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I turned on the light, and. . .

I turned on the light, and I wasn’t impressed. When the contents of your bank account consist of what you made from working retail at a gift shop, you can’t exactly stay in the nicest hotel establishments. The Motel 6 is out of my budget, but they’re nice and leave the light on for you. Not this place, though. I had to turn the light on myself. It’s not too bad though. It’s not on the seedy part of town, per se. It’s not posh or anything, but it’s alright. Boston’s got plenty of hotels to pick from, and a few are actually affordable. This one has a hula girl in neon lights, and I’m sucker for neon (not so much hula girls because, hello, I sometimes have a boyfriend when I’m not being stupid and he’s not being married).

Boston is an interesting place. I’m really just driving through because I don’t know anyone here. But the monkey keeps saying “male-bonding, eh?” which I think is some gay, Canadian reference. I’m not really allowed in Canada ever since the nanny-smuggling incident with border patrol, so I don’t know what the monkey wants. But, I’m just relaxing here on the relatively comfortable bed that smells clean, watching the wonders of cable television. I have to say though, the writer’s strike isn’t giving me much to pick from. And, I’m not a fan of Court TV, but the monkey had a fit every time I flipped it.

So, I went to college, and I know a couple of legal terms. Apparently, this guy, Denny Crane, is on trial for soliciting gay sex in a bathroom. The case sounds shifty, and he doesn’t strike me as a homosexual – plus, he kept describing his bowel problems, so really, I think the guy just needed to take care of business, not so much the sexual kind. Well, get this. His attorney, Alan Shore? Apparently, he sleeps over at Denny Crane’s place – they share a bed. Now, this Alan guy, he might be gay – might, because I don’t know him like that, but he’s a little flamboyant with the hand gestures and gives Denny some weird looks. Denny said it was male-bonding and seemed pretty horrified by the implication. The monkey seemed smug, but hell if I know what the monkey’s thinking. Oh, and the two of them have “special time” on the balcony at work. That’s cute. No, really, I think it’s cute. Yes, this is what I look like when I kind of give a crap. It’s a weird look, and I don’t wear it often.

Anyway, Denny won. That crazy Gracie Jane lady said he’s a named partner at Crane, Poole, and Schmidt. It’s too bad I don’t need legal representation – well, no, that’s a good thing because I’ve only been arrested once and don’t plan on doing it again – otherwise, I’d stop by and see if I could take a couple of pictures for the scrapbook. Oh, but they said he’s got mad cow disease. I don’t think the cow creamer would go for that field trip, but that’s what the box in the trunk is for. I really need to stop planning field trips based around what the inanimate objects tell me to do, but I have to say, so far this is kind of fun.


Let me first go ahead and apologize in advance if you see this post pop up a couple of times. I'm posting it in my character journals. I don't have too many, but for people like alan_shore & mr_colbert, they'll have to scroll a lot! :)

Well, I've been on hiatus, and I just haven't been able to post here yet. And, by here, I mean my muse journals. It's been a weird month. I was in a very bad car accident on December 11th. My car is completely totaled, and I've been recuperating. I'm very lucky in that I didn't break anything - I had some nasty bruises and walking has been a tad painful, but I'm about 99% better.

So? I'm in the process of getting everyone caught up. I'm planning to get topics written this week and come off hiatus. It's a work in progress. If I've missed anything really neat? Or, if there's something you need one of my characters for? Comment or shoot an email to senshi[dot]saturn[at]gmail[dot]com (or to my personal email, if you have it).


cross-posted to: ilookgreat, most_amazing, lovely_damage, dontcallmekitty & katie_lloyd

eclecticmuses :: November :: Letter

Write a letter to your younger self.


Okay, look, I know that getting a letter like this is weird. Don’t freak out. This is a warning, to make the crazy days easier. Yes, I said crazy. Animals are going to talk to you, but not like Dr. Doolittle because they aren’t real animals. It’s figurines and plushies and toys and cartoon animals. I don’t know if they’re good or evil. They won’t tell me. I was hoping I would have the answer to life, the universe, and everything by this point from doing all their good/evil bidding, but they won’t even confirm or deny the theory of 42.

