Posts Tagged ‘blogging’

words have weight

I’m a native English speaker. Who’s originally from an Island in the Caribbean so the English terms and dialect with which I am familiar stem from several areas – formally from a British school system for many  formative years, and informally from a mixed bag of Caribbean slang and terms with a heavy dose of influence from living for many years on the East Coast in the U.S. The accent? Well, it’s been described as a a crazy mixture of  several states within the U.S. and when I’m tired (or a little drunk), an accent from my homeland. All of this leads to why at times, language is this crazy barrier to my understanding of cliches, colloquialism, slang, etc. You see, it’s not that I don’t understand the words because I do. It’s because when certain words are strung together in a phrase that I don’t understand, my mind tries to pick them apart separately and then insert the meaning.  I can’t even begin to imagine what non-english speakers go through with the multiple translations in their heads and in their understanding when they move to the U.S.!

I also realize that while some people, even those who are close to me, confuse me and in turn, I am sure I confuse them! Even though we’ve communicated with each other for years and for hours on end, there’s almost always some confusion. Granted, at times I’m probably just decoding at a slower pace, like when I’m tired or not paying attention so I won’t blame that on language in general. That’s just me catching on and relaying slower than I should.

However, there are times when I really need a solid answer maybe akin to a “yes” or a “no” and when it comes in the form of a colloquialism or a cliche or worse yet, slang, I’m totally lost and sometimes, heartbroken. Thoughts race in sentences like, “I thought we were past this”, or “What did I do wrong?”, or “Maybe something has changed?”, and so on. Then there’s context but that’s a whole ‘nother topic for a whole ‘nother day.

Yes, I realise that not every sentence or statement or question is going to be cut and dry or consist only of plain language for all to understand as language itself is a beautiful beast that can be oh so subjective. But when it’s an important life decision, whether it be a binding agreement or contract, or a relationship related issue, I really need it to be clear cut and understandable. To do this, I try to repeat in the plainest english terms I can think of, what I believe is being said or conveyed. Not because I think the other person is slow or dumb. In fact it’s the opposite. I realise I’m being the ignorant one and so to avoid entering into a binding agreement or losing a loved one over something that wasn’t even an issue to begin with, I have to break down my barriers. The problem is that unless the person knows me somewhat well, they may sometimes think I’m being a condescending ass. So I try to remind that I’m not trying to be an ass, I’m just trying to ensure I understand and that I’m confused by a particular phrase, etc. Sometimes they get it, sometimes they may wonder how the hell we got along all these years, but hey, here we are…

Words have meaning and these meanings change as language changes. Confusing words and lack of grammar at times, can cause interesting and not so entertaining mishaps, heartache and alarm. So as I continue to learn and grow with language, slang, colloquialisms, etc., and I’ll continue to keep an open mind. Because, well, words mean something and sometimes, they mean nothing, and then at other times, they mean everything.

 

Simple Definition of colloquial

  • : used when people are speaking in an informal way

  • : using an informal style

Full Definition of colloquial

  1. 1:  of or relating to conversation :  conversational

  2. 2a :  used in or characteristic of familiar and informal conversation; also :  unacceptably informal b :  using conversational style

(Source: Merriam-Webster Dictionary)

words have power

I blog and share for me. My thoughts, opinions and comments are mine alone. When I meet friends who are funny, crazy and downright wonderful, I’m thrilled!

If my comments, anger, poetry, or words sound like they’re directed at you, they’re not…usually. I share thoughts to build meaningful conversation and to enjoy this short life with awesome people who share the same sentiments. I don’t have time to be contrary. Please live safely and love each other. Oh, and if you can stop being so sensitive, critical, and assholey, that’s be nice too.

Disclsimer: I write. Our non private conversations may end up on a page. Thank you for still sharing with me. Thank you for loving me anyway. 😜

Natasha as a kid with ugly doll

Natasha Ramsey ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Ugly doll that creeped me out as illustrated by the expression on my face!

