Eighteenth Lovely

Lucky for me, I managed to get the entire show's basic planning done Sunday night. So all I needed to do in the office on Monday was to report and turn them in. Boba was satisfied, and I was let off early. Well, not without a nice survey to be carefully filled out by Friday. He claimed it was to develop the show's advertisement. I asked why I couldn't just do that instead, seeing as I was handling that too. So he gave me until Monday to arrange the first flyer to go around. Wonderful.
Instead of dealing with all of that, I decided to just let the dog sitter off early and spend some time with Dot. The little puppy was too rowdy for me, and I was just too exhausted to not take him outside. Unfortunately, we didn't have any dog toys, so he still couldn't entertain himself. So, the dog park it was.
I drove down there, only relatively smoothly. It's hard to have a relaxing drive with a puppy chirping every two seconds. We pulled up and I was quick to let him run around with other puppies and public toys. While he did that, I fell back into a wooden bench and sighed.
"Hey!" I looked up and saw a thin woman with jet-black hair brushing her wrists.
"Oh," I waved back. "Rachel right?"
"Yup!" she grinned. "I'd be a little irritated if you'd gone and forgotten my name so quickly, Samba." Rachel put her hand on the side of the bench and tilted her head a bit.
"Well, good thing I didn't." I was too tired to be more enthusiastic and didn't try to fight it.
In response, she gave a disappointed, "Yeah."
"Did I...tell you my name?"
"You filled out my mother's form. I checked it." I gave her a look, and she squirmed a bit under it. "Um, how's Couro?"
"Good," I hummed. "She's coming home late today. She decided to join this book club at school." After a second, I leaned over and whispered, "I give her a month."
"That's not fair!" Rachel said between laughs. "She might pick up something."
"She's eight."
She shrugged. "She said something about a brother?"
"Yeah, Gora. He's sixteen."
"Sixteen?" Blinking fast, she looked at me in disbelief. "Are they yours or...?"
A little taken aback, I paused, "Uh, yeah."
"So, the product of a happy marriage then, huh?" she grimly joked. "Sixteen years with one child, and eight with another."
"Yup. But uh, not anymore." I looked away for a minute. A faint image of Kutu sitting beside me appeared, and I didn't want her seeing me like this. "So here, I am," I continued. "Juggling two kids. And a part-time puppy."
"Part-time?"
"We're just nursing him for now. In a few weeks, he goes up for adoption."
She looked over at Dot and laughed, "So I'm guessing you don't know how to care for one?"
"Not at all."
"Well, if you need anything, I'm always here."
"Trust me, me coming all the way here will be a rare occurrence. I doubt it'll ever happen again given with the holiday schedule they're giving me."
"Ah, that sucks." I looked up to see Rachel force herself to say, "Hey, how about you take my number? You can text me for help anytime." She dug into her pocket and stuffed a small slip of paper into my hands.
"Uh, thanks."
"Try it," she insisted. So, I did. Her phone chimed and she held it up to confirm it was me. By the time we settled that, Dot was back at my feet, barking and whimpering. "Think he's ready to leave," Rachel giggled.
I forced a big smile and waved, "Well, thanks, Rachel. See you."
"Bye!"

As I loaded Dot into the car, my phone buzzed. Rachel.

I just realized, I never asked. How old are you?

44.

Movie Review: Wedding Cake

Wedding cake is an 8-minute, 33-second long short film directed by Viola Baier and produced by Iris Frisch. Its initial release was in Germany on June 30, 2013. It can now be found on several YouTube channels like KIS KIS - Keep It Short, The8Bittheater, and Filmakademie Baden-Württemberg GmbH. 
We follow the married life of two wedding cake figurines. At the reception, the groom spills wine on his new wife's dress, but she brushes it off quickly. The stain remains and she continuously tries to remove it and fails. 
The marriage starts out great. They move into a "place"--which is really just the cake's top. The start to renovate and we get to see them communicating and making decisions together. It's really cute in all honesty. The first hitch is when the groom builds a crib. It's a really nice and fancy crib, but the bride isn't amused. She makes it clear that she has no intention of getting pregnant. (Which, if you ask me, that's should be something the guy shoulda known before the wedding but whatever I guess.) The guy's upset, to which his wife brings in a puppy. It cheers him up and their back to their cutesy, coupley selves.
The next scene is a hitch in itself, the whole scene is a tense disagreement between the two. We first see the wife enjoying some romance and very clearly cooing over the male lead's body. Weird, your husband's right there. But he doesn't seem to mind much. He instead begs her if he can pick something to watch, to which she relents. The groom goes and switches it to a soccer game. And, for the commercial break, a woman he's very audibly looking at. With his wife right there, not caring. I guess this is a mutual thing.
The bride then gets the idea of a vacation. Her husband then says they have no money. He suggests a camping trip. She fears getting mulled by a bear. The groom shrugs it off and goes back to his game, leaving his wife to boil in her seat and scrub at her wine stain. He sees her anger and pulls her into this cuddle-over-the-dog sort of thing, but neither really react to it. They're just there, blankly staring while their heads touch.
Next scene: it looks like the bride is juggling a pile of places and a cup while the dog is barking at her, begging for a walk. She calls her husband in to help her, but due to his soccer game, he can't hear her. Angrily, she storms in and screams at him. He hears nothing. She goes to the table where the T.V. is sitting, and lifts it, crashing the T.V. Now, the groom notices and is furious. He then goes and murders their dog, and makes a smaller T.V. I guess, in their world, it's fine. Considering everything is just icing and the wife didn't really react past "there's goop on my face!"
What isn't fine, is the bride's feelings. She goes into the other room to sulk and cry and is later met by her husband. She's busy scrubbing off the same stain again, probably in hopes it would help her feel better. The groom then takes some icing and plops it on the stain, covering it up. The bride's happy. When the goop of icing starts falling, he reaches to spread it all over her chest. She's still happy. Then, with a ball of icing in his hand, the groom gets the genius idea of faking bigger breasts on his wife. Obviously, she's hurt and retaliates. She then starts picking icing out of his stomach to add to his arms. The whole ordeal heats up and they end up ripping each other apart.
We then see the real couple, opening up their destroyed cake. They shrug and return to their ceremony. Lo and behold, the groom spills his drink on the bride's dress. She's mad for a moment but then brushes it off--nearly replicating the beginning scene with the figurines.
In the credits, we see many similarities between the figurines' and the people's marriages. Like how both brides don't want kids and never manage to get the wine stain off. Or how both grooms obviously prefer bigger breasts and are obsessed with soccer. So like, this is nice and all. But does this mean they'll get a dog? What'll happen to it?

