Eavesdropping? No, just socially investigating!

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“Sometimes I listen to strangers’ conversation and mentally give my opinion”

Eavesdropping? No, just socially investigating!

“By George we made it!” Emma shouted in victory.

“I thought we were lost there for a moment, but here we are. And all in one piece!” Marc added dusting off his jacket.

“Too bad we lost George.” Emma was feeling sorry for the poor guy.

Marc looked at Emma and with a sad voice answered: “The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few.”

“Or the one!” Emma added.

Marc hugged Emma as they were standing, both looking into the distance, thoughts on their lost comrade.

***

I was on my way to work, when I stopped by the coffee shop. Waiting for my order I glanced around the place and noticed three intriguing characters in the farthest corner table. Two men and a woman, obviously deep in conversation, planning something from the looks of how they were positioned. Huddled together, serious yet fierce expressions on their faces and looking like they were plotting something.

Being of a curious nature, interested in all human relations, I took a few steps closer, trying to catch a glimpse of what they were talking about.

“This has to go down today!” The woman said loud enough for me to hear from my position.

I was hooked. I inched even closer and secretly hoped my order would take a while to complete.

“Did you check the weapons, made sure we have enough ammo?” The other man asked from the one sitting opposite him.

“All checked boss! I also added an extra ingredient, just to spice things up! Can’t wait to see the other guys’ faces when they get hit!” He responded with a smirk on his lips.

‘Boss, hit, guns?!’

Some kind of heist or mob hit in the planning I wondered. I was shaking a little. The threesome sitting around the table did not look like robbers or mob members, rather like nerds or students. But never judge a book by it’s cover.

The woman then took something out from her bag and laid it on the table. It looked like a map of sorts.

“Are we all clear on our positions at the final stage.” She was pointing at something on the paper to the others.

“What if I change my stance here rather than here.” The other man asked the woman and the one he had called boss.

“No!” The woman raised her voice again. Clearly the other man had been wrong about who the real boss was.

She then continued, “No deviations! We will all stick to the plan as agreed before.”

The man just nodded.

“Excellent!” The woman responded, “Now as to the next…”

Her voice faded to the sounds of new customers coming in to the shop. A loud soccer team had just entered the premises and I could not hear the threesome’s conversation.

And then, my name was called out from the counter. My order was ready.

Pondering whether to ignore it and try to stay a while longer. Then again, it would look suspicious, if I would stand there with my coffee and bagels in my hand. Reluctantly I decided to leave. Maybe there was something in the newspaper tomorrow I could read about. After all, I was no detective, nor law officer. Just an eavesdropper on her way to work!

***

Emma and Marc were standing at the top of the hill holding their guns. They had finally won a battle.

“Poor George!” Marc was looking down at his friend, laying non moving down by the bushes.

“He was brave, right to the end!” Emma credited his fallen friend.
“Guys! A little help, please!” A voice shouted from below.

Emma and Marc looked at each other. Then started their way down the hill. They reached their destination and remained standing there, neither making an effort to help.

“Guys? I am dying here!”

“Well, it’s your own fault!” Marc told him.

“Yeah, you failed to follow the plan and got hit. Right in the forehead no less!” Emma berated him.

“Sorry, guess I should have cut back on the doughnuts!” Was the response of the fallen man, “I felt the energy draining away from me as I was running after you guys.”

Marc offered his hand to his friend and helped him up.

“George, you are a mess. You have paint all over your face!” Marc looked at the dirty face of his friend who had been hit by multiple paint pellets.

“Well, our team still won!” George replied with a big grin.

“We sure did George, we sure did!” Emma patted George on the back, “Thanks for taking one for the team!”

“Now, let’s go and celebrate our victory! Donuts anyone?” Marc added.

“Hear, hear!” The other two replied in unison.

 

social

Back in time

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“When I was kid, my social network was called ‘outside’ “

Back in time

This is the work one of pure fiction. Neither polar bears nor reindeer were harmed in the creation of this literary process!
The year was 1924.

Longitude and latitude: Somewhere up north, thataway! The Finnish Lapland would probably be the most accurate location for this tale.

How old was I?

