Healthy vs Unhealthy Distractions

Alright – I think I hate Twitter.

Well – let me clarify: I think I hate Twitter for any discussion which requires serious thought or consideration.

The issue with discussing serious topics in a format of only 280 characters lies not only in the lack of obvious ability to say much in 280 characters, particularly on social issues which are complex and multifaceted – the easy shit like “Hey, let’s be less racist”, like that works – but also in too much sharing of individual experiences, too much skewing of individual experiences to fit generalized world views, and not. enough. context. ever.

Like so much lack of context. No wonder everybody’s so angry / anxious all the time, you get to hear just the good, the bad, and the ugly – and most of it’s ugly.

I do however enjoy the jokes, the random thoughts (thoughts – not opinions), and the ideas. These things fit well in a 280 character format, and often require little to no real context because they’re just there, you throw them out and see if they fall flat or not. Like pasta on a wall.

Therefore while I told myself this in the beginning – I’m new to social media, honestly, and obviously I’ve mucked it up my first go and hey let’s be real I may muck it up a few more times – moving forward when I feel the need to Tweet I will try to ask myself the three queries above: Is it a joke? Is it a random thought and NOT an opinion (i.e. does it start with the words, “I wonder” or “I believe” or “Sometimes” or “Maybe”, engendering the idea I am not sure/knowing but am pondering only), and lastly is it an idea.

Now, I won’t say whether it needs to be a good idea, bad idea, dangerous idea, or stupid idea – that’s subjective thinking right there. Just any idea, really.

Also – I must watch myself on these points particularly when REPLYING to things because knee-jerk reactions are painful and only add fuel to the fire which is our globally-warmed collective social conscious.

…maybe I’ll only check Twitter on days that start with a T.

The Stuff Legends Aren’t Made Of

The daft elf stood, stark and pompous, like a tree barely bending to the wind. The wood of his bow curved tightly around slender hands that could barely grip a sword let alone a proper weapon. I imagined smashing the bow but not the hands - I’m not that much of a monster. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” In some all-knowing voice, as usual. Thinks he knows everything just because his precious ears curl upwards like fancy head ornaments. 

“Are you sure?” I always ask, not because he’s not - he always is - but because I enjoy the irritation in his expression from being questioned. 

“Of course.” He denies me my pleasure. Asshole. 

I grunt in my usual form of communication and pick up my axe - the only true partner I’ll ever have - and heft it over one shoulder. Sure, I’m posturing - but this idiot does that every second he breathes. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” He smirks and I really, really reconsider smashing some bits of him. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” I grin with all my teeth - especially the pointed ones I get from my father - and his expression falls a bit. Ha. Take that, toothpick. 


I can feel her gaze on my back and I know she’s already judging me. I’m too scrawny, too pale, too adorable. She’s written me off probably a thousand ways in a thousand imaginary death scenes. Gods I hate her. 

“We should go north, the trail leads that way.” I never let her ruffle my feathers. I was raised as a ranger, a noble profession, and without my expert guidance her elephantine ass would be lost in these woods. 

“Are you sure?” She always questions me. I hate it. It’s like she doesn’t even listen to me the first time I speak. Or else she’s just trying to goad me into anger - a purely infantile emotional response. I’ve fallen for it before, in moments of weakness. But not now. 

“Of course.” I keep my face calm and serene, always calm and serene. Don’t let her get to you, I remind myself for probably the hundredth time.

She makes a sound indicative of her upbringing before adding, “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” Always on the move, that one. Probably outrunning some inner demons from her past. She looks like the brooding type. I should have listened to my father and not gotten invovled with people who carry so much emotional baggage.

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?” I don’t just smile - I smirk. She can tell the difference. She judges me enough she’s probably catalogued all my expressions. Stupid half-orc. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” She flashes those teeth - those awful, pointy teeth, the stuff of nightmares - and for a small second I feel a tingle down my spine as I remember exactly what her people are capable of. The people my people helped create, I admit to myself a half-second later, lest I fall victim again to my own bigotry. Her existence is as much my father’s fault as her own. 

I still hate her though. 


“We should go north, the trail leads that way.”  The noble ranger declares, his bow cocked and ready for a fight. His long hair whips in the wind and he strikes a truly noble pose, indicative of his good genes and upbringing. He is the last of the Willowbenders, defenders of the Halls of Eyria. To travel with him is an honor and a delight. 