Movie Review: Sidewalk

Sidewalk. What a classic.
Sidewalk is a short 4-minute, and 15-second comedy produced, animated, and directed by Celia Bullwinkel. It was uploaded to her YouTube channel on September 23, 2014, and has garnered over 900 thousand likes since. The music was produced by Josh Moshier and was first released on April 18, 2013.
We follow the story of a young girl, who I shall call Ellie. In the actual short, she remains nameless, but she looks like an Ellie to me. So Ellie starts off at home. Her mother is at her doorstep with her lunch, ready to see Ellie off for school. And, off Ellie goes. Happily, she skips along, playing games and enjoying the bliss of childhood. Then, she walks by an advert. One clearly meant to represent she's grown up a bit and is more exposed to the world. Someone's told her how a girl should act, and being an older child, she soaks it in and copies it verbatim. She's still happy though. The first signs of maturity are appearing and she's swimming in the joy of it.
Then, the lampost. It serves as a scene change, and now we see Ellie as a preteen. Ten, eleven, twelve, maybe thirteen. The most awkward years of anyone's lives. You're too old to keep doing things you've always enjoyed and people expect a solid level of maturity in you. But you're too young for everything that entices you and everyone still treats you as a baby. Middle school. Awkward body proportions. Pure confusion. No wonder Ellie looks so confused. And to add salt to the wound, the bus stop pole blesses her with puberty.
Then, the heart of the teenage years. Every teenager goes through a time where they're just upset with everything and everyone. For some, they might express it differently than others. And some, it may be more than just a phase. But on a perfectly healthy level, everyone goes through it. But, you get out of it. Hormones start to settle and your mind clears. With it, you finish maturing, as the next lampost demonstrates.
The next scene change is done by a car--how fitting. Ellie's all grown up now. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty. You have your adult body, adult rights, and adult freedom. Power move time. Ellie struts the sidewalk, ready to live her life to the fullest. But, she's discouraged by the catcalling passers-bys. Which, could easily represent the world in general. As soon as you're in the real world, it rears its ugly end and has you missing your days of teen angst. Angrily, Ellie storms off into the tree. And returns a working woman. Barely settled, she's a twenty-something-year-old barista, working her way through school, and constantly stressed. Long story short: she's just tryna feed herself every night.
Another lampost and Ellie has herself together. A sophisticated businesswoman in her thirties, strutting down the sidewalk she likely paid for herself. She's proud of the life she's built up and bumps into a businessman who matches her energy. Comfortable with life, she's ready to next be seen juggling a baby bump in front of her.
We see Ellie envy another younger woman's body for a minute before a bus runs by and treats us to a drained mother pushing around her screaming baby. Her body is thin and frail, most likely from exhaustion. Another bus passes by and her son is clearly older than she was at the beginning. Placing her second pregnancy in her late thirties/early forties. Unlike her earlier pregnancy, you can already see in her face and waist that her body won't revert as well as it did the first time. And, as many people that age have this revelation, we see her inspecting her body and thinking, "Man, I'm getting old."
So she runs. For like, two seconds. I mean, A for effort and A for keeping it realistic. She doubles over the lampost and falls into the body of a chubby, graying woman who just passed fifty. Ellie looks around, clearly dissatisfied with her body and maybe her life even. At this point, her kids are all grown up and it's easy to fall into a bland routine at that age. Ellie eyes an advert, similar to the one she saw as a young girl. And, after a bit of thought, she's made up her mind.
A car passes by, and...mid-life crisis. She puts on tight clothing, outlandish makeup, heels, and adorns herself. She struts the sidewalk like she once did a few decades ago, frightening other people and making them turn away. Eventually, a mirror catches up to her and we can see Ellie's confidence shrivel away. The next lampost gives us a woman nearing her seventies. We see her body fat comically redistribute itself as she tries to put it back, grasping at the last straws of her youth. The next lampost takes the rest of it and gives us a sweet old lady budding paths with a lost little girl. They hold hands as Ellie guides her to the tree, were they both age a few years. There, they split ways and Ellie finally walks out of the frame at last.
All in all, I've watched this at least ten times and I love it more with each go.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zye28xU3F64

Seventeenth Lovely

The next morning, I woke Couro up for school. Just as I always did. Usually, I left Gora to tend to himself, but this morning, I decided to knock on his door. He never came home and I eventually opened the door to see no one lying in his bed. I sighed, hoping he'd gone straight there. Couro showered, got dressed, brushed, packed her bags, and brought all her things downstairs. She set her bag and coat beside the stairs, ready for me to drive her after breakfast. As I set her food before her, the door opened.