I guess I was somewhere between ten and twelve years of age. In those days, people were born and they died. No one really bothered with the record keeping. Lord knows there were plenty of us to go around.

Despite the fact it was close to midsummer, there was still snow on the ground. The reindeer and polar bears were roaming the streets while us kids were running around, having snowball fights. That is, during the minimum spare time we had between school, chores and work. Sleeping in those days was a luxury. Sometimes we had a full night’s sleep, sometimes the watch duty fell on my plate and I needed to stay up all night. Luckily, coffee had been invented ten years prior and we were all pretty much hooked on the sweet dark liquid.

Our housing for the winter months was an igloo, which the whole family constructed out of ice. Snow was used as plaster to fill in any holes between the blocks of ice. During the summer time, we had a tent like structure made out of bear and deer skin. Unfortunately all of us favoured the winter dwelling for one simple fact: The summer house stunk like a skunk. The choice of material was not a good one, but then, it was depression and all commodities were scarce.

The trip to school, either winter or summer time was made on skis and it was part to the exercise curriculum for all of us still eligible for the classes. A twenty kilometer trip back and forth was not a big deal and was building the strength and endurance nicely. This also came in handy for our after school activities. Some of us went to work in the coal mines, while others were herding rein deer or taking care of their younger siblings.

Each Saturday the Sauna was heated and all the family gathered into the cramped little room, heated up to eighty degrees. We were sitting all butt cheek to butt cheek in the nude on a wooden construct in the small dark room. Only the burning fire in the stove gave some lighting. As a luffa, a loosely tied bunch of birch tree branches with leaves on them was used. Out mother pummeled us with the concoction and me thinks she enjoyed it a little too much. Granted we children gave her grieve sometimes, so I will give her that.

Bathing for us then meant taking dips in the icy, below freezing waters. This, after we had first heated our body temperatures close to baking. Then we ran naked to the lake, where a large hole had been dug into the ice and plunged in.

All in all life was pretty ordinary and uneventful in my childhood, apart from the minor quirks.

Do I miss it? My childhood?

I would rather spend my next holiday on a labour camp!

 

4067-76665

Time for a Reality Check?

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Part Three of REALITY? WHO’S BRILLIANT IDEA WAS THAT?

reality?-rant

“It is strange because sometimes, I read a book, and I think I am the people in the book”

Time for a Reality Check?

So there I was, in the middle of the woods, all by my lonesome. No where to hide, no where to run.
I was in for a challenge. Not only because of me detoxing from the fiction I was greatly hooked up on at this point, but also living in an archaic house without any creature comforts.

I watched the car drive off, and then I was finally alone. Time to start the battle with the demons!
I went inside the wooden cabin finding a layer of dust settling on the surfaces. Sighing deeply and thinking ‘Welcome to the labour camp’. Placing my rucksack on the chair closest to me, I rolled up my sleeves and started cleaning up.

Windows and door open to get the air circulating. Making do with an old broom to swipe the floors. Luckily I had brought some cleaning wipes with me. Those would come in handy while dusting the surfaces.

A few hours later I looked around and the place was spick and span clean. It was time for the evening meal and I was unpacking my bag. I had several cans of food, some crackers and a juice canister. Now all I needed was water and wood!

The rest of my day went pretty much doing chors like cutting wood and hauling water from the well.
A few more hours went by and I was inside getting the wooden stow started. When the fire was burning nicely, I opened one of the cans, pea soup of course, good for any camper!

It was night fall and I had my little oil lamp burning and the fire was going keeping me warm. It had been a little bit of an effort, but luckily some smart Alec had written instructions now hanging on the wall next to fireplace.

So there I was without a care in the world, my stomach full with soup and juice. I was wondering how people managed to get anything else done in the olden days. Most of the daylight hours seemed to be wasted on cleaning and gathering necessities for meal preparation.

Then I realized I needed to use the facilities. Unfortunately there was only an outhouse and it was a bit tricky to navigate there in the dark. I had my torch with me so that helped a little. I just hoped no wildlife were close by feeling peckish and thinking I was food.

