Leave password field empty to keep your existing password!
I love writing. I love a lot of things, but writing is like my number one hobby. I want it to be my profession. I have my blocks and stuff... more often now than ever because I am so stressed. I need more hours in the day.
I write fantasy/ sci-fi mostly, but if there is a nonfiction cause to write about for an essay, I am good at those too. But that is my bulk, Give me a subject, I can write about it. Give me a theme, you may get a novel. But really, I need more people to see my talent for what it is. I could be quite prolific if given the chance.
I found my gift in high school. That's when I feel it really started. Granted I didn't really nurture it at the time because most people kinda gave me looks of disgust or were dismissive. Those were times I really wished my grandmother was still alive. She would have really fought for me to keep working on it. I found myself more drawn to poetry because it gave me some release of bad thoughts and good. I got a couple published, but I didn't really get much recognition after that.
I am currently writing a novel- it is romantic/fantasy. I hope to publish it in the next year if I can ever get past the seventh chapter. Its definitely a young adult genre that I hope people can and will enjoy. If people want to know more, they can always email me.
My other passions include movies, shopping, face-booking, and planning travel to distant, exotic locales like Orlando, Florida.
My favorite movie is Kenneth Branagh's 1996 Hamlet.
I love Shakespeare, sci-fi, musicals, and mystery/suspense when it comes to film.
I am kind of a picky eater, but when I am really hungry I can eat almost anything.
I would hope people enjoy getting to know me, but I am not really social. I am friendly, but you have to be patient with me. I was bullied as a kid, so I am really jaded when it comes to people getting to know me. To put it mildly, I am shy. I apologize that this isn't probably a great bio, but writing about myself is not my forte. I guess this is it until I can figure out something else to write about. I might add a snippet of my story for a sample of my writing.
So for now, I bid you good day as I have a previous engagement. Thanks all for reading and I hope to find you interested in my bio enough to want to read more.
She knew it had to be tonight. Maybe not even wait until nightfall. Right when she got home? Nah, shower first. But tonight she would have him. She would mount him and just give it all she had. She was sick of waiting for him to come to her. At this rate, she would never have sex again. Taking action was her only choice now, as much as she hated having to take initiative in these matters. So what if her breath was foul. Most people had hallitosis anyway. Smling smugly, she sauntered up the steps to their apartment. She knew what she would find. TV on silent, him more interested in his phone than what was on, the cat laying in his lap. She unlocked the door, opened it and the apartment was empty. He wasn't there. His stuff was gone, futon cleaned off with new clean bedding and him no where to be found. She looked around frantically. “Donald?” she called. Why had he left? How? When? (well actually that was easy to answer. During work!) But that led back to why? There was no warning. He was just... gone. Great just when she had her nerve up enough to take control. Her eyes filled with angry tears. WHY WHY WHY? “So do you want to explain the squatter?” a female voice said behind her. Jessie whirled around to see her land lady waving a piece of paper in front of her. “You are hereby given notice,” the woman said in a high pitched, snoblike tone. Jessie, shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Notice?” She asked, her voice small and low. “To vacate! I would highly advise you find somewhere else to live fast! You have 72 hours to leave!” “Why am I being evicted?” “You broke your lease, Miss Rails,” the snob said. “What is your proof that he was living here?” “I have noticed him coming in on frequent occasions. Occasions when I knew you were at work or seeing you come in together and him not leaving when you did.” “There is a simple explanation for that. We are boyfriend/girlfriend.” “And the fact that... wait, what?” “Yea,” Jessie stated, blankly looking through the other woman. “We started seeing each other about 4 months ago as an actual couple. We have known each other much longer. He finally admitted his feelings for me one night and we became an item.” The other woman started to pale. The fact was Donald was squatting because as fate would have it he lost everything due to a poor gamble he made and would have been homeless if she hadn't