"Gora." Nothing. No response, no movement. After a minute, he appeared from the other side of the doorframe.
Standing there, was a tall, dark figure. Black sweatshirt, black sweatpants. "Yeah?" He was nervous, but did a good job of covering it. Carrying a red box, he watched me as I left Couro to walk up to him.
"Care to explain?"
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again, and closed it again. Finally, he spat out, "I had to go somewhere." I narrowed my eyes at him, and I saw him take a step back. Quickly, he spewed, "I didn't think it'd take so long. My phone died and I couldn't find my portable, and the car broke down and I had to call someone to fix it but they bailed on me so I had to get someone else. They then tried to charge me so I agreed, but then I didn't have any money and that just wasted a whole hour of both of our time since I was in the middle of nowhere and--" He stopped, then looked over me. "Couro, I came back, I promise. I didn't forget you."
I put a hand to his chest and held him back. "Where were you last night? Not even gonna tell me?"
Gora sputtered. Then he pushed back and rushed into the kitchen. "I bought these," he dropped the box onto the table. "Thought you'd like them." With the feeblest smile imaginable, he looked back at me.
Upset, I ignored his stunt and pressed, "So where's the car now?"
"Repair shop," he sighed, his smile falling. "I couldn't fix it."
Pinchin my nose, I leaned onto the doorframe. "So how'd you get home?"
"A friend."
"Same person you stayed the night with?" Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he looked down. "Hm. You know this means you can't drive anymore, right?"
"Yeah."
"Any run-ins with the police?"
"No." Looking up, he gave me a face. As if he couldn't believe I'd ask such a thing.
"Just checking," I shrugged. Gora stared at me, probably waiting for me to send him to school. It was just after eight on a Monday morning, he was expecting it. But honestly, I didn't care if he went or not that specific day. Disappeared all day, trashed my car, and didn't have the decency to apologize. He was already an hour late and seeing how little he cared, pushing it would be only more efforts going to waste. Maybe tomorrow, but I couldn't be bothered today. I just nodded my head and watched him head upstairs.
He went up to his room, somewhat sulking. There was some genuine shame radiating off him. Odd, but appreciated. Maybe a bit of self-scolding would get my message across. I pushed myself off the doorframe and turned toward the kitchen table.
Sitting in the middle of it, was Couro's red box. Curious, Couro looked up from her breakfast and watched as I opened it. Christmas sweaters. One for me, for himself, for Couro, and even one for the puppy. I held it up and let Couro gawk at it. They were adorable--matching big Christmas Trees with colorful decorations all over it. White in the back for snow and velvet red lining on the arms, hems, and necks. Overhead, Miske was sewn in blue into the snow-white backdrop. Carefully, I folded them back up and sealed the box back up.
Tuning to Couro, I slapped on a smile, "Ready for school, sweetie?"

Poem Prompt: Rain

The droplets fall down

on the windows and screens.

It makes a soft patter sound

that rings in my ears while I read.

The sky's tears dull the clouds,

and fill the rivers and streams.

The animals slow down,

the trees dance in the breeze.

The children huddle up,

we're warmer as a team.

And we listen to the droplets--

pitter-patter, pitter-pat--

All the way down the seams.

Poem Prompt: Enjoy

You and I
used to bond over the thrills.
We were as close as glue,
and I never saw it ending.
We’d walk side by side,
matching drinks in hand.
The ice would clunk on the glass
under the sounds of our laughter.
I changed my schedule,
gave up some of my work.
To enjoy more time
with you.

But now, you’re always busy
Your computer gets all your free time
Now, we do things on your time,
If you ever have any.
I spend so many hours
Cooing after you, waiting for attention.
It’s always your call.
I don’t have a say anymore.
And either I accept or I don’t—
you don’t listen anymore.
So I stand here, waiting.

You said to go get ready,
so I did.
And here I am,
all made up, in a sparkling, short dress.
I’m leaning on the doorway,
watching you work.
You said today was a good day.
You promised you’d be ready by sunset.
And we could dance the night away.
But here we are—
the clock ticks to midnight
as you furiously type away.
Eventually, you remembered me.
“Go on, have fun,” you said.

“Without me.”
Fine, be like that.
I’ll just enjoy myself.

Sixteenth Lovely

Into the evening, I sat on that desk. I called the technician. Called the Santa. Called another Santa. Hired a conservator. Hired a caterer. Called the head chef. Called another Santa. Called another Santa. And yet another because, for some reason, any credited Santas are already booked in early-November.
After some time, I'd given up on Santa and was into researching a pop art collection I was planning on attempting to get in January. While I was just starting to get a feel for it, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the caller but answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hello," a raspy female voice answered, "is this Samba Miske?"
"Yes, why?"
"Do you have a daughter?"
I paused, "Why?"
"I'm Mrs. Mildew, I work as a secretary at Buddy's Pet and Play in Gwinnett. A young girl by the name of Couro claims this is her father's line. She's here unattended after hours, I'm gonna need you to come pick her up."
Sighing, I texted Gora, asking where he was. "Where's her brother?"
"She says he dropped her off. You need to come to get her."
"Give me half an hour, I'll be right there."
"Thank you, she'll be in my office. Go in through the front of the pet center, then straight down to the row of doors. Mine should have my last name on it: 'Mildew.'"
"Okay, thank you." She hung up.
Frustrated, I lifted myself from my work. I checked the clock, about a quarter after ten. I sighed and shut my computer. As I went to go get my jacket, I called Gora. No answer--expected. I called him again. Still nothing. One more time, I called as I walked out the door. Absolutely nothing. So, I shot him another quick text. This time, a bit more irritated.

So you abandoned her, huh? Can't wait to see you at home.

