No Kiss Blogfest

Thanks so much for Frankie Diane Mallis for hosting the 4th Annual No Kiss Blogfest!

I chose the following scene from Iron Thirst. It's just a fun scene that I had a great time writing. Felicity had been waiting for days to see Blake again. She was convinced he was never coming back. At the coaxing of her sister, she decided to let her hair down a bit, and well... this happens...

 ***

“Fee, door!” Kim yells.

I run to the door and take a quick glance through the peephole. “Shhh,it’s him,” I try to whisper, but it’s not very quiet.

I fling the door open, and there stands Blake, little twigs of hair fallinginto his eyes. He’s wearing a white button up shirt under a black dress coat,with dark blue jeans, and a smile as big as you please. 

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” I say. It comes out a little slurred.

“I would have been here sooner, but--” he says, leaning in. I think hejust sniffed me. “Felicity, you’re drunk.”

“Jus’ a lil.” I fall backwards, and let the wall hold me up for a littlewhile. It wasn’t doing anything important. “Hey, Sis! Ain’t he a tall drink ahan’some?” 

“Water, Fee!” she yells back at me.

“No, thank you, but I’ll take more rum.” 

Blake laughs, but tries to cover it with a cough. “No, no, you don’t.No more rum for you. You have had enough,” he says.

“You’re not the boss of me,” I state.

“You’re right, but I do care.” Aww, now that makes me feel all warm andfuzzy inside. 

Kim comes back from the kitchen. I notice that she did not bring rum.“You must be the infamous Blake. Heard all about you. I’m her sister, Kim.She’s being rude. Come on in.” 

“It’s ok. She’s had a lot to deal with the last week or so,” Blakesays. “I’m not staying.” 

“He always leaves.” Dammit. That was supposed to be internal dialogue.Blake laughs at this. Nice to know I’m so freaking funny.

“Felicity, I really needed to talk to you, but I can see now is not thebest time. Please meet me at my office at seven o’clock tomorrow night. Youshould be sober by then.”

I open my mouth to talk, but he doesn’t let me finish. “Come with me,”he says, leading me to the kitchen, pulling me by the hand as my feet flopalong behind him. 

He pulls a card from his wallet, and then a pen from a pocket insidehis jacket. He leans on the countertop and writes something. I press my backagainst the refrigerator, and turn my head to take in the beautiful sight ofhim. 

He walks over to me, standing so close I can feel his heat. He reachesout one of his hands and places it on the refrigerator behind my head. He’sgoing to kiss me. I can feel it. I close my eyes and push my lips out toreceive his kiss, and wait. And wait. Nothing. It doesn’t come. 

I open my left eye to peak up at him, and now he is definitely laughingat me. “I put my business card on your fridge. It has the time, the address,and my phone number,” he says. 

I can feel my face turning into a beet. “Fine. I’ll be there,” I say.It sounds huffy.

“Don’t be mad. I was going to come sooner, but it’s been crazy. Pleasecome see me tomorrow,” he says, taking my hand.

“I said I’d be there.” Drunk people don’t turn off angry very easily.“Well, you had to go.” 

He turns and walks to the door, and I follow him. He opens it andstands in the entryway. “Felicity, please take care of yourself. I’ll see youtomorrow.” Then he bends down and kisses me on the forehead. I melt.

“I will be there.” This time I’m sweet about it. I shut the door andjust lean against it.  

      

“Well, that went well,” says Kim, handing me another pina colada.

***

Hope you enjoyed it!

Capoeira: Second Encounter

 A year after the first installment, I am finally getting around to writing the second. Some of the details are a bit foggy, but I did my best to recreate them.
READ THE FIRST INSTALLMENT HERE.

"Outside?" Brian asked, eyebrows punctuating the word.

"Yes, outside," I replied. "The weather is beautiful. A walk would be nice. Isn't that the whole reason we moved so close to the square?"

"Well, yea, but you normally dig in your heals anytime I suggest an adventure of this nature."

"I know. But today I feel different. Don't question it. Let's go."

