Random

I'm sitting here at a strange desk, in a strange chair, staring at the trees outside of a strange window. You know that feeling someone gets when they wake up and don't know where they are? Or, you know that feeling when you can't figure out what day it is? Or, you know that person that suddenly turns to you and asks what year it is? BTW: I had that happen at work. The gentleman was going to write 2017 on his check. I politely helped him :-) I wouldn't have been able to do anything with that check for a LONG time.

Well, I've been having this annoying feeling all week that it is not Tuesday. It can't be Tuesday. It must be Wednesday. I keep going to reach for my service bag and car keys. My next thought comes: "I'm not ready for the meeting tonight!!" And then I calm down and realize that there is no meeting tonight and I'm never out in service on Tuesdays. What is wrong with me?

I'm staring out of my window enjoying a pleasant view of the rain and evergreens that look so close, I could probably reach out of the window and grab them. But I wisely decide to stay here. I don't think leaning out of the window is such a good idea when there is nothing to hold on to. This is the view from my new office. New office may not be the correct way to describe what this is. But I am well on my new into my new office/desk job :-) Of course, with AC/DC playing on my pandora station, it is hard to pay attention to much. There is something about "Back in Black" that I love listening to.

I can picture myself now, using a broom as a guitar and sliding across the kitchen floor in my socks, banging my head and swinging my blonde hair (and if anyone out there has not done anything similar please don't tell me. I don't care to know how crazy I really am).

There was something about this whole thing that made me want to type and blog and then I got reading all the old blogs that I used to follow so faithfully. So, here I am telling you about all this crazy stuff that you don't care to hear.

Long Time

Wow. I don't really remember much about the last time I put a post up. It seems that my life has gone so wacko that I don't quite remember how I was going to finish my story...Sorry to anyone who actually read my story.

Do you ever imagine you are someone else entirely? Like somehow your real self isn't nearly as interesting as someone else? I know it sounds strange and maybe a bit childish. And yes, to anyone who is wondering, I am beyond the "I"m pretending to be a pirate" phase. And yes, as a child I did pretend to be a pirate and my swing set was my ship sailing off into the high seas searching for hidden treasure and a bottle of rum. Don't judge.

Anyway...

I have this coat, it's a really long green coat with an almost trench coat feel about it. I don't know what exactly it is, but when I wear it, I feel empowered. A strange complex I must admit. Sometimes on a day when the sun casts a shadow, and I see my "trench coat" shadow, I imagine I'm someone else. Like The Doctor (this is the David Tenant Doctor), his hands are always stuffed in his pockets and he always has that trench coat blowing out behind him.

Or sometimes I get in touch with my darker side. I could be the bad guy in those movies. That first camera shot of them always seems to be of their shadow. Their "trench coat" shadow, followed by a tall, dark figure with an even darker mission.

Or sometimes, I'm out walking and a breeze will come up and that breeze will carry me away from here and take me somewhere else, and sometimes to a completely different time period. And as I walk, I imagine the people I would meet and what the weather is and (of course) what kind of adventures I'm having.

And when this happens, the only thing I can think of to do is write. And this would be why I have 50 stories that I have never finished......

They Call Her Starbucks

I was never the kind of person who actually LIKED drinking coffee. Up until a year and a half ago, I never drank coffee unless I had a bad night. Once I started drinking it however, it became a kind of comfort food. I loved a nice cup of hot java on a chilly morning in service. Even in the summer, it was nice to wake up to the smell of coffee. This being said, I am not a coffee snob.

I'm not the kind of person who will drive past three or four coffee shops...just to get to the best cup of coffee in town. The "best cup of coffee" is English slang for "you'll need a second job to pay for the coffee here." To sum that all up, I'm cheap. I hate to pay $3 for a cup of hot liquid I can make at home. This does not, however, mean I will take any average cup of joe that comes my way.

My personal favorite is Coffee by Design. Many disagree with me on this point. A lot of my friends LOVE starbucks (you know who you are). But, I could never justify the money for a small coffee that didn't make me go "oooh" and "awww" as I drank it. This is not to slight Starbucks in any way. In fact I have found out something....

