Twisted Tuesday- Heart of Darkness vs. A Dental Love Story

He was obeyed, yet he inspired neither love nor fear, nor even respect. He inspired uneasiness. That was it!

"We live, as we dream--alone. . . ."

I don't like work--no man does, but I like what is in the work, the chance to find yourself.

"'The horror! The horror!"

Selected quotes from "The Heart of Darkness," Joseph Conrad


Teeth of Lightness

The beauty of the framed Monet prints on the walls seemed to contradict the horrible drilling sounds coming from another room. It was mingled with guttaral sounds which could be the horrible death throws of a person spewing blood, or just someone trying to talk with their mouth half-numb from novocaine. They'd just mentioned something about a golf game, so it was most likely the latter. It wasn't her first appointment to this dental office, but Amy could help but feel uneasy. She was about to see her new dentist, the younger Dr. Livingstone. The dental technician hadn't seen the humor in that.

"You'll be seeing our new dentist," Claudia had said, with as little intonation as seemed possible.

"Dr. Livingstone, I presume?" she had asked.

"Yes. His son," Claudia had replied.

Maybe they got that joke a lot. It seemed like all other dental offices were hiring their technicians right out of school, but Livingstone Dental hired only family. Instead of the pretty young dental techs eager to scrub your plaque, Amy had been stuck with Claudia and her ilk. Claudia was at least a hundred and five and dried and crusty. She was a cousin or something to the oldest Livingstone who'd probably been a dentist during the Revolutionary War.

Her own teeth were nothing to speak of, so how Claudia could lecture her on the need for better flossing, she had no idea. Wasn't it like a requirement to have good oral hygiene if you were going to be lecturing others on their teeth? Then, she caught a glimpse of a piece of meat stuck in the woman's teeth. The horror. The horror was that she'd seen the technician eating a meat-free salad for dinner just as she'd arrived. How long had that been in there? It was disgusting. This was her guide to better oral wellness? Really?

Really?

Claudia had been grilling her the entire time too. She'd pried her entire life story out of her while sticking her fingers in her mouth. Apparently, no question was off limits when you had your fingers in someone's mouth.

"So, the younger Dr. Livingstone?" Amy said, spitting into the sink as advised. They were done. Thank goodness. This appointment had taken longer than ever... and all with Claudia scraping at her dating life while using an ice pick instrument on her gums. What had taken so long? Amy took good care of her teeth.

"Yes," Claudia said. "He'll want to talk with you about that upper marital tooth on your left side."

Had she said "marital" or molar? Her mother had been getting after her to get married and Amy was hearing things now. Claudia must have said molar. She didn't have marital teeth, did she? Claudia poked her teeth one last time.

Why did she keep coming here? She didn't care for the elder Dr. Livingstone. No one did... not even the dental technicians. He was obeyed, yet he inspired neither love nor fear, nor even respect. He inspired uneasiness. That was it! Uneasiness. Why did she keep coming here? She could have gone somewhere new. Why was she here... in this seat... for a new generation of Livingstone torture? There was comfort in expectation. It was the only plausible answer. The only one.

"I'll let him know you're ready for him," Claudia said.

"Thanks," Amy said, stretching her jaw. Great Claudia... go let junior know I'm ready. If the Elder Dr. Livingstone was in his eighties, this one was most likely in his fifties or sixties. Hopefully he smelled less like ben-gay. The bright light above her was most likely scarring her retinas. Still... it was psychdelically hypnotic. Staring at the light was soothing in a strange sort of way. She could do this for hours and hours. Funny little dots swam around in front of her eyes and something pulsed in a heavy, sultry sort of way around the edges. It was probably her eyes' blood vessels begging for her to look away, but she couldn't. Like a moth to the flame, she stared.

A deep, sensual voice said, "There's no need for that," and snapped off the light.

She blinked and tried to focus on the person leaning over her.

"Well, hello...," he said, laughing at her. "My name is Dr. Livingstone. Didn't Claudia give you some glasses to put on so you aren't blinded for the rest of the day?"

"No," Amy said, scowling. "I think dementia may have set in already with her."

Her new dentist was hot. He laughed and scooted back, putting a finger to his lips to shush her as he closed the door. He was tall like the other Dr. Livingstones, but their build made them look like morticians. This Dr. Livingstone looked like a professional athlete... maybe a volleyball player... a beach volleyball player. His brown hair had streaks in it, and his skin was a golden brown... with bright white spots the size and shape of the light she'd be staring at floating in front of her eyes.

