This is the last non-obligatory post for the next month. I really have nothing to say, and yet, here I am, just so I can say that I didn't have to write this...but I am. What an over-achiever.
The following rules for December's posts:
1. Must be everyday (if I miss a day, I must make it up)
2. Must use a writing prompt from somewhere (of course, if I make it up...who is really gonna know?)
3. Try to challenge myself. (note: the practice from last week mentioned that I used the alphabet for each sentence starter, these are the types of things you will be seeing when I can find no other creative outlet.)
....off to live my last day of freedom.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
As they say, practice makes perfect
For a while now I’ve wanted a blog with a purpose and have done absolutely nothing about it – for fear, of course, of ruining the sheer original purpose of the spontaneous, un-critisized, unedited version of myself. Hence the current nature of my blog. Today, however, I’ve decided that it’s my blog, damn it, and I’m gonna do what I want with it. So, beginning in December I am going to do one writing prompt a day and post it on my blog. I had originally wanted to follow one prompt calendar everyday, no matter what but I also decided today that if I don’t like the prompt I am going to find inspiration elsewhere. (This is just a fair warning in case things go awry.)
In preparation for this feat of daily postings, I looked at Toasted Cheese today to check out their November writing prompts and I chose my favorite one. This one is from Friday, November 13 and says: “WP: He walked under the ladder on purpose, as always.” For fun (the way I define it), I am also going to make each sentence I write begin with each letter of the alphabet, in the correct order – and also am going to limit myself then to only 26 sentences, and no repeat letters.
Here goes nothin’…
As the sun went down, he walked slowly down the street leaving his car behind. Buzzing in his ears were the sounds of sirens rushing to his side and a woman yelling for him to come back, yelling as if she had the right to tell him to do so. Car crashes happen every day, he thought to himself, and I’m sure there are a number of people who just don’t care. Days like this are a dime-a-dozen, he was sure, and he wasn’t about to give into the hype.
Easily distracted, and even less affected by the situation, he continued walking and ignored everything behind him. Fear was not an option. Good for me, he thought. He was headed toward his favorite bar, and even though it was miles away, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was going the right way. In case anything bad happens, and he naturally assumed it wouldn’t, he was secretly prepared with a folded up phone number written on lined paper in his pocket – a phone number that would help, just in case. Jack wasn’t a man that prepared, and he wasn’t a typical man in any sense of the word. Keeping up with the Joneses was not anywhere in his mind, he didn’t even know his neighbors names – though they made an effort to know his every single day he passed them by. Laughing to himself, Jack could no longer hear the sirens or the screaming woman. Making his way closer to his destination, he knew what he really wanted. No more work, he thought. Open spaces and freedom, that’s what I need.
Passing through the small crowd of smokers outside, Jack made his way in the door of his favorite bar. Quietly taking his usual seat, he nodded to the bartender who immediately poured him a double of the cheapest scotch they had. Rude to some and oddly casual to others, Jack spent his evening there and hadn’t felt happier in his life. So it goes, he thought. This was it, he had finally figured it out. Under the guise of a low-life with a mundane existence, Jack had actually found the real meaning and purpose of it all. Vulgar was his middle name, and he was going to bank on it. Why had he been holding onto his screenplay this whole time? XX was its current title, but who cares? You know, he thought, the right person will understand it, and it is what’s next for me. Zipping out the door faster than ever before, Jack left the bar where he planned to never return again, and running toward his second-story apartment just a block away, he went under the ladder on purpose, as he always did.
In preparation for this feat of daily postings, I looked at Toasted Cheese today to check out their November writing prompts and I chose my favorite one. This one is from Friday, November 13 and says: “WP: He walked under the ladder on purpose, as always.” For fun (the way I define it), I am also going to make each sentence I write begin with each letter of the alphabet, in the correct order – and also am going to limit myself then to only 26 sentences, and no repeat letters.
Here goes nothin’…
As the sun went down, he walked slowly down the street leaving his car behind. Buzzing in his ears were the sounds of sirens rushing to his side and a woman yelling for him to come back, yelling as if she had the right to tell him to do so. Car crashes happen every day, he thought to himself, and I’m sure there are a number of people who just don’t care. Days like this are a dime-a-dozen, he was sure, and he wasn’t about to give into the hype.
Easily distracted, and even less affected by the situation, he continued walking and ignored everything behind him. Fear was not an option. Good for me, he thought. He was headed toward his favorite bar, and even though it was miles away, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he was going the right way. In case anything bad happens, and he naturally assumed it wouldn’t, he was secretly prepared with a folded up phone number written on lined paper in his pocket – a phone number that would help, just in case. Jack wasn’t a man that prepared, and he wasn’t a typical man in any sense of the word. Keeping up with the Joneses was not anywhere in his mind, he didn’t even know his neighbors names – though they made an effort to know his every single day he passed them by. Laughing to himself, Jack could no longer hear the sirens or the screaming woman. Making his way closer to his destination, he knew what he really wanted. No more work, he thought. Open spaces and freedom, that’s what I need.