“Are you sure?” Our fearless leader questions. She was born to lead. Her thick armor hides a noble heart, born out of a forbidden love that brought together the humblest salt of the Earth and the harshest of its so-called defenders. Even the Willowbenders are not without sin, after all. 

“Of course.” His keen sense of direction can never be wrong. 

The daughter of the abhorred makes a deep noise that rumbles in her heavyset frame, her natural strength on display as she shifts her axe over one shoulder with ease. The power in such a motion cannot be understated. “Then let’s move out. I don’t look forward to being in the forest after sunset.” 

“What, afraid of a big bad wolf?”  The verbal volley is expertly thrown, the companionship between these two respected warriors palpable. I hold my breath, waiting for magic to happen. 

“No, mostly afraid of you being eaten.” And there it is! She’s obviously flirting with that expression - such sexual dominance, a Willowbender should be so lucky. I swear I can see a small flush crawl up his ears as they both turn towards the path ahead, the chemistry between them lost to our quest. One day, perhaps, when the world allows them to lay down their weapons, this thing between them might rekindle into the fire that longs to consume them both. 

“Hey - bard. Are you coming?” Oh dear - they’ve spoken to me.

I clear my throat nervously, “Oh, right! Just jotting down some inspiration, maybe some ideas for an edda or two. Coming!” I quickly finish my scrawl and leap to my feet. 

There is no rest for the stalwart witnesses to history. Someone must chronicle these moments, these hidden thoughts and emotions, lest future generations forget or worse disregard the bonds that draw us all together. 


So easy
just to give in
and feel
flowing through veins like fuel in an engine
a heart
on fire
with no
just total certainty
unbound by the chains of day-to-day life
a wolf
sheep’s clothing
as the herd parts like waves before me
You know
I could
the very edges of your lush plains of flesh
my eyes
before my flames burn through your core
my hands
the pieces of you
You look back at me
And it is I
who fall

Kick Your Shins

You suck. 
You're argumentative. 
Fully negative. 
Selfishly attentive. 
A short fuse chasing a spark.

You drive me nuts. 
Like metaphorically. 
Probably actually. 
Maybe literally.
Draining every sane light with your dark.

You got history. 
Lots of neglect.
Not much respect.
Already wrecked. 
Yet you never give up the fight.

Except for the social. 
Honesty brutal. 
Personality duel. 
Resistance futile. 
It's take you or leave you, alright.

You love me.
You don't show it.
Think I know it. 
Afraid to blow it. 
Or too stubborn to give me up.

You still got me.
Little tired. 
Caffeine wired.
Temper fired. 
My kicks to your shins ain't let up.

On Your Bones

Those hips though 
slope so smooth
hugging planes 
outlining grooves 

Where lips or fingers
beg to 

I won’t press hard
or linger 

Those hips though 
hold up fine
over the bed
underneath mine 

Where bodies join 
as one 

Much like our love -
not easy, 

2 AM

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
I should send you home 
you live three hours away 
in the mountains
with snow

what if you crashed?
and this became our first
and only date
I can’t risk it 
Not now 

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
You shouldn’t stay
I’ve got a spare futon 
in this room 
out here 

and I swear I can sleep 
alone for another night
it’s only been 
too many 
It’s okay 

It’s 2 AM 
And I know 
You’ll leave tomorrow 
I don’t have anyplace
I’d rather go 
or be

and if you don’t get up 
right away at dawn 
or if you 
pull me 
I’m weak 

It’s not 2 AM 
I don’t know
what time it really is
laying here beside you 
with these arms
around me

I honestly don’t care 
about the time 
the day 
or the hour
I’m where 
I always wanted to be.

Oh Well

Dear Love, 

Please send me: 

a cat lover

short is good

some nice padding  

tanned or darker 

patience is a virtue

as is cooking, too 

my mom’s kinda overbearing

so hopefully they get along 

and ooh - curly hair is cute 

a reader is a must 

someone who likes to listen

and puts up with indecision

maybe someone who enjoys cardio 

so we could workout together 

and has a big family 

like the kind that cooks a lot (emphasis on cooking!) 

but doesn’t want kids necessarily

but gets along with kids of course 

and has a gentle spirit 

that’s happy to laze about with me 




Well, huh. 