For maybe twenty minutes, I cruised along, following the GPS's voice. While I gripped the wheel with my palms, my fingers jittered on it. Instead of turning on music, I let the car be silent, deeply breathing in and out. Eventually, I reached. There was a large pet center to one side and the rest of the lot was a fenced-in play yard for pets and their owners. I went into the building and was met with a cold blow of air. Inside was dimly lit and empty, the only sound being the rolling of a trash can.
I walked, right down the hall. I listened to the sound of my slippers flopping against the tile as I neared an array of doors. Each had a name on it, and the second one read "Rosa." I knocked on it and almost immediately, I could hear someone getting up and walking towards me. I took a step back and watched the door creak open.
A thin, older woman in a white uniform and brown apron opened the door. "Samba Miske," I said flatly. "I'm here for Couro."
Mildew hummed. "I really should call the police." I looked down, avoiding her intense gaze. "I've never seen you two here before. First time?" I nodded. "I'll just make a note for now. Try this again and you're in trouble, you hear me?"
I looked up, "Oh, thank you so much."
"Thank my daughter." Mildew moved aside to let me peer into her office. It was typical box-like room, cluttered with papers, posters, and folders. Pushed up against the wall was a small, battered, red couch. On it, Couro sat next to a woman, who looked like Mildew but thirty years younger. They both shared long black hair and a darker olive complexion. The other woman, however, glowed a bit more and smiled at me. Mildew looked between us and rolled her eyes, "Rachel here's the one who convinced me to sit here past my time instead of shipping the girl off in a police car."
"Hi, Daddy!" A pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist as Couro buried her face in my stomach. "Ms. and Mrs. Mildew taught me how to play spoons."
"Ms. and Mrs.?"
"Yeah!" She pointed at Mildew, "Mrs. Mildew." Then at Mildew's daughter, "Ms. Mildew." Couro cupped her mouth and whispered, "That means she's not married."
"Please," Ms. Mildew spoke up. Her voice had a certain sweetness to it. "Call me Rachel." Rachel it is.
"Well, thank you, Rachel." I smiled again and ushered Couro out the door. "So, Couro and I will be heading off."
Still smiling, Rachel enthusiastically waved us goodbye.

Fifteenth Lovely

Sunday afternoon, maybe two hours after church, I sat at the kitchen table, finalizing the gallery’s Christmas showing. Mr. Evans had been comfortable enough offering me my own show on a bonus due to how hard I had worked for September’s show. Of course, I took up the offer and its bonus. Considering the puppy and the holidays coming up, any bonus was welcome to try and still afford a place to live.
“Hey, father.” Gora. He emphasized “father,” as he walked around the table. He sat next to me, looking over my computer. “A spreadsheet. What’s it for?” He reached over me for one of the apples on the table.
I pursued my lips, “Just...people like the Christmas show to be flashy. So big decorations and fancy portraits are a must. But we’re a little low on savings this year...even more important I do well.” Gora stares at me, blank. I stared back, knowing that he wasn’t retaining any of this. “Shoot, we might need to hire a Santa.”
His head jerked, “No, it’s an art show, right? Keep it cultured.”
“Like?”
“Frosty the Snowman,” he grinned. I groaned and added another row to my sheet. I typed in “Santa Claus” and opened a separate tab to see if I could find any for cheap. For a few minutes, Gora sat beside me in silence. Honestly, I forgot he was even there. I settled into the sound of his soft chewing and focused on finding a Santa. “So,” he said suddenly, “is Frosty going towards getting our house back?”
I tended up, “I’m getting a Santa, not Frosty.”
“Same difference,” he shrugged. “Point is, you’re taking on another big project, so we’re definitely getting the house back.” He paused to take a bite of his apple and swallow. “For a minute there, I was skeptical. Seeing as you haven’t mentioned it in forever and now Couro has that puppy. Dot’s kinda cool though, don’t get me wrong. I was just worried he’d be too expensive.” He paused again, clearly waiting for some kind of response. Ignoring it, I nervously scrolled through different pages of Santas-for-hire.
Then, I felt a hand on my arm. “I know I give you shit over working so much,” he said, “but I promise I’ll be forever grateful for this. Like, seriously, thanks.” I swallowed. How was I supposed to admit we might have to rent out this house again. Going back to Little Rock would take money I just couldn’t be sure I could get.
To save me from having to eventually answer, Couro then wandered into the kitchen with the puppy in her arms. She held Dot around his body and let his bandaged back legs dangle in front of hers. Dot’s coat was now a purer white. Over the past week, bathing and cleaning him had restored his coat’s color. Dot looked up at me with a blank expression, quiet as Couro looked back and forth from Gora and I.

"Yo,” Gora called out. “You’re not that bad of a sister.” Confused, Couro paused, and looked her brother up and down. He laughed and pulled out a chair for her. Puppy and all, she climbed into it and I squirmed watching her put Dot’s paws on the tabletop. "Heard you grilled that kid over insulting me. Andre, or whatever his name was."
"Aidan,” she corrected. “And I didn’t grill him. I just told him where was wrong.” She looked down and petted Dot’s head. “He was mean to you."
"I'm not the nicest to you either."
"And that's why Daddy always yells at you." Mischievously, she laughed at Gora sinking into his chair.
"Nice to see you two getting along." In the corner of my eye, I saw Gora stick his tongue out at his sister.
When her laughter died down, Couro shifted her chair closer to mine. "Daddy, can we take Dot to the park now?"
"Ah...” I pulled out a piece of paper to write down the contact number for a certain Santa. “Sweetie, now isn't a good time. Let's try next weekend? I'll be off for Thanksgiving, I'll have time."
"No, you won't,” Gora scoffed. “Auntie's coming."
Stunned, I asked "Zeze? Did she confirm?” Gora turned and reached into the drawer with all our mail. He ruffled through it and pulled out a letter from Zeina Alaoui. Kutu’s older sister. “Shoot,” I mumbled.
"So can we go today?" Couro piped up.
"Maybe the weekend after?"
"Isn’t the Christmas showing every weekend of December?”
“...Let’s try January?”
"That's so long!” she was whining now. “We might not still have Dot." I swallowed, wondering how quickly I’d be able to finish finalizing for tomorrow. Couro got frustrated and started pulling on my arm, “Please. You said you would yesterday."
"Something came up, sweetie. I couldn't." Right then, I got a text from the person coming in to install the lights. Reading it, I saw that they were trying to flake on us last minute. I texted back, trying to figure out why.
"You promised..."
"Damn,” Gora remarked. “Dad's not fulfilling his promises. What a surprise."
"Not now, Gora." The technician was trying to demand more money since apparently somewhere else offered him more for a similar job. When I refused due to our budget, he was kind enough to link me to another lights person looking for work.
Gora looked at me, then my phone, "What is so important that you couldn't keep a simple promise?"
"Making sure we have a place to live in the summertime, dammit." Frustrated I dialed the number given and listened as the phone rang.
"You said we're moving back to Little Rock next summer." I didn’t respond. Didn’t even look at him.
Couro caught on and pulled on my arm again, “We are going back, aren't we?"
I didn’t look at her either. "Eventually."
I could see Gora about to rage off in my side view, "What--!?”
"Eventually,” I snapped. “And that's final." Finally, the guy answered and I walked out the room to talk to him.
From behind me, I just heard Gora bark, "Couro, get the mutt in the car before I change my mind."