Welcome to “Awake“. Being awake is how I want to live, and what I fought so hard to become. I hope you join me on this journey of sharing my awakened state and I truly hope that you share your journey(s) with me as well! Life’s more interesting when we live it with others.

This is the first in a series of (mostly) thoughts about life that will be short and to the point. Who has time for nonsense and extra wordery, anyway?

Part 1:

As a child, I would scribble on napkins, the backs of school books and sometimes inside of them (don’t worry, we purchased our school books so this was not being a delinquent), on the white envelopes that letters and bills were mailed in, and unfortunately, sometimes on the return envelopes that you’re supposed to use when you mail those bill payments back.I would also be known to stick my head into books and let my mind run away on adventure after adventure and forget to do homework, chores, or practice my piano and guitar playing. Truthfully, I may not have really forgotten…but that’s not important right now. Writing and already written books were my escapes out of everyday life.

There were so many people and thoughts and random stuff in my head that I needed a way to get them out. Every now and again I’d try and purge it all by doing a brain dump of all of my thoughts onto paper. Back then, I never wrote for others to read. In fact, I destroyed most of it so that it wouldn’t be found. Trust me, if a parent or teacher read some of the stuff I wrote as a kid, I may not be lucid or alive today to write anything!

Besides, as a child (when T-Rexes roamed the earth and a “selfie” meant something very different than it does today!) my teachers and parents never suggested or spoke of being a writer or a professional reader (i.e. an editor, etc.) as actual jobs. It’s as if all of the books in my house and on school shelves were written by mystical creatures and that writing and editing and copywriting, etc. weren’t actual jobs. What’s even odder is the importance that was placed on reading. I was allowed to read almost anything I wanted as books were good. However, TV shows were in limited supply. Maybe it explains my obsession with written words in any medium and always craved being a writer but again, that’s not important right now.

The main point of sharing this, is because in my Island home with a relatively comfortable life, it was a well known fact. If you were not striving to be a doctor, a lawyer, or a business owner, you really weren’t striving.

-end

Today’s good vibe share is “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol. Thank you for stopping by. What’s your journey? What’s your good vibe share? 

Natasha Ramsey Hungover Poet Sample Tell It Tuesday

This is the first installment of “Tell It Tuesday“!

What is Tell It Tuesday? It’s sort of like a “Preach!” or a well-timed, “Mmmm hmmm” in response to something that was said that may be controversial in nature but absolutely accurate. It’s sometimes not the popular opinion but it’s very valid. Actions that could be substituted for a verbal “Tell It” could may be a well launched all knowing “I know that’s right!” kind of side eye or the more recently widespread memes on social media of someone or most notably, Kermit the Frog, sipping tea. If this still doesn’t make sense, hell just google it!

For this inauguration post, I chose to tell on myself. Why? If I can’t pick on me by either exposing myself or my opinions or even my unpopular questionable line of thinking in some shape or form, why would I do it about the events, and other people in our world? Fair is fair. Therefore, I chose a section of a poem from my book, “Hungover Poet” in which I totally queer things up and openly state how I’ve gotten myself in trouble in the past.

Hope you enjoy “Tell It Tuesday”! I’ve been experimenting with the name and acronyms, etc. but not sure if I really want to go with “Tit Tuesday”, or just “Tell it”. Hmmm, decisions, decisions…

CLICK photo get Hungover Poet FREE on amazon on Sunday!

CLICK photo to get Hungover Poet FREE on amazon on Sunday!

 The Aces

Okay. Stop licking my face, Sheba,” Gigi said. “I’m up, I’m up.”

