every time I say “rack”?). But he probably will sell it for $200. And I told him that was too much. He needs to make a cheaper one. And he told me that anyone who spends 5 bucks on a bottle of polish can afford to spend $200 bucks on a cool rack to show their collection off. I wanted to tell him I’d prefer to go to target and buy a plastic container, shove my polishes in there, and take the other 190 bucks and buy fingernail polish! But he wouldn’t understand. And he’d probably commit me.

That’s the only thing on my mind, currently. How my father will one day see what his daughter spends her money on and wonder where he went wrong. And I’ll tell him I’m sorry I disappointed him and didn’t become a missionary in Africa like he wanted. But things could always be worse. I could be spending all my money on drugs. Or shoes.

But this year it was really one of those things I did not want to mention on here because I knew that if I announced it, I would have to figure out what I was going to do about the big departure from TEEN wet dream into the world of just wet dreams. I thought for awhile that I would retire once I reached the point where I could no longer call myself a teen. And I’m aware of the fact that there are some characters on Niteflirt who never age, and no one really cares … but just as my braces will eventually come off (less than a year and counting) so must I lose the “teen” in my name. How will it sound when someone calls me up and asks me how old I am, and I say “twenty.”? *click* I figured that retirement was as good an option as any. I wasn’t going to go suddenly. I would have had a party. Balloons, ice cream cake, a big candle in the shape of a penis. You know the kind. *wink* But yeah, I figured turning twenty was a sign to hang up my phone and headset and go into retirement.

I’m not going to retire. Come on. I’m not even done with school now, and there is a recession going on out there — and retail is not having a great time. Retail is what I’m best suited for, being a ‘young adult’ and all. So I’m going to sit still for a bit longer. I may change over to a different domain, but more than likely that will happen once my braces come off and I’ll turn into a young adult and leave the teen thing behind me. Even Peter Pan had to face growing up , you know.

So school is going. I got a perfect score on my Geography Map Quiz by the way. Ask me where the Canary Islands are. Go ahead, ask me! Geography is about to hit an intense level. We’re learning all about currents and wind patterns and other stuff I can’t even repeat…that’s how lost I am. But as lost as I am, I’m still getting a solid B+ in that class. After our field trip this weekend, I’m sure I’m getting an A+. We went to see the butterfly um .. what is it called? Farm? Reserve? and it was by far the prettiest thing I had ever seen. Then we went and looked at wave patterns on the beach. I’m not lying. We looked at wave patterns and then we also picked up rocks and tried to figure out what caused what topography. I kept on looking around this certain bend after hearing that that is where Santa Barbara University was. Can you imagine going to school on the damn beach? Come ON! Is it possible to get any work done at all? I saw quite a few students out tanning and surfing that day and also quite a few walking through the forests where the Butterflies hung in their little pods from the Eucalyptus trees. I have to go back there with Jackson. He’d freak out over the waves, but he’d really dig the Monarch butterflies, and the hike would wear his ass out big time!

English is a joke. I had mentioned once that I loved my teacher, but that love has quickly turned into a hate I can’t even express. I’m going to mention something in here now knowing that my readers will be sensitive and not ask me to do some sort of warped fantasy. I can do a fantasy about any other kinky freaky professor except for this guy – because it’s just too real to the truth. This is what happened. I wrote a paper about milk and how it’s not a good thing to drink. It’s an argumentative paper, I’m not going to get into it because I’m bored with it already. It’s a good paper but … yeah. Anyway – so I’m talking about milk and the milk commercials and I mention that it’s kind of sexual in nature, the whole milk above the lip thing and sexy models in these tank tops and fit bodies drinking it and blah blah blah. I don’t mean anything other than “sexual” in a very LOOSE term. Why the fuck did my teacher write on my paper “some people call it cum shots?” ???!!! Why???!!! Can anyone tell me in what world is that appropriate? I’m so not even lying. Not only did he write this on my paper, but then he announced it in my class that he wrote it on my paper too. While I was busy trying to figure out why the fuck he felt he could write something on my paper like that (to my knowledge he is not a caller!) I started to feel the eyes of every fuckin male student in my class looking at me wondering what it is that I knew that made the teacher write something like that on my paper. Seriously, I could feel them assessing me – checking me out in a very uncomfortable fashion. There are fantasies and then there are realities, and this, my friends, is a most creepy and gross reality. Before that gross comment my teacher has had other stupid things to say, too. About the Holocaust: “Get over it – lots of people have suffered.” About Koreans, “I didn’t know my son was mine … he ate so much rice I thought my wife had an affair with the postman … he’s Korean.” About Black people, “I told my friend once – hey – at least I can change color!” you get the picture. I was getting a C+ in my English class after I got straight B’s on my papers and Essay – but then I missed handing in a paper and got a C+. I handed in my paper last week though and I got a A- on it, but got counted down to a B+ due to it being late. Hey – I’ll fuckin take it. But I won’t take comments of cum shots on my paper. I still feel dirty – and I have done/talked about far more dirtier things in my life, trust me. Just somethin’ about a comment like that outside of niteflirt makes me way uneasy. Strange, huh?