Sun

The sun and I have a very...on and off relationship. 
I can remember being a little kid, still calling it "Mr. Sun" and asking him to promise to come out tomorrow. When Mr. Sun was out, my neighborhood friends and I could go outside and play. If it rained, I would look out the window and beg him to return. No, I never worshipped him. To me, the idea of a Mr. Sun has always been just a mind fantasy. I still enjoyed talking to him. But Mr. Sun was like an imaginary friend that I could almost always just walk outside and see. I believe it was my very first friend who introduced the idea of Mr. Sun to me. He taught me a song, a car song, "Oh Mr. Sun, Sun--Mr. Golden Sun! Please, shine down on me!" I learned it and joined him in talking to the sun, eventually doing it myself. So like, Mr. Sun and I's golden days together.
Got a little older, I kinda hated the sun. I was in a sort of edgy teenager phase...but as an eight-year-old... He reminded me of the joy I had while living in my former house just a year prior. Even the notion of Mr. Sun reminded me of my old friend who I knew I'd never see again. I associated Mr. Sun with my old life and tried to throw him away with it. I took solace in the rain and never really enjoyed recess that school year. I didn't make friends so it was easy to just sit by the teacher and sulk in the sunlight. I essentially just dumped Mr. Sun because I was sad.
Grew up a bit more, I stopped seeing the sun. I was no longer angry, I just stopped going outside as much. Even in school, recess was often skipped or we stayed in a shadier area. I wasn't upset over it, I really didn't even notice. I was too busy diving into technology for the first time. I got my first tablet in the fourth grade and started entertaining myself indoors. I used to only use cards and board games on rainy days, but they got boring. Now, I had a better replacement with even more options. I basically tried to rebound from Mr. Sun.
After a while, I started to miss the sun. Middle school started and a few classes started requiring a bit of effort to get an A. Stress started. With it, I began to miss elementary and thought back to when I would spend hours outside every day. I remembered my first friends, our talks, and my love for Mr. Sun. So, I found some time to go out. Not too far, I just went out and said hello for the first time in a while. He was still really nice. I didn't have much to say, I just sat in the grass and basked in his light. Mr. Sun was more than willing to take me back, and his kindness was amazing, and something I didn't expect.
After some more time, it started becoming impossible to get time just to be with Mr. Sun. I spend all my time inside now. I just always have something to do. And if I'm not doing that thing, I'm moping or thinking about how I should get up and do that thing. I mean, I could always go say hi again--I do--but I can't spend hours with him like I used to. It just doesn't feel like a moment is what he deserves. Man, I'm a really terrible friend to Mr. Sun.

I know this Thought was kinda different, but so was the topic.

Entertain

Dang.
It feels like it's been forever since I've done one of these. Mostly my fault, yes, but still--crazy. The past three weeks have been a wild ride for me, and what a perfect topic to use to show what I've realized.
Entertain.
Originally, I decided to use this word to refer to indulging in entertainment. But, I think I can safely tuck that away for another day and use "Entertain" differently. Instead of being the viewer of entertainment, I am the entertainment. No, I don't mean that I've written a book or anything (which, I actually have and you should so check it out: ). I mean that I tend to try to entertain people to keep them interested in me.
I have a tendency to dramatize my qualities to try and make people feel more comfortable around me. With those who are more sarcastic, I'll be more snide and blunt. With those who are more sensitive, I'll be kinder. With those are more adventurous, I'm on a constant adrenalin rush. I change which parts of my personality stand out, depending on who I'm talking to. I'll see their personality--at least the surface of it--and entertain them as much as I can. Make them laugh, excite them, interest them. Not by being different, but by relaying to them certain parts of themselves but exaggerated. Sometimes, I'll let them build up an image of me then mold myself to it. If they see me as intelligent, I'll take every opportunity to prove it. If they see me as diligent, I'll constantly do homework or read around them.
It's...a nightmare. We had a conversation about this at my youth group. Lots of people do some version of this, with or without realizing it. The biggest difference that stood out to me was how they refused to let someone categorize them. Thinking about the three people I know decently well, I act so differently with each. Three very different personas based on entertaining trying to keep them close. Imagine if I tried to be serious with one person, it would quickly turn into a power struggle while she tries to maintain her image of me. The second would be stunned if I suggested something didn't have a deep meaning or a more personal correlation, that it was just there. The third would be disgusted if I cursed too much or even made a slightly suggestive joke. So, I've always watched for the boxes people put out for me, then climbed right in.
So recently, I've been thinking about myself. Who am I, what am I like, and how do I add another layer to my personality. Due to my habit of only pulling at certain traits, many people see me as a one-trick pony. I stick to one or two traits around them and that's it. Somehow, I need to learn how to pull my personality together. It's only those closest who have seen more than one side, mostly because they're always there--I can't be bubbly forever.