Gigi was lying on her futon in her study, which turned into a guest room when her family or friends came to visit. The room was small, but designed to look large. Across the floor from the futon was her computer desk, with her computer, CDs, DVDs, printer, and books placed inside the cabinets. Her two flat screen nineteen-inch monitors were mounted on the wall and next to the monitors was a twenty-five-inch flat screen TV. On the wall next to the head of the futon was a bay window showing the view of the sun smiling on the mountains that told stories of time and history. The room had a western theme to it and Gigi loved it. Indian red, corn yellow, cactus green, mountain brown, and bone white made up the color scheme. This room made her mind open up and write. She wrote four best-selling novels and the one screenplay in this room.

Gigi was trying to get back to sleep, but with her cat screaming in her ear and walking on top of her, she sat up on the futon. Her body was drained because of the auditions, the confrontation with Carey, the plane ride back to Arizona, and starting to write a new book on her computer. She didn’t want to get up because she knew what to expect of this day with faxes, computer work, paperwork, writing, phone calls, yelling, and stress. It was all in a hard day’s work at a bank. Gigi hated her job, but loved it too. She enjoyed some of the people she worked with and some she dreaded. Every night when she left work, she knew she did her best on the job.

“No. Not now. No,” Gigi said, as her cell phone rang with her editor’s special ring tone.

Gigi slapped her face with both hands and wrapped her hands around her throat to try to choke herself. She hated to be late with her assignments. She was supposed to complete her section of the project before leaving for California, but because of the excitement of the movie, she forgot.

“Hello,” Gigi said when she unfolded her cell phone.

“Gigi, if you want me to do my job on time, I need those chapters,” the editor said right away.

“Amanda, I’m sorry. I’ll give you the chapters tonight. I’m not going to ask you again,” Gigi said.

“Please don’t. Why would I edit your stories if I thought they were a waste of my time? You know I do have other clients. You have real talent,” Amanda said.

“I know. But I don’t believe that my life is real. I think I’m still living in a dream world,” Gigi said.

“Quit.”

“I can’t quit.”

“I don’t understand you. I know you make enough money to quit the bank. Remember, you pay me. Gigi, you’re burning the candle at both ends. I don’t know how you do it,” Amanda admitted.

“I know. Well, I better go. Okay, Amanda. Bye.”

Gigi hung up the phone lay down. Sheba jumped on Gigi and kissed her nose with her tongue. Gigi looked up at the ceiling and saw a vision of her future in the writing world. She saw herself in a brown sheer evening gown with lacy sheer drapes around her shoulders. She was sitting at a table with her best friend, Adam, and all the top writers in the United States. She was talking and asking questions and they were listening and answering her questions. She was in awe about being in the company of people who respected the craft. Adam smiled at her and showed her approval with his crystal blue eyes, something she longed from him from the time they met. She envisioned herself dancing with him in a ballroom setting. She knew other people were on the dance floor, but she felt alone with Adam.

Adam said, “You did well. You’re one of the best. The other writers respect you.”

Gigi smiled and gave him a kiss on his thin, pink, smooth lips; she was in true ecstasy. She saw herself dancing the night away with the soothing music in her ears and a tall handsome man holding her tightly, eagerly wanting to take her to bed. Gigi was smiling at the ceiling with her eyes open, but instead she had to pick up the phone, “Hello?”

“The editor likes the manuscript. She wants to give you a deal. I’ll mail out the paperwork to you,” the voice on the other line said.

“Really, that’s good news. You’re the best, Robin,” Gigi said to her agent.

“You sound tired. How was California? Did you meet any stars?”

“I met Carey Roland and Peter Right. They’re really nice. California is still the land of Fruits and Nuts,” Gigi said and laughed.

“I believe it. If an actor from a foreign country can be a governor, you know the state is weird. You need to quit your job. You know you can, I know how much you make,” Robin said.

“I can’t quit.”

“I’m tired of fighting with you. You’re going to work yourself to death. Do you have my packet?” Robin asked.

“I can give you the synopsis next week, not this week.  I have tons of homework to finish up. I must keep my four point oh GPA.”

“Take it easy,” Robin said.

