Puddle of Words

Current Status 21.1.07

2007-01-21T14:55:00.000-08:00

Posted Chapter 2: Scrabble of Seeing the Forest today. I've already got reviews from a couple people, thanks y'all. =)

I know, I haven't really been around lately. I've suddenly reappeared after a four-month hibernation or so. I've been crazy busy, and I really don't have much to say right now. But I hope you guys enjoy chapter 2.

Ciao
- Kit

Current Status 13.4.06

2006-04-13T10:11:00.000-07:00

Hi-ho.

(Hi-ho, it's off to work we go. Love those Disney songs.)

Aite aite. (That's about as gangsta as I get.) Current status! Whoo, an update. Current status is that it's actually sunny in the Bay Area today. Sunny as in NO RAIN. Dang. I was beginning to think we were going to start taking after Seattle or something.

Anyway, down to some more important business. Or semi-important, anyway. I have been doing some writing, so I've got a teaser all set up for y'all. My lips are sealed on the plot of this story, because plots are hard things to come by, and if some shady person decided to take a plot o' mine, that'd be pretty janked up. And we don't like janked up situtations now, do we?

Alright, enough jimmy-jackin' around. Here's your teaser.

Teaser 13.4.06
Mel is calling to me. “Come on, Meg, let’s go meet some boys.”
“Already? But we just got here,” I say.
“That’s the point,” Denise laughs. “Come on, Meg. The night is young.”
I don’t feel like going with them. “You can go ahead,” I tell them, “I’ll catch up with you girls later. I wanna hang with the guys for a while.”
“Okay, if you say so,” Mel says, and they’re off, moving as a pack, ready for a hunt.
“Is this how it always is?” Lee asks me curiously as they leave without me.
“I’m not as hormone-crazy as they are. I prefer to hang with the guys, as long as they’re not meeting girls. It’s a calmer night this way, trust me,” I reply.
Kenny and the rest of the boys are standing about a foot away from me and Lee, fooling around, and they’ve just realized the girls have left and I’ve stayed.
“Hey, is tonight a girl-hunting night or a guys chilling night?” I ask Ken.
He glances around at the rest of the boys. Phil points at the keg, and Marcus nods in agreement.
“Guys chilling,” Bobby answers for all of them.
Ken smiles. “You can hang with us, little girl.” He slides an arm around my waist, tousling my hair affectionately with his other hand. I duck a little, laughing and trying to pull away but he doesn’t let me.
“I’m not little,” I protest.
Marcus gives me a look.
“Well, only compared to you guys. Y’all are like a foot taller than me,” I say, pretending to be offended, hiding a smile. It’s so easy hanging with the guys. I can just ignore Michael and everything’s cool. They take care of me, especially Ken, and I take care of them; it all works out. No need to try and impress anyone.
“You got a beer already?” Ken looks down at the bottle in my hand.
“Yeah, you want it?” I offer. “I’m DD tonight. Jess and Mel forgot and gave it to me.”
“Nah, one beer won’t hurt ya. You hold on to that. I’ll get something later,” he says.
We hang out for a while near the bonfire, and the guys’ antics make me laugh, as always. None of them are drinking too much, which I’m glad for. I guess they’ve gotten tired of the same thing over and over again. I know I get tired of it sometimes. Marcus wanders off when his girlfriend Carrie shows up about half an hour later. There’s a lot of people there I don’t know, so I stick close to the guys. We find a place to sit, not too far from the fire or else it’d be too cold. It’s a typical bonfire party, typical guys chilling night – they’re goofing off and I’m quiet, sipping at my beer when I remember it, and listening to them.
About an hour and a half has passed since we’ve gotten here, and the current topic of conversation is girls.
“Dude, I still say she’s hot stuff. Maybe she’s a mean one, but she’s hot, I’m telling you,” Bobby says emphatically. “It cancels out.”
“Yeah, to zero,” Phil snorts.
“You have to admit, she is pretty mean,” Ken points out.
This has stirred my interest. “Who are you guys talking about?” I join in.
“Jen McPheron,” Bobby says. “Let’s get a girl’s opinion. Meg, is Jenny hot?”
I furrow my brow. “She’s mean. She always says bad stuff about other people.”
Bobby obviously thinks I’m missing the point. “But she’s good-looking.”
“She’s pretty, I guess,” I say diplomatically.
“How do you know Jen bad mouths other people?” he asks.
“She says bad stuff about me,” I say simply.
“Oh. Shit. I take it back. She’s not so hot anymore. No one messes with Meg. I’ll glare at her on Monday for you, babe.”
This makes the guys laugh, and I have to smile a little. “Thanks Bobby,” I say.