The routine for the two week period was pretty much the same every day. Get up at dawn, because the birds were screaming in the trees, hunt and gather for nourishment. The cottage grounds actually had a pretty good assortment of various berries and luckily it was the season for most of them.

In the end, I did not even miss reading, anything, fiction or otherwise. I didn’t have time, when the real life hit me hard, and using a log to do it!

Let’s see what happens when I finally get back home, where all the temptations await me!

reality-check-101-4c

A Stroll in the Park

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“Until you walk a mile in another man’s moccasins you can’t imagine the smell” Robert Byrne

 
A Stroll in the Park

A lovely day for a walk in the park. Holding hands and walking down the long lane with her best friend. The sun was shining, the flowers were in bloom, the birds were singing. Yes, you could actually hear them, it was early Sunday morning and the natives were still sleeping comfortably.

The two friends had the park for themselves to enjoy. Almost, a little farther down the lane, they spotted an elderly woman sitting at the park bench. Moving closer, the couple detected the lady to be knitting. That is when he broke into tears.

“What is wrong with you?” She asked him.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help it. Looking at the lady there just made me think of my own future.”

She was a little confused. One minute ago the sun had been shining and now, it seemed, the storm clouds were gathering.

“What are you talking about? Didn’t you and Mark already have your life planned until retirement?” She tried half joking. Knowing her friend, she could easily imagine the plans the couple had laid out for their future the minute they had become involved.

“No, we broke up, last night!”

He was sobbing hard. He hadn’t dared tell her about it sooner, and wished he had not seen the old lady, nor had come to the park. The reason for not telling his friend was, that he really wasn’t in the mood of hearing the ‘I told you so’s in his current frame of mind.

“Oh.” Was her short answer.

“I will be as lonely as that lady over there is without anyone to love me!” He continued through his tears.

She knew this would happen. Mark had been completely wrong for her friend. Biting her tongue and keeping in mind her friend needed consolation rather than her telling him how wrong he had been.

“Hey, it’s going to be alright! I am here for you!” She then put her arms around her friend and guided him to a nearby seat, trying to calm him down with soft spoken words.
The elderly lady had noticed the couple walking towards her.

‘Oh young love’ She had been thinking. And then she witnessed something odd. The man breaking down in tears!

“Well, I never!”

She said out loud to herself and then thinking,

‘In my days people were gay and laughing. We did not air our dirty laundry in public!’

stroll

The Observer

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“There’s no way to remove the observer – us – from our perceptions of the world” Stephen Hawking

The Observer

I was sitting in the coffee shop, my well-deserved latte in front of me. I was content in emerging into my daily readings on my tablet, but for some reason my eyes kept wandering to the hassle in the bar. Patrons were leaving and new ones were stepping into the shop.

‘Why not!’ I thought. I could play the part of the observer for a little while before continuing my own tasks. Who knows, maybe I would pick up an idea or two for my next writing project.

Sipping my coffee, I noticed the young couple in the corner booth. They were enjoying each others’ company, looking each other in the eye, no words were spoken. New love was in the air.

Feeling like a peeping Tom, I search for something else to gaze upon. My eyes were scanning the room and landed on a woman with three offspring. The mother was deep in thought, or so it seemed, reading the newspaper while her children were throwing napkins, straws and other small items at each other. I wondered how she managed to turn off the surroundings. The patrons at the next table however were not so lucky. Shaking their heads, they grabbed their orders and moved to another table at the farther end the coffee shop.

I laughed a little at the scene played out before me. Good thing I had been thinking ahead and chose the solitary spot close to the windows in the corner. I had a clear view of the whole establishment, but I was also able to concentrate on my reading if I wanted to.

I thought to seek out one more scene before tuning myself out. I noticed the waitresses behind the bar having a heated conversation. I was not able to hear what they were talking about, but clearly the other one was angry about something and kept on ranting, while the other one was just listening in. Wide eyed, nodding every now and again. The angry one was waving her arms in the air, while the quiet one remained stationary, her hands seemed almost glued to her sides. It seemed from an observer’s perspective, the ranter was in charge in that particular relationship, while the listener did just that and probably agreed to everything the ranter told her.

