Cable out

Sooo I'm still working on this week's story. Sorry, been a little uninspired this week. But it's started, just need to flesh it out and all that jazz. 

So, for now, do you want to hear about how our cable went out? 

Maybe? A little bit kinda? 

Well, our internet went out. All of a sudden, Charter decided to up and quit on us. And it's not like I'm not paying them good money for bon bons and caviar and whatever else cable indulges in. 

So the hubs tried to get everything up and running. Cords all over, it was like a tech-y dream up in here. He worked on it till midnight, and finally we got some basic channels and a weak internet connection. 

Now I know how this sounds. It's only tv and internet. Can't you live without it? 

TV yes. 

Internet--hell no. Sorry, some things aren't easy to be without. And I grew up in a time of cassette tapes and VCRs so I know life does go on but still. I need me some internet. 

So, we had a solid two day cleanse. Well, sorta, with the basic channels and weak internet and all. 

Then the cable guys got here and found the problem to be, drum roll please...

Our cable lines were mislabeled and our neighbors ended their service. So charter turned it off, not realizing it was ours. And then gave me a credit of $11. I know I'm rolling in the dough! 

Stupid right? 

That's what I thought. 

The end (to a terribly boring story) 

Instagram Art For Sale

Hey, are you interested in some of these photos here?

Specifically, these photos:

Really? Then check out my Society 6 shop and go buy yourself one or two! You can also access it through that banner on the right of my blog, above my About Me. 

(And let me know if you like a picture on my Instagram that's not in my Society 6 shop--I'll make it available ASAP).

Thanks! 

xo Han

The Bad and the Good

Well, the bad news is: our beloved mexican restaurant with the best happy hour in the land is closed. FOREVER. Sooo no more $4 40oz. Now it's a search for the next best Thursday happy hour that will never live up to our unrealistic standards. We had sake bombs instead last night. Tough times, I tell ya.

The good news: the hubs made homemade bruschetta for the whole entire office. That's right, garlic breath for everyone! He is a genius with tomatoes, and just about every other ingredient as well.

So that's my week in a nutshell. This weekend is going to be full missing my two BFFs in LA. They are probably up to some fun shenanigans right now. Super jealous! Damn you universe!

Until next time.

PS Hang in there Mom! ❤️

xo Han

Story 14 // Jump

She wiggled her toes at the end of the pier, looking at the rippling water with hesitation. The color was unreal--teal/blue/green/awesomeness that no paint swatch could ever emulate. The sun dipped behind a cloud, and she thought:

This is stupid, why can't I jump?

It's just a lake, come on. Just do it. Come on just jump.

No one is looking. Well, not yet. Get on with it. Get into the lake!

...

photo here

Sarah put on her sandals and got ready to leave. Why was it that every time she came to the lake she chickened out? It frustrated her, putting lines on her forehead as she clasped the left one. The red coloring had faded but these were by far her favorite pair of summer sandals, having never found a replacement for eight years running. Her style was a little different when not at the lake. She could usually be found in blazers, pencil skirts, and crisp button ups at her job downtown. But she turned into a boho-hippy whenever summertime hit. She just couldn't get enough flowy skirts and loose fitting tanks. Once she clocked out she changed into her off duty uniform. It was her summer alter ego. All she needed now was to convince it that jumping off the short wood pier into the lake was a good idea. One day.

After collecting her things she trekked inside her family's lake house and opened her laptop. She had promised not to work while on vacation here, but no one was currently in the small bungalow, so she decided to take a peek at the chaos of emails. Scanning down the list, she clicked about two dozen that were clearly spam but for some reason in her "important" section. Those sneaky emails, she thought. They may have tricked gmail but they didn't trick me! She kept scanning, clicking on semi-interesting titles, moving some to a file marked REPLY BY FRIDAY, keeping her ears perked up for anyone coming into the house.