“She’s the blonde, right?” Lee asks.
He hasn’t said anything in a long time, and we all turn to him.
“Yeah,” Kenny replies. “Blonde, kind of short, never smiles. Apparently mean to Meg.”
“She’s in our English class,” Lee says to me. “She sits next to you.”
I nod. I’m surprised he knows this. Jen McPheron is pretty mean to me. She always has little snide comments about Michael. She thinks she has the authority to pick on me about him because she was his girlfriend two days after we broke up. I just ignore her, like I ignore Michael.
Suddenly I don’t feel like being with the guys anymore. I want to be alone. I stand up and dust off my backside.
“I’ll be back,” I say.
“Wait, where are you going?” Kenny asks, stopping me with a hand around my ankle.
“Just, over there,” I gesture. “Um, I want to go find the girls, or something.”
“You don’t have to go. I’m sorry Meg, we’ll stop talking about Jen.”
“No, it’s not about Jen,” I reassure him. “I just…just let me go, Kenny, please.”
He does, reluctantly. “Okay. Come find us before you leave.”
“I will. See you guys later.”
I walk off. There really are a lot of people here. I want to get away, I want to be by myself. I find my way to the edge of the park, away from the bonfire, and find a little path that leads through a small cluster of trees, to a rocky cliff. The grass has changed to gravel. There’s no railing between the cliff and the drop off to the sea churning below, but it’s safe. There’s a picnic table there, but I choose to sit on the ground instead. With the absence of the bonfire, it’s dark save the light of the stars and moon. Half Moon Bay is a lot less urbanized than our city, so there’s less light pollution out here. I can see the Big Dipper and Taurus – those are about the only constellations I know.
I hear a quiet crunching of gravel, and know that someone has followed me. I expect it to be Kenny.
“Hey.”
It’s not Kenny. The voice is slightly deeper. I turn around and see Lee Summerfield standing next to me, slightly behind, hands stuffed in his pocket jeans. His eyes are scanning the coast line.
“Mind if I sit with you?” he asks.
I do mind, but I say, “Go ahead.”
We are quiet, and I realize after a moment that he is watching me. He’s always watching me, I’ve noticed. Ever since the first day of school. Every day at lunch, every day in English, whenever I’m around him, he knows, he’s watching.
I decide to confront him about it. “Why do you always stare at me?”
“Because you’re beautiful. And intriguing.”
“I’m not intriguing,” I deny. “Or beautiful.”
“But you are. You just don’t realize it,” he says lightly.
“Right,” I say.
“Are you always so distant?” he asks.
“Only to people who stare.”
The response slipped out by itself, and I wonder how he’s going to take it. Lee laughs. It’s an honest laugh, a nice laugh, I decide, then stop myself from following down that train of thought.
“I think you’re the first person that has dared to say anything remotely harsh to me since I’ve started going to Matthias High,” he grins. “I like that. So are you going to start the conversation, or shall I?”
“Must we have a conversation?”
He laughs again. Is it really that funny?
“Most people like having conversations with me.”
“Oh really.”
“Really. Girls like talking to attractive guys.”
“No, girls like talking to modest guys.”
“Like there are any left in the world?” he teases.
I find myself smiling. Just a little. “There are some,” I say, “If you look hard enough. You can always find something if you look hard enough.”
He nods slowly. We are silent for another long moment. Out here on the coast by the ocean, on the edge of the world, I feel like I can breathe. Away from people, away from my life, away from everything. I love watching the ocean. It’s always moving, it never achieves rest, but it’s beautiful in its infinite power.
“So what kind of music are you into?” Lee asks casually. His eyes, their blue color almost indistinguishable in the dark, flicker sideways and connect with mine for a moment, as if he’s judging my response before I even give it.
I shrug. I hate it when people ask me this question. “Lots of different stuff,” I say.
“Like what? Be more specific.”
“Like…” I bite my lip. “Music. Music is music. I don’t know.” I shrug again, my hair sliding against my bare shoulder with the action.
“Like pop? Rap? Reggae? Do you like that kind of stuff?”
Why does he prod in the most uncomfortable places?
I rub my thumb around the mouth of my beer bottle. “I listen to that stuff.” It’s not a lie. Melanie and Jess love that crap, so I have to listen to it too, when we’re in the car, or at parties.
“Oh, I see. What else?” Lee asks.
