The Crafts

My last post told you that I was quitting 30dow for a little while to finish a present for my sister. Well, I finally gave it to her last weekend.

If you are interested, I have posted some pictures on my Beulah Viola blog.

I will eventually try to finish up at least a few more assignments soon.

LOVE,
mandyjoe

heres the deal...

so, i have a week and a half to finish a present for my sisters birthday that i started a month ago. so that pretty much takes up the rest of the month... but as soon as i'm done with that, i am going to jump right back in the saddle and finish this month of writing. i swear. it may be a little while til you hear from me again, but i will be back.

love mandyjoe

Day 18: Favorite Place

Topic: Write about your favorite place to be in the town where you live.

Pressure around my back. Head on my shoulders. Body heat warming my soul. Every sadness, every confusion wiped away. Happiness flooding my heart. Blanket of love wrapped around us both. That's my favorite place.

Day 13: Pool of Love

Topic: Uh, it's Monday. Yay. Since we are almost at the halfway point, I wanted to give everyone a little bit of catch-up time, so today is a free day. You write about whatever the hell you want to write about and post it.

Also, tomorrow will be our first writing meet-up. Summermoon on South 1st at 8pm. Please comment here to let us know if you can make it.

This is actually something I wrote a long time ago in the hopes of making it a song. It has yet to get music behind it, but it still sits close to my heart.

Tall, fit and blonde
With arms of steel
Wrapped around me.

I didn't realize
How lucky I was.
Love had found me.

I broke our love
Too many times
For your gentle heart to bear.

But you came back
Every time
Cause you knew that love was there.

My heart was dangling by a single string over a pool of love trying not to fall in.

I ripped your heart out
One last time
For love I thought was true.

I said "My love,
Have a nice life"
And waved goodbye to you.

I was wrong.
I admit that now.
I loved you every day.

But you've moved on
In your new life
And left me here to pay.

And now my hearts dangling by a single string over a pool of love trying not to fall in.

I know in my heart
One day you'll love me again
But as for now, all I'm doing
Is trying not to fall in.

But my hearts dangling by a single string over a pool of love trying not to fall in.

Day 16: Lottery

Topic: To celebrate the day after tax day, write about something that we all fantasize about: what you would do if you won $8 million in the lottery. Don't forget to factor in taxes!

So, I've thought about this alot. Every time Bobby or I buy a lottery ticket, I pretend I've already won. Here's what I would do with it.

First off, I would quit my job.

I would pay off all my student loans. Pay my parents back for whatever they put into my tuition.

Sell my car. Buy a new red convertible bug and a vespa.

Buy myself a new condo. Furnish it.

Probably buy Bobby a new car.

Give a little to my brother and my sister.

Give enough of it to my parents that they could retire.

Keep a little off the top to go travel the world.

Then, because my dad is an accountant, I would responsibly put the rest in some sort of stock or something so that my children and my children's children could live off of it for years to come.

Once I have successfully traveled the world, and my stocks have gained some interest, I'll take some of that interest and buy myself a vacation home wherever my favorite place was from my travels.

Then, I would start my own business, probably a crafting type store where I could sew and make fun stuff all day.

Lastly, I would spend my days jet setting around visiting all my family and friends that I don't ever get to see. And invite and pay for some of them to visit me at my vacation homes.

I think I've covered it all. I'm sure once I get the money, I'll think of more things to do with it. But for now, thats my list.

Day 12: My Favorite Place in the World

Topic: For many of us, our bed is our sanctuary. Most of the time, we don't get to spend nearly as much time there as we would like. Describe your bed and what it is like when you either go to bed or wake up, or both.

Every night, usually around midnight (give or take an hour), I get sleepy. My lids get heavy and my mind starts to day(or night)dream about my cushy mattress, my feathery soft comforter, and my squishy, perfect, pillowy pillow. I start to imagine the dreams I will have, the fun adventures my subconscious will get into. My body gets pulled out of the slump it's been in for a few hours and dragged towards its safe place. I crawl into the fluffy white. My head slowly lowers to its resting place. The fan gets turned on to cool my face in the night. The feathery blanket is pulled up to my neck. Legs curl up into fetal position, resting around my body pillow. My eyes close. My mind drifts into its wonderful, odd scenarios.

Then, all of a sudden, I'm ripped from this beautiful place. Noises blaring. Horns honking. A few moments of awful confusion. Hit a few buttons. Eyes close. Back to the comfort of my dreams.