Aside from the crazy stuff? You’re going to turn out okay. You’re going to grow up, obviously. You’re going to graduate college with a degree in philosophy, but you’re going to work part-time at a gift shop where they play the “Surrender to Destiny” video so many times that you want to break it – I’ve tried and it’s never been successful. You’re going to move into a trailer, mostly to make the family angry; it's cute though - think Jeannie's bottle, only smaller. Aaron’s going to live at home and date your best friend. Sharon’s still a lesbian – it never was a shock, huh? Oh, and you’re going to date this guy named Eric who is technically married when you meet him, but his wife cheated on him and is generally evil and to be avoided at all costs. Let Eric figure it out, because he will.

Oh, and Aaron is jealous of the crazy stuff. He wants the powers-that-don’t-shut-up to talk to him, but they won’t. It’s kind of funny, except that they always talk to me which is annoying. Mom is still Mom. Dad is still decidedly cooler than Mom. Oh, and try to encourage your nanny to study your American History chapters with you – trust me, kiddo, it’ll pay off later for her. I think that’s all the advise I’ve got for you, unless you’re willing to throw out everything you own that resembles an animal – yes, you can include Aaron.

See ya,

eclecticmuses :: October :: Deal

Let’s make a deal.

Jaye was minding her own business, but Aaron insisting on calling her, as usual, to interrogate her about the status of both her trip and her assorted talking animal associates. After an unhappy chat while driving through the town Coeur d’Coeurs, Jaye found herself drawn to an interesting establishment – The Pie Hole. She parked outside of the building that was, itself, topped by a rather large pie. She took a picture for good measure because it was definitely worth putting in the scrapbook!

She stepped inside and sat down to enjoy some variety of pie – she was thinking pumpkin, since it’s a seasonal kind of thing. She was disappointed when the server – a very blonde and entirely too perky Olive – stated that the espresso machine didn’t work. Well, it did work, due to a fluke, but she wasn’t willing to serve it to customers just yet until she figured out why it suddenly went from decorative to useful. Jaye really didn’t care. However, the piemaker – and, also, the store owner, as Olive soon informed her – caught her eye. Oh no, it wasn’t that he was handsome or awkwardly flirting but not touching some girl, but he looked exactly like Aaron!

Well, Olive was quick to give her all the information she had on Ned – that was the clone’s name. Ned apparently owned a dog that he didn’t touch; for that matter, Olive herself had yet to prove the Ned touches anything but his pies which she finds worrisome. Ned had suddenly developed a rather unconventional relationship with the girl named Chuck who Olive dislikes immensely because she is in the process of proving that Chuck faked her own death and left her two aunts miserable and housebound. Aside from that, Olive knew that Ned often worked with a private investigator who takes to knitting when under stress. Olive really had no other useful information but babbled along anyway about how she has feelings for Ned.

After devouring her pie and spying on this clone of her brother named Ned, she darted back to her car and fished around for the wax lion who was comfortably drowsing in the passenger seat under Jaye’s oversized jacket. “Let’s make a deal, lion. You tell me if that guy is Aaron or posing as Aaron or is in any way related to Aaron and we’ll go wherever you want,” she said with that crazy gaze in her eyes. The lion smirked as well as a thing made of wax can, “Aaron hates pie. Think I’ll go to Boston.” The lion was right; Aaron did hate pie and preferred cake on general principle. She cranked the car after consulting her map for directions to Boston then decided to call Aaron to tell him about his clone.

eclecticmuses :: September :: Jinx


I've managed to jinx some of them.

It was a crazy idea I had while stuck on the New Jersey turnpike. They wouldn't shut up - "Ducklings gone away." So, I repeated it with them and countered with a jinx! They've been quiet - blissfully, wonderfully silent. Well, all of them except for the monkey because he's cheeky and apparently is immune to the rule of the jinx. But then are there really any rules to it? When Aaron and I would jinx Sharon, we told her she couldn't talk until we unjinxed her. We kept it up for three weeks at the longest. Needless to say, she was pissed off.