“What do you mean, what else?” I play dumb. This guy is really something. Usually when you tell someone you listen to pop or rap, they don’t pry any further. Usually people assume it’s either that or the alternative scene.
Lee Summerfield does not follow what most people usually do.
“Do you like any other kinds of music?” he elaborates. If I were him, I’d be exasperated at this point, and would have given up on an obviously forced conversation topic, but he plows on.
“Sure.”
“Like what?”
“Like…I don’t know. Just other stuff, you know?” It’s hard to be vague when someone asks you such direct questions.
“Not really,” Lee says. “Not really.” He’s undeterred though. He pushes on. He should be glad I’m a patient person. “Do you like rock?”
Maybe longer answers will get him to stop asking. “It’s okay. I don’t like classic rock too much. I don’t understand it. But maybe that’s just ’cause I’m not a musician. That’s what Tori says anyway. Tori loves rock.”
“I don’t like classic rock much, myself. How about oldies?”
“Yeah, I listen to that sometimes,” I smile slightly. “My da loves KOIT. That’s the oldies station around here,” I tell him.
“That’s cool.” Lee seems pleased. “Any other stuff you like?”
I’ve already ventured too far, admitting that I listen to oldies, so I pull myself back. “Yeah. Just some other random stuff.”
His gaze is calculating, but he says, “Okay.” I take a tiny sip of my beer.
“You don’t like beer much, do you?” he says suddenly, his voice cutting the silence between us.
“Why do you say that?” He has caught me off-guard.
“That’s the same bottle you’ve had with you all night. I remember. It’s a Heineken,” he explains. “No one drinks Heineken around here. It’s usually Bud and Coors.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I don’t like beer much. Heineken’s better than Bud and Coors though.”
“What do you prefer?” Lee asks.
“I prefer not drinking at all,” I find myself saying. I’ve never said this to anyone before. Never. It must be the ocean air out here that’s made me relax and loosened my mouth. Now that I’ve started though, I should finish. “I think drinking is the stupidest aspect of high school social acceptance. Drinking shouldn’t make you cool. Doing something illegal shouldn’t make you cool. But, in answer to your question, when put in a social situation where I have to drink, I prefer the stuff we use in drinking games. Like vodka and orange juice. Or coke with rum. It’s easier that way. You can control how much alcohol you want in your drinks. You can get drunk a hell of a lot faster, but it’s better than sipping at a carbonated beer.”
I see a flash of perfectly white teeth in the darkness. Lee is grinning. “I should talk about drinking with you more often,” he chuckles. “That’s the longest speech you’ve ever said to me.”
I flush. I try to get him off this topic. “What about you?”
“My drinking preferences? I don’t care much for beer either. I agree with you. Coke with rum, vodka and orange juice, that stuff is mildly better. Beer is not a man’s drink – you want manly man alcohol, you go for wine,” Lee says.
“You like wine?”
“Yeah. Just a glass here and there though. It’s a treat. You should try it sometime.”
I glance sideways at him. The wind is picking up his hair, ruffling it.
“Do you get drunk a lot?” I don’t know why I’ve asked, but the question is out there before I can take it back.
“No,” he replies. “I prefer not to make a fool of myself. And plus the hangover is a – it sucks.”
I smile in spite of myself. “You can swear in front of me, you know. I won’t be offended. Go on, say it.”
I’ve surprised him this time, I can tell. He grins again.
“Hangovers are –”
“ – a bitch,” I finish with him in unison. I sigh. “A bitch,” I repeat very softly, looking out at the waves below us, thrashing on the rocks.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks me quietly.
I am silent for a long, long moment. What am I thinking about?
I’m thinking about a night much like this one last year, when I had been at a party. I am thinking about how that was the first time I got really drunk, and how Michael took advantage of me that night. I am thinking about how sick I had felt the next morning, how I couldn’t stop throwing up, how much I hated myself, hated Michael, hated that being drunk had left me powerless. I am thinking about how I broke up with him. About how pissed he had been. How much the spiteful words he said afterwards hurt, even though they shouldn’t have. About how the first boy I’d ever come close to falling in love with had turned out to be exactly the kind of person I realized I couldn’t fall in love with – the kind of person who could hurt me and had, simply because he’d been able to.
I sigh. “What am I thinking about? Nothing, really.”
end.