I LOVE their mocha frappuccino's! From the first sip right to last, I have had a small taste of paradise. It was cool and refreshing. I got my coffee and my chocolate all in one amazingly smooth fix. I have found that this $4 coffee, is worth it all! I am not exactly a Starbucks fanatic, snob, or even a fan. But, on this I was wrong. Sometimes, the money is worth it for comfort food! Thank you Starbucks for making mocha frapps! Thank you Pam for making me drink one!

P.S. I do have my likes and dislikes. For example, I hate McDonald's coffee. It's always too hot and it's burnt coffee. I see no reason to suffer through burnt coffee. I wanted to add this so that you understand that I do have my pride when it comes to coffee.

Ch 22 The Blue Angel

The wind tousled Travis' hair. It pulled and tugged at his clothes. It whistled through his ears. Travis swallowed the sudden feeling of panic that welled up inside of him. It wasn't difficult for him to figure out where he was. He did, however, find it difficult to solve the question as to why he was on the roof.

Many theories ran quickly through his over imaginative mind. Some more lavish extravagant than others. Some ended in cold blood. The thought of him falling to his death from the rooftop of a strange opera house, in a city he couldn't even name, and for a reason didn't understand, only made him hysterical. He tried shoving these theories to the back of his mind, but they sat there nagging him.

"Or I could just kill you now." Wedge's words whispered softly to him.

Fine, Travis thought with a final air of resignation, if you only brought me up here to kill me, I will not go without a fight.

He ripped the blindfold off.

He wasn't sure exactly what to expect. What does the flat roof of an opera house look like anyway? But Travis was not expecting to see the blue angel staring straight at him. Travis' jaw dropped. He stared at the statue made of blue marble. So perfectly sculpted, the angel looked it was staring right at Travis, her glorious wings unfolded ready to wrap themselves around him and protect him. For a moment, he forgot where he was. The noise of the wind disappeared and he couldn't stop staring at the angel. He thought for sure that if he touched it, she would become real, with skin soft as silk and eyes bluer than the sky. It was beautiful.

But hidden in the back of the statue was a staircase leading into impenetrable darkness.

Adadora could only stare angrily at Travis. She yelled something at him but the wind blew her words away. It wouldn't have mattered. Travis wouldn't have heard her.

"You stupid boy. Put that on!" It was the attendant's voice loud, clear, and commanding.

Reassured that he would not meet his end on the ground below, Travis obeyed. But he didn't want to cover his eyes. He didn't want to look away. All he could see was the statue and all he could feel was her gaze reading directly into his heart.

Suddenly, the wind stopped. And they began to descend the staircase. Travis put his hands against the wall allowing that guide him down the winding stairs. He could feel the attendant's hands on his shoulders, ready to rescue him lest he should fall.

They reached a landing and stopped. They waited for a moment and Travis could sense Adadora's growing impatience.

"What are we waiting for?"Travis turned to where he thought the attendant was.

But the voice that responded was not the attendant's and it wasn't Adadora's. But it was a female voice, soft and musical with only a hint of the power behind that voice. Travis decided it was the blue angel's voice.

"You have permission to enter the chambers of The Mistress." The voice said...

Ch. 21 Trust

People throw trust around like it's confetti. They give their trust willingly and without question. But the definition of trust is rather important. The definition of trust is to have or place confidence in. But this is something far more profound. One dictionary says it is the firm reliance on the integrity, ability, or character of a person or thing.

But what if you don't know the integrity, ability, or character of this person? What little, carefully guarded trust Travis had already placed in Adadora was beginning to wane. He stood there, blindfolded with the sleeve of Wedge's shirt.

"You must trust me." She said

"You're not leaving me a choice." Travis whispered.

She gave a chuckle. "I'm sure the attendant outside would be more than happy to carry you."

He peaked out from under the blindfold and watched as she threw Wedge over her shoulder with a low grunt. Her point had been made.

Quickly he replaced the blindfold and waited. He felt her brush past him in the confined space and heard the door creak as she opened it.

"How are you enjoying the opera, Miss?" Came the voice of the attendant. It was a raspy voice, as if he had been talking too much and needed a glass of water.

"The opera is very informative. However, this guest is in need of a doctor."

There was a pause. "Oh dear." The attendant's polite voice suddenly carried a sense of urgency. "This will not do. He is not supposed to be here. The doctor will see you right away."

There was a slight tremor of fear in the man's voice. For a brief moment, a wave of fear washed over Travis as a hand rested on his shoulder. It was a large firm hand, nothing like Adadora's.