In order to process all this stress of school and work and life and the uncertainty of our futures – I’ve taken my stress to the gym. I hired a nazi, let’s call her Elsa, and she kicks my ass 2 -3 times a week. I went to see her today and my finger tips hurt. I stepped up and down on a platform holding on to a weight that made me immediately decide against breast implants. My goodness – I practically tipped over holding onto 10 pound wheel of a weight. How ever do you big titty women keep your balance? Elsa says things to me like, “Do you want the easy way to do this next exercise, or are you ready for a challenge?” Damn her. How quickly she learns. All you have to do is put “easy” in front of something and “challenge” in front of the other choice – and you know I will do it. “So CeCe – do you want to deep throat me on your knees which is the easy way? Or do you want the challenge? You’ll be on the bed – on your back – with your head over the edge – and I’ll lower my 10 inches down your throat and you try not to gag. Which way do you want?” Shit! 10 inches of course!!! lol. In all honesty, though, I’m competitive as hell. It’s a good thing most of the time, but often I just set myself up for pain. Which I am experiencing now. But I love it. I absolutely love it. I love lifting weights, and doing girl pull ups, and doing balance work and core work and going 4.2 MPH on the treatmill on a 6.0 incline for 45 minutes. I enjoy sweating like a pig – walking out of the gym past all the muscle dudes, and knowing that I kicked my own ass and that I’m strong and capable and sweaty! It’s a great, great feeling. It’s also a great way to release a whole lot of worry, anger, grief, pain, etc. with out hurting anyone!

There are so many ways that we can deal with discomfort, hurt, stress, anger – and most of these ways that we use to cope will land us in the hospital soon enough. Cigarettes, overeating, stress, tempers, destructive lifestyles, not asking for help (or directions), etc. are just really counter-productive. One of the ladies I met while working at the gym a few years ago was diagnosed with Lung Cancer. I house sat for her – and she was so alive and energetic and … I can not even bear to call her up and talk with her. But I know I need to because she’s not going to be here for long. I promised myself that I would not be one of those x-smokers who nagged people to quit, and I’ve really kept that promise. But today I’m just going to end my long waited for post by saying that there are other ways to relieve stress. You could go look at some monarch butterflies or take a walk on the beach if you live in sunny southern California. You could join a gym – all the money you’d spend on cigs will surely pay for a membership, won’t it? You could also masturbate to a favorite movie or pictures (I will be updating my galleries very soon!!! I mean it this time!!!) or even call me for some release. However you decide to release some stress – I hope that you are able to release some so that you are more able to enjoy this holiday season coming up. You’ve all been such great gifts to me this year and I appreciate each and every one of you. Even calls that weren’t “perfect” or “five star” quality taught me a lot about myself and helped me to grow into the mature 20 year old I am today. Happy Holidays!! May your days and nights be Merry & Bright!

Tuesday: 11:00AM – 3:00PM, MIDNIGHT – 3:00AM – (later if needed)
Wednesday: 12:00PM – 3:00PM, off and on Wednesday evening – Thanksgiving preparations under way.
Thursday: Will try to log in once everyone passes out from the Turkey – but no promises. If I can make it it will be after 7:00PM PST.
Friday: TBA
Saturday: TBA
Sunday: TBA
*Feel free to make an appointment or email me if you need me to be available during a specific time for you. I will do my best to accommodate. *

Update to schedule: 11/26/08 — my late nites and school is catchin up with me! I’m actually going to take a nap. Yeah. A nap. It does a body good! I will be logging in and out intermittently throughout the next few days – but will try to keep you abreast of my comings and goings. How much innuendo can I use in a sentence?

First things first. It’s taking me awhile to figure out this whole podcast thingee. Seems the most simple part was figuring out audacity and adding tracks and actually talking. LOL. There is quite a bit more that I need to do – and it seems I completely didn’t take all of those other factors into account. I apologize. While I could just throw up a link here and have you listen as you did to the introduction – I really don’t like doing things like that. It doesn’t look the way I want it to – and the other alternatives would take more effort than I currently have the time to take. There is a bday celebration that is due to start in about 2 hours, and I have been spending this entire weekend on this project. CeCe needs to buy a card, purchase a present, and be part of the family for the evening. At least for a few hours. So … sorry that I broke my promise of the YTWD Radio jumping off on Monday. While it will jump off sometime soon, I hope, this monday is not the “sometime” I had originally planned on. My apologies.

Which brings me to my schedule. I usually try to log in on Mondays by 8:00PM. Due to the aforementioned bday Celebration I will be logging in later. Probably around 11:00PM – though I could show up a tad bit earlier. Count on me by 11:00PM and no one will be disappointed, okay?

At the risk of sounding really …. emotional (?) let me just end this post. I’m so disappointed that I couldn’t follow through on this project. Even though I know that eventually I’ll be able to deliver it to you – I still feel like I’ve made yet one more promise that I haven’t followed through on. I hate that I have become that kind of a person to ‘you’.

I will be on tonight and ready to work. Don’t worry – I’ll be in a much more upbeat mood. LOL. Just having one of those moments – and felt that expressing it here so I could let it go would be appropriate.

Oh – wait – Jack. He’s fine. His stitches are still in – he’s chewed through 2 things of value so far (and counting) and is currently napping at my feet looking all innocent and white (though he hasn’t had a bath since the operation and can’t until the stitches “dissolve”) and reminding me how lucky I am to have him. He’s brought a lot of joy to my life – which is really much more valuable than anything his teeth find to destroy. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself. *wink*

My 3 brothers tried their hardest to introduce me to other music – and some of it stuck – but I have to admit that I’m a bit back dated. Blame my parents.

