Dance Side

That’s right, a court jester. That’s the costume I’ll be wearing tomorrow for a party. My question to you is: How should I do my hair? I have approxamately 24 hours to come up with something. Here is the restriction: I have to be able to do it (and preferably it not take very long). So what do you think? Leave a comment, email me, call me, or send me an IM. I will consider ideas. (oh, one more thing. I don’t have a hat. )

“A jester? A jester. A funny idea a jester!”

I took the ACT this morning! Yay, it’s over! What a drama leading up to it! Whew! Well, it was uber cold in that room, it just took me a little while to realize that. And the desks should be ashamed to call themselves desks. Really small. Have to manipulate something to be able to take the test. (I manipulated my book, in two ways actually. It was interesting.) I had never seen the room I was going to be testing in (and hadn’t really seen the general area), so that was sort of interesting and intimidating. I actually saw two (count them two!) familiar faces (in all the people I saw that were there to take the test)! That’s two more than I thought there would be! Yay!

Anyway, it’s over now (until I take it again), and all I want to do is eat lunch!, and go on with my regular life. Hope I make it to the picnic today.

C ya!!

me

Hmm. An interesting concept. I actually (unintentionally) tricked somebody with my blog. That somebody didn’t think the things I wrote seemed like me. (plus the name “Kitty” is, of course, not my real name and therefore another confusing factor) Huh. Well, here’s a quote I think might apply from a book I really like,

“… that’s the way with most folks, if you think on it. They talk one way to one person, and another way to others.

Ma insisted I learn to talk proper, and at school it was insisted on, but when around the hills, a body gets to talkin’ as they do. But it seems to me we all have several ways of talkin’ or writin’.”

(quote taken from Ride the River page 46, written by Louis L’Amour)

Well, here’s something you may or may not have known about me. I’m loud and I’m quiet. If I’m uncomfortable, tired beyond sensible reason, don’t know what to say or do, mad, and maybe a few other things, my first reaction is to clam up. On the other hand, if I’m totally comfortable, tired enough to be giddy, been quiet too long, have things to say or do, extremely happy, and probably some other things, I sometimes have to make myself shut up. Huh, I think these are funny if not interesting extremes in the same person. I’m still me. These are parts of me.

And I talk about some things in my blog that probably wouldn’t come up in a conversation with me. I just wouldn’t think of them. I was kinda wondering what peoples reaction would be to the story I wrote. Surprise that I would come up with something like that perhaps? Maybe wondering where did that come from? I expected it to surprise people a little. I like things like that, weird as that may seem.

Well, I guess that wasn’t really a post on personalities, but that’s what you get from me. hehe

I woke up in a hotel room. I knew it was a hotel room; I just knew. But I didn’t remember getting here or checking in. In fact, I didn’t remember… me. I had no idea who I was. I remembered everything except details about me. It was very surreal, but it was reality.

I sat up and scanned my surroundings. Two beds, a TV, bedside table, sink, and bathroom. The usual things. Sitting on the bedside table was a wallet. I scrambled to get the wallet. There was money, a lot of money, and a paper with some numbers on it, but nothing else. No ID, no credit cards, no pictures, not even a library card. Sighing, I pulled on my jeans, and found two keys in my pocket. One looked like it was to an automobile; the other I guessed was to my hotel room. I went to the mirror to wash up. My face was neither familiar nor unfamiliar; it just was.

Okay, I thought, I’ll see this car of mine. In the small parking lot there were two cars and one motorcycle. I tried the key in all of them; the bike was mine. I checked out of my room and headed for a gas station. I can get a map there, I thought. I don’t even know where I am.

At the gas station I talked to the man behind the counter. His name was Jorge, and he got me a state map. Eagerly I poured over it while he told me the lay of the land. Turns out I was in Nebraska near the northwest border. It was when I thanked him and turned to leave things began happening.

“That’s a right nice locket you have.”

“Hmm? What?”

“Your locket. Most unusual. Does it have a picture in it?” Jorge asked.

“Uh…”

I hadn’t even noticed it before. The picture in my locket was of a young man; he was handsome, had brown hair, blue eyes, and a nice smile.

“He your boyfriend?” Jorge asked me.

Suddenly two men both in their twenties burst in with guns pointed at us.

“You!” one shouted at me, “Hands in the air, and you, open the register!”

I don’t know what came over me, but I stepped in the way. “C’mon, you guys don’t really want to do that,” I said.

“Move!” he screamed. “Move or I shoot!”

“No.” They both shot at me; three bullets hit. I grabbed at the counter as I fell.

“Now, hand over the money,” the other man spoke slowly and very calmly to Jorge.

I could feel blood on my shirt. It was warm, but I was cold. I knew I was going to die. Jorge was stalling, then I heard one, two, three pieces of metal hit the floor near me. I was warm again; the bleeding had stopped. I stood up and faced the robbers. They were dumbstruck at the sight of me. Then I attacked. I hit them with my fists, hard. One in the meat of the shoulder, the other blocked, but I hit his arm. They yelled in agony, one screamed, “Let’s get outta here!” and scrambled out the door immediately followed by the other.

I was breathing hard, but felt fine. I watched them run, and asked Jorge if he was okay. He didn’t answer, so I looked over to him. He was standing where he had been before, but he was looking at my hands in shock and terror.

I looked down at my hands. There was blood on them, and protruding out of each one were two five or six inch pieces of metal that were sharp at the end. I gasped, unable to believe my eyes. I looked quickly from my hands, to Jorge standing there, to my hands again. I was afraid.

I relaxed my hands from the fists I had made; the blades retracted under my skin, which healed from the slits inbetween my knuckles, right in front of my eyes. I found my breath again, and scrambled out of the station in shock.

Okay, I know I haven’t posted for awhile. Yeah, yeah, I can hear it now, “About two whole weeks!” Well, I’m posting now, and hopefully you’ll like the little story I came up with. Okay, I’m not that original. It’s true I came up with it in my own head (don’t ask me why), but it’s very likely you’ll see some things from other stories in there. Either way, I hope my readers will be gracious to me for not posting in so long, and will also be gracious to my story, silly as it is.

~Kitty~