kamikae5 sent you a video: "Grocery Store Musical HQ 2009 official video download link"

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kamikae5 has shared a video with you on YouTube: I took a class in high school called just "Musicals". It was co-taught by the music & drama teachers. I enjoy most musicals, and I remember the classes' drama teacher saying that idea behind a musical is that the characters become so filled with emotional energy that they can no longer just speak their thoughts and feelings - they must sing them! I think this sums up musicals very well, and I've thought how funny it would be if we all did that in our everyday lives! This improv group has this same idea, it seems. It's soooooo funny! Grocery Store Musical HQ 2009 official video download link Grocery Store Musical HQ 2009 official video download new music video 10/2009
© 2009 YouTube, LLC 901 Cherry Ave, San Bruno, CA 94066 Until I type again, Kami

Farmers sell wives to pay debts in rural India - My comments on CNN news story

This CNN news article speaks of both economic despair and the horrible objectification of women. I wish that, especially in this day and age, I could say that there aren't still human beings buying and selling others, as if they are nothing except property. Sadly, it is still going on. Our world is deeply divided between the haves and the have-nots. Often, women and children are those most victimized by these highly unequal socio-economic systems.


In the climb up the ladder of social and economic mobility, those lowest on the totem pole are also those most easily stood upon. So, while I believe we all have the basic human right to try to improve the quality of our lives and the lives of our families, I also believe that we should never stop looking down when we do so. We need to see clearly where we stand, and we need make whatever hard choices that will be required to prevent the crushing of others. In our struggles to survive and thrive, we should attempt to limit our "us and them" thinking. Instead, we should try to recognize that there really is just "us".

For the full CNN news article go to: http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/10/22/india.farmers.selling.wives/index.html

Until I type again,

Kami

WIDE AWAKE - - Part Five: Thomas' Story Begins

Photo courtesy of http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/

*** Author's note: "Wide Awake" is an original, previously unpublished, fictional story that I wrote. It will be told in multiple parts. If you've yet to read any of the prior parts, below are the links to do so.

For Part One go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-one-crazy-talk.html

For Part Two go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html

For Part Three go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-three-new-believer.html

For Part Four go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html***

WIDE AWAKE

Part Five: Thomas' Story Begins

"Murdered?" I repeated the word back to Thomas as if I questioned whether I had heard him correctly. That wasn't actually the case. I knew that I hadn't misheard him when he said that he had become a ghost because he'd been murdered. It was just that I was having trouble accepting such a terrible event had happened to someone as nice as Thomas.

"I'm afraid so." Thomas, ghostly and invisible, replied. "After all these years, I still have difficulty with the concept myself. Yet, I know it's true. I remember too much of what happened to think otherwise."

Stephanie interrupted. "Do you know how many years ago this happened? You said it's been years. Do you know how long ago you were killed?"

"Yes, I've been able to keep track of the time. It's been eighteen years since my death."

"Wow!" Stephanie exclaimed. "That's two years before I was born."

"That's right, and Lily, you would have been only five years old, just a little girl."

"How old were you when it happened?" I asked.

"Twenty-seven. Doesn't it sound strange to think that I've actually been twenty-seven for the last eighteen years? It's as old as I'll ever be."

"Yeah, it does." I agreed. "You died when you were only four years older than I am now. It's not fair that you didn't get to live so much longer than that."

Thomas sighed. "I've found life isn't always fair, and death is rarely, if ever, so."

There was sadness in his voice. It made me long to put my arms around him and give him a hug. Of course, this wasn't possible. I couldn't even see Thomas, yet alone touch him. I had only a general idea that he stood nearby, and to the left of me, since his voice came from that direction. This was also assuming ghosts aren't skilled ventriloquists, and that he really stood as near me as he seemed.

It was odd to me that I should have any feelings towards Thomas. I had just met him, and he was, after all, a ghost. Why should I have this desire to comfort him? Was this a normal reaction for someone to have in such an abnormal situation? I didn't know.

I spoke softly, hoping he'd feel some comfort from my tone. "Thomas, if it's too difficult to talk about what happened, then you don't have to. You don't have to tell us about it."

"No, I don't have to tell you, but I want you to hear my story. I feel you are. . . my friends."