Picture Prompt: Abstract

Asymmetrical and unaligned
Bursting with life and creativity
Susceptible to varying interpretations
To no point it goes, and yet can hit every one
Reaching what a simple word could not
Attaining what a simple line could not
Could be deep as an ocean or shallow as a pond
Taught by none other than the heart

Picture Prompt: Swinging

See the monkeys

With their branches

In their trees

Nature provides for them

Giving everything they need

In return, they enjoy the trees

Never asking for much

Granted it's what they need

Fourteenth Lovely

I had never been inside a veterinary's office before. I mean, I used to drive Kutu and her occasional foster pets here, but I never went past the waiting room. This time, I stepped up and went to the front office myself. It was a chubby lady with fair loose skin and a golden blonde updo, Mrs. Bundt. She recognized me immediately and asked after Kutu. And why it'd taken me so long to return. I gave her a small nod and quickly said Kutu was no longer with us and said nothing else. Mrs. Bundt caught on and her jovial smile dropped. She continued to sign us in in silence.
Speaking to the vet himself, was so difficult. The clearest thing I could remember was when the puppy opened his eyes. It was the first time I'd seen any sort of life in him. Everything else, I took extensive notes on as the doctor spoke--I could sense myself zoning out. In short, he just explained to me all the ways the little guy nearly died in the past few days, how he could die in the next few days and the little things I could do to prevent his death until a permanent home was found. We were only temporary. As much as Couro hated it, we'd only have him in our arms for four, six weeks max. She cried about it on the way to the car, and if it hadn't been for Gora telling her to keep quiet, I really might've caved. On the drive home, my head buzzed thinking of how we'd take care of a whole puppy for that long. Considering he appeared to be a stray, a lot needed to happen to transition him to a domestic home. So much food, meds, doctor visits--if I wasn't careful I could easily blow off more in two months on the dog than I did on Couro or Gora in the past half-year. I wanted the little guy to live, earnestly, I just wasn't the man to do that job.

"Can we take Dot to the park?" Out of nowhere, Couro piped up as I locked the car door behind her. She expectantly looked up at me.
Lucky for me, Gora took over, "Dot?"
"That's the puppy's name."
"Isn't that a girl's name?" he snickered.
"It's a dog."
"No reason to give him a girl's name."
Couro pouted and turned away from him completely. Looking back up at me, she asked, "Can we go to the dog park?"
"That's a little far--is he well enough for that?" I pursed my lips and glanced back at the dog--Dot. He seemed fine, well, better than earlier. But I really didn't know if he was ready for the park now. "I'll be busy today anyway." I opened the door and let us all inside.
"Aw."
"Ask your brother, he should be free today." Without looking, I could feel the stink eye Gora was giving me. "You're still grounded for what you said about Aidan."
"Still?" he sighed. I nodded, somewhat annoyed he thought I'd let it go. "Really thought I'd get leeway for you calling me gay."
"That's not--"
"I'm not going anyways," he shrugged. "To a dog park? Me? Next, you'll ask me to take her to a hair salon."
"You're grounded. You go where I tell you to."
"I have a reputation to keep up."
"No, you don't."
"Caught me." He mockingly put his hands up and laughed, "I'm just lazy."
"Gora," I stressed out his name, pulling at any authority I had. The kid just leaned back and refused to react.
Then, Couro ran up to him. She started pulling on his sleeve and begging, "Please, Gora. Please."
Suddenly, his poker face wavered. He frowned and muttered, "Shit, I need a job."
"What happened to selling stuff online?" Couro asked, still pulling on his sleeves.
"Got lazy. Gathering, improving, and reselling objects wasn't worth barely breaking even."
I scoffed, "You're lucky to have even made money in the first place." For a second, Gora looked at me, sizing me.
Then he looked up, and popped a small, "True." His eyes fell right on me, and this time they didn't move. "Tell you what, lemme get a real job--like a real one--and I'll be out of your hair for good. I'll buy my own clothes. Pay my own bills. And when we move, I won't have to live with you two anymore."
This conversation again. I hung my head and pinched the bridge of my nose. "You're not moving out next year."
"Yes I am."
"You're not." Rage boiled inside me, and I barely managed to steamroll it into a stern "That's final."
"I am. That's final."
"Don't even take Couro out!" I yelled. My eyes were wide and all I wanted was an ounce of control. "You're not leaving this house for anything but school!" For once, I had Gora speechless, staring at me in uncertainty. I saw his phone gripped in his hand and took the opportunity. I stormed up to him and grabbed it, "And kiss that phone goodbye!"
"Hey!" That was enough to bring back Gora. "That's mine!"
"You don't pay for it! It's not yours!"
"Yet!"
I paused, shaking. I wanted to scream, to throw something, to yell my lungs out. I looked at Gora, his cockiness had melted into something that looked like fear. I gritted my teeth, "Go upstairs."

I hated arguing with Gora like that. I hated it more than anything currently in the world. Kutu would've grilled us both for thinking this kind of "communication," if you can call it that does anything. We never had a best-buddies-forever type of relationship, but we used to be comfortable. We'd have guys' nights, team up against Kutu, and even shared a few hobbies. Gora genuinely wanted to spend time with me sometimes and I always thought I welcomed him with warm arms. There was a time when he'd respect me as a father and not everything turned into a screaming match. A part of me had a few guesses as to why he was like this. Another part of me knew I couldn't do anything. And another part just wanted to get back to Little Rock and leave this damned apartment and its damned memories.
I sunk into the couch, exhausted. A small tug on my pant leg. I lift myself up and see Couro, with the puppy under her arm. "Can we go to the park now?"
Shoot.
I sat up all the way, took her free hand and looked her in the eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetie. Next weekend? Daddy's busy today." Her delicate expression completely fell apart and I nearly cried watching her recollect herself.
"Pinkie promise?" She stuck out her stubby pinkie. I gladly wrapped mine around it.
"Pinkie promise."