Noises blaring. Horns honking. Awful confusion once again. Hit buttons again. It's morning. The shower starts calling to me. Reality finds the edge of comfort and pulls me out of bed. Feet first. Drags me through the room.

Water. Finally, comfort again. Revitalizing comfort. I'm awake. And clean. I can do this. Just a few more hours, then I can be back in my safe place.

Day 11: Thai

Topic: April is National Thai heritage month. Write about a character with something of a Thai background or about Thai food. Or something Thai-related. Hell.

Ok. So my original plan was to google the word Thai. Then, take some random cool photo I found and write a story to go along with it. (and I may still do that later) But in searching for that picture I came across this one.



I decided to see what kind of weird Ronald McDonald photos I could come across. Well, theres many. So, instead I am just going to entertain you with some random photos of our favorite red headed stranger.

Day 10: Guilty Pleasures

Topic: What is your biggest guilty pleasure? Write a defensive/persuasive essay and try to convince us of its awesomeness. Oh, and Britney and Justin do not count. Everybody knows they’re already awesome. Even if they won’t admit it.



This. This is my pleasure. I don't really feel guilty about enjoying it. The only thing to feel bad about, I guess, is the fact that I know it will make me fat. But, how can you feel guilty about something you love SOOO much?

My favorite is when they are given to me. Bobby and I like to bring each other surprises. The nights he shows up with a bright orange package....
Oh the excitement that ensues. I get all giddy. Huge smile on my face. Weird excited noises.
Rip.
Oh, the smell... the choco-goodness.
Unwrapping it. Peeling the brown paper from the sides.
The taste of chocolate on my tongue.
Bite in.
OH MY GOD!!!!! The salt of the peanut butter mixed with the sweetness of the chocolate is ... OH MY GOD!!!!!

There are no words.... literally, no words.

Day 9: Mother Jacker!

Topic: The genre of Science Fiction is a rich and interesting one where the only rules that apply (typically) are the laws of physics. Galaxies can stretch as far as the imagination, motivations can be as vast and varied as black holes, and characters can come in the most extreme shapes, sizes, cultures, and tongues. One of the fantatic things about science fiction writing is the opportunity to create an entire society from scratch, including one of my favorite parts of culture: its forbidden words.

Here is a list from io9.com of the 10 best scifi curse words. #1 deserves its place because I have heard people using the word (correctly) who have never watched an episode of BSG in their lives.

1. Frak (v.), Battlestar Galactica
2. Frell (v.), Farscape
3. Gorram (adj.), Firefly
4. Shazbot (n.), Mork & Mindy
5. Poodoo (n.), Star Wars
6. Smeg (n.), Red Dwarf
7. Farathoom (n.), Don’t Bite The Sun
8. Shock (v.), Spiderman 2099
9. “I seem to be having tremendous difficulty with my lifestyle” (v.), The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy
10. Smurf (v.), The Smurfs
from the site: Setting aside the vast lexicon of Klingon curse words (and my opinion of same), it’s a respectable list. Still the inclusion of smurf may be stretching the point–both as a swear word and as science fiction–though that’s hardly the strangest use of smurf I’ve come across. Did they miss any good ones?


So, have at it. Write a brief conversation between scifi characters with at least 2 curse words that you make up.

Ness
Brun? Has anyone seen Brun?

Grey
No. Sorry. Did you check in the hack room?

Ness
Yeah. He’s not there.

(Knock. Knock. Knock.)

Ness
Hey, Cha. Have you seen ….
What the jack? What the jack is going on here?

Brun
Look, Ness. It’s not what you think?

Ness
It’s not what I think? Gloob snobbet, Brun. What the jack else could it be? There’s not a whole lot of things that could be going on here.
Cha, do you have anything to say for yourself?

Cha
Uh, no. This is between you two.

Ness
Well, not anymore. It looks like you’ve done a jackin’ swell job getting yourself fully involved.

Cha
Ness, calm down. Let’s just talk about this.

Ness
Cha, you better back the jack up. I’m not in the mood for you.

Cha
Wait a minute! You’re the one that came barging into my bunk!

Ness
To see if you knew where my husband was. Not to find you jacking him!
Gloob snobbit, Brun! How could you do this to me? And with CHA???

Brun
Hey, now. Wait a minute.

Ness
Do not tell me you are defending her!

Brun
No. Baby, just listen.

Cha
BABY? You’re calling her BABY now? I though you were leaving her.

Brun
Cha stay out of it.

Cha
JACK YOU!

Ness
Looks like you’ve already done that!
!
Brun
Ness, let’s go back to our bunk and talk about this.