The meds were doing their job. It had been nearly a month since I started taking them. My fear was starting to subside. For the first time in over three years, I craved being near people. I wanted adventure. I wanted to see what was out there in the big scary world.

He stood, no longer questioning, and began ushering the children to their bedrooms to get dressed.

“Cartoons!” they protested.

“Simmer down. They will be here when we get back,” he retorted. “However, who knows how long your mom’s mood will last.”

He had been very supportive through it all, watching me shift from scared of my shadow to extrovert back to recluse during our eight years together. The last few years I had been adventurous, but the adventures were left to the characters that whispered in my head and became words on page.

The doctor’s visit and medication came after a sudden realization that my fraidicatness was not just hurting myself, but also my children. My four and eight year old stayed inside most of the time, because I was terrified of what was out there lurking for them. Irrational fears that paralyzed our lives--not just mine.

I recognized the fear. The last time it was present, my daughter was a fresh, fragile bundle of joy. I knew it could be overcome, and I knew that I could pull myself back out of this. I just needed a little jumpstart.

We stepped outside, the sun’s rays hugging our skin.

“I’m hungry,” the boy whined upon making the first turn out of the neighborhood.

“Then we will eat,” I replied; now at least finding direction in this impulse decision.

“Can we go to Raging Burrito?” asked my oldest daughter, pushing her chestnut hair from her face.

“That sounds like a great idea,” added Dad.

We walked the distance to the restaurant. We ordered, we ate, and we drank. The waitress had just rested our second round of margaritas on the table when the children became restless.

“Uh, it’s frozen—I can’t kill it,” I said, my voice mirroring my youngest at his worst. I was beginning to regret this decision.

“Miss, can we have the check and two to-go cups for our waters?” Brian asked the waitress.

As she walked away, I asked, “Why would we take our waters?

He winked at me.

“Oh.”

He poured the pomegranate and mango margaritas into the styrofoam and helped wrangle the kids. We stepped back out into the sunshine, our eyes readjusting and our brains swimming a bit in our skulls.

When we had only walked a few feet, we heard it.

“Shh, listen, kids,” said Brian.

“Is that?”

“Yep.”

I wanted to run towards it. A large crowd formed around a dance studio. I could hear the twang of the berimbau, but I couldn’t see it. We pushed up closer to the crowd.  The spirit of the berimbau was pulling us.

Inside the studio, we saw the circle of capoeiristas. The watchers were tightly packed in the wide-spread glass doors, half wondering what they were watching and the other half glad to see it once more.

My son tried his best to see, his height barring him from full sight. A tattooed man wearing the all-white uniform, covered in grass stains saw this and smiled at me, eyes asking permission, and then reaching for the hand of my youngest.

A caramel skinned girl, with a long ebony braid, and the most honest, open face I’d ever seen turned her back on the circle for a moment and walked over to us. She took the hand of my son and led him to the circle. He followed, smile hugging his ears.

The circle opened, making room for the boy who was half the size of the next smallest—a boy about nine with a faux-hawk.  They invited him to play. Having watched their movements and trying to mirror them, my son cartwheeled right into the center alongside of the tall skinny man, who appeared to be their leader.   He moved his limbs similarly to theirs, and managed to duck a kick and throw one of his own.

My son beamed as he walked back towards me.

The tattooed man still standing next to me, extended a colorful flyer towards my clasped hands. “We have kids’ classes.”

I remembered my wish from my first encounter with capoeira. If I had only found this when I was younger. It was too late for me, but he could have it. He could love it. I could love it through him.

I bent down to the boy, “Would you like to learn how to do that?”

“Yes!”

“Can I try it too?” asked my daughter, eyes sparkling at my side.

We gathered down the time, the place, and all the other information that would bring this beautiful art form into our lives.  So what if it was only vicariously through our children?  

I still had no idea what transformation lied ahead. No idea what we would all become. That a simple, extended Brazilian hand would later give me a new name, a new identity, and a new life. This was the baby step. A simple stroll in the sunshine.

Share any thoughts, perspectives, etc. I'd love to hear from you. 