let him stay. They had been seeing each other, but that was four years ago. But the land lady didn't need that information. “so he wasn't living with you?” “Nope,” Jessie said, tears running down her cheeks. Poor Don, she thought, he must be so scared right now. I wonder where he is. She kept her stare on the land lady. “He lives in an apartment downtown. When did you start noticing he was staying over a lot?” “To be honest, it wasn't actually me who saw. A few of your “helpful neighbors” noticed him coming and going and felt there was an issue.” “Well that just goes to show how nosy people are,” Jessie said. The land lady nodded, and looked down, her face red with embarrassment. Jessie walked up to the other woman and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Its okay, Cynthia,” she said, “I know you were only doing your job. But do you know which way he went? I was kind of “expecting” him to be here when I got home, for certain reasons.” Cynthia looked up and smiled a knowing smile. “Towards downtown, I suppose.” Jessie nodded. Hopefully she could find him before he got too far away. “Want me to help you look for him?” “I think its just better if I look for now, but thanks for the offer.” Cynthia smiled sadly. Jes hugged her. “Hey its okay, I know you were just doing your job. But next time the neighbors start “noticing” stuff, feel free to ask first. Makes things less awkward.” “Yea, I guess.” “How much did he take with him?” “As much as he could carry, I suppose. Why?” “Because the more he took, he wouldn't have gotten too far. I should be able to find him quick enough. Sorry about the nosy neighbors. People are always getting up into other people's beeswax because their own lives are so dull. But we will keep his visits to a minimum from now on.” “Okay,” Cynthia said, “and apologize for my rudeness towards him again. I had no idea what was going on.” “Oh I will let him know exactly what happened,” Jessie stated, the mischievous glint returning to her eyes. Her growing smile revealed everything Cynthia needed to know. “I'll leave you to it then.” With that she closed the door. Jessie pulled out her phone, finally noticing the exceptional amount of texts. They ranged from “HELP!” to “I hope you aren't homeless now too...” She nearly cried at that one... realizing he truly cared about her even if their intamcy was non existant. Quickly composing herself, she texted how she dealt with the problem and that she wanted to know how to find him. “Not far," was the response.
thinking of how fast autumn will be upon us. my warm jacket will have to brought out again soon. not looking forward to my back going bad again. the migraines will be more frequent. i am so sick of this. i hate the pain, the frustration. i just need some money to get things back to good again. things worked out the wrong way. i just wish I knew why and how. i know I am part of the problem, but there are other factors that are quite mysterious to me.
I should be chomping at the bit for information, instead I am acting like a kitten. “I don't think its your type of book,” I answer honestly, “I do have an idea for a movie. Despite you have done it a couple of times, you might find my take on it rather unique. It definitely is thinking outside the box.” The look deepens, but my confidence grows. It seems to be getting easier to look him in eye. I get up and I start to walk towards my room, not breaking eye contact until I disappear inside to retrieve the items I am looking for. I go to my cluttered desk and reach for a yellow envelope. Bringing it out, I notice he is now on the lounge. I go over and hand it to him. Pulling out the contents he seems to consider all the items individually, thoughtfully looking over them. The un-mailed fan letter seems to get the most attention. “You put a lot of thought into this,” he says after a few beats. I have put the chair back in the kitchen and sit on the end of the lounge. I pray he takes this seriously. “Its been a passion project of mine since I graduated high school.” “How long ago was that?” he scoffs. “About 20 years ago,” I say. Its my turn to look at him wickedly. Now he looks like he's seen a ghost. “How old are you?” “Mr. Branagh, a woman never tells her age,” I say with mock indignance. Then I mouth the number, 37. Its his turn to gulp. I want to laugh, but I only grin wickedly. He laughs and shakes his head. “And here I thought you were just some young tweny something,” he says getting up and pacing. This reaction isn't as surprising as it is confusing. He stops, looks at me again, and then returns to pacing. I find myself unsure of what to do. Why would my age cause such a worried reaction? “Mr. Branagh, is everything