I don’t remember ever getting the “talk” from my mother, either. I remember one day I woke up – and I had a little talk with my mother, and she led me to the bathroom and showed me my supplies under the sink. That was it. Until later that evening. My mother informed me around 5:00pm that Wednesday evening that our family would be going out to celebrate. When I asked her what the blessed event was that needed such celebratory hoopala, she smiled a sneaky little smile and told me to wear a pretty dress. My 3 brothers, my parents and I scrambled into the car and drove into town, sat down at the local diner and ordered whatever we wanted from the 2 page glossy menu. Before the waiter served us, my mother made the announcement. “CeCe became a woman today.” My brothers looked at me. Then they looked at me again. My eldest brother snorted a little, and the 2 others repeated the sound and added, “She don’t look no different to me!” to the mix. I was humiliated. Not only was I wearing what could only be described as a diaper, but I was also humiliated in front of my entire family. I think the other people at the diner came over later to offer their congratulations, too. I never forgot it. I might have mentioned it before in this blog – and if I did – well – it’s part of my healing to talk about these things…at least you are just reading it – you didn’t actually have to experience it like I did. *sad face*

So when my little cousin informed me that her best friend had “started” – I took it as a personal mission to make sure we celebrated the event appropriately. We went to pick her up and delivered her a care package of carefree, chocolate, midol and a sympathy card. We also burned a disc with all sorts of songs we felt would be appropriate for her little journey into womanhood; Genie in a bottle, Breaking Dishes, More Than a Woman, I’m Every Woman, Emotions, Girl…You’ll be a Woman Soon, and a few others. I told the poor little camper that lunch was on me – and that she could choose the place. We drove about 5 minutes while I threw out suggestions. She settled finally on In and Out – a local burger joint. I thought that maybe she wanted a milkshake or something, but she chose a diet coke (??). She calmly informed me that the blessed event had ended as soon as it had started and that she was fine and really didn’t see the big deal. I laughed – but didn’t dare destroy her dream. She also believes that texting boys in the middle of the night is innocent and the only bad thing about low rider jeans is that you can’t bend over with out showing the crack of your ass. I appreciate the innocence of 7th graders. When I played “Edge of 17″ for her and announced that Stevie Nicks was someone she needed to recognize as pure talent – she grinned and told me her parents listened to her all the time. Hmph. As I ate my salad I suddenly realized that I have somehow squeezed past this “girl” stage into this woman stage – with out so much as a dinner or announcement. It didn’t happen that night my parents took me out to dinner – but happened somewhere between graduation and eating a salad with 2 13 year olds who liked thousand island dressing on their french fries.

I grabbed a near by marker and threw a hair brush to my 2 pals and taught them how to do a Stevie Nicks song with style. “Just like the white winged dove….” we sang loudly and out of tune… and giggled while singing “ooooh baby oooh”.

I can’t wait for the next “dinner”.

Until then – I’ll be working tonight until Midnight – and will log on for a bit tomorrow morning before my orthodontist appointment. Tomorrow evening I’ll be working until Midnight or later if need be. I’ll update again to let you in on my schedule this weekend.

Talk to you soon… oh – and … If you so desire – listen to a little bit of “edge of 17″. It’s a fabulous song. No hair brush required. *wink*

It was in Kindergarten that the big event happened that would change my life forever. This cute little dark haired boy who we will call from this point on Mikey S. – told me that he would give me a shiny quarter if I lifted up my skirt. I had already been reprimanded earlier that day by a teacher who told me not to hang upside down on the jungle gym in a skirt because “good girls don’t do that” – and prior to that humiliating event, had been asked to go steady by a 2nd grader who later turned out to be gay. When I say that the first 2 years of school shaped my life tremendously, please believe me. So Mikey held up a nice shiny quarter and as I was contemplating what I would do (ok, ok – I lifted up my skirt) in walks Mrs. Harden – our teacher. She gasped. Seriously gasped. Sometimes people say “gasp” and they mean some inward surprise reaction that they picked up but I heard my teacher audibly gasp – like “haaaaaaha” and quickly pulled Mikey from the scene of the crime returning to pull me into a corner where she lectured me for the second time that day. Good girls do not show their panties to boys, she told me. What she didn’t say was that I had shown my panties to a boy so I was not “good” anymore. For a second I did think to ask her if good boys offered good girls quarters to see their panties, but I couldn’t think after the label she had bestowed on me. To make matters just that much worse, my father (The Reverend) was called in to school to speak to the teacher about my obvious deviance. It was a good thing that he stopped on by because I needed a ride home after I vomited in the water fountain from the absolute horrible shame I felt. I remember thinking as I got sick that the worst part of the whole ordeal (2nd only to my father having to come hear about his slutty daughter) was that I didn’t even get my quarter!

My father never spoke to me about it. I suppose he figured I had already made myself sick from the shame of the whole ordeal that he would just let it slide – but I never quite got over it and secretly always hated Mikey S for never having gotten so much of a lecture for his part in my defilement. He moved away (thankfully) in 3rd grade so I didn’t have to see him again – but I recently saw him at a wedding. He was pretty cute, actually, but I was not to be fooled twice (shame on me). I walked over to the table that he was seated at and put out my hand.

“I’d like my quarter, please”, I told him.

He laughed while eyeing me up and down – reached into his pocket and handed me a quarter, not even taking into consideration the rate of inflation. I thought that it would seem bigger than it actually was – but it just sat in my hand like some cheap representation of the years of shame I had lived through. I smiled, thanked him, and returned back to my seat across the banquet hall to the accompaniment of laughter. There was no water fountain, no quiet father driving me home, and sadly – no sense of victory in the exercise. For years I had hung on to something that really was insignificant…because I… am a cry baby sensitive.

I’ve tried for the past few years to be assertive. or a little assertive as the case more than likely is. I’ve been in a few bad positions due to my reluctance to practice these types of skills. I realize that there is a part of me that passively lives and when I see that trait in other people it angers me. Even in the most submissive relationships there is a strength in both partners, you know.

