Apparently there's a limit to characters?

Well I was going to post a short story again, but it won't show all of it. Not being super bloggy savvy, I don't know how to go about fixing that. Guess this one's just going to "Creative Writing" file on the computer. It was good though. I cried through it, so yea it's sad, but it's that good kind of sad. Life wasn't stollen, it was sweetly ended. It's a love story where the couple really gets to live happily ever after. Sucks it won't fit here. Anyone not reading this could spare some answers about how to get longer stuff on here,  it would be much appreciate. Thanks! 

The Hat

Writing "short-short" stories in class and I thought I'd share this  with the no one that reads this (heh heh). Perhaps, one day, either someone will, or it'll get published and really real people will read it...for real. Yea, I know, I'm a big whino, tiny violin, poor me, poor me, yada yada... ;) Anyhow, here it is.

The Hat

“This one goes out to the one I love.”- R.E.M.

Both of them looked into the glass. The twinkling lights made their eyes shimmer. The one with the backwards hat frowned a bit. Neither of them spoke. The other cocked an elbow out across the display case, hair cascading behind as her head rested on her hand. Sleepily staring from her friend to the glass and back again, she yawned half-interested, “See anything ya like?”

The bill of the hat was now pointed up in the air, the back pressed against the forearms that were crossed on the glass. Worried eyes judged all the items. A thinking tongue ran dryly over a lip that bulged from a wad of dip. Shortly after, a bottle was retrieved from the worn out back pocket and used as a spittoon. “Well,” came a gravely reply, then a bit of “huhuhuhs,” to clear the throat. More silence. Just as she was going to say something else, the hat said, uncertainly, “I like them three over there,” indicating to the far left of the case. After waiting a short while and getting no reply, there was a hesitant, “You?”

“Oh yea,” came the laid back answer, “Those are nice. I’m sure she’d like one of those.”

A saleswoman finished with another customer, walked over and asked brightly, “Y’all need some help?” Her blood red lipstick was smudged on her front teeth. She had on an overpowering perfume and her eyes were veined and puffy. As soon as she saw the hat, the dip filled lip, and the water bottle spittoon, her demeanor stiffened slightly.

“Uh, yes ma’am,” the voice, gravel now gone, was heavily accented with a country twang, “I like them three, right over there. Can you tell me what sizes they are and what the prices run?” Eyebrows, ever together. Free hand nervously fiddling with the hat, turning it forward, then backward again.

The saleswoman visibly relaxed a little and her smudged lips smiled again, revealing the stained teeth. She quickly took out all three and went into her sales pitch. After giving what she thought was a winning speech she was surprised to see the obviously disappointed face. The fretful eyebrows glanced from the rings to the face of the longhaired woman.

She looked just as confused, “What’s the problem? They’re nice rings? She’ll love any of them.”

“Oh they’re nice rings. I like em, but the cheaper ones  are too small...and if I get the one that fits, she’ll kill me!” The hat sat back in order to allow slow, but intense, head scratching to take place. “Maybe we should see some more?”

But the “more” weren’t any better. The rest went so high that the hat began to be lifted and dropped with whistles being added here and there for emphasis on a particularly expensive band. In the end it was “she’ll kill me” that was settled on.

The saleswoman handed the longhaired woman a bottle of champagne. Those eyebrows shot up even higher as they watched, “Whasat?”

“It comes with the purchase. It’s our Valentine’s Day Special,” the saleswoman said, smiling, again.

Putting her arm around her compadre, the longhaired woman said, “Well here’s to you dyin! There are many worse ways to go!”

As they walked out of the jewelry shop they vaguely heard the odd looking woman call, “You ladies have a nice day!”

Bipolars...and ANYONE STRESSED OUT! Go to Counseling!!