okay?” I ask, wondering if it was a bad idea to give him that information. He stops and looks at me, his eyes full of delight and mischeif. I kneel on the lounge, my head cocked to one side wondering what the heck he's thinking, and hoping its nothing I am doing or have done. “I want to!” he says with excitement, I look at him, confused. “Wait, what?” “I want to make your version of Hamlet!” Okay now this time I completely feel like falling over. Dream achieved. He took it seriously. This the moment I have waited 20 years for. I close my eyes slowly and open them, smiling as I do. I can't think of a word to say. I shake my head on disbelief. This can't be real. “Kenneth, you aren't joking with me, are you?” I ask eyeing him. This would be the moment where I would wake up, broken hearted, to find it was all a dream. I want to wake up. But I just sit there, staring into his eyes. I want to drown in them. I smile, and I guess its kinda goofy looking because he slightly laughs, but he is still grinning as he vigorusly shakes his head telling me no mutely. I guess he can only be seriously considering this. “I am never joking when it comes to three things,” he explains. “My wife, my career, and film.” “Well, two and three are practically the same thing, aren't they?” I ask, still allowing my brain to process the shock. This is just so much information, I am not really comprehending everything. My mind is still stuck back where he said yes to my idea. He stops to consider my observation. My brain is a mess. I look in the mirror and notice my cat actually coming out to see what all the fuss is about. I smile. This isn't a dream. I come out to see Reika starting to make friends with Ken. “Well,” I say, getting their attention. Reika looks at me, her green eyes almost sleepy as Ken pets her slowly. I laugh at her sudden fondness. “You certainly have my cat under your spell.” He laughs lightly, and I hear Reika's familiar purr growing. I smile. “Cat person?” “Animal person, actually,” he says as she rolls on her side to give him better access to her belly. “What is her name?” “Reika,” I answer, “It was the name I made for a character I created in high school.” I feel at ease watching him with her. This feels so easy. My mind is starting to see things clearly now and I feel less overwhelmed. This man is taking me seriously. I am being considered for a film which will star him and I. I take a deep breath and then start to speak again, choosing my words carefully. “You do realize I want the lead in this?” “Of course,” he states, “it's not surprising at least.” “And you have no problem with this?” “Why should I?” “Because I am a girl.” “That's why I am saying yes. Your take is so unique and outside of the norm, I would be a fool to say no.” He keeps petting my cat, he tone even and candid. He means every word he is saying. I can't help the tears of joy that spring to my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I want to embrace him, thank him, kiss him even, but I just sit in front of him on the lounge, my face red. He looks up at me, he face falls at my reaction. “Did I say something wrong?”
A Fantasy Conversation Between Kenneth Branagh and I Justine Heart July 11, 2019 I wake up to the doorbell ringing. I wonder who it could be because I am not expecting visitors. Cautiously, I put on a tee shirt as I was sleeping in only a bra and sleep shorts. The nights have been fairly warm, despite the windows being open and all fans going. I also spray a mild dose of deodorant on. I look through the peep hole and gasp at the sight of my visitor. It's HIM! I can't believe it! My absolute favorite actor: Kenneth Branagh! I hear a knock. I creep towards the handle and slowly open it. I am shaking slightly. I take a deep breath as I look into his deep eyes. I am falling into them, hypnotized for the moment. Paralyzed. Seeing him in person is so surreal. Why would he be here? I haven't sent my pictures or anything yet. How would he know where I lived?? I can't help but think I am still dreaming. Is this some kind of joke? Why pick my apartment? Who would know to send him here? “Miss?” I hear from a thousand million miles away. I am trying to pull myself together, but I feel like I am failing dreadfully. I take another deep breath. “I say miss, are you quite alright. You look like you've seen a ghost.” His voice is deep and warm. It runs over me, soothing me. I realize how long I have been staring and try to shake it off. “Please, excuse my staring,” stammer out, “its just you have no idea how much I have imagined meeting you. I mean... wow!” “I take it you recognize me,” his smooth British accent causing a very feminine reaction. I want to just hug him. Ken is here, and