Thirteenth Lovely

Sinking into the couch, I opened up a book. It was a fantasy, some romance revolving around two dragons belonging to different clans. I had picked it up on the way home from the aquarium and had been invested since. It was interesting, I’ll give the author that. But I tended to get a bit lost here and there. That usually meant I was too exhausted to understand anything and just needed a nap. So I’d put a bookmark where I stopped and come back after a few days. 

Today was a quiet day. Couro had decided to spend the day playing with another girl from the neighborhood and Gora and I weren’t exactly on speaking terms. Sure, we haven’t really spoken since we moved into this house, but at least he’d give me more than monosyllabic answers. But considering what I caused, I really couldn’t blame him for shutting down.

So, I tended to my own business and dived back into my book. I’d left off at where the dragons were confessing to each other. It was overly mushy, and there were a few moments where the author had me squirming. Imagining two dragons cooing over one another wasn't the prettiest image in my head, so it was hard to maintain it. But I did. The whole thing felt like something Kutu would read and fawn over for about a week. She had read similar books, but this specific one didn't come out until just a few years ago. She really would've loved it.

Just as I move on to the dragons arranging how to meet up in secret, I heard a faint noise. It was high-pitched and throaty, and slowly getting louder. I put my book down and looked around, listening as the noise got closer. Then, the front door barged open and hit the wall with a bang. Jumping up, I ran into the hallway to see Couro and another little girl screaming their heads off. Between them, they balanced a large basket that looked to have a mop of white fur in it.

"Daddy!" Couro yelled as the other girl kept screaming. I blinked, confused, and watched as they waddled the basket over to me. "Daddy, look!"

Looking into the basket, I saw that the mop of white fur was stained with blood-red and little splinters all over. I paused, still confused, and looked at both girls. They were tear-stained, frantic, and one just wouldn't stop screaming. On top of it, I heard two large feet run down the stairs right next to me. I looked up and saw an irritated Gora leaning on the railing. He didn't say anything and only looked at me, begging me to quiet down Couro's friend.

Bending down, I looked at the little girl. Serena was her name, according to Couro. She was a drained pale and had wavy brown hair falling into her face. "Isn't it time you head home?" I asked. Her screams died a little bit as she nodded. I took over the basket from both her and Couro and shuffled her out of the house, locking the door behind her. With the basket in my hands, I could feel something breathing. The movement scared me into holding my own breath, listening for the basket's breathing. I heard it again and looked inside.

Couro walked up next to my leg and mumbled, "It's a puppy, Daddy."

Immediately, Gora shuffled down the rest of the stairs and retorted, "That is not a puppy."

I dove my hand into the basket until I touched what felt like a soft velvety nose. I lifted it up and saw a small dog's face. "It is a puppy."

"I found him outside inside the fallen tree," Couro explained. Nodding, I carried the basket upstairs and took it into the hallway bathroom. I washed my hands and fetched a pair of latex gloves. "Serena put him in her old Easter basket."

Gora looked at his sister. "He?"

"Serena said it's a he."

"How'd she know?"

Couro shrugged. "Serena said her mom taught her how to tell. Her mom's a vet so she must be right."

"If Serena's mother is a vet," I piped up, "why'd you bring the little guy here?" An honest question of mine. I stood there, wiping off as much dirt and picking out as many splinters as I could. But, I knew the puppy would need more, I just didn't know what.

"She's not home right now," Couro answered. She rested her chin on my elbow as I probed at the puppy. "Serena said she'll bring her mom over tomorrow."

"So who's with Serena?"

"No one."

I paused. "Isn't she eight?"

"Eleven, actually."

"Oh."

"And she was screaming like that?" Gora asked, mockery in his voice.

Couro pursed her lips, "Serena's very sensitive." Standing in the bathroom's doorway, Gora did a poor job of hiding his chuckles with the toaster tart he was eating. "Don't laugh at her!"

Loudly, I cleared my throat. It easily got both of their attention and threw off whatever argument they were starting. "He doesn't seem to have too many splinters," I said. "Just, he's gonna need to be cleaned up and bandaged. I'm just not sure how. We can drive him up to a vet."

Couro gasped, "But, Serena said that we shouldn't take him to a vet's office."

"This Serena sure does say a lot of things," Gora muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I don't know how else to help him," I shook my head. "I can't clean him myself, Couro."

"Why can't we wait until Serena and her mother get here?"

"He looks pretty beaten up," Gora spoke up before I could answer her. "He probably doesn't have that long."

"Gora's right." I slipped off a glove and ushered her for the door. "Go get changed and I'll find a veterinary."

"But--"

"Couro, please."

"Serena said that if we take him to a veterinary, they'll take him away." Pausing, I looked at her, desperate and worried for the poor animal. Finding a response was difficult, so I didn't. I just let us stand there until she added on, "I like him."

I sighed, hung my head, and mustered up all the sternness I had, "A puppy isn't in the budget right now."

"Please."

"It's a no."

"Please."

"I said no."

"Please."

"Get in the car, Couro."

"But Daddy--"

"Damn, you're annoying!" Gora snapped. "Get changed and get in the car, the puppy's a no!" After nearly a full minute of silence, Couro sobbed. She continued to sob and rushed out of the bathroom in tears. I tried to follow her, but Gora wouldn't move from the doorway. He only sneered, "No offense--or take offense, I don't care--but she's kinda spoiled."

"You're one to talk," I huffed. And, he laughed.