There is a situation that I’m going through right now that will soon be over (thankfully) and all I can really say (because really – people will “get it” with out knowing all the juicy boring details, honest) is that what bothers me the most is how I became in this situation a person who was lifting her skirt up for a quarter. Somehow I felt that I had to go along with it – maybe because he was a Professor – an elder – someone who I was dependent on for giving me a grade or whatever. But I did it. I fuckin pulled up my skirt and held my hand out for the quarter…which I never recieved. It’s not the quarter, Mikey S – and Professor. It really isn’t. It’s the fact that I lifted up my skirt – and that somehow I felt that I needed to do what I was told to do and as a result paid the price. In a fantasy being overwhelmed is sexy. But in real life sometimes being overwhelmed just makes me sick.

Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. This too shall pass.

Oh – I guess this would be a P.S. I can see a whole lot of .25 cent tributes coming my way today… there. I ruined the joke… it’s not quite funny enough yet. Well – actually the quarter story is funny now – but the other situation I eluded to isn’t quite funny yet. Remember my sensitivity issues, please. *lol*

I haven’t written in my personal journal (and remember – I have tons of them) in such a long time. That probably would help a bit. If I wrote in there I would feel like I’m writing things and feel protected against writing things in here that I shouldn’t be writing about. It’s not that they are that kinky or sexy or whatever. You all know me better than that by now. I just have other people’s privacy to worry about and not sure how much of my life I feel like pouring out onto these pages right now.

I wanted to write about my mother. Then I wanted to write about my father. Then I wanted to tie up all the things I said about each parent and somehow have that explain why I am the way I am. I’m realizing now that if I were to put it that way it would be a Talk Show topic. My mother did this. I thought this. My father did this. I thought this. I now think this way about all women. I now think this way about all men. Thank you for being a guest on the Oprah Winfrey Show, CeCe. Tomorrow we’ll discuss the men of Niteflirt – and the women who serve them. I mean … how absolutely deep and boring can I get? (don’t answer that).

I just can’t do it right now. Just know that there is a deep and spiritual post in me ready to be written at some point – but I can’t do it right now. It’s too – scrambled up. And I’m too – tired to place my tiles in a way to make the most out of my letters. I can’t help wanting to and I’m starting to force every single thing that flies off my fingertips. Makes for really lousy writing. There’s nothing worse than knowing you’re writing like crap and not being able to stop yourself from writing it.

Speaking of writing – I wish I would actually start to write something in my Screenwriting class. And if my professor is reading this right now: You’re killing me softly, Sir. You’re killing me. I woke up late today and I didn’t even miss anything. I’m trying really hard not to let that convince me to continue waking up late – and trust me, it’s hard. I walked in and we were watching upcoming attractions. I have watched so many movies now – and written so many plot points to those movies that I really feel … restless. I want to know the rules. I want to know what comes next. I want to start writing and I want to know how to pitch stuff. I want to be sitting here working on my screenplay – not struggling over how to introduce my parents in a blog entry with out it sounding drab, typical teenage angst-y, and boring. I don’t want to come up with any more “ideas” – I want to write. I find myself eyeing the people in my class, particularily one loud mouthed girl who always has an answer to whatever. I want her to shut up – and the only way I can think of that to happen is if we all start to write already. I’m beginning to think that God doesn’t exist because surely he would take pity on me already. Wouldn’t he?

I think I have a Math quiz tomorrow so I should end this. I’m inches away from deleting this – and maybe after I publish this entry I will instantly wish that I had… but I’m really needing to at least have some proof that my head is still attached and that my heart is pounding away in my chest begging to be let out, you know? If I just hang onto all of these feelings I start to slowly go a bit mad. I’m ready to blow, honestly, so I guess this post is just letting out a bit of steam. Keeping the pressure in to let everything soak in for a bit – but letting a little bit of steam out every now and again so I don’t lose my … head. lol. Good analogy? Ok – a bit weak … but it’s the best that I can do.

Such a cuddly kittenish voice makes the wild erotic fantasies you are hearing even more incredible. Email her first with what you need and she will amaze you.

Thanks so much to my darling sweet girl for this feedback. When we accidently got disconnected, sweet Scarlett said with a smile so wide I could FEEL it on the other end of the phone, “Well, now I’ll get to leave you MORE feedback!” Could anyone be any sweeter, is what I’d like to know! Scarlett did email me before our fantasy together and I had a bit of self doubt that I’d be able to to come through for her. I shoulda had more confidence because once we started I was off and running! I can not wait for next time, that’s for sure! Can I just further embarrass you, Scarlett, and say that um … when you said that you had … er… finished – you sounded so damn cute. It was like a confession more than a declaration of accomplishment! “um … oops… I’m done, CeCe…” I must have been on a roll and you hated to interupt my story, huh? Don’t worry … we can have part II next time, k?

I really need to go to bed now. I’m up way too late and no matter what time I close my eyes there will still be a math quiz waiting for me when I open my eyes. Math is like that.

Do you know the way to San Jose, I never promised you a rose garden, Bicycle Built for two, How much is that puppy in the window, Sweet Caroline, Country Roads, Sounds of Silence, If I had a Hammer – all were in my library I kept locked up tight in my brain. I couldn’t tell you today what the hell a square root is – but I can sing for you (in a lovely soprano/alto voice, mind you) the entire lyrics to Sounds of Silence. I have always loved a good melody.