YOU GOT ISSUES? GO TO COUNSELIN'!! There ain't no shame in that game! There seems to have always been a stigma attached to "therapy," or "seeing a shrink," but if you find the right person to talk to, whatever hurts inside you eventually starts healing. I don't know why the talking helps, but maybe it has something to do with having to honestly face yourself, take a good hard look, and try to begin to understand your baggage. That can be anything from anger issues, to a mental disorder, depression, etc... Couples are advised to see a counselor before getting married, this is usually seen in christian religions, but it's actually something with which I agree. Counseling for me started out as a bit of a last ditch effort to avoid suicide. I knew it was coming, I just didn't know which depressed phase of a bipolar episode would bring it about. My cycles were getting so intense. I would make such stupid life choices while being manic, then start to feel really guilty about them, slowly slipping me into the depressed phase, where I drank... a LOT. It is so odd to me how our tastes can change based on the chemistry of our brains, it often felt like I was too separate people, like my evil twin. I could always tell when a phase was coming on because I would want to smoke, drink red bull and liquor, and I just threw everything that mattered to me into the wind and ruined almost every relationship I've ever had. There is a line from a song by Tegan and Sara that goes, "I feel like, I wouldn't like me, if I met me." It was my theme song during my depressed phase. Thankfully, I gave up trying on my own and went to see the school counselor where I attended college, and continued seeing one right through graduation semester. I got medicated and the last episode I had wasn't near as bad. I didn't have the urge to drink really. I did smoke, but I managed to keep my relationships relatively healthy (in my pinion). 

After I began sorting myself out and a rough bout of the WRONG medication (not everybody needs the same cocktail people, ;) make sure yours is right for you!), I got a bit of a handle on my life and started to feel like my emotions weren't going to up and run off with the nearest married man (yes that happened). It got a bit "Girl Interrupted" there for a while, but eventually, with a lot of thinking out loud and having those thoughts questioned, I got back some control. It worked so well that I suggested my love button and I go together! That was given the "okay," but I'm not sure how much openness was involved at first (on both sides). After having been through that process and observing other couples, gay and straight alike, I have come to the conclusion that all couples go through, pretty much, the same obstacle course. How they come out of it depends on a variety of things; 1. how much they actually love each other and want the other's happiness, 2. how willing they are to accept that they are neither of them perfect and have room to improve in order to show that love to one another in a way they will understand (COUNSELING!). 

Christians have something called the "Love Languages" or some such rot. It's stuffed full of complicated things to remember, when really, the most important thing is to learn to say, "I'm sorry," and mean it. I know you're thinking, "REALLY Lady? You're a fricken genius!" but it's true. The hard part is saying it so that they can hear you. Not your words, those can come in loud and clear, but the language you tell them in must be in one that cuts straight to that mushiness they have for you inside. For me, all it takes is a genuine, heartfelt apology for the hurt done and I become a heart-eyed, cuddly, cooing mess (It's disgusting. Ask anyone). It cannot be just "sorry things didn't go your way, babe." The apology must be specific. It shows that she understands why it hurt me, even if the same thing would not hurt her, and vice versa. Though...I'm still working to find how my apology will melt her sugar pot and make her dissolve into a big sweet mess of smiles and "I love yous." That's why love is not just how you FEEL about somebody. Yes, that's important, because if they don't love you, GOOD LUCK trying to melt THEIR sugar pot! For the most part, when I can tell there is tension building from something I've done, I have to take her a step back. We look at what has just happened. Usually I have said the wrong thing, not thinking at all about how she would feel. So, I cup her face and gently tell her to look at me, I ask "Do you love me?" Of course she says, "yes." I then ask her, "Do you know how much I love you?" To which she replies, "yes," which leaves me the opening to apologize and know she will hear my sincerity and we can be okay again. If a couple really loves each other, they want what's best for each other and it is not hard to want to help them understand that a hurt caused by them was the LAST thing intended, and counseling explains just that. It is the love of poems. If you say you would die for the one you love, what's a little heartfelt sacrifice of pride now and again, if it will bring them smiling back to you? Or calm the wave of your life you fear will just KILL you? (COUNSELING!) Oh, and by the way, there is ALWAYS something to apologize for in a "lover's spat," even if you are in the right! It took us a year and a half of couples counseling to find this stuff out, but we have been deliriously happy because of it. So, I reiterate one last time, there is NOTHIN' WRONG WITH A LITTLE COUNSELIN'!