Coming straight from work meant that she was dressed professionally and her short black hair was curled and being flattened under her head on the weird vinyl seat. Amy had never been more glad that she hadn't been able to make her early Saturday appointment where she would have arrived in sweats with bed head and goop in the corners of her green eyes.

"Okay. I'm going to take you for a little ride on the chair since Claudia is the only Livingstone who suffers from height failure."

"Height failure?" Amy asked, smiling. The chair began its slow ascent so he could look at her teeth. "You're my dentist's son?"

"Which Livingstone do you see?" he asked, frowning, and flipping to the front of my chart. "Oh. My grandfather...."

"Your father and grandfather are both here?"

Shrugging, he said, "I've always felt like my name should be Seymour." He winked and said, "Get it? Seymour Livingstone?"

"That was horrible," Amy said, laughing nonetheless. "You must really like dentistry in your family."

"It's a family thing. I don't like work--no man does, but I like what is in the work, the chance to find yourself."

"Finding yourself in teeth?" She tried to keep the amused skepticism from her face.

"Yeah... it's a rare man who can find himself in teeth." He set down her chart and eyed her. "Claudia spent quite a bit of time with you. I assumed I'd be doing some sort of consultation for dental work." He gestured at her chart, confused. "You have very nice teeth. Straight. Healthy. Okay... open up. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Dementia," she repeated, opening her mouth obediently.

He laughed and nodded, saying, "Possibly. Perhaps she cleaned your teeth twice."

Well, this was strangely awkward. She was seriously attracted to her dentist, and he was looking in her mouth. Was he married? Could she ask that without it being weird and creepy? She didn't want to stalk her dentist. Besides... what seemed like chemistry could just be her dentist chair jitters, though she didn't feel nervous. He might not be interested in her at all. First things first, she should find out if he was married. Those gloves. He had stupid surgical gloves on. She'd never wanted her dentist to be less hygenic before now.

He was still looking perplexed when he sat back. "Dementia," he agreed, smiling.

She didn't want him to leave as he was showing signs of doing. Say something, Amy... anything.

"Claudia said you'd need to look at one of my molars," she said when he stood up.

"She did?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, as he re-opened the file. He sat back down, though. This was good. Where should she go from here? He looked so sweet when he held up her x-ray while biting his lower lip. Finally, shaking his head, he rolled back on his stool and opened the door. "Claudia?" he called.

Claudia called irritably, "What?"

"Which of her teeth was I supposed to be looking at?" he asked.

"Her left marital," Claudia said.

Claudia HAD said marital. Which tooth was that? "What does that mean?" Amy asked, scrunching up her nose.

She was glad her vision had returned to normal because she got to see her new dentist's cheeks flush, and he muttered, "It means we live as we dream... alone."

"What?" she repeated.

He shook his head and sheepishly said, "I'm single. Claudia says you're single. You're my last patient for the day. What are you doing for dinner once your teeth have stopped hurting from Claudia's prying?"

"I think I'm going out to dinner with my dentist, Dr. Livingstone, I presume," Amy said, grinning.

"It's Todd, and I'm going to go have a chat with my great Aunt. Your teeth look great, Amy." He handed her a toothbrush and a tube of crest with just a touch of embarrassment. "So, I'll meet you up front?"

Amy nodded. This was the best dentist's appointment she'd ever had.

Sucking the fun out of life or just sucking?

B woke up in the middle of the night puking and her fever keeps spiking. The husband doesn't puke but he had a high fever last week. It's entirely possible that I might be the last hold-out against this. The husband stayed home because I'm a social barfer (ie. anyone puking around me might cause puking.) He's better with sick people anyway. I have a severe contamination phobia. (Sweat and snot make my skin crawl. Actually, I insist that everyone keep their body fluids to themselves. I don't even like the feel of my own sweat. Yick.) Anyway, being around people oozing contamination is a situation to be avoided whenever possible. However, I adore my kids, and I kiss them a dozen times a day. It's instinctual. They're going to hate me when they're teenagers. I've already kissed their nasty, sick little heads a million times. I'm going down.

So, I'm going to start doing a "Twisted Tuesday" where I take a quote from a famous novel and use it verbatim in a completely different genre short story. Flash fiction with a psychotic bent... just for fun.

Some things I'm considering:

Heart of Darkness quote in a chick lit heartwarming story.

Jane Eyre in a Sci-fi or Horror.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy in a drama.

And so on.