She worked in media, but her true passion had always been film. She learned that it was a lot tougher to make it in the film world than in the media world, and she had a knack for media that pleased her boss but not herself. So she decided to take the money over a happy career path, since let's be honest here, she got paid quite well. Much better than when she was a PA on film sets. Fetching people coffee and moving apple boxes for twelve hours a day got her around $120. Sitting at a desk and analyzing analytics for her boss paid her that amount every two hours. She had already paid off her student loans and she wasn't even thirty. Life was good, for the most part.

Suddenly one title grabbed her full attention: CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN ACCEPTED INTO THE FILM STUDIES MFA PROGRAM AT COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY.

WHAT?!?!

On a whim she had applied to Columbia. That alter ego, the lake house chick, she had applied. She had made a reel and sent it in, polished off her test scores, and crossed her fingers. She couldn't believe it. This was really happening. It didn't feel like reality.

She looked towards that short pier through the window, and quickly took off her bikini coverup. She ripped her sandals off and threw them without looking. She opened the old french doors that led outside and ran as fast as she could towards the lake. Without even thinking she jumped in.

She stayed under for a little bit, then emerged a new person. She was now her summer alter ego, living her true life again. And it felt good.

Story 13 // Fog

First off, I apologize for not being on top of publishing my stories. After my grandma's funeral,  creative writing just seemed to stop. I had a really hard time getting focused on personal projects and have instead been getting lost in books to keep my mind unavailable. But I need to wake it up and get back to this, after all, that's what she would say to me. And to stop procrastinating and to maybe run more. She was a great motivator, even now that I can't talk to her. So I promise to get back to work, and publish stories once a week as I originally planned. And maybe some personal inspiration too. We'll see. 

FOG

The pine needles crunched under her feet as she walked down the well beaten path towards the ridge. It was a very deceiving path. You would never know it lead to anything special. The trees loomed in on both sides, as if trying to hug each other. The air was muggy but cool, like a summer evening that breaks through the heat. Only a few birds flew by, most avoiding the narrow spaces between branches. She saw a nest up high on one branch, little babies sitting calmly under their mother. All of the trees were a deep green that no paint color could describe.

The path opened up a little to another walkway, leading to a moss covered cabin. It looked abandoned, or closed for the season. Either way, it seemed to be doing just fine by itself. The weeds had grown into teenagers and the vines had partially covered the front door, but the red coloring seemed to shine in defiance. It was just about the cutest little place she had ever seen. She pulled out her film camera and snapped a few shots. She could of sworn the cabin was smiling in the last one.

As she got closer to the ridge, the breeze started to pick up a little. Smells of fog and pine needles thickened, filling the air with a cozy aroma. Light peeked out from behind a few young saplings, and suddenly there it was.

The ridge.

The rock cropped out towards the valley below, steel blues and grays of stone as old as time. White and black moss peppered the surface, helping hikers not slip on the lightly dewed surface. The timing couldn't of been better. She got her film camera out once more, and took photos until her film supply was all but spent. Then she turned back to her backpack, and slowly lifted out an urn. She walked to the very edge of the ridge, making sure her feet were well placed before opening the lid. After checking the direction of the breeze, and muttering a few words under her breath, she opened it up and let it fly. The ashes joined the low hanging fog and together they watched the sunset from the best view in the world.

Story // 12 The Crash

I remember thinking that time had frozen. It obviously can't freeze, but sometimes I think logic stops existing for a few seconds every now and then during an event of great importance. It's as if the world is set on pause, and you realize that you are only a tiny part of it, with different universes and plans of existence...then you blink and everything is back to normal, or at least time is. My life wasn't normal after time un-paused.

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Getting a tattoo wasn't as painful as I had thought it would be. It's that annoying pain you feel after you get a flu vaccine, only for hours on end. It itches, feels scratchy, but pain itself isn't exactly at a high level. At least that's how I felt after getting my first tattoo. Eighteen and new in college, it was what I had wanted to get for years while in high school. Hidden on my right hip, not broadcast to the world, it was perfect.