"I will lead the way, sir. But you must remain silent and you must move with all swiftness." It was the voice of the attendant.

Travis opened his mouth but closed it quickly. He wanted to ask where they were taking him and why. He desired an explanation. He needed an explanation. He was going to refuse to go anywhere unless they told him. But the words remained frozen on his tongue.

"I said silent." The attendant reprimanded him.

Travis closed his mouth. So, blindfolded and scared, he allowed them to lead him away from his box seat, away from the opera. And they began to climb the stairs. Up and up they went.

But it was the sudden blast of wind that terrified Travis...

The Library is Really Quiet

The Library is a strange place when you think about it. We make jokes about those strict librarians who are always telling you "shhh" as you, as quietly as you can, turn page 5 of the 500 page book you are reading or the "shhh" as you slide that 30 pound book back on the shelf with a heavy thud. But really, the library is a magical place. This silence is not like being at home alone, nor is it like sitting in a doctor's office. But everyone at the library has something in common.

The moment you walk through that door, you can feel it. It's like the air is different in here than out there. You can't even hear the noise of traffic outside. You become separated from the outside world. And there is the connection you share with the people sitting beside you or the people across from you and even the people on the floor blocking the isles with there noses so deep into the books they are reading that they don't see you. You all have a purpose.

Some people come there researching information for their final exams at the college. Others find themselves lost in the sights and smells of an old leather-bound book. Still others, are relaxing in those big comfy arm chairs that they always provide. It's funny, isn't it? How times have changed so much. Nowadays people go to the library for the internet. But, even still, the magic of the library will never change.

I'm currently sitting in the Camden Library. A particularly quiet library. It is nothing like Portland. People are moving slowly, deliberately as if any noise will break the magic. For instance: the man across from me is very slowly opening a letter. But for fear of breaking the atmosphere, he takes his time. And what takes most of us just a few seconds is taking him much longer.

I'm here waiting for my friend to get out of work. I'm trying to keep quiet. I keep waiting for the Librarian to look at me and tell me to "keep it down over there!" The sound of my own keyboard is ringing in my ears. But I can't think of a place I would rather be!!

Ch.20 Just Like Old Times

I have had the opportunity in the past to view an opera from a box seat. Unfortunately, I had the unpleasent experience of burning that opera house that very night. But that experience had taught me a lot about the way people view the box seats. If you have the privilege of having a box seat, you are almost invisible to the outside world. The people below you don't care to strain their necks to see what is going on up there and other box seat occupants are too absorbed in the opera to look at the tiny flame that had begun to engulf the curtain.

We find Travis in this same predicament. Well, not quite the same. He had absolutely no intention of burning down the opera house. At least none that I know of. He was literally being pulled between two people. One of them had recently saved his life. The other had recently threatened it. But he didn't trust either of them and he didn't know what they wanted with him. He did know he wanted to go home.

"May I make a suggestion?" Travis asked timidly.

Through the darkness, he could barely see their shrug.

"We could just forget this whole thing and send me home. I don't want to meet The Mistress and I don't even know who or what she is."

Travis felt Adadora stiffen and she shot him a withering glance. Wedge opened his eyes and smiled mischeviously.

"Addy, that's not a half bad idea. Now I know why you wanted him." Wedge released his grip on Travis.

"If you go home Travis, you'll die." Adadora spoke softly but firmly. Her eyes riveted to his, she didn't notice Wedge pull his gun out.

"Or I could just kill you now." He cocked his gun and aimed casually at Travis's chest.

"With the safety on?" Adadora asked with a touch of impatience in her voice.

"That's an easy fix." But Wedge made no move to fix it.

"Listen, he wants to see this Mistress bad enough to hunt us down. You are taking me to see her. And I just want to go home. So can we speed this process up a bit? He's just going to follow us there. We could just make our lives easier and bring him." Travis's words came out in a tumble. The barrel of that gun was so close and Travis could tell that the people down below weren't looking this way and the other box seat occupants were to absorbed in the opera to notice the gun shot.

"Fine, we'll bring him." Adadora settled the matter quite quickly.

"Just like old times, huh Addy? You and me and...." Wedge never got to finish. Adadora silenced him with a swift kick to his skull and he fell limply to the floor of the booth.

"Trust me, it'll be easier this way." She picked him up and threw him over her shoulder.