So, the monkey told me a story:

Apparently, there's some doctor with a peg leg or something. "Knock, knock, one leg, Doc!"

He has friends, sort of, "Lady wants a baby. Boy-Wonder needs a home. Doc doesn't care. Does he?"

But, he's lost some people too. "Ducklings gone away, none here to stay. Wombat fired. Version 2.0 left. Ms. Morals quit."

He's in a weird place, "Doc needs a change."

Why did the monkey tell me these things? "Girl gets sick. Goes to Doc. Gives Doc a project."

That's when the cough started. I negotiated with the monkey. He rides in the front-seat now, and I've unjinxed the rest of his crew. The cough is gone, but I noticed something weird. We were driving through Princeton - because, I wanted to the see if the school was as nice as it looked in the postcard they sent me while I was in high school and not claimed by Brown. There's a teaching hospital on campus which is neat. But, the weird part was that I saw some guy walking in with a cane. I don't think it's the mystery Doc the monkey was talking about because this guy didn't look like a doctor - he was wearing a Rolling Stones t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Still, my monkey co-pilot said, "Kismet."

eclecticmuses :: August :: Denying It

"I believe in looking reality in the eye & denying it." - Garrison Keller

At this rate, I think denial is my best option. I can look the wax lion, tigers, and bears, oh my, in the eye and deny until my heart's content. Will they stop talking to me? Well, no, but it's better to deny it than to go around admitting to being quite possibly certifiably insane. I've tried admitting it - it never ends well for anyone.

Aaron, however, is on a cross-country, virtual stakeout for a glimpse at my insanity. He bought me a cell phone. It's silver, shiny, takes neat pictures, and if I use an illegal program on my laptop then I can make my own ringtones. Yes, I'm amazed and astounded by the fact that Aaron is actually paying for something. Maybe it's Mahandra's good influence and charm? No. You know how I know this? Did my big brother give me a phone to be kind and generous, to be deeply concerned about his single, white, female sister traveling cross-country with a box of assorted animals? No. He wants to play like he's the insane, creepy, stalker, government Big Brother and keep tabs on me and the animal chatter. Personally, I think he's just jealous. I took the phone, but I deny the voices. When he calls, I do send him pictures of the various critters in front of quirky landmarks, but he isn't amused.

For the record, my parents - well, Dad anyway - offered me a phone. Sharon did too, because I wouldn't take the one from Dad. Aaron's offer? I took, because there's no way to deny the reality of his clinical insanity, despite everyone's best attempts.

eclecticmuses :: July :: Free Pass

You have a free pass to change one thing in your life. What do you change?

You probably think I'd make the animals shut up. That would be the smart thing. Maybe I'd shut them up at night because I do require sleep to be Fate's Functional Bitch. But, I'd keep them around. Don't ask me why. I don't have a good answer yet. And the mediocre answers I've got just make me sound certifiable, which is happening way too often lately.

I would honestly change my major. Philosophy was a waste of four years and a scholarship. I didn't want to go to college. Mom made me do it. Still, who majors in philosophy to spite their mother? Okay, there were other kids in my class; it's not just me so don't even give me that look because I know you're giving me that look. Anyway, it's not like they have a job opening for a girl in a toga to sit around and discuss philosophy. I have a big, shiny diploma, written in Latin, framed in my Dad's study. A piece of paper that's good for absolutely freaking nothing.

Yeah, sure, I'm lazy, but I didn't have a dream of working as a part-time retail clerk at Wonderfalls Emporium. It's a damn gift shop devoted to Niagara Falls and the constant repeat of Surrender to Destiny is adding to that clinically insane vibe. So what if I didn't dream of anything in particular to do with the rest of my life? That doesn't mean I'm doomed to be the mouth-breather's subordinate, does it?

eclecticmuses :: June :: Psychosis

Don't ask me why I have a dictionary in my car. I don't have an answer that doesn't make sound clinically insane. At this rate, I'm surprised my name isn't in here with a weird combination of psychosis and road trip as a definition. I'm serious. Okay, let's look up the words, kids, and I'll prove a point, complete with sarcastic commentary!

psy·cho·sis [sahy-koh-sis]n.
A severe mental disorder, with or without organic damage, characterized by derangement of personality and loss of contact with reality and causing deterioration of normal social functioning.