Some background on this piece. I am embarking on a journey of studying the culture, social movement, and communication of Capoeira. In order to move forward, I felt it was important to look back. I hope to role out additional pieces based on my past with this beautiful art form that has grabbed a hold of me and changed my life.

New Year Resolutions: Balança

Last year I failed to make resolutions. I was in an extremely happy place. Planning parties, hanging with friends, and, as mentioned previously, playing tons of capoeira. 

(Unfamiliar with capoeira? Click here)

I didn't feel the need to make any hefty goals to keep myself on track. For the first time, I felt, whole-heartedly, on track. I was playing capoeira on a regular basis, and weight was shifting automatically because of that. I was five months away from graduating college, and I felt very confident about the upcoming semester. I had become part of a community and was enjoying time with others, which in turn meant I was taking time for myself. All of my normal goals where in check. Everything was chugging along and taking care of itself. No need for resolutions.

That was last year.

In August, I moved with my family to Baltimore. To a place where I knew no one. To a place where going to capoeira was quite the trek, not a simple stroll. To a place where I was starting all over. A place where many things that once consumed my day, guided me on my happy little track, and moved me forward--they were no longer around. A place where, although I still had my family, I felt alone.

This year, I need the goals. I need motivation. I need to get my butt in gear. After the last six months of first trying to do it all, failing miserably, and then sulking because I am not Superwoman, I have got to come to peace with my new situation and get busy making the most of it.


In the beginning, I drove three times a week the 45 minute drive to DC to try to get to capoeira. I felt this was important since it had been a huge part of my life in Atlanta for the previous year. However this turned an 1.5 hour activity into a 3.5 hour adventure. So, I had to trim. And even at once per week, it is not enough to keep my activity level where it needs to be for consistent weight loss and the long drive makes becoming a part of the community so much harder.

This, strangely, is good for me. (Pollyanna strikes again) A chance to start fresh. I have a nasty little habit of going "all in", and abandoning other aspects of my life. READ HERE I had let self-doubt replace my writing, photography replace self-doubt, uncertainty to replace photography, capoeira to replace uncertainty, and now I'm in a place where I am starting fresh and struggling to find my footing.

Photo from http://tribesports.com/challenges

My New Years Resolution is simply this -- Balance.   

I want my life to be filled with family, friends, writing, capoeira, photography, yoga, spirituality, art, music, travel, and laughter. I want to learn new things and get better at what I've already explored. I want to make tons of new friends and visit my current ones. At the end of the upcoming year, when I am preparing for 2014, I want to feel that I have enjoyed the year the best I could have. I want to have a beautiful collection of memories.  That is what I want most in 2013.

There will be goals. I want to find a local group of writers, become more involved in the local capoeira group(s), continue to make my body healthier, learn Portuguese, finish a second novel, get Iron Thirst published, master my headstand, actually pull off a macaco, travel more, and many other things that I plan to jot down to hold myself accountable. But at the very top of that list, the most important thing of all, I want balance. I have learned stacking my entire existance on top of one activity leaves me in a vulnerable place. I have to share my skills and my time with all the things that I enjoy and love so that things don't slip away, but if they do--I have other things to fall back on.

Now to start making that long lists of wishes for the next year. I know going in that not all will be checked off. Some will sit on a list and be replaced with real life and new paths. And I am ok with that. What's the line? Shoot for the moon and land in the stars. Seems a decent enough anthem for 2013. So good luck to me. And good luck to you. And have a Happy New Year!

Do you feel your life has balance or do you struggle? Do you try to do it all or bury yourself in one interest? Have you written your New Years resolutions or are you winging it?

The Kindle Killed My Reading

I am convinced that buying an eReader made me stop reading books. Follow my logic, oh, because I've got buckets full.

I used to tear through books. Archaic books with binding and such, owned them, swore by them, loved them. Under my bed was a long see-through blue box filled with my "to-be read" pile. I would slide it out, pick up a book, turn to the first page, start reading, and if it didn't grab me - I'd toss it back into the pile and pick up another. Rinse and repeat until I found the one that would hold my attention. That book would be finished within 3-7 days.