Passing through the small crowd of smokers outside, Jack made his way in the door of his favorite bar. Quietly taking his usual seat, he nodded to the bartender who immediately poured him a double of the cheapest scotch they had. Rude to some and oddly casual to others, Jack spent his evening there and hadn’t felt happier in his life. So it goes, he thought. This was it, he had finally figured it out. Under the guise of a low-life with a mundane existence, Jack had actually found the real meaning and purpose of it all. Vulgar was his middle name, and he was going to bank on it. Why had he been holding onto his screenplay this whole time? XX was its current title, but who cares? You know, he thought, the right person will understand it, and it is what’s next for me. Zipping out the door faster than ever before, Jack left the bar where he planned to never return again, and running toward his second-story apartment just a block away, he went under the ladder on purpose, as he always did.
Monday, November 23, 2009
I tried
Well, it's only 10 a.m. and I've already managed to impress myself. A few months back I turned on Pandora and decided that I was going to cheer myself up with a little Christmas music. So I tuned into the Bing Crosby Holiday station and lasted less than one song before I started bawling because, as it turns out, Christmas music reminds me of my beautiful Aunt Mary Ann. I didn't know it at the time but any and all Christmas music takes me immediately back to the backseat of my parents' car where I sat with my grandma and aunt each year driving around Sacramento to find the best Christmas lights. (Of course, it was no accident...my dad had already planned our route so that we would finish our light tour at the house closest to our own to finish the evening with cookies and hot chocolate.)
But aside from the amazing Christmas lights, my favorite part of the night was watching my aunt's eyes light up and arms spread out wide when she saw Santa. Most every year we'd go to a house that would have someone dressed up as Santa Claus, and this was Mary's favorite thing. She almost couldn't wait to get out of the car to run and hug Santa as hard as she could, and no matter what the circumstance it always made everyone else around us smile. Sure, she confused a few little children that she'd inadvertently pushed out of her path, but everyone else felt her pure joy and energy. She was so happy to see him, and she made sure we knew it.
Growing up, I went through phases of appreciating her and getting annoyed by her. But it never failed that around Christmas I wanted to be her. Because at 14, 15, 16 years old I didn't really care about a man dressed up as Santa on his driveway handing out small candy canes - but she did, because to her it was Santa.
There are few things better than those moments.
(Well, I was proud I had listened to Christmas music this morning and not cried. So much for that...miss you Mary.)
But aside from the amazing Christmas lights, my favorite part of the night was watching my aunt's eyes light up and arms spread out wide when she saw Santa. Most every year we'd go to a house that would have someone dressed up as Santa Claus, and this was Mary's favorite thing. She almost couldn't wait to get out of the car to run and hug Santa as hard as she could, and no matter what the circumstance it always made everyone else around us smile. Sure, she confused a few little children that she'd inadvertently pushed out of her path, but everyone else felt her pure joy and energy. She was so happy to see him, and she made sure we knew it.
Growing up, I went through phases of appreciating her and getting annoyed by her. But it never failed that around Christmas I wanted to be her. Because at 14, 15, 16 years old I didn't really care about a man dressed up as Santa on his driveway handing out small candy canes - but she did, because to her it was Santa.
There are few things better than those moments.
(Well, I was proud I had listened to Christmas music this morning and not cried. So much for that...miss you Mary.)
Friday, November 20, 2009
Really?!
Alright, so I have a confession to make. This month I am not sure that I got my $9 worth for my stunners. I don't know if it was the poor timing of their arrival or the actual product but I was disappointed on several fronts. I'll set the scene for you...
It's Saturday and I am home alone. I decide to update my iPhone since it's been telling me to do so for about a month. I use Eric's computer as mine is very slow and I plug my phone in, open iTunes and seem to be on my way. In the middle of the software update it says there is an error and now iTunes isn't registering my phone at all. (Not a good sign). In short, the phone freezes and the program closes. For about an hour I try to remain calm and get my phone up and running, but to no avail. At the end of my Apple-infused rage, which I have taken out on two computers, my phone and my kitchen table (with fists and shouts), Eric walks in the door. In his hand, my Stunner of the Month box. Because of my foul mood, this may have further affected the way I saw my stunners, but nonetheless when I opened the box I was not stoked. My biggest complaint is that they are white...again. Second complaint, they seem to only be fitting for a retired clown who thinks he/she is a stunner.
Oh well, not every month can be perfect. I forgive you, SOTM club organizers.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Life: Pure and Simple
I haven't written in a while and don't really have much to say at the moment but wanted to share some moments of pure happiness from this past weekend - sharing my dad's 50th birthday with family and friends in Sunset Cliffs, San Diego. So beautiful.
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