Oh, now, if that doesn't sound like Jaye Tyler, then what does? Okay, so maybe my issues aren't severe because that's a little harsh. And severe cases are the variety that have a mother who forces you to share a therapist until you steal said therapist's monkey. Oh, wait, I did that, my bad. The monkey talked to me; what choice did I really have in that situation? None, okay! But I saved him - the therapist, not the monkey - later from a more legitimately insane person. He stopped encouraging my mother to send me to therapy. Kudos to him? I think.

Aaron thinks it's a Jesus complex. Or a God complex. Some kind of general deity complex. Have I mentioned that my brother is douchebag who happens to be jealous of my talking animals? Because he is. And, if I could make them talk to him instead? I would. But I can't. Because they won't. They think he's a douchebag too. Sharon is still blaming the mouth-breather, but I don't really know why unless he hit on my lesbian sister and made her decidedly uncomfortable and thereby hate him on general principle. Whatever.

Eric is another issue. He likes me crazy. That's the real reason I needed to get away. It's not about the animals and the crazy and the saving people thing. Well, it's partly that. But he likes me crazy. Eric loves me. That's big. Huge. Scary. I need space - wide, open space from the big, huge - this is sounding sexual, and that really isn't the issue here. So, let's move back to the dictionary, okay?

road trip: a journey via automobile, sometimes unplanned or impromptu

See, the road trip itself isn't insane. It's normal to be unplanned or impromptu. But, a road trip with a nest egg of part-time paychecks in a '64 Studebaker Daytona is a little crazy. Something tells me that if I say the monkey made me do it, it's going to sound worse. Hey, just for my own personal amusement:

mon·key [muhng-kee] n. pl. mon·keys
Any of various long-tailed, medium-sized members of the order Primates, including the macaques, baboons, guenons, capuchins, marmosets, and tamarins and excluding the anthropoid apes and the prosimians.

Oh, come on. Mr. Webster left out the part about insane, talking, inanimate objects! How can the man who writes the dictionary know me so well but help me so little? Ugh.

eclecticmuses :: May :: Captivated

The drive from Niagara Falls to NYC wasn’t bad – at least, in terms of the distance and the actual driving. It was a six hour road trip, the official start to her cross-country journey of self-discovery – well, that title was changing hourly, but at least it had something of a name. But, there was chatter amongst the peanut gallery, muffled only slightly by the pile of clothes seated on top of them. Their constant commentary about friends being torn apart was starting to sound like a bad soap-opera sub-plot on repeat. She practically leapt out of the car once she got in the city and decided to take pictures for scrap booking purposes – because, really, the talking creatures that lacked a larynx were enough to inspire any formally reasonable person to scrapbook.

She was convinced that Mahandra was less with the supportive and more with the pissed off than she let on prior to Jaye’s sudden road trip. Although, there was a possibility that the monkey and the lion were enacting their own devious plot against her best friend ever since that time she kind of made them touch inappropriately. She wandered the streets of NYC with her oversized camera, wondering if she should stop by a payphone to check on the status of their friendship. But, then, she already knew how that would turn out. She’d call the Barrel, and Eric would be waiting by the phone, ready for awkward, lovesick conversation, begging her to come home but pretending to be nonchalant about the whole thing; their awkward banter would be kept up until one of them hung up, and she’d never actually speak to Mahandra.

But, she hadn’t even reached an official decision on what she should do or what else the animals could be referring to when she was interrupted by some random, insane person in a red suit and mask, swooping from building-to-building across the street. Jaye’s first instinct was to simply stare, completely dumbfounded. Her second one – and, thankfully, the one she went with – was to grab her camera and start snapping away. He moved like a red blur – and, what, was that a spider web? – which was irksome beyond proper words.