This works too. 

Princes & Towers

Toni had an “i” not a “y” but was still one of the guys. She’d grown up around the motorheads, raised by a kindly old retired biker who had settled down but never truly settled. He taught Toni everything she knew - how to ride, how to change oil, how to rebuild an old single cylinder thumper into a badass bobber - and she had loved him for it. Toni felt alive in the garage more than she had ever felt in school, but her mother had forced her to graduate at least through the high school portion of it. Luckily her father had hired her afterwards so she didn’t have to bother with the vocational school three counties away. 

The other garage rats were all Toni’s best friends, and they went out drinking and riding (just never at the same time - Toni’s uncle had died that way and Toni made sure to count everybody’s shots at the bar). They weren’t just a motorcycle gang - they were a motorcycle family. 

But poor Toni had a problem:  she felt lonely still. 

She had tried dating guys after high school, but most of the boys just wanted somebody to stay home and pop out babies. Toni was too wild for that - she might consider kids one day, but not now. She had life to live first and she couldn’t do that stuck in a housewife’s apron. Her father had told her to take her time and wait for love to find her, yet Toni still felt lonely. When she tried dating other biker guys things inevitably blew up, and Toni felt tired of blowing up all the time.

One day Toni’s best bro Al plopped down besides her as she tinkered under her bike. “Oi. Look at this, T.” 

She slid out and wiped a big swath of grease over one cheek. “What? I told you I don’t wanna see your porn mags, I ain’t a lesbian.” 

“Nah, T, I found you porn. Dig this guy.” He held up the magazine again and Toni squinted. She probably had nearsighted vision, but she refused to get tested. They might give her glasses and force her to be a nerd. 

Snatching the magazine and holding it close, she scoffed. “What, a ‘metrosexual’? What the hell’s that? They makin’ up terms now? How do you feel ‘attracted’ to metros?” 

“Nah, Toni, read the interview. He explains it better.” 

“Is this like when you swear to me you read Playboy for the articles?” 

Al’s eyes narrowed. “I can enjoy both, Toni. It’s called studying your enemy.” 

“Really? Your enemy?” 

“Hey - love is a battlefield, right? I ain’t losing to no girl, and if you ain’t a lesbian then that means I still lost to something else.” He tapped the article again. “Just read it. Tell me what you think.” 

With a heavy sigh, she paused her work and read. She actually read pretty fast - it’s why the boys often asked her to translate their tech manuals for them - but the article gave her a bit of trouble, mainly because the language felt so different. “Huh. He says he just likes to feel ‘handsome’ and that people need to respect men who have ‘culture’ - bro, this guy sounds like a jacked up pompous ass. No.” She handed the magazine back. 

“But is he handsome? Like, did you find him attractive?” 

“Sure, till I read his words - can’t love somebody if you can’t stand to hear them talk, bro.” She went back to tinkering. 

Al took another deep breath. “Toni - I think you need a metrosexual.” 

She laughed out loud. “Really? What the fuck for? Am I supposed to cart his little ass around the city on my bike?” Toni actually lamented the fact that motorcycles weren’t really built for a taller passenger. Most models jacked up the rear so the rider’s legs could tuck under and be safer that way - trying to put a tall guy on the back had caused Toni no end of troubles. Yet somehow Toni never seemed to fall for the guys who liked bikes. Instead she just fell for short guys, most of whom ended up having hot tempers like hers.  

“I think you can be kind of inflexible -” 

“WHOA - what the hell??” 

″- and you need a guy that can bend, but not just put up with your shit.” He nodded solemnly. “You know, how like your mom keeps your dad in line, but lets him play in the garage?” 

She glared. “Gee, thanks for psychoanalyzing me as my Dad, Al.” 

“I’m just saying! I know you’ve been lonely, and I don’t think you’re finding what you need here.” 

“That doesn’t mean I need some ‘metrosexual’ guy!” 

“No, but...” He ran his greased fingers through his hair in frustration. “Look, you know how princes go rescue princesses from towers? Like, think of the city as a big fucking chrome tower.” He pointed to her bike. “That’s your steed. I think you need to ride in there and go save yourself a princess. You gotta take the lead, because you need a guy who’s cool with girls who do that. And you’re always complaining to me that guys don’t like it when you ‘come off too strong’ at the bar.” 