Ever since I was little itty bitty little – I have been sung to sleep by my parents with the same song – and woke up with the same song. When we went to sleep it was:

Good night, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you
Here’s a wish and prayer that every dream comes true
And though it’s always sweet sorrow to part
I know you’ll always remain in my heart

Adios, au revior, auf weidersehen…..Good Night!

When we woke up?

Good mornin’, good mornin’!
We’ve danced the whole night through,
good mornin’, good mornin’ to you.

So, good mornin’, good mornin’!
Sunbeams will soon smile through,
good mornin’, my darlin’, to you.

I don’t know why I wanted to share that little bit of information… it just seemed like a good idea at the time (lol). Rolf will explain that hearing me sing really doesn’t have it’s advantages – but I’m a sucker for a good singing voice – and some walks down memory lane with some well rehearsed lyrics.

It is rather late, though. I stayed up a bit later this evening because I took a nap earlier on. It was busy right before church (again!) and then I logged off and did some math homework – took a nap – and came back (off and on tonight – sorry the Emmy’s were on!!) to do a few calls with some great new callers and some sweet dear old friends (not that they were OLD – just that I’ve been friends with them for awhile old.) It was a great weekend – but tomorrow school starts again. After my nap in the afternoon I’ll log on. May be a bit earlier – may be late – can’t really tell until I log on, you know? But hopefully I’ll get the chance to speak with whoever I didn’t get a chance to speak with earlier.

Goodnight. Sleep tight. Pleasant dreams. **blowing bubbles**

So, I ran to Walmart – calling up everyone I could think of to log into my account and turn my alerts on to ARRANGE CALLS. I thought in the event I couldn’t find anyone to change my status that I could at least get an old fashioned plug into a cord phone and take calls on that until the morning when power (and sanity) would be restored once more. I was freaking out. And I was having a really great nite, too. I was horny – I was creative and I was having a great time until the world went black. So I’m in Walmart – in a part of town where there WAS power. I kept looking at people with jealousy leaking out of my eyeballs, sure that they lived in the part of town where they could watch a movie once they got down shopping. I’m sure they could go into their fridge and cook something in their microwave, not that I wanted to eat necessarily – but there’s something about not being able to do something that makes you crave doing it, you know? (Several sexual acts just popped into my mind to give as examples…I’ll save them for my calls… *wink*) So while I was hating everyone I came in contact with at Walmart – I found myself in the pet section. Please…don’t give me any grief. I had no power in my home and was losing customers at every minute. I had to shop for the dog – there’s just something therapeutic about it and I needed the joy and rush from the shopping experience. (I don’t really have a problem, by the way. I could stop buying shit for the dog any time I wanted to. I just don’t really wanna stop right now. But I can stop instantly if I felt like it.) I bought a few toys because the 100 toys I have at home is not enough for Jack. Then I bought some mechanical pencils for Algebra because regular pencils just drive me batty and the 10 other mechanical pencils I had weren’t enough. By the time I made it to the Walmart I had 15 items in my hands. I had walked right by the cart because all I went into Walmart for was a damn phone, remember? 45 dollars later I made my way to my house which was still dark. My family called up to me and told me they were reading The Secret Garden (not the Secret Garden by Nancy Friday – but the Secret Garden children’s book) and I was welcome to join. I declined the offer (and would have if the other Secret Garden was the book that was being read, too – for slightly different reasons) and made my way to my dark house in the woods. I plugged in my phone (success) and looked at my lap top wishing I had dial up. I then took my tired ass to bed and read my “Puppy School” book. I fell asleep shortly thereafter after hearing from Momma Tee that despite her sure case of food poisioning, she had logged me off of Niteflirt before dragging her body in to worship the porcelain goddess.

So I’m sorry – for anyone who was trying to contact me on Thursday Evening. It was not my intent to log off forever – I was going to come back – but it just wasn’t meant to be.

Tonight I logged in and took a few calls (Joe, Catwoman, Jerod, Math Tutor, etc,) spoke to my Tiffy while my family ignored the phone pressed against my ear and spoke to me about 80′s costumes and other things. Tiffy just sat and giggled as she eavesdropped and I shook my head hoping that they wouldn’t reveal anything too personal. Tiffy always wants to have an inside look into my life – and often gets it. As if my diary wasn’t enough – speaking to me while I’m sitting outside in the lawn chair by the fountain always brings about interesting conversations and encounters, huh, Tiffers? It was a busy evening – and now I’m going to tuck my behind in bed and *gasp* do some Math homework. It’s growing on me. I’m solving equations now with variables in them (the value of the variables are given so it’s almost like solving a puzzle of sorts.) Very cool but don’t tell my Math teacher that – he already is patting himself on the back for successfully getting a B out of me on my first quiz. lol. You know what though? I have a certain amount of respect for math. It’s either right or wrong. No ifs, and or buts about it. It’s one of those subjects that doesn’t rely on a well thought out argument – or some sexual favors from teachers in order to pass a test. (FUCK!) You solve the problem – there is only one right answer. That’s it. And there is something really satisfying about that one right answer. I find myself working the problems now and really wanting to know if I got it right. And when I get something wrong – and pout for a minute and whine to my family about how hard it is – I go back to that problem and work it out until I get the answer I know I’m suppose to have. I study the process – remember the rules – and lo and behold… I get it. It’s not “simple” yet – but there are definitely parts of it that are clearer to me. I can dig it. But let’s just keep that between us for now, okay?