Friends? I thought about this. Like my sister, I had become friends with a ghost. Yet, my friendship with Thomas wasn't the same as his friendship with Stephanie. He'd expressed having feelings for me that were more than friendly. Our relationship had begun with both of us aware of his attraction towards me.

Try as I might, I doubted very much that I could think of him as solely a friend. This confused me. If he was more than my friend, then what was he? I barely knew him, had only heard his voice and never even seen him, but, I wondered about my feelings. How long does it take to develop an infatuation?

"Lily?" Thomas sounded concerned. "Are you alright? You have the strangest expression on your face."

"Oh, yes. I'm fine. Just deep in thought." I realized I needed to stay focused on the conversation. "Please, go on, Thomas. Continue with what you've been wanting to say. Tell us your story."

"O.K., then." Thomas agreed, and he began to tell us about his life and his death.

"Thomas' Story"

Thomas Malcolm Davenport III is my full name. I was born forty-five years ago, the only child of wealthy parents. Unfortunately, both my parents were more interested in the idea of having a child than in actually raising one. When I was quite young, they sent me away to boarding school, and I regret to say, this only further damaged our relationship. Throughout my life, my parents were cold and distant, nearly strangers to me. Once I became an adult, I had very little contact with them. It was easier, on all of us, not to try to pretend affection that just didn't exist between us.

As an adult, I went to an Ivy League College, but instead of getting into a profession acceptable amongst my family's social circle, such as law or business, I became fascinated with art. I dabbled in painting and sculpture, with limited results. Eventually, I discovered that my talents lay elsewhere. I became quite knowledgeable in art history, and, after completing my degree, I went to work for an art and antiquities dealership with an office based in Seattle. My supervisor was a brilliant art historian, twenty or so years older than myself, named Professor Christine Harper.

In those days, Christine divided her time up between working for the art and antiquities dealership and teaching locally at the University of Washington. This changed, after my death. She told me it was too hard to work there without me able to work by her side, and she decided to quit the dealership altogether and focus on academics alone. You see, when we started working together, she and I became very close friends, really more like mother and son. I think that since neither of us were married or had children, we quickly adopted one another as our only recognized family.

Under Christine's supervision, my career flourished. I didn't need to work for the money, since I had a trust fund that supplied me with more than ample funds, but I enjoyed my job. I was also good at it. I'd been seeing a woman, romantically, I mean, for quite awhile. Her name was Angelique, and she was very beautiful. I wish I could say she had many other good qualities, but she didn't. Angelique was beautiful, but she wasn't a nice person. I believe my money was her main reason for being with me. I think that I was aware of this, even back then, yet it wasn't something I was willing to acknowledge. The fact that my requirements in a woman were so shallow didn't say a lot in favor of my maturity and judgement. Sadly, it seems that only after my death has my taste in women improved.

We all make mistakes, and my immaturity led me to make most of mine. I could blame my parents for not giving me a suitable role model in forming a health relationship, but long ago, I came to realize that blame gets me nowhere. I know that I must accept responsibility for my own choices. Dating a woman like Angelique was the first of those mistakes. Becoming so infatuated with her beauty that I proposed to her, was my second mistake. Yet, it was the third mistake that ultimately had the worst consequences. Although, I suppose it was the whole combination of errors, working together as a whole, that led to the final outcome.

***To Be Continued***

Until I type again,
Kami

kamikae5 sent you a video: "John Hiatt - Have A Little Faith In Me"

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kamikae5 has shared a video with you on YouTube: About a month ago, I saw the movie "Love Happens" in a local theater. I very much enjoyed it, very sweet movie. It was immediately after seeing the film, that I decided I wanted to hear one of the songs in the movie again. This song really sparks my emotions, and I am glad I'm finally getting around to sharing the Youtube video. Until I type again, Kami John Hiatt - Have A Little Faith In Me Another Live HALFIM - imagine what would happen if he skipped this one - just once - and did eg. "Love Like Blood" instead - would walls come down ? Would the Earth stop rotating ?
© 2009 YouTube, LLC 901 Cherry Ave, San Bruno, CA 94066

WIDE AWAKE - - Part Four: Education In The Supernatural

Photo credit: http://www.freedigitalphoto.net

***Author's note: "Wide Awake" is an original, previously unpublished, fictional story that I wrote. It will be told in multiple parts. If you've yet to read any of the prior parts, below are the links to do so.