Ness
No jacking way. I want you to explain yourself right here in front of your new lover. We may as well air all our dirty laundry right jacking here. I mean if you’re going to leave me for her, she deserves to hear what she’s getting herself into. Right?

Brun
Ness, you’re overreacting.

Ness
OVERRACTING? You’re jacking around on me. How could I be overrating?

Cha
Really, Ness. Calm down.

Ness
You shut the jack up. I’ll let you know when it’s time for you to chime in.
(click, click)
Alright, Brun. Let’s here it! What have you got to say for yourself?

Brun
Whoa! Ness! Put the gun down. Put… the gun….down.

Ness
No, Brun. Let’s jacking here it. How long has this been going on?
HOW LONG?

Brun
Only a couple of months.

Ness
MONTHS? MONTHS? Are you kidding me?
You’ve been jacking her for months?

Brun
Well, not exactly. Not just her.

Ness
What?

Cha
WHAT? You’ve been jacking around on me, too?

Ness
Cha, sit the jack down and shut up!
How many others?

Brun
Twelve altogether. Well, not together.

Ness
TWELVE!?!?!
ARE YOU JACKING KIDDING ME?
TWELVE?!?!?

Brun
Ness, listen. We can work this out.

Ness
WORK THIS OUT, YOU MOTHER JACKER!!!

(BANG!)

Day 7: Animals

Topic: Today, the ASPCA kicks off its “Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Month.” To celebrate, pay tribute in some way (a letter, a poem, whatever) to an animal from your past or present that was important to you.

I had a cat when I was little. Her name was Punkin. She walked up to my house during a family reunion and my mom's cousins convinced her that I should get to keep it. I didn't get to name it. One of my cousins did. But somehow it stuck. She was a calico cat. Really cute.

I used to dress her up in my cabbage patch kids clothes. Then, take pictures of her.

She used to like to hide under my bed. Why she chose there, I don't know. Because I hated it. So, I would grab her and throw her down the stairs. I wasn't the best with animals. I admit it.

Once she was laying next to my friend on the couch. My friend was petting her back, then out of nowhere, she jumped up and attacked my friends face.

She had a few litters while she was with us. In every litter, there would always be one at the end we couldn't get rid of. I didn't want to name any of the kittens because I knew they wouldn't be staying. So, my dad would always name that last one Dumas. That way he could call it dumbass.

Day 6: Senryu

Topic: Senryu is a Japanese form of poetry similar to Haiku that, rather than focus on nature, focuses on the darker, more sardonic side of humans. Read about this type of poetry here, and since it is a little difficult to grasp (well, at least for me), write 3 to 5 of these poems based on people in popular culture. I can think of more than one reality show star that is aching to be senryused.

awefull at poems
especially with limits
this is all I got.


maybe I'll try to do some more later.

Day 5: 4 Minutes to Save the World

Topic: So Justin Timberlake and Madonna managed to do it through song and dance. How would you save the world if you only had 4 minutes?

You know, as far as saving the world goes, dancing with Justin Timberlake in front of a huge digital clock sounds like a pretty fun way to do it. Mad props to Madonna. I choose that.

Day 4: Day in the life of the 1800's

Topic: You wake up today and you are in the late 1800s. Your life is completely devoid of all of the technological comforts that we hold dear. No cell phones, no laptops, no Facebook, no television. What is your day like? Do you actually make it through the day without committing suicide?

Well, when I think late 1800's i think of the Oklahoma land run of 1889. It took place in Guthrie, OK, where I am from. So, growing up in guthrie every April we have an 89er's day parade. It's ingrained in my mind by this point.

Which brings me to my day in the life.

I'm 28. I married a man 12 years my senior. Henry, my father selected him for me. We had our first child, Jasper, just after I turned 17. Oscar, our second child, came 3 years later. Emma, just 2 years after.

We are headed to stake our claim on some land. I'm thin. My clothes are always some shade of brown. My hair always in braids. I ride in a wagon or on a horse most days. I cook raw meat over an open fire every day for my family.

My freckles are getting darker and darker with age. I suppose it has something to do with how much I've been in the sun since the start of our journey.

My husband is nice. He treats me well. Never hurts me or the children. I don't love him. Never have. He owns my body, but Jesse, his brother, he owns my heart. I've always loved Jesse. Since as long as I can remember.

Some nights, Henry drinks himself to sleep. Those are the nights I cherish. Jesse comes to me. Occasionally, we hold each other tenderly, as he strokes my hair. Most times, we can't help but ravage and devour each other. Rip each others clothes off. Play out the most unbelievable of fantasies.

