Monthly Archives: November 2011

The Good, the Bad, and the Suburgatory


Suburgatory, a television show revolving around Tessa–a teenage girl who has been forced to move to a suburb by her father—Charlie. She makes friends with two nerds—Lisa and Malik.


When I first heard of a television show that would take place in a suburb I thought, “Maybe they’ll get it right this one time.” No. There are a few stuck up people in a suburban high school, but most suburbs are not completely uniform. Not unless you are a Stepford Wife.


The characters are not really believable, because the women are not what is what you’d see. I understand the suspension of disbelief applies to TV shows as well as movies and books, but as someone who was born and raised in a suburb it does not work. Desperate Housewives makes more sense and that’s a soap opera for prime time. (BTW I hate that they’ve canceled all the soap operas. Its stupid). The only believable characters are the Altermans and I know that they were written that way intentionally. I mean they are the main characters. It makes sense.


Now, don’t get me wrong. There were several things about the series that amused me. I enjoyed Gladas from “Charity Case” and the fake-out censorship in “Thanksgiving.” I would also totally be friends with Tessa if she were a real person. Its just that I can’t believe something that is so obviously fake. And there were memorable characters and not so memorable.


Now I could recognize Lisa Shay when her character showed up on screen, but I could only remember her as “Tessa’s friend” and “that girl who ran naked in that one episode.” To me that is not enough. I went online to find out her name because I could not think of it. I remembered Malik because his name was different and interesting. Lisa is just not memorable. I can remember characters whose parents controlled their every actions and they don’t turn out so well. (Think Charlie from Two and a Half Men).


Dallas is rememberable, but that may be because I keep thinking, “Who is that actress? I’ve seen her somewhere before.” I had seen Cheryl Hines before in two movies and she was marvelous in both. She does do a good job of portraying someone who is full of themselves, but I prefer her in roles like the one she had in Waitress.


I would recommend the TV series if you want something that is funny solely based on its dialogue.


3 out of 5 remotes.


Keep on Typin’


An Invitation to Eat

I invite you to dine,
My dear friend.
There could be no larger
Esteem than you eating
Within my room where
My roommate will serve you.
We would start you
With rich chocolate brownies.
An appetizer of which may
Ease the cramps
Of the 28th day.
Next I shall give you Mac
And Cheese which oozes
The deliciousness of Cheddar
And Parmesan.
Our last course will be nothing
More than a can of Cheerwine
Each, or perhaps of Yoohoo.
I am not liable for what passes
Through our mouths
And I expect the same of you,
Though there is no need to hold
My breath. As you shall not yours,
For as writers we should expect
To see our words again.

Dear Black,

Black, we sit in you when its too hot.
We wear you in the winter to catch heat.
Returning negativity to its source is your talent.
We need you to hide our sins.

Black, we fear you as children.
We fear your connotations.
You’ve been permanently placed in death,
And condemned by man.

Yet, you are used in decorations.
Black skulls on key-chains, black stools.
Our cars have you to show class.
We find you in hair, oh Black, beautiful.

But you are not innocent.
Nor shall you ever be.
Condemned by religion as sin,
And forced to contain our creatures.

We use you.
We abuse you.
And you’ll always be needed.

Ballad of the Virga et Ardere

There once was an Elven Warrior,
Sent on a quest to find,
The Virga et Ardere,
To save Fantagaisia.

This warrior traveled over mountains,
And under seas.
He traveled until,
Until he was homesick.

As he stopped to rest,
The Fae Queen appeared,
She gave him the blue,
Blue Virga et Ardere.

As he walked through the forest,
A little puppy followed him,
And offered the orange,
Orange Virga et Ardere.

He came upon a strange creature,
Injured from a fight.
He healed him and received,
The green Virga et Ardere,

Together these three,
Three unlikely allies,
Saved Fantagaisia,
From destruction.

That Elven Warrior,
Had three daughters,
Who owned a shrine,
And had children.

I am a descendant,
The heir to the shrine.
I must protect,
The Virga et Ardere.

Psyche’s Dread

Its almost time.
My sleeves drenched
by my sister’s sobs.
Its almost time to meet
my future husband.
The veil I wear
forces my head down
as if its a burden.

Aphrodite’s vengeance
has hit me, leaving its own
form of magical gaping face wounds.
Her mark chased off my potential
suitors, destroyed my chances with mortal,
human, normal men.
Now I shall climb that hill
the Oracle spoke about.

Its time.
My heart pulsates
As my march
Approaches the hill.
I can hear it in my ears,
Loud and obnoxious.
It blocks out my family’s
Concerned words.
The Oracle said a creature
Would take me as his wife.
Is he a monster?
I must assume so.

I should have stopped
going to temple during the rush.
I should have stopped
when they called me Aphrodite.
There’s nothing I can do now.
Goodbye, World.