“Okay, I will. Thanks,” Gigi said.

Gigi folded her cell phone and looked at the ceiling again. She closed her eyes to return back to her vision, but her alarm clock in her second floor bedroom went off.  She jumped off the futon and ran to her bedroom to turn off the alarm. She collapsed on the bed and looked at the time.

“I have to go to work. I must pay my employees. I have to pay bills. I have to feed my cat,” Gigi said to herself aloud.

Every morning she said the speech to energize her to take a shower, put on clothes, and go to work. She jumped off the bed and walked to the bathroom.

She turned on the water for her shower and walked back to her bedroom. The phone rang again and she walked to her sanctuary to get it with a smile.

“Hello, Adam,” Gigi said.

“How do you know it’s me?” Adam asked.

“I have a different ring tone for you when you call.”

“You’re something. How was California?”

“California was great. I met Carey Roland. I had to tell him off, too.”

“What? You need to stop telling people off. You already have a bad rep. What was it this time?”

“I told him he couldn’t be in my movie,” Gigi said.

“What? Okay, I understand now. He doesn’t speak with a New York accent, but you shouldn’t have told him off. You need to work on your direct communication. It can save your future career. Remember, Gigi, you need contacts,” Adam scolded.

“Yes, old wise one,” Gigi said sarcastically.

“Your dad is right, you are a wise guy,” Adam said.

“Only to you. Carey is a nice guy. I didn’t go on a date-date with him, but we spent some time together. I learned a lot about him, which I wanted to do in the first place. My goal is to understand the person on the sliver screen, instead of the person they try to portray.”

“I’m happy for you. Do you like him?”

“No. He’s too skinny and besides, he’s English. I need an Arizona cowboy,” Gigi said.

Looking at the time, “Adam, I have to go, okay? I will speak to you soon,” Gigi said.

Gigi folded her phone next to her heart. She tried to soak up the conversation she had with Adam, the love of her life. She thought about their wedding day every night, but she knew he would never marry her because she had a college degree, a career in computers, now a writing career, and money. He felt little next to her, but she made sure she acted stupid around him, so he was labeled the hero in their friendship. Adam worked odd jobs and was waiting for his big break in life. He worked as a roofer, cab driver, house cleaner, pool cleaner, and anything else to make ends meet. If she compared going out with Adam or Carey – if Carey would date her – she would marry Adam because he was her best friend and something real to her.

Adam had helped Gigi in so many ways. When she moved to Arizona, his family helped her get around town. When she wanted to party, Adam invited her to them. When her boyfriend appeared from his disappearing act, Adam encouraged her to forgive him. When he disappeared again, Adam soaked up her tears. Adam told her to move away from Phoenix, so her ex-boyfriend wouldn’t find her. Gigi owed everything she accomplished in Arizona to him, but he didn’t feel the same way about her, which made her depressed.

Gigi looked at the clock on her phone. She jumped off the futon and into the shower, almost with her clothes on.  She washed her hair and body in five minutes, dried off with a towel, jumped into her clothes, and ran out of her bedroom. She grabbed her cell phone, just in case someone important was going to call her during her work hours. She grabbed her pocketbook and schoolbag and flew downstairs.

“I can’t be late. I can’t be late,” Gigi said to herself when she locked the door. She hopped in her truck and drove off to work.

Gigi entered the bank through the employee door and was welcomed by some of her co-workers, who wanted to know who she met in California. She said her little greetings to them and ran to her desk to clock in and then sank down in her chair. After she clocked in her time at her computer, she sank down in her chair.

Gigi wished she could quit and never come back, but when Todd walked over to her, she knew she was officially home. He was the Administrative Assistant for the department.

Todd was an older man of sixty, but looked like he was forty-five, in good physical condition, had a head full of thick brown hair, still had luster in his big brown eyes, and still went to the tanning salon because he didn’t like his pale white skin. He always tells everyone, “Without a tan, I look dead.”