Toni raised an eyebrow. “Really, love master? This is your solution? Besides, what the fuck am I saving that guy from besides his own goddamn arrogance?” 

“Exactly! See, you get it!” 

She shook her head. “You’re nuts, Al. Just get over me already and go hit on Gloria. You know you’re the only one of the guys she gives extra muffins to, right?” 

His face went blank. “Wait - really?” 

“Bro, seriously? You don’t notice how she flirts with you?” 

He frowned. “I thought she was just being friendly. It’s not nice to assume girls like you when they’re just being nice.” 

“Oi vey, bro - she likes you. Trust me. Just go ask her out sometime. Save her from that kitchen dungeon she works in all day.” Gloria loved baking, but even Toni knew sometimes you needed a break from your everyday. She often wished she could think of some kind of hobby outside the garage. The motor fumes alone were probably slowly killing her when she wasn’t outside riding more. 

“Alright, fair turnabout - but I’m only gonna do it if you start riding into the city on the weekends.” Crossing his arms his jaw set. “As your wingman I can’t exit the battlefield until both of us are victorious.” 

With a laugh she spun her wrench. “Fine. You know what? I’ll head into that city. And I’ll go hit on the first corporate shill I see.” 

“No! Fuck, Toni, are you listening to me? I said metrosexual - not corporate shill!” 

“What’s the difference?” 

“I dunno, just - trust your gut, huh? Don’t just hit on the handsome guys, like hit on the polite ones. Like me, just if I were in a suit and maybe more of a confident jerk.” 

“Fine, whatever. I’ll go into a big city bar, all greased up and boyish, and we’ll see what happens. M’kay?” 

Al beamed. “Excellent! And then you gotta tell me what happened.” 

“Bro, you are such a girl. And I don’t gotta tell you shit unless you go and ask Gloria out.” 

“Okay! Okay!” He smiled and slugged her in the arm. “Love you, bro.” 

“Yeah, yeah, big fucking hearts all around, you stupid lovesick ape.” She kicked him back. She always wished she could have just fallen for Al, honestly speaking. Yet sometimes she needed a brother more than she needed a mate - and Al fit the first role too well to lose him. As an only child Toni had never had any siblings, and she took what she could get. Besides, Gloria had had her sights on Al since grade school and Toni respected a woman who baked her way to people’s hearts. She kinda wished someone would bake their way to her heart some days too. Al’s always fucking hungry anyway - Gloria will keep him better fed than I ever would...and she gives me extra muffins too but I won’t say that out loud.

As she finished up taking care of her “noble steed” she paused and looked once more at the magazine Al had left on the floor like the dumb kid he still sort of was. Picking it up she read through the article again. Man, it would be kind of fun to have a guy to debate with instead of just slug out over a bar fight. Bet these guys couldn’t throw a punch to save their souls, they’ll just bitch a lot and think I give a damn. She frowned. Maybe Al had a point - she could be a bit inflexible, but eh, that was her charm. 

Maybe she did just need a guy who could bend more.

Work Horse

Love is work

And I’m a hard worker 

Always have been, baby. 

There are others 

Who’re smarter or faster

Who look better than me 

But I pull 

I do the heavy lifting 

And I won’t buck you off 

You can lead

With all those dreams 

The ones I never bothered with 

You can nag 

It’s not like I’m great

At really listening anyway 

But just know

That I won’t buck 

Or throw you off so easy 

Love is work 

And I’m a hard worker

Always have been, baby

commercial break

OK That’s it – where the #%!% is the “Like” button??

I’ve been trying to dutifully reciprocate the Likes I’ve gotten for the kind folks reading my posts but everytime I go to hit a Like button 1) I can’t find it 2) it doesn’t seem to work

For reference I use a desktop computer generally / I know it’s old fashioned, but I’m an old school gamer and I need the bigger machine for the memory space (yup – all that junk in my trunk makes me sexy yo)

But now I can’t figure out how to share the love, and that is REALLY important for me – why can’t I find the Like button on my desktop???

I DID find it on my phone, but I’m trying to reduce my phone time because well healthy living and all that stupidity

(typed while writing on her damn desktop she spends way too goddamn much time in front of everyday)