There you go. I do not have a title for this piece yet.

Much love -
Kit

"This Storm" outtakes

2006-01-03T13:55:00.000-08:00

Now that This Storm is over and done with, I thought I might post some outtakes. Personally I find outtakes interesting. Who knows, maybe all of you who read This Storm will like them too. First though, some random trivia about the creation of the character Zack Crowne. Once in a while I like to base my characters off of people I know in real life. There’s a guy I met once (a casual acquaintance) who intrigued me to no end – of course, being the random person that I am, I decided I just had to base a character off of him. Zack, in my imagination, looks similar to this acquaintance of mine – dark curly hair, tan skin, all the works. Zack’s overall mysterious, calm and collected personality is also stolen from this acquaintance, though the “dark past” aspect of him is not. (Or as far as I know, anyway.) I suppose it's a very romantic take on this random acquaintance's personality, seeing as I didn't know him that well. But that's how Zack Crowne came to be.

Now for some outtakes. This one was supposed to happen right after Zack arrived back in California. To be honest, I don't remember why I took it out. Now that I look back, I think it might have actually made the story flow better if I had kept this in and written a little bit in this part of the plot line in Winter's POV, but I never did. Ah well. Maybe someday I will go back and insert this plus a little more. Here's the outtake:
-Winter-
“Hello?”
“Eva?”
“Winter? What’s wrong?”
“Um –” Everything, I wanted to say. But I couldn’t. I just stood there with my mouth slightly open, knuckles white as I clutched the phone with a death grip. I could feel my larynx opening and shutting, alternating between breathing in and attempting to say something. For a moment, I could see it happening in my mind’s eye – you know those video clips they show you in health class of a healthy person’s larynx muscles opening and shutting and vibrating as they sing, hum, and talk, as opposed to how it looks in a person who smokes? Well, for some strange reason, I was picturing that. Kind of gross, I know.
"You still there?” Eva sounded worried.
“Yeah,” I finally said.
“What’s wrong?” she repeated.
“Did you know that Zack’s back in town?” I blurted out.
“What?!”
Her incredulity was reassuring, and I flopped down on my bed with a sigh.
“What – when?! How do you know?”
“I saw him, obviously. He's in my Calculus class this year.”
“Whoa, whoa, wait – let me get this straight. Okay. After…eight months of being away from California, and three months of non-communication between letters, he shows up on the first day of school as suddenly as he leaves?”
“I suppose so,” I muttered. “Jeez, when you put it like that, it sounds downright stupid.”
Eva, who was still on her rant, ignored my comment. “You have to be shitting me. Who does that? It’s just not something you do. What. The. Hell.”
I grinned a little in spite of myself. Eva’s down-to-earth view of things was always refreshing.
end.

