T is for two times two

That's right, two times two, which is four and does not start with t. 

I'm going to go through so many t words on this blog, it's going to be intense. Maybe we'll all learn new words. I've painted myself into an educational corner!

Anyways, I'm not sure if I wrote about it, I had a little break from blogging because of the job search and the writing of my novel. Yes it's still going to be tweaked a bit but now I have a list of agents I would like to query! Fufufu

Have you written something and have no idea what to do about it? Join the club! 

Writing in itself is easy, writing something of value is a little harder, writing something that others might value is a gift. 

But away from the stresses of work, four!

I know have four little ones parading around my house. What's that? Children you say? Nope! Hahaha

I'm sure I already shared Punkie, Harley and Rocky my three pets; respectively a bunny, rat and cat who we travelled across the country with. Fun. And got some strange stares for at the airport and then the hotel and then the apartment as we parading into the building with three carriers and a cage. Thank goodness this new city doesn't allow any pet deposits and our building loves all animals. You wouldn't believe how difficult that is to find.

And now! An addition! 

This....

       

...is Lyra. The thirteen-fingered kitten. Our little rescue kitten. 

Her previous owner was thrown in jail and so her and her sisters were abandoned in his apartment building. They were found in pretty bad shape but we took her in and I think she seems pretty happy. Affectionate and hyper, she loves bouncing around and snuggling up next to you on the couch or in he bed.

She's my first cat that belongs just to me.

I couldn't love her more.

T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 7

 Pock spent the rest of the day, weaving in between the rocks and fighting against the oceans pull with Read on his back. Reads legs were all at work: searching for feathers, collecting them, drying them by hanging the feathers off of Pock's dorsal fin, and all the while deciding on what would be the best way to tie them to his tentacles.

 The gulls and other birds squawked and screamed and laughed at the two swimmers. No one could fly without being a flyer, no one.  

 At the end of the day Pock dove down deep in to the water and brought up some heavy rocks to keep the feathers from flying away on their own. Read thanked him for the hundredth time that day. What would he do without his friend? He worried about how he would be able to see him when he was flying.

 "That's silly. You'll just come and visit me." Pock said when he voiced his fears, "We're friends, aren't we?"

 Read spent that night with all of his arms wrapped around Pock as he swam in his lazy circles. Even though he had never slept outside of a cave or jar, he was safe with his friend, and he fell asleep instantly.

 

 A loud bang woke the two up with a start. Pock dashed behind a rock when he saw the large dark shape above them.

 "What's that?!" Read whispered loudly to his friend.

 "I have no idea." 

 They swam slowly put of their hiding place and up towards the surface. But Read couldn't help but notice the trail of feathers that followed the falling object. That hadn't been a bird had it?

 When they broke the surface a cloud of smoke greeted them. Read coughed in surprise and plunged back into the water.

 "What was that?"

 "Smoke." Pock said, "Something is burning."

 "Burning?" Read asked.

 "It's when something becomes nothing. When you burn something it becomes dust."

 Read broke the surface once again and called up at the birds, "What's going on? Is everyone still something?"

 "Get away, swimmer!" A bird called, "Get away!"

 "Nowhere to go, swimmer!" Another screamed, "Its all your fault!"

 "What are you talking about?"

 "You brought the fire because we took the wings. You're a swimmer! Not allowed to fly!"

 Read looked at them confused and then gasped, swimming over the rocks that held his makeshift wings. There was nothing there. They had been stolen.

 "How could you!" Read yelled at the birds.

 "Not a swimmer!" One yelled.

 Read dove back into the water. His tears melting away into the salty warmth. Pock, however, could not be fooled.

 "What happened?" He asked.

 "They took the wings. And they say I brought fire." Read said.

 "Well if you did shouldn't they give them back?" Pock offered.

 "They've probably destroyed them. Those rotten creatures." Read said.

 "They're not rotten, Read. They just don't understand and they're scared right now." Pock said, "You have to give them time to accept that you want to do this. You have to show them that you can."

