A little traveling music...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_WCL7h2tRjY

I thought you all might like to hear some of the music that Thelma loves so much. Here is the one she is singing with on the way to Indy in Rainie Err. "In a bathtub full of mayonaise!"  Ha ha... fun song...

www.melodymuckenfuss.com

A short story by Melody

I had to kill her.

I hate to do it; I have, after all, considered her my best friend since adolescence. But I've tried to kill her before... many times, in fact. But still she keeps coming back, like some monster in a B horror movie, you know the ones: the hero stabs it or shoots it or burns it up (or perhaps all three of those things) and yet, just as the hero starts to relax and kiss the girl, the monster reappears over his shoulder...

Yeah, she's just like that.

And yet, I always welcome her back. She is next to me through thick and thin, sharing my joy and my sorrow, my triumphs and pain. When I feel that all the world is against me, there she is, by my side, hand in hand... comforting me.

The thing is, she's trying to kill me, too.

She's a little more subtle about it than I am, but nonetheless, I know what she's up to. She seduces me with her comforting ways, whispering that it's all good, that everything will be okay, even while she is positioning the knife to cut me.

I'm running out of ways to try to kill her. She's amazingly tough; more resilient than linoleum and cockroaches. I've tried drugging her, strangling her, even tied her up in a garbage bag and watched the truck carry her off to the landfill.

Yet, here she is, back again, looking as fresh and innocent as a newborn babe.

How can someone so small have such a huge presence in my life? She's only a few inches tall, slender as a pencil, nearly as light as a feather. Oh yes, Cigarette is tiny but mighty...

But I will kill her.

Go ahead, push me around if you want...

Recent events in my life have gotten me to thinking about bullying.

There are many forms of it, from a little touch of meanness to outright cruelty, and it can be physical as well as mental.

I have been subjected to both in my life, and I must say, I would prefer a punch in the face to mental abuse any day. Bruises on the flesh heal. Bruises on the psyche... not so much.

I have often said that I simply don't understand "mean." I don't get why one person feels a need to deliberately hurt another. But getting up at three in the morning gives me time to contemplate such things, and I think I have figured it out.

I think that some people actually derive pleasure from inflicting pain on others. While most people take pleasure from laughter with friends or eating chocolate or riding roller coasters, I think there are some whose pleasure centers are activated by the tears of others. Serial killers get intense pleasure from their "work." I think there may be a bit of that in play with a bully, who may not feel the need to actually murder someone, but crave the joy they extract from hurting another, whether it is from shoving them into a wall or humiliating them to tears.

Actually, maybe more people than not; that would certainly explain the proliferation of "reality TV," where the point seems to be humiliating others. I worry about our society when the masses gather at their TV screens and grin with delight over others being embarrassed and bullied for millions to see.

Maybe not all of those folks are getting their pleasure directly from hurting another. For some, it could well be that they merely feel a need to prove their superiority because they themselves are so insecure. Perhaps they are intimidated by another person's success, and they believe that if they knock that person down a peg, they are leveling the playing field. That is certainly easier than striving for success yourself. It's sort of like tripping the leader in a foot race so you can run past them. Win by cheating if that is the only way. Only, there is no true win.

I have known a few people who seem to believe that they truly are superior to everyone else, and seem to think it is their duty to point out everyone else's shortcomings. Perhaps they feel they are actually educating others when they correct them publicly (and often sarcastically) like Alex Trebek upbraiding a contestant on Jeopardy: "Oh, no," with a smirk on his face. "Of course, the answer is 'DaVinci.'" (It's easy, of course, when you have all the answers on a card in front of you, carefully researched my interns. And I can certainly understand how Mr. Trebek might have developed an inferiority complex over the years, being constantly surrounded by people who really do know most of the answers.)

I have many faults, some which shame me, but I am truly grateful that wanting to cause another person pain is not among them. I am not saying I never hurt anyone else, but I can tell you that when I do, it hurts me, just as it hurts me to see anyone bullied. Does that make me a bleeding heart? So be it.

I would direct this toward those bullies, but there would, of course, be no point. Those that are wired to derive pleasure from another's pain will simply enjoy knowing that bullying hurts, and the others will probably not recognize themselves.

Of course, the irony in this might well be that I consider myself superior to the bullies...

What do you think?

Tortured metaphors and other painful aspects of Midwestern weather...

Do you feel that? A subtle shift in the wind, in the angle of the sun... we have reached that tipping point, where the tight grip winter has had starts to slip, and we start to slide into the warm embrace of spring.

Oh yes, it does happen to be snowing this morning, but you can feel that it has no real strength, like an exhausted baby throwing a last little fit before falling fast asleep after a long day. To continue this tortured metaphor, in the morning the baby will wake up refreshed... and be called Spring!

Wishful thinking, you say? Well, my crocuses, which are a beautiful green peeking through the snow cover, tell me differently. I have bought seeds, and I am making plans for new raised beds. I am thinking about making an appointment to get my dog shaved into his spring "fru-fru" coat, and I no longer mind so much that the heat in my car only works sporadically. So there you have it, all the proof you need that Spring is springing upon us.