My wonderful beta Steph once asked me if that drunken midnight kiss in chapter 23 ("Drowning in His Sorrows") would become a big factor later in the story, and though I thought about it a lot, it never really did. I even wrote out the scene where Winter told Zack about it, but...I didn't feel that it really fit in anywhere, especially since it ended with a kiss that would have been way too early. I know it's kind of a hanging thread the way it is right now, but I figured it didn't matter that much. Maybe it's more realistic to leave it this way anyhow. But here's the outtake. It kind of turns into a fluffy moment:
-Winter-
“I lied to you,” I suddenly whispered.
“What?” He whipped his head around.
“Do you remember when you called me? And…you asked me how drunk you were the night before you left for Italy.” I couldn’t meet his eyes. I don’t know why I suddenly felt the need to tell him, but I couldn’t stop myself. “And, you asked me if anything happened.”
“Yeah?”
“I told you – that nothing had happened.”
“What really happened?” His eyes searched mine worriedly.
“We – we, uh, kind of, kind of kissed,” I said. Now that the truth was out, I felt myself blushing furiously.
“We kissed,” he said slowly, looking off into the distance. “Like…just one kiss? Or, like…”
“It was more like making out, I think,” I said.
“I see,” he said, his lips set in a suspiciously straight line. “We made out.”
“You – are laughing at me,” I realized.
Indeed, Zack seemed hard put to suppress his smile. “I’m not,” he denied.
“You are!” I exclaimed hotly, my blush deepening.
“Okay, okay, you caught me,” Zack said, laughing, his golden eyes twinkling. “It’s just, I couldn’t –” He had to stop to chuckle. “You looked so serious when you said it. Man, maybe I should get drunk more often. Would you kiss me then?” he teased me.
“Shut up. Just for your information, you were the one who initiated it,” I scowled for show, pushing him hard on his shoulder to compensate for my inability to stay angry with him for long.
“Hey!” he laughed, toppling over in the grass. Oops. I guess I had pushed him a little harder than I had previously thought.
“You’re still laughing at me!” I complained good-naturedly, moving to push him again.
He caught my wrist before I could touch him. “You really need to take some anger management classes or something,” he grinned, using his hand to uncurl my fingers from their fist. He pushed me gently onto my back on the grass and caught my other wrist, holding both above my head as he pinned me beneath the weight of his body, all in one fluid motion.
“Hmm,” he said, looking down at me and pretending to be thinking, “This is an interesting position.”
“Zack,” I warned.
He ignored me, a smirk still lingering in his eyes as he tried to make his expression as serious as possible. “I think I quite like it here.”
“You would,” I said sticking out my tongue at him, “But I don’t,” I said, lying through my teeth and trying hard to suppress a smile.
He feigned hurt. “What? What do you mean? Girls the world over are dying to be in this position, and what do I get from you? Rejection? Sorry, that’s unacceptable, young lady,” he said, leaning down until our faces were mere centimeters apart. “Completely unacceptable.”
“So? What’re you going to do about it?” I taunted him.
“Hmm,” he grinned lazily. “We could have a hot make out session?”
“Zack!” I exclaimed, feeling embarrassed all over again. “In the park?”
“Sure, why not?” he murmured, arching an eyebrow provocatively. “Or Option B is that you could lay still for me and I’ll ravage you to my satisfaction.”
I wrinkled my nose. “I sincerely hope you’re only joking. If you’re not, I’ll settle for Option A.”
“It’s a deal,” Zack smiled broadly, leaning in to close the short distance between us.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I laughed softly, resting a hand lightly on his chest and catching his twinkling golden eyes with mine. “What do you think you’re doing, sir?”
“And you say I’m the one with the mild case of ADD. I’m following through with Option A, of course,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly.
“Are you being serious?” I asked. Not that it really made any difference at all. I got the feeling that even if he had been joking, things would have turned out the same anyway.
“As serious as I’ve ever been,” he said, though I could still detect a teasing glint in his eyes. “It’s high time we got rid of all that sexual tension anyway, don’t you think?”
I was going to laugh and ask him, “What sexual tension?” but he was already kissing me softly. For a moment I was shocked, then, before my brain even had a chance to register what was going on, I found myself responding to his kiss, and when I did, he shifted on top of me, taking his full weight off so I could move to circle my arms around his neck, his lips never leaving mine.
end.

Alright, last one. This was originally in Chapter 34 ("Shrink at Work"). I decided it was a bit too long and took it out. And plus, I wasn't sure that it made sense and that people would be able to follow my train of thought on it. Even now I'm not sure the humongously long metaphor makes sense, but that's why it's an outtake, right?
-Winter-
I cradled my head in my hands. My head felt like it weighed about a million tons – not necessarily big in volume, but of an extremely high density of thoughts and memories and speculations and flashing images and things to remember and random facts and it was all just jumbled together in a huge mess, one single thought as inextricable as the next, because they were all tangled together, clashing with each other, linked to each other, and it was hard to pick out where any one of them ended (or started, for that matter), and the next began (or terminated, for that matter). I shook my head to try and clear my mind but it didn’t work. Stress does this to me. I knew it would happen eventually today, and I had been pushing it off all morning, resisting it.
There were a billion things in my brain all vying for my attention at the same time. I felt like screaming at them to just go away, or yelling for the glaring fluorescent lights in my mind, shedding a dazzlingly bright light on all these things, to just turn off. Just for them to turn off, so I could carefully pull one thing out of the shadows at a time, and so I wouldn’t have to know that there was such an overwhelmingly huge number of thoughts there, all of them right there in my mind, all one billion of them up front and center, all at the same time – but I couldn’t scream, or yell, so I had to just keep talking, and talking, to Martin or to myself or to someone else, it didn’t matter who, and maybe the tangled mess in my head could somehow sort itself out if random thoughts spilled out of my mouth one after the other so my head wouldn’t be so dense.
I was asking for a miracle, a miracle that wasn’t even worded right, and the divine powers weren’t delivering.
Kind of tetchy, those gods, aren’t they? Selfish bastards. And I mean that literally, because a lot of them are bastard children. According to The Odyssey and Odysseus though, the gods are only nice to those people that fear them – “god-fearing men;” remember that from freshman year English? Maybe they’re not nice to me because I don’t fear them. And maybe because I’m not a man. And Odysseus is so sexist, by the way. Poor Penelope.
…Hey…isn’t there a character in Harry Potter named Penelope? Percy’s girlfriend, right?
Stop.
I can’t.
Just stop.
It’s too hard to. These thoughts just kept rolling off and building off of each other. Not like a snowball, that got bigger and bigger, but like a melting icicle, huge and concentrated and just so solidly there, taking an eternity to melt, one drop of water at a time, sliding off the point. And as each individual droplet fell, it inevitably dragged down a few molecules of what would become the next drop closer to the point, closer to being pulled down by gravity, closer to falling through the air and for that brief time becoming the focus of the icicle.
And so I had to keep talking to Martin.
end.