For Part One go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-one-crazy-talk.html

For Part Two go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-two-haunted-house.html

For Part Three go to: http://kamikae5.blogspot.com/2009/09/wide-awake-part-three-new-believer.html ***

WIDE AWAKE

Part Four: Education In The Supernatural

After my late night, I slept in the next morning, so that I awoke much, much later than usual. Stephanie was always a late riser, but this morning, for once, I even managed to sleep in longer than her. She was already at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal when I walked in the room. I immediately headed to the coffee maker and started brewing a pot. Still very groggy, my

"Good morning" to her was punctuated by a wide yawn.

"Good morning." Stephanie replied. She studied me a moment. "Still tired?"

"Yeah, I was up late."

"Trouble sleeping?"

I couldn't help the silly grin on my face. "Yes, but that turned out to be a good thing." I told her about my meeting, the night before, with Thomas, including our conversation about why he'd been reluctant to start talking to me. She was as shocked as I was to hear his reason.

"He likes you?" She asked. "Do you mean that he likes you? Or that he likes you likes you?"

"He likes me likes me."

"Wow!"

"Yeah. Wow!" I agreed.

"So, how do you feel about him?"

I was caught off guard by the question, and it instantly deflated the cheerful mood my conversation with Thomas had created. "Me? Well, I just met him last night." I knew I was squirming. "Besides, there's the small fact that he's a ghost."

My sister rolled her eyes. "Oh, puhleeez!"

"What? Don't you think that's a problem?"

"Sometimes I can't even believe we're related. Thomas is a nice guy. I'm sure that he'd be the first boyfriend you've ever had who wasn't a loser."

"Hey! That's not true! I've dated some great guys."

She made a face. "Yeah, sure you have. Name one."

Once she put me on the spot like that, I was surprised to find I was struggling for an example. "I. . . um. . . well, there was Dale."

"Dale!" Stephanie almost choked on the bite of cereal she'd just taken.

"What? What was wrong with Dale?"

"Borr-rring. Didn't you break up with him because he never wanted to do anything other than watch sports on ESPN?"

"There's nothing wrong with liking sports." I replied. I was feeling defensive, although Stephanie was right about the reason I'd stopped dating Dale.

"Watching sports is all that he liked. He wouldn't talk about anything else either, if I remember correctly. Why did you even date him to begin with?"

"I met him in one of my business classes. He wants to open up his own sporting goods store, and I really like how he put together his business plan."

"His business plan? Oooo, so sexy. You're such a nerd, Lily."

"I am not!"

My sister snickered. "Do you know what's worse? Dale wasn't as bad as John."

Now, I was the one making a face. I couldn't help feeling disgusted at the mention of my ex-boyfriend, John. He and I hadn't dated long. The first fight we'd had, he'd slapped me. It was a hard smack, right across my face. No had ever been violent with me before, and the shock and emotional anguish it caused had been worse than the physical pain. I broke up with him because of the incident. I felt I'd been lucky to get out of that relationship in one piece.

"You're right about John. He was a jerk. I still say the other guys weren't that bad. Maybe, they weren't the most exciting guys in the world, but how can you compare them with a ghost? At least, they were all alive."

"Barely." Stephanie gulped down some orange juice. "Like I said before, sometimes I can't believe were even related. Why does everything have to be so serious with you? What about just having some fun?"

"Well. . . I admit, that last night I probably would have agreed with you. I enjoyed talking to Thomas. I've been wanting to have fun this summer, and I was surprised to realize that it's fun to talk to him."

"Good. So, what's the problem?"

"I guess, I've started feeling different about things this morning. It sounds crazy to even think about. . . liking him back. Doesn't it?"

Stephanie began to laugh. "You wouldn't be wondering that unless it was already too late." She broke into song:

"Lily and Thomas,
Sittin' in a tree.
K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
First, comes love.
Then, comes marriage.
Then, comes Lily,
Pushing a baby carriage."

I started laughing too. "You're ridiculous, Steph! He's a ghost!"

"Hey," she shrugged. "Nobody's perfect."

Shaking my head at my sister's silliness, I asked her, "Speaking of Thomas, have you heard from him yet today?"

"Nope. You kept him up late. Maybe, he's napping."

"Ha, ha. Ghosts don't sleep. At least, I don't imagine that they do."

Stephanie grinned. "Maybe, he's been listening to our conversation, and it hurt his feelings when you said you don't like him back."