Then there was everybody else that kept giving the plugs for the Kindle, Nook, iPad Books, etc. I understood the logical need for an electronic way to read and store books. I understood that they were probably cheaper. I loved the idea of downloading the sample to make sure it grabbed me like a good book should. I liked that I could have a new book in an instant with simple clicking and confirming the purchase. I was sold. I needed a Kindle.  As a lover of books, how could I survive without a Kindle?

And that was the beginning of the end. I downloaded sample chapters. I built up a handsome library. That was over a year ago. And I have yet to finish a book on this device.

I'm not knocking the Kindle. One day, maybe a gazillion people will read something written by me on one of these all powerful, technological creations. Ok, probably not - but hey, let the idea float around in the universe. They are just simply not for me.

I miss beautiful books. The cover art, the smell, the weight shifting from one hand to the next as I am pulled deeper into the novel. The anxiety that builds as the heroine is digging herself deeper into disaster, and there is only a tiny bit of space until the end, and I pray she figures it out, but it doesn't look likely. (exhale)  

(My family unpacking a box of books after being in the new house for about 6 mths).
I,mean, seriously, when would this happen with a Kindle?

I'm sure of it. It was the Kindle that killed my reading. Not the hours of schoolwork, not the busy schedule, not the packing and moving across states, oh no. That would be just making up excuses. It is much more logical to blame it on the Kindle. :-)

So, are you an eReader or archaic book reader? What's the last book you read?  Have you been going through an olympic reading sprint or a dry patch?

Blog Salvaged...

http://weheartit.com/entry/13068101 ?group=B&imgres=

http://weheartit.com/entry/13068101

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In case you were wondering where I've been, I'll tell you. I have been walking barefoot through South America, studying indigenous people and learning of their primitive lifestyles. Building tools with my bare hands, trapping game, planting corn. Ok, that's a lie. I've just been strapped into the backseat of life's car and letting it drive me all over the place. I met tons of interesting people, played tons of CAPOEIRA, and then ended up in Baltimore where I'm trying to figure out my next one act play.  I was on the fast track and loving every minute of it, and now I'm in a place where picking up a book and just sitting and reading is actually an option. (I was quite scared that I might have forgotten how.) Oh, and somewhere in all of that - I graduated college. Woohoo!

Last weekend, I was transferring all of my old files from my old computer and in the process I found my old works in progresses. The (never really) finished novel, its sequel, and about four other stories that were once loved dearly and then tossed aside, replaced by new projects. I found all my photography projects, sewing ideas; my self made DJ mixes, and other artistic outlets that never saw the light of day. 

Then, I started thinking, "Mmm, wonder what ye ole blog looks like?" I typed in the address on Firefox and was dumped on an unfamiliar black screen talking about cosmetics and skin care. "I know for sure that I never took up makeup as an artistic outlet. This is not the Alicia Frey you were looking for."  Had I really been gone so long that someone else replaced me?

Yep, it's been over a year since my last post. Three years since I've worked on a novel. A year and a half since LiciaJo Fotos. And the other projects really shouldn't even be counted. That person seemed a million lifetimes away from where I am currently sitting. Next step, turn to page one of IRON THIRST and try to retrace my steps. In a matter of a week, I read it, its partial sequel, and many of the other WIPs. I have missed those people, the ones that used to live inside my head. It was fascinating as I turned the pages to hear them whisper in my ear, "Actually, I would say that differently," "Probably could use another Bristow chapter here," and "Where the hell did you go?"  (Of course Bristow would speak the loudest.)  CLICK HERE IF YOU HAVEN'T BEEN INTRODUCED TO BRISTOW.

I was able to save the old website by getting another domain. I figure I will start back slow. Maybe a short story, stick to some nonfiction, or pick up one of those abandoned stories and see if they can be resuscitated. Clear!  I've missed all of you. Hopefully, you are all doing well.  Some of you, I've kept up with on Facebook, but I'm hoping we can all get reacquainted and even add a few new friends to the mix.  I would love to hear from you. Say "howdy" in the comments if you'd like.