I lost my interest after a little while and noticed the coffee house getting emptier. Guess the rush was over and I could get back to my reading.

observer

Caricature Characters

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“Character is a word that seems to define almost all human activity and then some…” Richard Reeves

Caricature Characters

Writer’s note: This is a fictional story. No real character was harmed during the creative process.

A start for the week in the office. We were expecting a new addition to the fold today and not just anyone, it was our new boss. I was sitting at my desk sorting out my inbox when a colleague came by and said:

“Did you see her?” He asked.

“Her who?” I responded

“The new boss, she was just in the coffee area.” He continued.

“She?” I had not realized we would finally be getting a female leader.

“Yes, we have ourselves a new lady boss!” He half joked, but I could see in his eyes he really wasn’t.

The way he had reacted did not sound promising, no, not at all good! It seemed he and the new manager had not gotten along so well.

“Oh.” My short answer.

“Yeah, well, guess it will all turn out good.” He remarked cryptically, having a worried look on his face.

“No, how did she seem to you?” Now I was getting alarmed too.

The idea of having a woman in charge and as my boss had been an intriguing one. However, I would have preferred a nice strong “human” leader and not a queen bitch. Well, men usually tended to have their preconceptions when female leaders were concerned. Therefore I thought it was just his opinion, nothing more. Possibly due to being intimidated by a woman boss. And if there is anything I have learnt, it is to ignore those myself, since people never give good first impressions.

“Yeah. Why don’t you go and get some coffee and see for yourself.” He urged me.

“Yeah, as soon as I have today’s agenda sorted out.” I told him. It was a lie, I had sorted my tasks already and I never said no to more coffee.

I was sitting at my desk doing all kinds of non urgent tasks, procrastinating, buying my time. Finally gathering enough courage, I got up and made my way to the coffee room.

Just before entering the area, I heard a loud and full laugh coming from the area. ‘That was new’, I thought.

I entered and saw the two worst ass kissers in the office chatting up our new department head. Probably sucking up to the boss telling her all kinds of little lies.

I quietly snuck myself into the room and went to the coffee machine, trying to be as quite as possible. As Mr Murphy would have it, I managed to make a loud noise, while reaching for the cup from the fully stocked cupboard. The cup then fell out with an audible sound. I managed to grab the cup before it fell on the floor and broke, hoping not to have alerted the trio’s attention. I poured coffee into the cup and turned towards the table, where my office mates and new boss were standing.

I could not help staring. She was the epiphany of a modern executive. Dressed in a tailored power suit, her dark hair neatly cut in a bob. And of course, she was wearing stiletto heels. I know my jaw was dropped. I looked at myself, dressed casually: Jeans, t-shirt and sneakers. I could not believe my luck! Remember what I said about first impressions? Well I might have been wrong after all.

The new boss lady looked at me, clearly assessing who or what I was. Guess she decided I was safe enough and with an evil grin she said:

“Nice catch!” Commenting on my blunder with the coffee cup.

I was dumbfounded. It took some time for me to gain my speech ability back.

“I was, um, Thanks!” I managed.

“So, what department are you part of?” She asked. Not my name, not a hello nice to meet you. I was getting the sinking feeling my co-worker had been right in his assessment regarding our new lady boss after all!

“IT.” Short answer. All I could manage.

“Oh, so you are the contractor!” She sounded like it was an infectious disease. At least that’s the way I heard it.

“I um (again), yes. I am the administrator for the platform.” Wow! I finally managed to get a sentence out from my mouth.

“Is that a fact.” Her expression was starting to change rapidly and she seemed to be nodding in approval. “I have heard good things about you.” She finally said with a smile.

Once again she managed to surprise me and leave me astonished with my mouth open like a goldfish whose bowl just broke and the water was spilled all over the floor.

“That, that is good to hear.” I managed finally.

She then did the unthinkable thing. She stepped closer, standing next to me, completely ignoring her brown nosing fans and talked to me.

“You and I should have a chat soon. I have some plans for the IT improvements and I would like your input.” She was still smiling while she was speaking to me.

“Great.” I seemed to have so much difficulty in talking with her, my sentences reducing to one syllable ones.