True Home

Someone was bound to have noticed my escape the moment my feet hit the ground, but it would never matter because we live in that kind of neighborhood. You know…. The ghetto. We hadn’t been here long when I met Edmond. We had hit it off splendidly in history class where I outsmarted Mister Fisher, who turned out to be Edmond’s biological father. Edmond introduced me to his stepfather, Emperor Edwardic (or Edward for short). He showed me the wonders of the Vampyre subculture and I’ve been hooked ever since. Which is what led me to sneaking out via the window.
I ran the twenty to twenty-five blocks to the higher class district where I paused at the tall gates of Villa de Vampyre, named for the gothic castle look you see in all those Vampyre movies. At least all but those horrid Twilight movies. Seriously, why change something that’s already working so damn well?
The guard let me in with nothing more than a wink and a wave. He never spoke. When I asked why Edmond told me that it was a story that would destroy my soul. I never asked again.
I walked up the long driveway that seemed to be as far a walk as the walk to the villa itself. The front door was a basic black, but had gold trim in the shape of bats and wolves. Emperor Edward never believed those silly legends about wolves being evil.
“Its because I’m evil incarnate myself, my dear… vic- I mean friend of my son,” he had said.
Remembering our meeting always brought fond thoughts to mind. Here, I feel wanted. It feels like family here. No God forsaken father who never really wanted me. No mother who blames me for all that goes wrong. This is where I’ve felt I belong since I first met Edmond. The door opened.
“Welcome, my dear Karmin.”

The Ride Home

If she says one more thing about my “F” I swear I’m going to murder her in her sleep. I’ve only been out of school for a few minutes and Mom is already busting my chops. Doesn’t she know that math is my toughest subject? She should, I mean I told her. She knows I can’t multiply to save my life. Why is she staking so much on a single subject?

Shouldn’t she be taking a chance to find out that I’ve been bullied? That non one believes me when I report it? Shouldn’t take a chance to find out the teacher was taking advantage of half the class’ ignorance about the subject to berate us? I love my mother, I think. I’m not really sure how I feel. I know I used to. Of course that was back when I was eight.

I peer at my watch. Only a few minutes has passed. Why do I have to deal with her now? My plans for the weekend are ruined. There will be no watching TV until I pass out or hanging out with my Masque de Vampyre friends at Hot Topic.

“Don’t expect to go anywhere. All you have to do is get one fucking ‘A’ in math. What is wrong with you?” she growls. I roll my eyes. Like she cares. I know that she’s with another man. Someone to make my dad jealous. Like Dad would care. He stopped coming around years ago. I definitely hate him.

“I don’t give a shit,” I say. I’m used to her. Gotta be after living with her for nineteen years, my entire life. My mother doesn’t seem to care. Why would she? I’m just some kid she got stuck after the man she thought loved her walked out on her.

How the hell will I sneak to the Masque de Vampire? I enjoy going to the ball. A long, navy blue ballgown and the crystal chandelier. The ballroom is positively beautiful.

The ten minute drive home feels like six hours, like always. Maybe I should just move out. I can’t afford an apartment, but the excellent Vampyre Emperor would help me. I could stay at his hous until we can find a suitable place to live. Emperor Aron has many more resources than these Mortals, these Humans could ever have. Mom would freak if she knew I’m apart of this “strange” world about Vampyres and the beautiful exchange of blood.

Walking up the steps of our little, brown shack at four-fifteen in the afternoon seems more like a punishment than being locked in my room. When locked in, I’m left alone and I can escape. The shack has thin walls that can be knocked down just by knocking on them. I’ve done it before. A couple of times on accident, actually.

“Karmin, are you listening?”

“Yes, Mother.”

“Why are you being so antagonizing?”

“Good job, Mom. You actually used a word with more than three syllables.”

“For God’s sake, Karmin!” she gasped, closing our wonderfully thin front door.

“God has nothing to do with it,” I mumble.  The three steps to my room are nothing more than three seconds. Three seconds of our painfully pink kitchen that mom had decided at one point was the central part of our universe, though we have no stove or oven, just a sink and a microwave. The time it takes my mother to lock me in is about twenty minutes. My door opens towards the kitchen, but has no lock. So Mother wraps the chains around two posts that are about the same height as the door and locks the chains. The chains rattle as she pulls and yanks. She always forgets the window. As soon as the clanging stops I leap.


My mother has a hold over me,

A hold I cannot break.

Every jealous plan

I must go along with.

Things will never change.

Something inside me is different.

Something strange.

I saw the woman, Psyche,

A woman so beautiful

My mother is jealous

Of the attention

She received.

I have found myself in her arms.

I no longer wish to obey my mother.

I must marry her.

The oracle hears my plea

And informs her family of me.

I will have her.

I give her my love

And receive her own.

But theirs a nagging feeling

In the back of my head.

Her sisters are strange.

I suspect they fill her head

With wrong assumptions.

I hope I am wrong.

Alone in my Memories

There are things one shouldn’t experience,

Things that can scar.

There are things that one shouldn’t remember,

Like being abused.

I can’t fathom

What it might have been like

To never remember.

What did I do to deserve it?

My guardians trusted him,

I trusted him.

He said it was just a game.

Does that make it wrong on my part?

Is it my fault?

How do I go on from this?


I sit alone

In a restaurant

Questioning myself.

I am the only one in my memories.

Attic Keys

I lock all my bad memories

in a pink trunk. It resides

up in my mind, locked.

If you found the key

you might find



The trunk is opened

once in a while to

place new ones

inside a horrid

place. The


are neon

yellow that

hurts my eyes.

It hurts to peel

back the lock’s

hook, to extract

the memories that

I have locked away.

Write from life.

What is life?

I watch as the magenta

trunk grows larger

like some lie

you have

to keep


upon to save

face. Is it really

worth all these memories?