I rarely post fiction online even though I think it's fun to write. Plus, it just seems like good practice. If anyone has any quotes come to mind to challenge me, bring it on. Unfortunately, this may just go to show you how truly twisted my mind is, but even psychosis has its place... hopefully not in a rubber room while strapped into a white jacket.

Oh crap. B just puked and the husband just left to return movies.

Sometimes... it's all about timing.

Last night was a rough night. Both kids wound up in our bed.

B has no ability to self-regulate her temperature. (It's related to her sensory system or something. She is either hot or cold and she can't seem to instinctually figure out how to change that. She often comes down in order for us to tell her that she should put on a blanket, or take off a blanket. "Mommy, I'm cold." "Go back upstairs and put your blanket on." "Okay." Sometimes, we have to tell her to wear less clothing. She just doesn't know how to deal with it.) B ends up in our bed a lot of nights... especially during the middle of summer and winter. She also is a very poor sleeper on top of that. I keep thinking she needs a white noise machine.

T had a bad stomachache.

Luckily, I fell asleep at around 2 am out on our couch. I say "luckily" because T started hurling his guts out about a half an hour later, and he hasn't really stopped much since then.

The husband tried to wake me up to help deal with this. I didn't answer any of his rather loud summons... and there was a lot of puke... everywhere. The husband thought I'd either taken a sleeping pill, or I was pretending to be asleep. In my defense, I wouldn't "pretend"... probably. I woke up as he was finishing stripping beds and after he'd already cleaned up both kids. (B apparently had puke in her hair because she'd been sleeping beside him.)

So, today is a sick day. T is very, very ill. He is puketastic. I can't believe how much puke can come out of one six year old. The house has been redecorated in vomit. Vile.

Still, I was glad that I'd missed out on the first wave of nasty.

Fun times.

T and I are watching "Monsters Vs. Aliens." The husband stayed home. B didn't get much sleep so she stayed home too.

Yay for one big happy family.

Getting your Zombie on

While zombies may not be the new vampires as far as hotness goes, they do have a certain appeal. Along with the many books appearing on the bookshelves and movies in theaters and available at home, here are some sites to get your zombie groove on:

University of Florida has gotten way ahead of the curve and provided an emergency preparedness plan just in case there is an outbreak. This includes a helpful dispatch form that you can fill out quickly in the event of a zombie disaster.

Way to think ahead, UF.

Up until this scenario takes place, you can always spend some time listening to Jonathan Coulton's song about Zombies. This youtube video really gets the mood set.

Re: Your Brains

Still, not quite enough? You're looking for dancing? So You Think You Can Dance did a zombie dance three years ago, so you're in luck.

Still not enough? How about a classic? Thriller, anyone?

If you've studied up enough, then you'll be ready to get dressed up for the Zompocalypse. Here you go.

Wait... nothing says zombie like a wikipedia link.

Also, you'll want to go through a practice run: Zombie Walk Site.

There... you're officially zombied-up. Go eat some brains, everyone.

It was a dark and stormy night....

So, on odd years, there is a cool short-story contest put on:

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Award for Imaginative Fiction

November is NANOWrimo (National Novel Writing Month)

I need to get a lot accomplished today which includes getting rid of a migraine. I took a sleeping pill last night to deal with it. (I'm beyond the sissy RX pills... and so I can only take pills if it's vital. It felt vital last night.)

So, cleaning... laundry... and so on. I got three copies of my latest rewrite of my first Honor book, and Stephanie promised to mark it up for me. I'm trying to figure out who else is likely to go through and mark things. The husband might have to... due to his great love for me.

Oh... for those that print out "proofs" on Lulu, they have a sale right now that is awesome. It's called the 10-4 sale and you get $10 off four books by entering in the couponcode TEN4 at checkout. (It ends on 10/4... of course.) My books typically cost me around $7 a piece and they're between 300-400 pages in the digest format. So, $10 off of $28... is a rocking deal.

Anyway, I should get to it.

Ta!

The Nature of the Beast

So, I've been in the mood for paranormal or fantasy romance books so I threw an audio book I listened to a few years ago onto my Zen to listen to. I wanted a "sure thing" which is why I picked one I already knew I liked. It was the abridged "Dark Side of the Moon" by Sherrilyn Kenyon. (I've been told the unabridged version might light my ears on fire so that's why I designated that... but it's also my caveat just in case some of you loved the book.)

I really didn't like it.