New subject. I’m not sure if I mentioned it or not – but there is a pet store not very far from me where I would go and pick up little treats and toys for Jackson. They have a lot of stuff in there and it’s closer than Petsmart so I thought it was a great find. I noticed that they had a puppy in the window but I didn’t really think too much about it. Until I started reading a bit about back yard breeders and Puppy mills and stuff like that. Everytime after I started to read about that stuff I had this feeling of uneasiness whenever I went into that Pet store – like I was being … what is the word I’m looking for – disrespectful? I dunno – I guess that will work. I was being disrespectful to the puppies by giving my business to part of the problem. If the pet stores refused to sell these puppies then slowly the puppy mills would go out of business. See? So I decided to stop going to the store – and the day I decided I would never put a foot inside of that store again I saw in the window a little Maltese – about the same age as Jack – with some of the worst tear staining around his little eyes that I have ever seen. He looked alone – sad – not played with and hot in the little plexiglass cell in front of the window. 1600.00 they wanted for him. If I had the money I would have been tempted – but again – I would have been contributing to the puppy mill problem since the puppy would just be replaced by another born out of the same extreme conditions. It broke my heart seeing a little maltese in the window though. There was also a Shitzu and a Boston Terrior. The Boston Terrior was already showing signs of distress by eating his own poop and the Shitzu just paced back and forth or whined pathetically at the passerbys.

A friend of a friend bought the Maltese I just found out today… (that was the news, Tiffy.) Ugh. I wonder how he is doing. I’ll have to keep you up to date on his progress. I really want to do my part to not support these puppy making machines. I just think there is something wrong when profit comes before the well being of a puppy. And it makes me feel just a tad bit guilty that I bought a doggy that would have very little chances of NOT being adopted/bought instead of going to the pound like several people told me to do to get a puppy with fewer chances of finding a home and a family that loved him. I know for my situation I couldn’t have a puppy that was too big – it just wouldn’t work in our home – but I could have held out for a rescue, I’m sure. Or maybe I could have waited and found a smaller puppy even if it wasn’t a “pure bred”. At least my puppy isn’t some result of some puppy mill. At least my puppy wasn’t bred in some back yard of someone who knows nothing about genetic testing to make sure the puppies are given every chance of developing with out the problems that run amuck with toy breeds. At least Jackson’s parents were part of a family that cared about them – and not stuck in some shed with piss poor conditions and … you know what? I’m going to stop now. I’m sure I’ve made my point. Probably about 50 sentences ago, huh?

I’ll be back on tomorrow evening some time. I have absolutely nothing on my agenda tomorrow except to play with the kid Jack, fold my laundry, and finish cleaning my room and complete some math homework. I have a few little errands to run – but nothing that won’t be done before logging in tomorrow evening.

Thanks for keeping me busy tonight, men. It was indeed my pleasure. I’m pretty sure the power thingee is taken care of and won’t return this weekend – but in the event that we are speaking and the line completely goes dead – I have another phone and a flash light.
The party will not be interupted. I’ll make sure my vibrator is close by though just in case the batteries go dead. Maybe I should get some batteries tomorrow while I’m out and about. I won’t be caught (unprepared) in the dark again.

So anyways – today was the BIG day. Today was the day that I met with my screen writing class and pitched 3 great ideas (or what I hoped were 3 great ideas) and prepared myself to choose one story to tell with the help of about 20 people I know nothing about. It was very scary – but I went 2nd. I knew it had to be done – as quickly as possible. I read my ideas and I waited for … I don’t know what. I’ve spoke to Rolf about this before – but being that I’m pretty determined that this last “I know what I want to be when I grow up” decision is the last one, I’m really scared about putting myself out there with my good ideas. I’m not totally insecure – but I have to admit that I still get a little thrill when someone tells me that I’m on the right path. I know I have the passion to do almost anything I put my mind to – if I have the passion, that is – lol – but still sometimes I doubt myself. My ideas were received really well, however. Actually all of my ideas were GREATLY recieved – and being that my peers were judging me that made me feel somewhat better, I guess. The proof is in the pudding, however – so so what, really, if I have great ideas if I can not execute them well. For the next few months I will be cramming my little brain full of techniques and the right way in which to write this screenplay – and the rest of the time I’ll be attempting to put the story in a somewhat formatted form to be recieved (hopefully) by the only audience that really matters: The Industry. The truth is – this city in which I live is packed full of people wanting to be either the next big producer, the next big movie star, the next big director, the next big photographer, singer, writer, drummer, phone sex operator, porn star, activist, playboy bunny, sitcom star, designer, Chef, personality, or roommate of any of the afore mentioned. To quote some singer who wrote some song I can’t quite remember, “Everyone wants to be a star.” Everyone. At least in the town I live in. And even I know (rose colored glasses and all) that not everyone is meant to be one. I’ve realized that there are two things that are desperately needed in this town: perseverance and luck. One I can’t do a thing about – and the other I need to work extremely hard to have. Every book I’ve read so far tells me that I have to look at writing as a job. I collect journals but have yet to fill one – isn’t that kinda sad? So I have to practice my craft. I have to take classes (check) and I need to read about people who are successful in my field (check) and I need to do what they do. So I’m going to blog. And I’m going to journal off of here, too (of course) – and I’m going to become one of those people who is afraid of forgetting the little details so commits everything to memory. Yup. Just thought I’d share that little stream of .. .whatever it was.

