I'm BAAAACK!

It's 2015 already? WHAT? And I haven't posted on here since when?? June 2nd, 2013....holy craperoni.

Well I'm here now and you are going to be seeing a lot more of me! :D I  have made a new years resolution to write 500 words a day for the next year, including nanowrimo :P Which brings me to my second piece of news! I doubled my page count for nanowrimo and finished my second novel ! yay! So I'm going to post a few of the pieces that I've already written and then I'll bring things up to speed! LOL and I know I don't have to say this but these are infact MINE so if I see them anywhere than this blog, then I'm gonna go all Hulk. Capise? Great. Alright, so here is the last three pieces I've written so far.


January Fifth.
The Gang. (690 words)
My house was  very quiet. Almost too quiet. But that was before we joined "The Gang." The Gang is a intricate gathering of three or more families gather in one household, and you guesses it, that house is usually alwas mine. My house isn't a mansion on a hundred acres or anything, but it seems to get even bigger and more homey the more people we bring in. All of us, exept my little brother, are all home-schooled. We are mostly fueled by tea and sleeping in till eight when we stayed up till midnight. We are a very interesting group of characters. Though there are a few drawbacks. The first is that first night, when we have no idea where anyone is going to sleep. This is kind of what the conversation sounds like
"Okay, so I can-!"
"Maybe you can stay with, no wait-!"
"Why doesn't she just take my spot? I can sleep on the floor!"
"Okay I guess we have room on the couch.."
And so on and so forth until finally a couple people are on the couch, people are sharing beds,someones in a sleeping bag. And it's one o'clock in the morning.
Next thing is Breakfast. The morning ritual of ending the eight hour fast, right? Wrong. It is a wild bedlam of noise and confusion and scrambling to get tea (that's mostly me.. tea fixes everything.) there are dietary restrictions such as what follows.
"Okay eggs..EGGS WITH NO MILK OR MEAT!"
"TEA! no sugar!"
"WE'RE OUT OF BOWLS!"
"WHERE'S THE TEA?!oh..NEVER MIND!"
"H
And so on and so forth. I find it quite funny actually, because when all the food has been given out and the kettle has been boiled and poured then everything goes quiet. And then people start turning on their electronics and finishing their meals. Then it starts again. Slowly and quietly, gaining more strength with every plate that's emptied.
"Can I have more...?"
"Is there anymore tea?"
"I'm fine..I had a rice cake for breakfast..."
so that's the morning, and the evening. But what do we do in between? Well, The boys (there are three of them) mostly retreat to their hidden lairs and play on their electronics, the adults (Three moms, BTW.) chat and drink tea and watch over the smaller ones, there are two of them, watch TV and stir up as much trouble as possible at the worst times. Trying to get ready to go on a group activity? Oh look at that, toddler number one just stripped her diaper and is streaking through the halls of the house. Trying to play a game of Jenga? Oh look at that, toddler number two is climbing on the table and doing her best Godzilla impression with the carefully constructed tower. And the girls? The teenagers? Well there are four of us. We are pretty easy to locate, we are either out on a walk, hanging out in my room, or sitting in the dining room watching other people. There is teen number one, she's sixteen and therefor the first to be listed. She is often in the same room as the adults, with a laptop, a phone or a book a couple inches from her face. Then there is me, teen number two, I'm fifteen. I  can be found either trying to get the other three moving with some workout music or working on my writing skills, listening to my favorite music, which changes constantly. Then there are teens three and four. Teen three is fourteen, a tumblr fanatic, who swears that I am killing her by making her exercise, and a very good player of the favorite game around here, Bullshit. Teen four is twelve and has good taste in music, TV (Whovian!)  and also is a good player of Bullshit.
The boys are easier than easy to locate, as there are only three places you can find them. My bro's room, the dining room, and the basement.
We like walks, we dance like no one is watching and you might think I'm crazy...
But that's okay, we're all mad here.