"I never said that I don't like him. I said that I just met him, and that liking him or not doesn't really matter since he's a ghost."

"I'm sure it matters to him."

That stopped me. It was a good point, and something I hadn't considered. Had I hurt Thomas' feelings? I'd only just started believing in ghosts last night, and I'd already discovered that a ghost could develop romantic feelings. Couldn't I also assume that a ghost could get his or her heart broken as easily as anyone else? Did that also mean that a heartbroken ghost could also heal? Or were they doomed to carry around their heartache for eternity? That was a terrible thought, but it made me realize that there was a lot about Thomas, and ghosts in general, that I didn't know. It was time for me to further my education in the supernatural.

"Thomas? Thomas, are you here?"

When I heard his voice, it was so close to my ear it made me jump. "Good morning, Lily. Good morning, Stephanie. How are you both today?"

"Great!" Stephanie answered. She was smiling at my still startled expression.

"Have you been here, listening to us, this whole time?" I heard the irritability in my voice, but I couldn't seem to help it.

Thomas laughed that warm, rich laugh of his. I suddenly felt unaccountably flushed. This irritated me more. I didn't like being laughed at. Worse than that, though, was the uncomfortable realization that it mattered what he thought of me. He'd told me that he likes me, and it was important to me not to lose his positive regard. Why this should be the case, I was afraid to acknowledge, even to myself.

"Don't worry." He murmured into my left ear. I felt the touch of his invisible fingers as they brushed a strand of my hair off my cheek. Louder he said, "I wasn't listening in on your conversation. I just stayed nearby, in case either of you called for me."

"That's cool." Stephanie responded while I was still trying to get my dry mouth to work.

"Um, yes." I agreed. "I appreciate you giving us some privacy."

"No problem at all. So, was there a particular reason that you called out to me, Lily? Not that I wouldn't mind if you had no reason, other than wanting to enjoy my company, but I'm betting that you have another reason?"

"Well, yes." I answered as I added milk and sugar to the cup of coffee I'd just poured. "I'm hoping you'll tell me more about ghosts. Why, for instance, are you one? I mean, I assume that there's some alternative afterlife other than becoming a ghost?"

"Yes, there is. Most souls move on to something else. I don't know where they go exactly, but it's more desirable than becoming what I am. Only a smaller percentage of souls continue to exist among the living, and we consider ourselves to be trapped here."

"Do you know why only some become ghosts and all the others don't? For instance, do you know why you became a ghost after you. . . died?"

"I've met others like me, and the general agreement is that we become stuck here either due to trauma or some kind of unfinished business. Some of us ghosts remember more of our lives, and our deaths, than others. Remembering helps us make sense of why we might still be tied to our old lives. In my case, I've a pretty good idea why I'm still here."

Stephanie looked surprised. "Really? I didn't know that. Since you've not said anything about it, I assumed that you didn't remember your life or why you became a ghost. At least, you've always given me that impression."

Thomas sighed. "Yes, I'm sure that I've led you to believe that. I'm sorry, Stephanie. Your so young and enthusiastic about life. I suppose that I've been reluctant to expose you to the darker side of things."

"I'm not a child." My sister crossed her arms and her bottom lip was sticking out in a pout. It made her appear two years old instead of sixteen, and it was in comic juxtaposition to her words.

"I know that." Thomas replied gravely. He realized that he'd hurt my sister's pride. "I apologize for implying otherwise. I'm afraid I seem to fall too easily into the overprotective big brother role."

His words were just the thing to sooth her ego. Stephanie visibility relaxed. "Oh, O.K. It's just that I get enough of all that from my parents and Lily."

"Hey! Wait a minute!" I disagreed. "If you're trying to blame me for them grounding you don't bother. That was all because of your choices. Besides, you've not been grounded at all since you've been staying with me."

"Fine. Sorry. You're the best big sister in the whole wide world." Stephanie smirked. "You ought to win a Nobel prize and be written up in history books."

"Ha, Ha. Very funny." I responded in turn to my sister's sarcasm. "Getting back to the original subject. . . Thomas, you we're telling us that you know why you became a ghost?"

"Yes," He replied. "I remember enough about my death to know that it was the sort of sudden trauma that can sometimes trap a soul among the living."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Well, in a nutshell, I was murdered."

*** To Be Continued ***

Until I type again,
Kami