 "But I can't do that without the feathers." Read cried.

 "We shall collect more feathers." Pock offered. 

 There was a splash above them.

 The bird squeaked around in the water and hurriedly tried to swim back up to the surface. Pock glided his way towards the wriggling bird.

 "Spiky! Spiky!" The bird flapped its wings and wrapped itself tight int he seaweed that was floating nearby. 

 Read dashed forward this time, flyers didn't seem to know how to swim very well at all and he wasn't going to be rotten like they were to him. He grabbed the bird and pulled the seaweed off and popped its head out of the water all in one fell swoop.

 The bird didn't move.

 "Aren't you going to fly?" Read asked.

 "Must not move. The spiky will get me." It said, barely opening its beak.

 "Were you one of them who took the wings?" Pock asked, baring his several rows of teeth.

 "No!" The bird squealed. 

 "Then I've got no problem with you." Pock shrugged and swam off.

 The gull sighed and folded its wings properly. Read watched the sky with it for several seconds before he summoned the courage to speak to the flyer. He wanted to ask about his wings and about flying and about the air, but he knew what he should do and knew how he could do it.

 "I have a plan to help your friends in the sky."

T is for torture

Yes, torture.
I have never been so frustrated, or so forced to restrain myself from tossing my computer out of the window, as I have with the ever present torturous rampage of the password.
You may ask yourself. Huh? What does that mean? What's she on about now?

I'll tell you what I'm on about.
Passwords! Passwords to the never ending parade of websites that keep multiplying and multiplying, there is no end to the internet and there will never be an end to the new things you can find online but there is an end to the capacity my brain has to process it all and remember every single detail and fluctuation.
I tried, I really did -and I still do!- but can you honestly tell me that you have a completely different and unique password for every single website you are on? That you have a fluctuating password that changes every -what do they say it has to be?- week?!
How in the name of everything that is good and simple can anyone remember all that.

Mind you my passwords change probably that many times just because I don't remember the damned things and am constantly resetting them.
I just find it ridiculous that I start getting annoyed at resetting systems that aren't like other resetting systems and can't help me as well or as quickly.
I judging password reset pages against other ones!
There is no surer sign that this is getting ridiculous!

Sigh.... I realize this is an insane rant, but for those of you who like me do not posses a mind of infinite reaches but something more like a full sponge that when you learn something else (or put a password of a new website in for example), well some of the old information (i.e. old passwords) dribble out the other end.

It's hard to suffer from full brainspongia.

T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 6

Back to the blog! Sigh. Getting wrapped up in life is fun but can also be very tiring when you've got nowhere to unwind. Writing, when it isn't the novel, is such a relaxing thing for me so I'm back to Read and Pock. Sadly their adventure is soon coming to an end. 
But! I have a surprise when the story finishes.  

--"Why don't you get on my back and we can talk to them together. I don't want you to get hurt." Pock said.
Read smiled. He was lucky to have such a good friend and he knew it. Pock and him were a team. He swam over and wrapped his tentacles around the large dorsal fin and braced himself for impact as Pock rose up towards the rippling end of the ocean.--

  It was like being struck in the face by the most powerful current out there. Read gasped and wrapped every single one of his tentacle around the large shark beneath him. His eyes screwed shut and he was armed and ready to shoot ink at any creature that might have the indecency to attack such a terrified little octopus.
  He waited like that, squished down against his friend, unwilling to let for even a second.
  "Read," Pock said softly, "You're going to want to see this."
  Did he? Read didn't relax for a minute, but for his friend he opened just one eye. He relaxed every single muscle instantly.
  There were thousands of birds in every direction. Swooping and screaming and flapping their wings back and forth; building up speed and dropping down into the water before shooting out once again. Read watched wide-eyed and raised up two of his long arms as the bird swooshed by. The sweet new tingle of the air blowing past him shoot up his arms and made him laugh with anticipation.

 "I want to do that! I want to fly!" Read called out to the birds and Pock.

 "Fly?" Cried one of the birds, "Swimmers aren't flyers."