January Fourth.
The Therapist. (1008 words)
"Dear Mom.
I hate you. I hate that you think that I am worthless because I'm not interested in the things that you are, just because I don't care doesn't mean you  have to convert me. I don't mind that you  need someone to listen to you and your problematic life. But it might be nice for someone else to listen to me for a change. I don't feel comfortable telling you things about my life, because you're half the problem, like the way that you yelled at Julie when she almost ruined your new designer shoes, that was not okay, but instead of siding with her and telling you you were a bitch, I listened to you bitch about how long it took for you to save up for them. You tell me that you don't know why your friends are all leaving, then you go ahead and bitch and moan about how they had their own opinions about something that you don't approve of. You forced them out of your life and then they walked out willingly. You can't seem to understand that you are the reason that people leave you. I mean, the drinking,  the rants that don't have any meaning. The only time you say I'm sorry is when you desperately need help, or a shoulder to cry on, but I am too nice or maybe just too stupid to tell you to fuck off and stop treating your friends, and me, like shit. Instead I just listen sympathetically and agree politely when you stop to take a breath. I just want you to understand that I have my own music, book, outfit taste. I am not you.
I would say that I'm sorry, but then I'd be lying.
Signed- Laura. "
I looked up from the printed email I held in my sweaty palm and met the eyes of my therapist,Dr. Wendel,  who seemed completely calm, and asked
"Should I send it?" She shook her head slowly, looking down at her notes. "Laura, you never send the emails. We talked about this, and how picking a fight would only make things worse." I exasperatingly tore the paper in my hands and shoved it in my pocket. "Laura you are twenty, what, twenty seven?" "Twenty six." I said through my teeth. "Sorry, twenty six. Isn't it time to just stop this emotional manipulation from your mother?" I shook my head. "She has to know what I think about her before she..she...you know.." "Passes?" "I was going to say goes to hell but your version.." I waved my hand "She's got to understand..This isn't healthy." Dr W. nodded in agreement and said "You're right it's not healthy but it is also making you slightly more passive aggressive than you should ever be. Tell me, what provoked the email in the first place?"  I sighed and said "I don't want to talk about it. " "You obviously do otherwise you wouldn't be here, Laura." I made a rumbling sound in my throat. "She called me up, two days ago, and she was crying because people were talking about how gays don't star in books like heterosexuals do and how they should have the same rights and apparently that offended her so she called me and said that she wished that I would just drop the charade of being gay and go join the church that she goes to that is holding a 'pray the gay away' fundraiser. And I just lost it. I told her that 'I didn't care about gay rights or that gay characters weren't peoples first choice to write about.' She lost it. She said that she was the one with a gay daughter and that she was the one getting all the shit and the stares from all the prissy bitches at the country club and I didn't realize until it was too late that I was screaming that I really didn't give a flying shit because I just wanted to work on my music and write my book and not get involved with all the whole getting riled up about politics and rights and stuff and then she gave me, well started to give me,this whole lecture about how I shouldn't just ' brush this stuff off and I should care more because lots of people shouldn't have to hide' and then I hung up and went to the gym." Dr Wendal gave me a stern look "Before you yelled at her, did you try the.." She flicked her pointer finger a couple times and breathed deeply. I rolled my eyes and sighed, blowing a stray lock from my shoulder length hair from my eyes. "No...I was caught up in the anger. I couldn't see straight and I didn't think about how to stop the, Hulk..." Dr W scrawled on the back of my report for our session and as she did said "this is the time and location of that anger management group that we talked about. Now I know that you don't want this. But just one session. That's all I want to see you do. I'll see you next week okay laura?"  I reached out and took the light piece of paper and glanced at the address and the time. I nodded and rose from my seat, making my way to the door, when I heard Dr W say "And Laura?" I turned and found myself nose to nose with her. "Don't forget to call me when you need to. Anytime. Alright?" I couldn't help looking down on her dark red, almost black, lipstick as she spoke. "Of course. Thank you, Rose." I held out my hand for a handshake. she pulled me in for a hug, pressing her year old body against my slightly shorter one. I wrapped my arms around her skinny neck and almost sobbed into her shoulder. I pulled away with the scent of her perfume still lingering on my turtleneck sweater. I avoided her eyes and stalked out the door.

January Third
Adopted (687 words)
I always figured that I was different. Which I know is a cliche for adopted children to say but I always had a hunch that something was just slightly off.  Like that there was some sort of genetic that I missed out on. The beautiful blue eyes and tall posture, the way that the rest of my family holds themselves. The way that they sometimes treated me as though I would break if they mentioned the fact that my skin was paler than theirs and covered in bright red freckles, my green eyes a bit too dark for their shiny blue sapphire like ones. My mother had told me from the start that I was not from their family, and that my mother, my real mother, loved me too much to keep me all for herself. Which was total bullshit. My biological mother, Darleen, was a drugged up alcoholic and I was taken away by child protection services when I was four.  I readjusted to life with my new family, the VanBurns after a year in the orphanage. They were nice and never slapped or scolded me. In fact, they were nicer to me than they were to their own children, Martha and Lucy. I could tell that the girls were weary of me at first, them being used to only each other at the ages of six and four. I was the large blundering five year old who decided that she wanted nothing to do with them and spent her time fighting with the tabbies that they brought in from the rain. The VanBurns took quite a liking to strays, and the quality of their floors, covered in dog hair and cat piss, and their house, filled to bursting with people and animals, showed that.
I was sitting in my room, staring out the window and my refection stared back at me. My shoulders stooped forward and my chin resting on my hands and I balanced my arms on my knees. On the edge of my bed I perched with my legs crossed, as if daring gravity to pull me over the ledge and let me crash on the vibrant orange rug beneath me. I watched the world outside live as though I didn't even need to be alive for it to carry on. My room was slowly filling with silence and darkness as the sun set behind a cloud and robbed me of the orange and purple light that crossed the sky like paint from Bob Ross's paint brush. I watched as the darkness crept in and engulfed the trees and the lawn, leaving what lay there to the imagination. I watched my own refection stare back at me. I barred my teeth to try and catch myself off guard, but all that happened was that I freaked myself out and had to turn all my lights back on. And also brush my teeth.
"Jules? would you come down here a second?" My mother called up the stairs and suddenly every bad thing I had ever looked up on the internet, every cuss word and dirty minded thing I had ever written on a school desk and quickly erased it. "Yes Mrs VanBurn?" I shouted a bit louder than I intended back down the stairs as I bounced from wall to wall down the spiraling staircase until I reached the main floor and landed directly in front of 'mother'. She crossed her arms and stared me down "Are you trying to kill yourself? " I shrugged. "I'd rather die doing something much more interesting. So what did you want to talk to me about?" She sighed and took my hand. "Jules..It's about Darleen. She showed up in the paper today. She was taken in for suspected murder, now I don't want you to get upset but I have to ask you..have you been in contact with her since she called last month?" I set my shoulders back and stuck out my chin. "No. " I was lying through my teeth to the woman who took me in when no one else wanted to. And it felt amazing.

___________________________________________________________________________________

Okay so there you go! :D A post! WOW! okay so I'll see you all tomorrow!

-Jessica. A. Baker.