This weekend my cousin came to visit. I wish that statement could just stand alone. I wish that was all there was to it – just another event that happened this weekend that I felt I should throw in. Alas – that is not the case with my cousin coming to visit. What happens when my cousin comes to visit is a series of … how can I say it? Adjustments. We kinda know that we’re not going to operate the same when he is around. Things seem to move in slow motion mostly so that he can keep up. My cousin from the time he comes to visit till the time he gets in his little car to leave – is high. High like a kite high. High like nobody’s business high. From sun up to sun down the scent of his “cigarettes” fill the air high. At first he would light up in the house – but then my family suggested he may want to do that outside. Now he stands by the fence that separates the neighbors from us and smokes. He stumbles around making off color jokes and innuendos and then slowly makes his way to the dinner table where he piles food on his plate and eats about a 3rd of it. We watch a lot of movies when he’s around – mostly cuz when we have taken him out with us it’s embarrassing. But he is an orphan – has no family of his own – and I’m sure he doesn’t really have that many friends – and if he does they probably are just as high as he is and don’t really remember him, I’m guessing. And before I get grief for this post – I’m really not anti-drug or Nancy Reagan-isk. Hey – if you wanna do whatever do whatever. I’m cool with it. As long as you’re not asking me if I wanna join in – or driving in a car on the same freeway I travel while under the influence – and um – taking care of your responsibilities. I don’t mind what whoever else does – I just mind when it drips on over to my “yard” – or in this case – my doggies little pen. Yeah. You heard right.

So after school I come on home and he’s still here. I slowly make my way to my room – and I take a little nap. I needed it. I REALLY needed it. I wake up – and he’s gone. I go look in on Jackson to make sure he’s doing ok – and thinking I’ll play with him for a bit which in Jackson language means “I get to run around and slide across the wood floors bumping into things as I go along and chase you while showing my razor sharp puppy teeth and successfully biting your toes and causing you to scream in delight”. I lean down to pick up his poop and there is this little canister laying next to him – like a canister that film is kept in. You know the kind? I’m thinking – what the hell is that? And I pick it up – open up the little lid that has jackson’s teeth marks all over it – and WHEW LAWD JESU’ the smell! Yup. Cousin T. was definitely here. Thankfully Jackson had not been successful with his little biting activity so I almost sighed my relief until I saw a little … leaf/bud something laying next to his food dish. I pick THAT up – smell it – and yup. So now I’m concerned. I pick up Jackson and I look for the signs. Yes – I know the “signs” I’m not completely daft! Finding his eyes clear and no sign of redness (and he wasn’t wearing sunglasses to hide his eyes either – ala Jack Nicholson) I then check his food bowl. I figure if M.J. makes people get the munchies – then maybe Jackson also got the munchies and ate up all his kibble – but it was all there. Thank God. But then I’m looking at him like why didn’t he eat anything. I pick him up and he just lays there in my arms – mellow. Just chill-laxing. I look him in the eye and ask him if he’s high. He doesn’t respond. I place him on the floor and he just looks up at me like, “whoa” – and then looks down at the floor before laying on it. He NEVER does this when he wakes up from a nap. So now I’m convinced. My dog is stoned. And then I start to freak out. How the hell am I going to explain this to the vet. Will he believe me with the ever popular “well – my COUSIN had the stuff – I don’t do it” statement? Will they have to pump Jackson’s little tummy? Can you OD on MJ? Damn my cousin. Shouldn’t he know better – he is like – as old as my parents for crying out loud. How do you drop your stash in a puppy play pen (gated area of the kitchen) and NOT NOTICE? HOW?

Jackson is fine. I don’t think he needs to go to Rehab. The consensus is that he’s actually much better behaved while under the influence, however. My cousin is going to get a talking to in the next few days. I hope they aren’t TOO hard on him – I mean – he does have a prescription for the stuff so apparently he’s not just a hobby flyer. lol. No one was hurt – it’s all okay – and I’ll know to better trust my instincts when he comes around and remove Jack from the grounds. Perhaps I’ll put him in a safe house or something – like a shelter for doggies whose owners are dependent on drugs or something… there has to be a place like that somewhere…especially in the city that I live in.

I’ll check in tomorrow because I need to let everyone know how my math test went. Just to make sure everyone is on the same page as Rolf and Tiffy – I HATE my math teacher. And just to prove to him I belong in the class I HAVE to get an A on my algebra test tomorrow. I’ve been studying all weekend – I’ve completed all my homework – and now it’s the final test tomorrow. Not the FINAL test – just the final test for me for this class. If I don’t do well he’ll suggest I go to another class – a LOWER math class. I’m already on the ground with this Algebra class so I definitely don’t want to go lower. I will if I have to – but I’d rather prove my teacher (but mostly myself) wrong on this one. Pray for me. or pray for the callers I get on Tuesday if I don’t pass. Someone will have to pay… (evil laugh.)

About a week ago today (give or take a few hours) my kitty died. It actually wasn’t my cat – but after a week of caring for him and trying to decide whether or not I should have him put to sleep (he had kidney failure and was declining faster than I could even keep track of…) I felt as though this cat and I had developed a sort of bond. I purposely had kept myself away from him when he was diagnosed as … well.. .dying. I had noticed his rapid weight loss and watched helplessly while my family disregarded it until there was no denying that he was sick. With my family gone on vacation I found myself alone with my worst nightmare: death. I couldn’t keep my feelings at bay any longer. He would sit and just speak to me – and I would strain to understand what his meows (that were growing weaker by the day) meant.

Last Saturday evening he crawled out from a tight spot behind the entertainment center and would not or could not move. After petting him for awhile and basically freaking out, I realized that he was now paralyzed, and that he would soon die. At the encouragement of my dear Doc (thank you again, sweetheart) I placed his body into a box I had lined with an old blanket. I kept watch over him until my friend 2n’s urged me to go to sleep. I knew that when I woke up Sunday the cat would be dead. And he was. (was it Saturday or Sunday, I’m wondering now…). I somehow sucked it up (although I lost it momentarily at the Vet’s office and needed to call my friend Kylie to calm myself down, but I realized that it was for the best and felt (with the slightest dab of guilt) a bit of relief that it was over.