“Good morning, Gigi. Can I give you the rundown?”  Todd asked.

Gigi turned her head toward him and looked in his face. She had always thought of him as a grandfather figure. She listened to his pearls of wisdom intensely, which helped her out in her stressful life. She was happy he came to work at her department; he brought rays of sunshine to the dreaded workday.

“Do you have to?” Gigi asked.

“I believe so,” Todd said.

“Okay, but I was hoping I didn’t have to work today.”

“Don’t we all,” Todd said.

Todd looked at his notebook and recited everything he had written down.

“Okay. Carolyn called about a person’s account, which had two loans on it. Cindy called about Online Banking.  Harry called about setting up the new ATM. Stan wants you to create a new loan package for his department. Can you talk to Alfie about a loan he’s trying to book? And you need to write the documentation for setting up the new ATM,” Todd finished.

Gigi took a deep breath and shook her head. “That’s it?”

“Yep, that’s about it. I’ll leave this with you.” Todd ripped the page out of his notebook and handed it to Gigi.

Gigi started working on her daily tasks as well as the tasks Todd told her about. In the morning, it was usual for the cubical group not to talk to each other until lunchtime, unless it was important. The group worked on their own projects to make the department a success.

Gigi’s co-workers didn’t talk about her writing career unless she brought it up, and then they asked the questions about her books, other authors’ books, and her movies. She enjoyed talking to them and she got their input, which she appreciated in a big way. She thought of them as her first fan club and gave them copies of the book before she signed a contract and got it published.

Gigi looked at the time. It was 12:30.    Gigi went outside with her Mountain Dew bottle and warmed up in the hot sun. She sat down at one of the tables next to Jeremy, her devoted fan.

Jeremy was a dark-skinned, middle-aged man who thought he was a teenager. He wore thin glasses with dark frames. Every day, he wore a suit with a matching bowtie and his black lace up shoes.

Jeremy said, “You need to quit.”

Gigi looked at him with a smile on her face because she knew he was right. She had tripled her income, paid off her truck, paid off all her credit cards, and the only bill she had was her mortgage. She had thought about quitting her job at the bank, but she felt that she should always have another source of income.

“I can’t,” Gigi said.

Jeremy looked directly in her eyes and said, “Why not? You wrote four best-selling books; one book was turned into a movie and the other one is scheduled to start shooting. I know you don’t need this job.”

“I do. This job is paying for my education,” Gigi protested.

“That’s a lot of bull. Gigi, you’re a great writer.  People love you. You’re popular.”

More to come on Wednesday!

About Aliya Leigh:

Aliya LeighSince being the host of her drama gossip news driven popular podcast, she have been keeping her life busy with producing  and directing anime webshows, acting, writing books, designing skateboards and running a social media company while holding down the fort at home with her professional poker playing partner.  Her current show is entitled, “Mercy Me – Deadly Professional”; which is an animated web series about a drug and sex addicted medical doctor who practices euthanasia for a fee.

The Aces

Okay,” Gigi continued and rubbed her hands together. “I don’t have a lot of time and I don’t want to waste your time, so here are the ground rules.”

Gigi walked in front of the girls’ section. “I understand that you want to be in a movie and you can’t believe someone wrote a script with a dark-skinned African-American woman. Well, with that said…”

Gigi rolled up both of her sleeves to show her caramel red tan skin color. Gigi pointed to her right arm and said, “If you are lighter or my color, please leave now. You’re not going to get the part. I need a woman who is darker than I am. I want a girl who is actually black, not light-skinned, not red tone light-skinned, or hi-yellow. I need a black woman. Please leave now if you don’t fit this criteria.”

Some of the women were in tears and the others stomped out of the room. There was one woman who was light-skinned and she continued to sit in her seat. Gigi walked over to her.

“Hello? Are you deaf?” Gigi asked with her infamous wicked tongue.