Yeah, so there's three outtakes for you. I have about eight more, but all of them are so fluffy it makes me gag. And plus, they're all freaking long. Maybe I'll post them some other day. One is actually an alternate ending, but I found it too unrealistic. So, there you go. I hope they were mildly enjoyable.

Love,
K. Harlande

Jazzy Kitty

2006-01-03T13:40:00.000-08:00

Bored I am. So, I will blog about something random: the derivation (ooh, good SAT word, eh?) of the penname Jazzy Kitty.

Fairly straightforward, this thinking process was. (So sue me, I enjoy mimicking Yoda's sentence structure. It's fun.) My friends used to call me Kat, short for Katrina. That led to the nickname Kit Kat, like the candy bar, which was a nickname I have to admit I didn't particularly like. (Speaking of which, I haven't seen those "Gimme a break, gimme a break, gimme a break of that KIT KAT BAR!" commericals in a long time.) Anyway, I made this known, and so they shortened it again - apparently I have lazy friends - to simply Kit. That was a long time ago. Most of them don't call me Kit anymore, but when I was trying to come up with a penname, I thought about it, and it became Kitty. The Jazzy part was easy, I just wanted something that kind of rhymed, and the word came to mind almost immediately. I love jazz music. And as they say, the rest was history.

Current Status 3.1.06

2006-01-03T13:31:00.000-08:00

I'm going to title all my posts about my stories as "Current Status (date.month.year)".

So, even though this is already all written in my profile on FictionPress, here's how things stand right now. I just finished writing This Storm about two weeks ago. That was my first ever completed multi-chapter story. It's a romance; I like dabbling in this genre a lot, so that's what you can expect from this authoress. Other completed works include Tequila Hangovers and Silent Goodbyes. They're both short stories. Tequila Hangovers is about a huge coincidence, and Silent Goodbyes is more of a bittersweet piece about unrequited love.

As for the rest of the stories I have posted on FictionPress, they are all on hiatuses. This includes: From Both Sides, Paint Me In a Dream, Wanderlust, and Incognito. Notice I don't give you the links for those. Hah. That's because I don't want anyone reading them. They were all experimental pieces I wrote a long time ago that just don't want to be finished. I've lost motivation for them. All four lack believable characters, decent writing, and a good, driven plot. They have nowhere to go, and so, at nowhere they shall remain.

So what's next? I'm on winter break right now; I've got a week left to relax and do whatever I want before I'm back to school. I've been formulating some new ideas for stories. Actually, in the past couple of days, I've done a fair bit of writing. I'm the kind of author that writes chapters and scenes in the future before writing the opening ones, but I will get to it, I promise. I will try to post some teasers or something if anyone is interested.

That's all for now.
Adios!
Love,
K. Harlande

Aloooha

2006-01-02T21:52:00.000-08:00

Hello to anyone who might be reading.

So, I finally decided to venture into the world of blogging. Quite daring, seeing as I am useless with computers beyond using Internet Explorer, Microsoft Word, Solitaire, and Minesweeper. But I decided it might be nice to have a place to post updates about those stories I write.

Speaking of which, make sure you check out FictionPress. It's a pretty darn cool website, I must say. And you can find my page here. Enter that one at your own risk.

More to come later, my dears.

Ciao!
Love,
K. Harlande