I've been trying to figure out why I didn't like it. It's in my permanent collection, and I remember recommending it to other people. I once really liked it just as much as I currently don't like it. What happened? I definitely didn't like the writing style. There was too much unecessary angst in some places and then they were flippant and casual at times when it was inappropriate also. Her character development was great... and I still liked the characters. The action scenes were stilted, but I wonder if that was related to it being abridged. The way she pulled in current events also grated on my nerves for some reason. I think it was linking the New Orleans disaster to paranormal characters (Ie. one of the characters might have been able to "prevent" it.) Also, the story is clearly part of a series... which was okay, but there just seemed like too much "stuff" crammed into this one book. Too many subplots. (Once again... this may have been because it was abridged.)

Then... there was the one thing about "paranormal" or "fantasy" that seems a delicate balance:

How accepting can someone "Joe or Joan Average" be of the whacked out world they trip into? How quickly can they say "Okay... so and so exist and I'm cool with that?" Shouldn't they run screaming or have a psychotic episode when they do come face-to-face with it?

In this book, I just didn't buy it for some reason. The MC female just seemed to accept it despite her pragmatic nature.

I've noticed that the longer I write the more "particular" I'm getting about the books I can tolerate reading. Sometimes... it's a lack of talent on the part of the writer... which isn't the case in Sherilyn Kenyon. Sometimes, their writing style just bugs the crap out of me. I can't lose myself in the stories as much now. I read a short story anthology and of twenty-four stories... only around six met my "worth reading" criteria. Several of the stories were just lame and should have been put out of their misery. Some were sex scenes thinly-veiled as stories. Six were original, well-written, and told a complete "story" in around twenty pages.

I wouldn't say I'm a snob, because these aren't literary masterpieces I'm enjoying, but I'm starting to need a better written and more specific type of story-telling. I need a compelling and original world to step into. If I can't find it, it's just a whole lot more fun to step back into my character's fantasy and their story. I don't know if it's psychosis but I can bury myself in the worlds I've created, and I like it better than reading at times. It probably is psychosis.

I tried listening to Nora Roberts' Morrigon's Cross trilogy, and I couldn't do it. It felt contrived. I was really excited about it too because I love her books and a book about vampires... well that just plain rocked or it should have anyway. It didn't, though. I found myself drifting off while listening. I found myself saying, "Yeah yeah yeah... tortured, jaded vampire... epic battle of good against evil... six people with an even male/female ratio." I ended up dumping it off my Zen rather than finishing it.

Anyway, "How to be Popular" is on the docket for today to listen to while cleaning. I've listened to it before and really liked it, so I'm hoping to kick this blue funk with it. It's a solid YA adult book and Meg Cabot is an awesome writer. It's not a fantasy, but I'm feeling a bit let down in that realm currently.

I mean... why does a fantasy/sci-fi/paranormal book have to involve a larger than life complex world with funky names and, in some cases, overtly-obnoxious feminist themes or an undercurrent of casual debauchary? It annoys me when I have to try to connect a million different races of living things to a strange and bizarre world with rules that an author seems to make up just to complicate things. The conflict should not solely rest on the shoulders of the world itself. There has to be an emotional conflict that I can relate to on some level. Why must it be such a trial to understand and/or care about these things? I like epic battles. I like tortured souls. There just also has to be a story... a real story... with flawed characters and imperfect solutions and not a neat and tidy ending. I hate neat and tidy endings.

I'm beginning to suspect that writing has ruined the possibility of picking up a book for a "quick read" without making sure it's something I'll enjoy.

Anyway... I need to kick a migraine that I picked up while volunteering at the school this morning. I also want to check into what the requirements are for substitute teaching in this area. Plus... there is always cleaning. Shudder.

The Mantra

I found this on someone else's blog and went to the source. It's fricken brilliant.

The Writer's Mantra-

“I am the Leviathan of Pop Culture.

"My stride is mighty, encompassing continents of fiction. My footsteps reshape mythologies; I clap my hands, and history trembles. I inhale fragments of story, and exhale epics that make Kings weep. I paint the world as it should be, and the very atoms of the earth reassemble themselves to emulate the perfection of my vision. No empire has existed that cannot be recreated in my image, and no future can escape my influence, for my paper is the Universe, my Pen the hand of Creation, and the words and images I create the fabric of existence itself.”

Boo yah...

I really need to accomplish something today... beyond yelling at the husband for going to work when his 103 degree fever didn't break until near midnight. (Idiot.) Seriously, I was dealing with three stubborn children today. I told him I'd kick him in the head if he came home sicker than when he left. (Yes... it's cruel, but how else will he learn? )

(Idiot)

Grr.