"I'm sixteen, too late to fix me now," he shrugged. "Couro, on the other hand, is actually a decent kid. Don't mess it up by babying her." Still not moving, he took a bite of his tart. With the part he bit off, another bit fell off and stuck to his shirt. "Shit, I need a job."

Poem Prompt: Falling

Beneath my slipping feet,

loose, red rock branched off from their friends

and fell over.

They fell and fell to the ground--

a million miles away--

and made a small plop,

too faint and too far for my ears.

My hands were red,

the raised metal imprinted

tiny little dots into my palms

as they gripped on for dear life.

The sun beat down on me,

with all its might it did.

It burned my chest through

my thin, white cotton layer.

Small, occasional breezes

would flow over my chest

through my shirt--cooling it down.

They went against my neck,

bent all the way back,

keeping my body as close to the rock as possible.

Sweat trickled along my body,

getting in every crook and creak,

loosening my grips.

Sweat, it was my enemy that day.

I fought it--moving my fingers around,

scrunching my toes together.

But the more I rustled, the more anxious I became.

And with anxiety, came more sweat.

It was a losing battle from the start,

and I knew it.

So I kept my neck bent back

and looked up to the clouds,

preparing myself for the fall.

Picture Prompt: Inspired

Angie Thomas, Bri, and Starr inspire me

I've seen the movie, I'm reading the book

Books, now, plural

And it is truly 

amazing. 

Movie Review: In A Heartbeat

The season of love is here, and to celebrate, I watched In A Heartbeat.
In A Heartbeat is a five-minute-long, short romance film that was released on July 31, 2017, by Beth David and Esteban Bravo. The twenty-six-second trailer was released on May 17, 2017, on a channel titled In A Heartbeat Animated Short Film. This channel has only ever released two other videos: In A Heartbeat and three minutes of the music for it. Yet, it's garnered about 480k subscribers. Impressive.
The story follows a closeted homosexual redhead and his lovesick heart. This tiny little heart sees another, admittedly attractive, young boy and follows him. The redhead spends the course of the film running after the tiny heart in an effort to avoid being outed.
We start with the redhead up in a tree, watching his crush. Smitten, his heart beats out of his chest and follows the other boy. The tiny heart is persistent, and a bit invasive, stopping at nothing to bring these two together. In an effort to hide the heart, the redhead chases the heart and puts the two of them in very questionable positions. Eventually, they enter the actual school and students see them together with a heart. As expected, two boys being openly gay is looked down on judgmentally by their peers. The redhead freaks out and pulls his heart away, against its wishes. As a result, the heart tears in two and each boy is left with half as the redhead runs.
He goes outside and sits under a tree to cry over his broken heart. The other boy then comes through, bringing the other half of his heart and helping him put it back together. He sits down next to him and we get a wonderful depiction of both of their hearts now becoming one.
It’s a cute little tale centering around sexuality and teenage feelings. It shows how difficult it is for kids with different sexualities to feel accepted in today’s world. And it shows how difficult feelings are to deal with as a teenager in general. It warmed my heart and was a small enjoyable thrill. Honestly? I loved it. The ending was a bit abrupt for me, but it works.

Poem Prompt: Nicknamed Gold

Silver to gold,
his nickname goes,
as he looks for a way
to put out his name
into the public eye.
And despite all his tries,
he fails--miserably.
With the help of family and friends,
he sees he hasn't hit his end.
After finding a special man--"man"--
he pushes on as far as he can.

Check out Nicknamed Gold on Amazon! $2.99 for a Kindle eBook, and $6.99 for a paperback copy: https://www.amazon.com/Nicknamed-Gold-Therese-Nneji-ebook/dp/B0846WMFKD/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=nicknamed+gold&qid=1580278064&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

Picture Prompt: Nicknamed Gold

Nicknamed Gold, available on Amazon Kindle Store as a Kindle eBook for $2.99 and as a paperback for $6.99

A short quick-read, about 80 pages, and a middle-school level fantasy. Nicknamed Gold covers the story of Silver Aylmer, an idealist journalist who's hit a rough patch in his life. Unexpectedly, he finds a Lashan, an alien from the planet Lasha, and through him catches his big break.

My author's copy arrived, and it looks better than I'd expected!

Here's the link to Nicknamed Gold if you want to check it out: https://www.amazon.com/Nicknamed-Gold-Therese-Nneji-ebook/dp/B0846WMFKD/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=nicknamed+gold&qid=1580278064&s=digital-text&sr=1-1

My very first (published) book, and it's inspired me to plan to finalize two others by the end of next year.

Thank you so much for any and all support, and I can't wait to announce the next book and/or any advancements with Nicknamed Gold. Cheerios! 

Poem Prompt: Goodbye

Goodbye to my friend.

My heart is shattered and

I've never cried so hard--

I swear I tried so hard.

Goodbye to my best friend.

He's the one who would listen

on stormy nights, when neither of us

had the strength to stand up.

Goodbye to my lover.

My treasure, it's over

between us cause this

has spiraled to shit.

Goodbye to my other half.

We're drowning in the aftermath

of the words that we said

when we weren't using our heads.

Goodbye to the fantasy.

Used to dream carelessly

of us in the apple tree,

kissing from nine to three.

Goodbye to my blind eye.

Now I see, in hindsight,

how dumb could I be

for you to make me believe

you'd quit for our relationship--

longer than a minute.

You held it for a minute--

and then you let go,

running back home.

Goodbye to our lives.

I held on with my life.

Turns out I only liked

what I thought you were like.

So, goodbye to this man.

Before me, he stands,

filling up the place

where my love used to stay.

Now it's just him

and his cold bitterness.

Goodbye, I say,

and throw his things away.

Picture Prompt:Tiny

A miniature gift from a miniature friend

with an important place in my heart.

With it, no matter how miniature she was

my friend's memory in my heart

will have no end.