“No, but I believe the part is made for me, see, I have blue eyes and I am African-American. Plus, my boyfriend is white. I have a connection with the character. She is me and I am her. We are one of the same. When you were writing the novel, you were thinking of me.”

Gigi smiled at the girl, sat next to her, and looked into her eyes.        “So, what did you think of the character? Did I capture the essence of her life?”

“She is a strong woman who is lost in the world. She finds her true love in a diner. The guy she falls in love with is lost too. At the end, they are in love and in peace,” the girl said.

“Interesting. You’re good. You can tell the story so well, although only crap is coming out of your mouth. Seriously, do you want me to buy that? I wrote the damn book, I know what it’s about and it’s not about that. You didn’t even read the damn script. You think you can waltz in here and blink your pretty eyes? Those are contacts anyway. Please, give me a break and leave. You have wasted my time and everyone else’s,” Gigi said.

Gigi stood up and the girl rolled her eyes and spit in Gigi’s face. She stomped out of the room. Gigi walked over to the table and got a tissue. She wiped the spit from her face and threw the tissue in the garbage.

“We had drama today,” Gigi said to a group of people sitting in front of her.

Gigi rubbed her hands together and walked in front of the men’s section. She saw Carey and looked in his direction for a minute. He looked at her with a smile. Gigi’s face became hard again. She scanned the men’s section again.

“Okay, men.” Gigi paced back and forth in front of them.

“Listen, if you don’t come from New York City or can’t speak with a New York accent, please leave now. I don’t care if you come from South Jersey, Northern Jersey, were born in New York City, but raised somewhere else or any other lame story. I don’t care if you come from England and you’re a big star,” Gigi said, looking at Carey.

Carey dropped his head in embarrassment and some of the men sitting around him wondered why he was there. At this point, Carey knew he wasn’t going to get the part, but he was embarrassed because Gigi pointed him out and made him an example. He looked at her, as if he was going to tell the forces of nature to strike her dead. He wanted to say something to regain some type of honor to his name, but removed himself with his head down.

“See, someone gets the point. Now, if you don’t speak with a New York accent, please leave now,” Gigi continued.

Some of the men walked out of the room and Gigi sat down in her chair. She hung her head down on the table and tapped her forehead a few times. She was upset with herself. Her reputation came out in a matter of minutes. She was labeled the badass of the literary world when her first book was published. Her badass attitude was a curse to her in the real publishing world, but was a blessing to her with her fan clubs and the media. She had made it as a B-list celebrity.

“What did I just do?” Gigi asked herself aloud. She didn’t want to treat Carey in the manner she did. She wanted to be his friend, but now she had made him an enemy for life.

“Your job,” the director said, after he listened to her question.

“Let the auditions begin,” the director announced.

Carey walked in the bathroom, his tomb. He sat on the toilet seat, depressed. “This is how I feel about my career,” he said, as he flushed the toilet to hear the sound.

“She is the black girl, the screenwriter with the nasty attitude. I knew there was something about her. I knew it, but she didn’t have to embarrass me. She’s evil. I never want to see her again. I should write something bad about her on the Net,” he said to himself.

Carey looked like he was about to cry. First, the girl he liked and thought he could go out with, without thinking about men, singled him out in front of everyone. Second, he was willing to sleep with the guy with the California smile or anyone to get the part. He took out the condom from his wallet and threw it into the toilet. He flushed the toilet and said, “Sounds like my career.”

Carey waited for Gigi in his car outside the studio. He didn’t want to stalk her, but he needed to confront her and to see the evil Satan spawn in front of his face. He wanted to know why Gigi acted the way she did. He wanted to know if the dinner date was an act. Carey knew she would not say anything in her defense or would probably use her smart mouth to put him down again. Carey saw Gigi walking out of the studio waving and talking to people. He walked over to her and she was surprised that he was still there. “What are you doing here?” Gigi asked Carey.