Well, Jaye Tyler was anything but shy. She ran across the street, trying to chase him down, like any crazy person would attempt. “Hey, you!” she yelled, “Slow down! I need to get a few pictures! It’s for a good cause!” But, that didn’t stop the Webbed Wonder – okay, seriously, where did she come up with names for things? She sighed as the weirdo got away, just as she felt herself crossing that infamous line from captivated to obsessed. “Don’t worry, weirdo, I’ll catch you, eventually. I need pictures for the scrapbook,” she said to no one in particular, because, well, she wasn’t about to acknowledge that was verging on more than clinically insane by talking to both the animals and herself.

eclecticmuses application

Write a letter.

To the Powers that Be:

Also, to God, to Satan, and whoever else is listening:

We need to talk. Seriously.

You’re forcing me help people. I don’t do social or helpful or really anything that involves confusing me with being a productive member of society. But, you make me do things, like save babies, and that’s not me. I don’t want to do it. I try to ignore the voices from things that lack a larynx. But, they just don’t shut up. They talk and sing and mock me while I try to sleep, until I can’t sleep, until I’m a sleep-deprived zombie ready to do your bidding or drink the Kool-Aid.

And, okay, I get it. Sometimes there’s a point, a meaning, a purpose, a divine calling. But, my family is seriously considering having me committed somewhere because they feel that this episode of mine is turning into a Jesus complex – they think I enjoy saving people, that I feel an intense need to save the masses. I don’t! I don’t enjoy it! I don’t feel a need to do anything except make the voices shut up!

So, assorted deities? Powers that be? Whoever’s up there, recording my life on their divine tivo to pause for laughter, rewind, and laugh again? You’ve got to make this stop. I like just being a loser, living in my trailer to piss off my family, working at my lame retail job that requires little-to-no work ethic or brain activity. I like my bar stool, my bar, my bartender/boyfriend. I like just being me, a quirky loser nobody, and you’re interfering with that. So, please, make it stop!


Jaye Tyler


Some people find Niagara Falls to be beyond exciting. But, Jaye was quickly coming to the realization that her brain was trying to jump ship like a barrel over the falls. Summer was approaching, as it usually does, and she wasn’t particularly thrilled by the incoming influx of tourists. The Wonderfalls Emporium would soon be busy with the summer rush, and Surrender to Destiny video would be on repeat all day, every day. Oh, and the air conditioning unit was broken in her trailer which was adding to her possibly certifiable insanity.

She was lying upside down, hanging slightly off the foot of her bed, desperately trying to cool off with rattling fan she found at a yard sale and a hand-made paper fan she made with a flyer at work. But, that was when the idea hit her. Well, rather the monkey hit her with the idea by announcing that the car was indeed cooler. The monkey had a point, as usual, which the wax lion felt the need to point out. Jaye sighed rather loudly, until the realization came to her. The air-conditioner was, in fact, amazing in the 1964 Studebaker Daytona that was parked outside her trailer.

It only took a couple of dedicated hours of pondering before she came up with the idea of a cross-country road trip. Thanks to her cheap lifestyle, she had enough saved up to make the trip affordable – at least, for awhile, or until the assorted animals told her she could go home. She called the mouth-breather and told him not to let her vest get dusty, that she was going on family medical leave and that she appreciated the concern of the staff of emporium – yeah, all two of them – but that she had to keep the medical issue a secret as it would be bad publicity for her mother. She made a call to the Barrel and gave Mahandra strict orders to guard her barstool. She called her parents and told them she was on the road to self-discovery, which they took well, but she heard Aaron chime in some sort of snide commentary to be sure to buckle up each of the assorted talking animals. Oh, and she called Eric, told him not to worry, she’d be back, it was just a much-needed but very temporary change in scenery which he seemed to be okay with.

It didn’t take long to pack. She tossed everything in the truck of the car and considered packing the animals there too – but, then she thought that might be inhumane and PETA might stalk her, despite that fact that none of them had lungs and therefore it couldn’t really be considered animal cruelty. The animals got thrown in the backseat instead, covered with a pile of clothes, in hopes of muffling some of the chatter. She locked the door of the trailer and hopped in the car, ready for whatever her summer might bring.