Before we know it we will be feasting on fresh strawberries and then sun-warmed tomatoes picked right from the vine and eaten while strolling through the garden. It's the best of what the Midwest offers us; to me, the sole purpose of winter is being a contrast to spring, summer and fall. Sort of like the white stripes on a zebra; you couldn't appreciate them without the black stripes to make them stand out.

Okay, that's really silly. It's more like if you were being subjected to some form of torture, say, having your teeth pulled one by one with pliers and no pain killer, and suddenly they stop and give you novacaine...

No, I don't really hate winter that bad, but... yes, I am very pleased that spring is arriving!

A Busy Mind...

What kind of blogger only updates their blog every month or so?

Well, maybe it’s the kind that doesn’t want to overwhelm you with too much media to keep up with.

Or maybe it’s the kind that has nothing to say.

Or maybe it’s the kind that works fifty-five hours a week besides trying to write a book, promote the ones she’s already written, and maintain some kind of relationship with her family.

Yep, that would be me.

Although, in truth, some days it seems that while I have a lot to say, none of it sounds all that interesting, even to me, so I prefer to keep it to myself. It’s very sad when your own thoughts make you yawn with boredom.

So, I thought I would give you a quick update on what I’ve been up to.

Home care, of course. I am with my client six days a week, and he has become much more than a client to me; he is part of my extended family and a big priority in my life.

Hanging out with my grandkids. They are all amazing, but my biggest projects right now are playing guitar with one of them, and BIG NEWS: I am collaborating with my granddaughter on a children’s book. I did the writing, she is doing the illustrations. She is very talented, and I am excited to see the end results.

Promoting the books I have already written. Thanks to all who came out to my first reading at the Buchanan Art Center. It was great fun, especially the question and answer period. I will be set up at Shipshewana on the Road in Kalamazoo March 23 &24, along with my brother Sam, who will be selling his cigar box guitars. Amazing stuff, people! Check them out at

www.samkindleyguitars.com

I also recently discovered I had not made Rainie Whether available on Kindle. I have corrected that error, and it is now there for you.

Speaking of errors, I am also working on writing book five, Rainie Err. This time around, Rainie makes a huge error in judgment… not her first time… but this one might well get her and someone she is very fond of killed…

In between doing all of that, I am also preparing my other series, The Red Wolves, for reissue, under the name Melody Muckenfuss. My plan of using Mel Kindley (my maiden name) to avoid confusion has backfired, and I plan to right that. Also, I am going to reissue the Rainie Series clearly marked “book one” “book two” and so on, so if you have a copy of the originals hang on to them… they may yet become collector’s editions.

So, enough of this, I had better quit blogging and get back to work… 

I Know I Should Reread This Before Posting, But....

I apologize for not updating my blog for so long. You see, the problem is, I haven’t had anything to say, and really, the best policy in that case is to just keep our mouth shut, right? I mean, no one wants to hear a person rattle on and on about absolutely nothing… unless perhaps you are Jerry Seinfield, and you are capable of making absolutely nothing hilarious. Hmm… that was rather ambiguous sentence structure, so take it however you prefer to read it.

Now, to be completely honest, I have actually had quite a bit I have wanted to say these past weeks, but sometimes what you want to say and what you should say are two different things. Frankly, I am not always good about clamping my mouth shut when the discussion is in person, although I have gotten a lot better at it this past decade or so than I ever was in my misspent youth.

On the other hand, when it comes to writing I have the magic of the delete key to aid me in my endeavors to filter what I say. So when I start to write something that is snarky or sarcastic or just plain rude, I can read it over, and if it is maybe a bit meaner than I intend I it to be (I really don’t like to hurt people’s feelings) I can highlight and delete, or simply backspace and voila! The hurtful thing was never said.

That is, provided I reread it before I hit “submit” or “send,” depending on whether it is an email or a blog post.

How many of us have wished for such magic keys in everyday life? For instance, someone says “I’m sorry I stepped on your foot,” and you, in a bad mood because your cat hawked up a hairball in your favorite shoe that morning reply “Watch where you’re going with those clod feet of yours!” The little old lady who apologized leans back on her walker and looks up at you with tears in her eyes. Now, don’t you wish you could just tap your nose a couple of times and the words would delete themselves?

There are many times when it would be nice to be able to erase the spoken word. A few phrases people commonly wish they can take back: “I’ll do it.” “I love you.” “Go ahead and shoot me.”

Of course, there is no such magic delete key, but there is always the apology. This works in some cases (although once heard, some words are never forgotten, no matter how many times a person tells you they hardly remember it at all, sometimes telling you that every day for the next thirty years). Sometimes an apology won’t help at all (see three sample phrases, above. Go ahead, try it out loud; you see? An apology won’t work with those.)

Where was I going with all this?

Oh yeah, I remember. I simply haven’t had anything to say that I thought it was really a good idea to say (or write.) So I’ll leave you with this: try to remember to say a phrase to yourself, inside your head, before you spew it out for the world to hear. And always reread what you’ve written before you send it out.

And one more thing: I apologize for the things I didn’t say, because even if they weren’t out loud, I feel a little bad for being so mean-spirited.

Happy Monday, all!