“Excellent! Why don’t you book us an appointment and let’s move forward from there!” She told me.

She then turned around, but before she left, she said: “It was really good to meet you!” And she was gone.

“Good to meet you too!” I was half shouting after her, as she was almost gone.

First impressions, forget them! My new boss and I; I am sure we will have a great and fruitful working relationship after all!

TO BE CONTINUED?

queen

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

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Part Two of Serially Lost in Fiction

reality-check-101-4c

“Losing an illusion makes you wiser than finding a truth”  Ludwig Borne

Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

“You really need to pull it together and clean up your act!”

The words still echoing in my head from the intervention. The whole thing had made me extremely angry. But after my initial tantrum had subsided, I was willing to admit I had a problem.

So now, I needed a plan, but it was going to be hard. I had two choices, to gradually wean myself off of all that fiction and fantasy or go cold turkey. I estimated it would take around two to three weeks or so either way. I chose the latter option. I did not trust myself, suspecting the gradual way I would only make excuses and not read any less.

The options at hand would be then to:

a) Get rid of every single piece of technology or readable book.
b) Lock myself in an empty room at home.
c) Travel to a far away place, preferably a cottage in the middle of the forest somewhere without any creature comforts.

I chose plan c. It seemed the best option, since my family owned a cottage some hundred kilometers up north. There was no electricity, no running water, basically nothing but survival against the wilderness. Well, to be honest, the nearest shop was only five kilometres away, so not a god forsaken place after all.

Since the margin of me running off mid process, my family opted to drive me there and I would then have a bike to use for my trips to buy groceries. And that being my only option of transportation, it would be highly unlikely I would run off on a bike.

So it was agreed and I was on my way to the cottage in the woods with only my necessities.

reality?-rant

Next stop: Time for a Reality Check?

Serially Lost in Fiction

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“Row, row, row your boat, Gently down the stream.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.”

Serially Lost in Fiction

Writer’s note: This content is the work of pure fiction and is in no way associated to the writer ;P

The best guideline for any writer is to read, read and read some more. With all available resources, carrying a “book” around is easy as pie and you can read anywhere. There is a downside to this though and I found that out the hard way: I got caught between the realm of reality and fantasy.

It started slowly, reading a short story here, another there. Then things started to escalate. I was hooked up on longer stories, even sequels and serial ones. It had gotten to the point where I was reading on the bus stop, in the bus, at lunch, on coffee break. When I got home from work I could not wait to rush through my daily chores and emerge myself in more stories.

Feeling like the children who found Narnia, I was devouring all kinds of the stories. Re-enacting some of them in my sleep. Even taking part in conversations with my imaginary new friends in my head.

Staying up until late hours, reading, reading, reading. Sleep was scarce, almost non-existent. Drinking lots of coffee was the only remedy to somehow muddle through my work days. Even during the day fantasizing of the time I was back home and able to fully concentrate on my reading.

Then I got a wake up call. It was in the form of an intervention from my family and friends. I was on my way from work like usual and happily thinking on my next read. And there they were, sitting in the living room, waiting for me. Not a tablet, laptop, book reader nor an actual book in sight!

They sat me down gently and told me in no small way how my constant reading was affecting them.
I could not believe they would dare confronting me like this. After all, I was only reading for leisure.

Bewildered and utterly distraught I dwelled in self pity for a few days. Locking myself in my room and reporting in sick. I decided “to hell with it” and emerged in even more reading. For four days and four nights apart from potty breaks I read anything and everything.

After those days, I guess something got me thinking. Could have been the sleep deprivation, could have been the fact I had hardly eaten, but I realized I was in over my head. Then and there I decided it was time for a change.

 Next stop: Reality? Who’s Brilliant Idea Was That?