 "Yes, you can't fly without feathers." Squawked a seagull.

 "Swimmers will never fly, we're different." Another bird declared.

 Pock growled, "If we're so different, how come you can swim too?" 

 "We can float." A gull said, "You sink."

 "See?" The first bird declared, "Completely different."

 "But we've come all the way from the bottom of the ocean." Read said, dropping his arms. He looked at the long squishy members and then at the birds fluffy wings. That's what he saw in his dreams as well. The birds shook their heads at him, repeating their disbelief and flew off. The giant cloud of birds landed on the face if the rock, as soft and elegant in landing as they were in flight.

 "How do I get those arms?" Read asked.

 "Wings?" Pock asked, "If you ask me, you're better off without them. Those feather brains don't know their heads from their tails, that's what happens when you've got hollow bones. Hollow minds."

 "They have hollow bones?" Read gasped.

 "To fly. They need to be light." Pock explained.

 "I don't have bones at all! I must be able to!" Read exclaimed, "All we need to do is get me some feathers."

 "What are you going to do with feathers?" Pock asked.

 "We're going to make me some wings." Read declared.

T is for Tale: the second tale - Part 5

*Hooked you say? Goodness! Then for you my friend, I will endeavor to keep this story going properly even while I am writing the other. Priorities have made it so that I am now days away from being able to send my book to the agents and that is why my little writing spot/blog has been neglected.*

---Read's mind reeled at the very thought of it. A giant expanse of land like the bottom of the sea but without water, without swimming, just full of air and birds. He couldn't imagine anything that sounded more freeing. To be able to sail through the sky and still be on the ground like his home. He had been worried he would never see it again when Pock kept swimming upwards.
  "We'll rest today. Tomorrow we will look for land."

  Read spent the night dreaming of clouds and of sharks flying in the sky.---


Pock was swimming in the slow drowsy circles of his particular type of sleep when Read woke up. He was excited and invigorated by his dream, even more set on getting to the sky now. He wrapped his legs around the nearest rock and pulled himself out of the small hole he had found. Luckily he was flexible because otherwise his overly large head would not have fit.
He moved up past the sleeping shark and ran his long legs over the rocky wall as he slowly glided upwards.
There was a ripple ahead. Something wrong with the water. He couldn't see past the strange blur before him. What was it? He poked a tentacle at it and it was suddenly cold as ice. He dipped back in in shock and swam back down quickly. He bumped right into Pock.
"There's something wrong with the water. It feels cold and... Strange." he said.
"That's air." Pock smiled at him, "We've reached the island."
No. It couldn't be. Pock swam up and tentatively pushed a tentacle through the rippling water again. It was cold and... Something else. He moved the tentacle around and there was nothing stopping him from swaying it. Freedom. Air.
He pushed his tentacles up higher and something tickled them. Like a strong current it pushed them to the side but it didn't swirl like water, it enveloped like it was trying to lift and Read longed for that to happen.
He was just about to push through and chance a look with his own two eyes when something poked at his tentacle. He twitched. Something poked again. It hurt this time. On the third poke he pulled back and suddenly a sharp yellow object slammed into the water at his face and he yelled propelling himself backwards quickly.
Pock was in front of him in seconds and his large jaws snapped as he lifted his head and tossed the yellow thing out of the water with his round nose.
"What was that?!" Read exclaimed
"A bird." Pock said.
"The ones that fly?" Read asked flexing all his tentacles to be sure they were all still there.
"Yes," Pock said, "But they've never jabbed at me before. They eat small fishies like I do."
"Maybe they thought the tip of my tentacle was a fin." I offered, trying to give the flyers the benefit of the doubt.
Pock seemed unsure.
"Why don't you get on my back and we can talk to them together. I don't want you to get hurt." Pock said.
Read smiled. He was lucky to have such a good friend and he knew it. Pock and him were a team. He swam over and wrapped his tentacles around the large dorsal fin and braced himself for impact as Pock rose up towards the rippling end of the ocean.