Carey looked into her eyes and couldn’t believe how she was acting toward him. She humiliated him in front of a group of people and was now smiling. “Who are you?” Carey asked.

He wished she would fall in front of him so he could kick the living daylights out of her.

“Gigi Meekins. Didn’t you hear me announce my name in the room?”

Carey looked at her incredulously.

“Not your bloody name? Who are you?” Carey asked.

“I am a novelist, a screenwriter, college student, bartender, and computer programmer at a bank. I was born and raised in New York City and moved to Phoenix first and then to Tucson, Arizona. This is my first job as a casting director for a movie. What else do you want me to say?”  Gigi asked.

“I don’t believe you. How do you have the time to write, work, and go to school?”

“At first you tell yourself you can do it and then you schedule your time. At first it’s hard, but then it becomes easy,” Gigi explained.

Carey crossed his arm over his chest and rolled his eyes at Gigi. “I don’t believe you. You knew I wanted that part. Why didn’t you tell me the truth about yourself?” Carey asked.

“Because I couldn’t. Yes, I knew you would never get the part. I didn’t understand why you were auditioning for it anyway. You don’t have a New York accent. I don’t know how you got the casting director to cast you on Young Boys, but I’m not going to allow it here. And if you think I’m going to sleep with you, boy you’re wrong. I respect my body. I hope you do the same.” Gigi looked at her watch.

“Well, I can’t allow anyone to waste my time. I don’t care who you are,” Gigi continued.

Carey’s face turned red and he wanted to do damage to the woman in front of him, but he remained calm and just gave her a nasty look.

“Listen, you’re wasting my time by discussing this. You know the business. You’re not what I’m looking for, okay? You’re a big star, what’s your freakin’ problem?” Gigi continued.

Carey just stood in his place ready to retaliate, but nothing would come out of his mouth.

“Okay. Since you’re not going to say anything, I better go. I have things to do. Carey, it’s the business.  Live with it. Cheers,” Gigi said.

Gigi walked away with a smile on her face and Carey felt that Gigi insulted him and the United Kingdom with her attitude and New York rudeness. He opened his car door and got in, slamming it closed. He pulled out his cell phone, “Peter?”

“What’s wrong, Carey? You sound like you had a fight with someone,” Peter said.

“Gigi, the girl we met yesterday, is the screenwriter and author of New York Minute. She is a bloody celebrity!”

“As I understand, you weren’t picked,” Peter said.

“Right. I didn’t have a chance to audition.”

“What?”

“She had everyone that wanted to audition to meet in a room. There were separate sections for the men and women. She told me to leave the room in front of everyone. After the auditions, I met her outside the studio. She told me it’s the business. Peter, she is so rude.”

“I know she’s right, but…” Peter says.

“Now I can’t wait to go on holiday.”

“Carey, I don’t know what to tell you,” Peter replied.

“Cheers.”

Carey folded the phone and started to drive around the area. He felt lost, confused, and angry all at the same time. He liked Gigi, but now he saw her for whom she was: an evil demon, Satan himself. His body filled with rage and he just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, not just because of how Gigi insulted him in front of his fans, but what he was planning to do: have sex to get the part. At this point, he didn’t care if the paparazzi took pictures of him in this state. He wasn’t in the mood to care. He decided to get wasted. He parked the car in the hotel parking lot and walked to the bar.

“What’ll you have?” the male bartender asked Carey.

“Anything, get me bloody drunk. I am staying at the hotel.”

The end of chapter 2…

About Aliya Leigh:

Aliya LeighSince being the host of her drama gossip news driven popular podcast, she have been keeping her life busy with producing  and directing anime webshows, acting, writing books, designing skateboards and running a social media company while holding down the fort at home with her professional poker playing partner.  Her current show is entitled, “Mercy Me – Deadly Professional”; which is an animated web series about a drug and sex addicted medical doctor who practices euthanasia for a fee.