I did what only CeCe could do under the circumstances. I went to PetSmart – and shopped. There was one remaining kitty at home that needed me – the sister of the deceased, and I intended on making her days a bit brighter by quickly adopting her and raising her; basically taking over her care. (cleaning of the litter box, feeding her, etc.). Maybe in my head (though my heart knew differently) I felt that my family had killed her brother by not picking up on his illness sooner (it wouldn’t have made a bit of difference – Kidney failure is something that can not be cured). Somewhere in my head I felt that I needed to save the last kitty standing so I vowed to be the responsible owner for the rest of her days. I bought a new litterbox, a new bowl for her food – a mat to place in the laundry room so she could wipe her paws after using the new litterbox, and a toy. I cleaned the laundry room from top to bottom and did everything but light a scented candle and scatter rose petals on the floor leading to her new “room”. She wouldn’t budge from her chair in the dining room. I spent what seemed like hours talking to her – explaining what had happened to her brother and reassuring her that he was in a better place and … shesh. I felt like I should have been some funeral director on Six Feet Under or something – so convincing I was of the trite things that were coming out of my mouth. I pet her – and looked into her eyes and bribed her with days away from her dreaded brush (she’s long haired and gets mats) if only she would eat something – or drink a little bit. She would not budge. For 2 days I did not see that cat move from her space – and yeah – I didn’t have my eyes on her for 48 hours – but I could tell she was stuck to that chair like the last life jacket on the Titanic. It was clear to me (duh) that she was indeed mourning and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it but wait it out with her.

Several days later – I noticed her drinking. The other day – she used the literbox and with out getting into too much detail – she must have eaten at least a few bites of something. She seemed to be coming along, although she moved like she was underwater – and had this air about her that screamed, “Why bother?”.

Then a few nites ago we had an earthquake. It wasn’t THAT big – a 4.something – but when I glanced over at the throne that belonged to my little kitty (ok, after I had quit freaking out my damn self – and removed myself from the frame of the doorway and quit saying “OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD”) – it was empty. It took an earthquake to do it – but the queen had been dethroned. She’s somewhere under a bed now and hopefully she’ll reveal her whereabouts when the family returns from their vacation tomorrow.

On top of the pussy drama – I’ve also been facing my family being in Minnesota during the whole bridge collapse thing drama. And if that wasn’t enough to throw me from the train (or at least convince me to throw my own self from it) – there is homework – the final HURRAH! before the finals. One paper to write on a film titled, Almost Famous, and one open note test and I will see some sort of resemblance of freedom. For about 7 days. It has been one heck of a 2 weeks.

I have started to watch the movie, Almost Famous, in order to complete my paper. I have always loved that movie – and yeah – it is written by the one and only brain crush Cameron Crowe. *double sigh hold the whipped cream*.

A funny thing is happening though. Just when I thought that my class on Film was about the stupidest class I ever took in my entire life – it started happening. I started to really dig my class – and I started to really dig my teacher for helping me dig the class. He didn’t really work hard on it – it must have been by accident – but I’m an equal opportunity lovah. Even if you don’t mean to show me something – and even though you may not intend on enriching my life – if something you say sets off some lightbulb above my head – or makes me buy a movie, a soundtrack, a plant, or even some shade of lipgloss I’ve been coveting…I’ll adore you. Well, not really. I’m not all that easy. If you bring something meaningful to me I’ll adore you. If you open my eyes – place something I’ve never tasted before on my tongue and encourage me to…that sounds too sexual! – but if you treat me to something that is new and I change due to the new experience…you will never be forgotten. You’ll place yourself in my heart and I’ll draw on that more times than either one of us could anticipate.

My teacher, who I felt was one of the laziest teachers around, made me look at films in a completely different light. He made me notice things – not just get swept away in the fantasy (which is good, too!) like I usually do. I started to watch Almost Famous tonight – writing down notes on a notepad in front of me so I wouldn’t forget key things and realized this was the first time I ever saw this movie. I mean – REALLY SAW the movie. I started to ask questions. Why is the camera drifting over the items so quickly in the drawer and slowing down on THE PLAZA key? Tickets to specific shows? Backstage passes? A pen? How come I never noticed the “family whistle?” or the way young William punches an imaginary keyboard when he answers his mother’s question what the difference between FECK and FUCK is with, “the letter ‘U’”? How come I never quite understood the whole, “It’s all happening” bandaid chick – and connected that to the beginning of young William’s journey into becoming a journalist – or more specifically – his journey from awkward 15 year old to courageous and sensitive ADULT?

I’m thinking about all of these things because of my teacher – the one I was furious with for having not taught me a single thing all semester. And maybe he didn’t… on purpose, anyways. Whatever the reason … I have changed and I will never forget him for the new “taste” he introduced me to. I have gained from this class what so many adults have been telling me is valuable: another perspective, another way of looking at things, a new vantage point, more “fuel” for the fire that continues burning inside of me. For a bit of time I thought that maybe this class was extinguishing the flame that would be my “education” – my (laughing) thirst for knowledge, as trite and unoriginal as that line may be. What a great feeling this is: excitement at being able to see a film I’ve watched at least 15 times – in a whole new light!

Can you guess the next line? Very good!

It’s all happening!