I hopped in the car after it was done with my two friends, ready for a fun night out, well in rather, since we were all underage. We were going to a friend's house to hang out and relax, tell stories of how college was going so far. Finally all of us were back in town, and it was going to be a fun reunion.

I didn't fasten my seatbelt at first, since my hip was still wrapped in cling-wrap. I didn't want anything to rub against my fresh ink since it felt a little raw still, and I was only driving around town so what could happen in a dozen blocks? I had the steering wheel to keep me steady, my teenage brain thought. We decided to go to Starbucks, then to the party/hangout.

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The crunch was the first thing that broke the long lasting silence in that frozen second of time. Tire wheel on windshield, it sounded like it was coming from a megaphone speaker right into my ears. The car bounced back twenty feet, scraping up the road with tire marks. When we finally stopped, I grabbed at my seatbelt, forgetting I had absentmindedly fastened it after Starbucks. Then I grabbed my hip. The wrapping was no where to be found, and all I felt was metal against my stomach. How is this possible? I thought about what I should look like, but all I could see was the door dramatically bent into my side, L-shaped. I checked for pain, but felt nothing, thanks to the adrenaline boost. Then, this terrible whirling started, the truck that hit us was trying to start his car with his foot on the gas, making his tires spin. The windshield looked like spider webbing, and started to smoke from the new friction. The engine roared on and the truck jumped alive, trying in vain to crawl up my car and down the road. It attempted a few times, like a monster truck does in an arena, but the engine died again.

The man responsible for the accident stumbled out of the truck, three times over the legal drinking limit. Neighbors poured out of apartments and houses to watch everything. A few men saw the drunkard and corralled him until the police got to the scene. My two friends had gotten out right after the crash since their doors were working, and were on the phone with 911.

I felt the car slowly start to move backwards down the slight incline. I hit the brakes but nothing happened. Still not able to move my torso, I wasn't sure what what causing the movement. Was it a tow truck? I tried to open the door, but the handle was no where to be found, twisted out of sight. I banged on the window, started screaming at the people watching me. I felt like a fish in a tank about to be flushed. It was the most helpless feeling I've ever experienced. I thought the car would explode with me in it. I panicked. Suddenly a crowbar showed up in the seam of the door, and slowly started to work it open. It finally budged just enough for me to crawl out, thankful that I could still move all my body parts. I got out as blocks were being put on the back tires of my completely totaled car.

I grabbed my friends and we huddled by the wreckage until all the reports were filed. This was the drunk man's third DUI, and he would get a felony for the accident since he injured people. His bail was set at a hundred grand. My back began to get stiff, as well as my neck. I found out I fractured my tailbone, but nothing was broken. I would need to take therapy for two years so my tailbone could heal.

After a while, I looked down at my hip, forgetting I had gotten a tattoo. There was a medium amount of blood, and when I lifted my shirt, I saw a perfect seat belt line across the middle of it. Right through the design. But you know what? I walked away from the worst car crash of my life. A little damage to my tattoo was fine by me.

Welp

Well, I've missed a bunch of weeks of stories, and I want to say I've been taking time off for my bday, crummy personal stuff, and being sick but honestly, it's the inevitable writers block. It's like a creative funk, but with words. I've had it many times, and I'm used to this cycle. I just have to take a break and ride it out. Try new creative outlets, reflect on stuff, blah blah blah. So. I started a Tumblr account, for starters. Gotta get away from my brain to find my way back to my mind, ya know? It happens, and I'm just bummed to be missing some posts and letting anyone reading this down. Well just a little, it is my blog after all. My space to do my thang without judgement. Know what I'm sayin? Exactly.

With that being said, I have been thinking a lot about the short story fragments rolling around in my brain, and I've been trying to outline a few. So be on the lookout for those lil gems! In the meantime, I'm going to keep taking some photos of my cat for my very unimportant new Tumblr blog. If you have some minutes to waste, check it: 

HANIMAL LURVES YOU

It's almost embarrassing to admit that I started a blog for my cat. Almost. 

Have a good Monday!

-HM