I am staring at him, bug-eyed. Shit I am staring. Wow, I am rude. “Mr. Branagh, you have no idea,” I explain. “But where are my manners? Won't you come in please. Let me get you a chair. Please, sit, won't you?” He walks slowly into my apartment, luckily its fairly clean in the front area. Clean enough for the parents to drop in and not feel embarrased at least. After bringing in a chair to the TV area, I motion for him to take a seat. I feel like I could faint, my head is so light. I try to maintain some composure as I get a bottle of water from the kitchen to offer him. I laugh nervously as I hand him the not so fancy beverage. I sit on the futon lounge chair so I am not staring at him, but he is still in my eye line. His hair has slightly changed over the years from blonde to a reddish mix. His trimmed beard and mustache are well maintained. He wears a yellow windbreaker, with a black shirt underneath. His blue jeans are well fitted but not too tight. He is so handsome, and yet so casual. I gulp hard again. My reaction does not go unnoticed. “So do you have a name?” he queries, his tone almost sarcastic. I want to die right now, but only because this is my happiest I will ever be. Ken Branagh, here, talking to me. For what reason, I have no clue. I am enchanted beyond belief. I want time to freeze, to let this moment last forever. “Jen,” I almost whisper and realize its not the name I want him to call me. “Oh no, I mean Justine.” He gives me a look so I continue. “Its both actually,” I answer, meekly. “I go by Justine online as it is the name I use in my writing.” He seems to want to know more, so I continue. “Jennifer is my legal name, but I like being called Jen. I only go by Jennifer at work or when my parents yell at me.” “Then what do you want me to call you?” The question is genuinely curious. “Whatever you want,” I say. I can't believe that's my answer. It sounds slightly slutty, and also like I have no clue what is going on. Come on, girl snap out of it. You may be a fan, but you have some self respect. I back pedal. “I mean, you have your choice of a casual version, formal, or professional.” “Let's go with the professional version then,” he says, smiling brightly. Oh what that smile does to me in person. I close my eye and take a deep breath. “So you're a writer?” he asked, trying to change my preoccupation. I smile, noticing that got his attention. “Amature at most, but yes,” I say shyly, smiling.“Published?” I wince. “So that's a yes?” I nod, grimacing. “I wouldn't call that amaturish.” “Considering its not really my novel,” I added. He looks at me, confused. I want to laugh because its the look I always get when I tell people that, plus its adorable. I want to hug him again. I want someone to pinch me still. I am still in awe, but his levity seems to be bringing me back to earth again. “Long story short, its my ex-boyfriend's novel. We decided not to use his name for personal reasons,” I finally say. He seems to accept that. “What's the name of the book?” Ken asks. “My Destiny. Why shopping for your next movie?” “Maybe,” he answers, slyly. He looks at me, an evil twinkle in his eyes that make me shiver a bit. I gulp again.
This is my beautiful cat, Reika. She is a huge comfort to me and I love her so much. She will forever be my only "child". I rescued Reika when she was only 4 months old in November 2009. This is how we met. I looked at her in her cage. She was tiny, but not too small. She was not much of a talker, but I knew she had her own way of communicating. Her eyes were her real voice. I knew she was mine the moment the attendant handed her to me. The moment we touched, "the motor" started up. Instant connection! That day, I was forever changed. This beautiful little kitten was mine, and we both knew it. The icing on the cake was the adoption was so smoothe and affordable. On the way home, I stopped by to pick up some essentials for her. I had to leave her in the car, but not for very long. I had let her out of her cage, and she roamed around until she found a spot near the trunk. I was a little apprehensive about her proximity to such a tempting exit, but was relieved to find she was not one to bolt when a door was open. She was truly comfortable with me, and I her. We were truly meant for each other. When I got her home and settled, I immeadiately started taking pictures and playing with her. She had a sweet but wild side and I wanted to see what her boundaries were. She was a bit timid at first, but she got comfortable very quickly. I found my soulmate, my kindred, my familiar. We protect and love one another. She heals me when I am unwell, and I help her when she is uncomfortable as well.
Subscribe and stay tuned.