A Wanna-be Drag Queen

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“I Look Fuckin’ Cool” – Adore Delano & Alaska Thunderfuck

A Wanna-be Drag Queen

There is just something
to be said
About a man
in a dress
Not one hair
in a mess
Everyone staring
at big earrings

A Sculpted body
and lean legs
The woman embodies
A honey trap?
but into the spiders webs

Sickening
Gorgeous
Bickering
Flawless
Fabulous
Marvelous

Out of this world
Down the runway they swirled
Looking fucking cool
All we do is drool

You better work
With your lips in a smirk
It’s just a quirk
Don’t let it irk

I may be a woman
Must come clean
Maybe an omen
But I’m a wanna-be drag queen

“It’s not personal, It’s just drag” – Alyssa Edwards

drag

A Room With A View

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“A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.” – Joan Didion

A Room with a View

We had been driving for a while, not sure whether this road we were on, would lead us to the right place. Everything was different now. What once were wide open fields and forest, had now transformed into a mini suburbia. It was difficult to navigate by only old images serving as maps for the familiar road taken some forty years ago.

“There, take a turn here!” I pointed out to the direction looking to lead to were I wanted to go.

The car swerved and after a moment, I started recognizing familiar landmarks, still standing after all these years despite the changes. The big boulder standing proudly at the very edge of the ledge. As
kids we use to play and re-enact our favourite TV shows, pretending the rock was part of an alien planet.

Driving further and deeper into the woods, the distances between houses were getting longer and soon I was able to see recognize some of the places long since forgotten. We had finally arrived.

Stepping out of the car I noticed the neighbours’ house was still standing on the accompanying lot, still as run down as it had been all those years ago. I wondered if anyone actually lived there anymore.

Looking at the empty spot where our home had been, I could still see some of the rocks which had been part of the foundation of the house once standing proud, laying scattered After neglect and abandonment, the run down building had finally been demolished.

I walked around in the tall grass, feeling nostalgic and remembering how it used to be. As I closed my eyes I am transported back to the old house, my playhouse, the house I was born in.

It was a warm summer’s day. I could smell the freshly cut grass and see all the flowers in bloom. The field surrounding the house was filled with yellow, the colour of dandelions.

As kids, it was really fun to blow off the seeds when the flowers had bloomed and were ready to pollinate. Little did we know we were actually helping the flowers to spread. They looked like skydivers as they slowly landed on the ground.

I turned and looked at my home, the raw wooden exterior, no creature comforts, such as running water or toilets. The outhouse was a little farther up the hill, covered by tall trees and bushes. Someone probably thought it would be a good place to hide it, so the onlookers would not find out the people actually went to the toilet in those days.

As I moved closer, I saw my grandmother sitting in the swing. She loved that swing. She sat there for hours on end, watching us kids play in the yard. I waved to her and continue inside. I was thirsty and I knew there was a pitcher of cool lemonade in the kitchen. In those days a refrigerator was a luxury and we did not have one.

To keep things cool, there were sort of holes or wells dug into to the ground, filled with cool ground water. The food was then put into a bucket and lowered into the hole. Our kitchen had one in the middle of the floor and it was handy especially during hot days like this one was.

The house itself was small, two bedrooms, a living room and the kitchen. There was electricity coming into the house, for lamps and such. And of course to the piece de resistance, the television. The only one in a ten mile radius. The neighbour kids and I used to gather in the house every Sunday afternoon to watch our favourite TV show, Thunderbirds. Even grandfather sat with us kids and watched the show in awe.

As I entered the house, I walked through a small foyer: It was really a tiny space between two doors before actually entering the inside of the house. When guests arrived, there usually was a queue waiting for entry into the house. Each in turn taking off their shoes, leaving them in the foyer and then entering.

I quickly stepped out of my clogs and entered the kitchen. The opposite wall was filled with cupboards and a sink. And of course no running water nor sewers. The long kitchen table surrounded by twelve chairs dominated the room. At Christmas and holidays we used to gather around it with family and friends.

I went to the “well” and opened the hatch. Hoisting the bucket up and taking one bottle. Putting the bucket back, closing the hatch. Walking to the cupboards, I took two glasses out. Satisfied I carried my items outside to where my grandmother was sitting.

After pouring the cool lemonade in the glasses and offering one to my grandmother, I sat down in the swing beside her. Letting the gentle swing and the warm summer breeze lull me into sleep.

After for what seemed an eternity, I finally opened my eyes and I was back in the present. The grass still green, field still filled with yellow dandelions, smiling at the warm memories of childhood and my trip back in time.