Then I wake up to another long day of traveling and taking care of my family.


Wiki: "Unlike Rome, the city of Guthrie was built in a day. To be strictly accurate in the matter, it might be said that it was built in an afternoon. At twelve o'clock on Monday, April 22d [sic], the resident population of Guthrie was nothing; before sundown it was at least ten thousand. In that time streets had been laid out, town lots staked off, and steps taken toward the formation of a municipal government."

Day 3: Dream Home

Topic: Setting is a critical element to most stories, sometimes to the point that the setting can be considered a character in the piece, taking on a life of its own and influencing the plot just as much as the other characters. The house in House of Leaves became the central antagonist in the family’s horrific journey and the city in Sex and the City, well it’s just as slutty and fashionable as the other characters. Start building your setting from the ground up. Describe your dream home in full detail.

My dream is to have two homes. The locations are yet to be determined.

Home 1.

A massive place. A place where my parents and Bobby's parents could stay with us at the same time and be in different wings of the house. There is a huge landscaped yard with yard guys constantly working to keep it in tip top shape. A big pool in the back with a waterfall and a slide. A back house that I use as my music/crafting studio. The furnishings are yet to be determined as well. Cross that bridge when I get there.

Home 2.

A large open warehouse studio. Where there are no walls inside. Just one big open room. There's a loft in the back section for the bedroom to be up above everything else. All the furniture is shabby chic restored flea market finds. Off in the corner is a single swing hanging from the very tall ceiling. In another corner is my music/crafting section. All old hardwood flooring. Bright colored furniture. And a huge chandelier hanging right down the middle, lighting the entire place.

I guess I've put a little more thought into house 2. Maybe I see that one as more of a possibility.

Day 2: Feel the Pain

Topic: Is it true that women have a higher threshold for pain than men do? We do have to give birth, after all…Write (very graphically) about a sensation of pain that you have had or that your character is having. And I’m not talking about emotional pain. Use your own blog for that crap.

"Come on, Zach! One more strike!" I hear from behind the the blue retaining wall.

"OK! Ready or not, here I come!"

With the bleachers knocked out by the tornado, the stadium is a little bare lately. The few parents that come just set lawn chairs and blankets down on the sidewalk. Leave the children to amuse themselves. My cousin and I were playing hide and seek with a neighbor kid, finding any corner we could in the bright blue retaining wall that could at least cover us in shadow.

Funny, how hide and seek most often turns into a game of tag. Conor is getting close and I got to get out of this corner before he can get to me. I stand up and survey my surroundings. I've got a clear path around the retaining wall, up to my mom's blanket. I'm safe there. Escpecially, while playing with cousins.

The plan is in action. I jump to the top of the wall. "Five feet or so to the end of the wall. Then jump," my brain explains to the rest of me. Simple enough. "And watch out for that bolt sticking out at the end. Don't trip." OK.

Right. Left. Right. --- "Oh, shit." A gust of wind blows around my face. I open my eyes. Grey. Grey is all I see. Thick grey. Not foggy. Not smokey. More gritty. Broken. Disheveled. It's falling toward me. It's going to get me. There's no way to avoid it. It's too large.

Suddenly the wind stops. In it's place is a grey thud. My arms buckle. The grey smashes into my knees. Then my chest. Another gust of wind, this time coming out of me. The world flips over a couple of times.

I push my face up off the gravel. Digging more tiny pebbles into the palms of my hands. I look down at my hands. Scrapes. Gravel. Blood. "This isn't bad," my brain explains again. "Just a few scratches." No big deal. "Let's do a quick inventory just to make sure." OK.

Hands: scrapes, gravel, blood, minimal pain, slight stinging. Check.
Legs: few scrapes on knees, minimal gravel, slight stinging. Check.
Feet: fine. Check.
Arms: minimal scrapes and gravel, slight stinging. Check.

Looking good. Getting less severe with each "Check."

Last, my head. I dust off some of the gravel from my hand, reach up to my head. Rocks. Gravel. Small jagged pebbles stuck to my head. I try to dust them off, but it stings. Worse than any of the other scrapes. I look down at my hand. Covered in red pebbles. Red?

I look down where my face had been to see where the red pebbles had come from. I hadn't remembered there being any red pebbles in this sidewalk. Just a small oval shaped section was red. And wet. That had come from me. I turned the rocks red.

Thats when it hit me! Throbbing! Pounding! Then... the blood curdling scream that was apparently coming from me.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

My cousin, my mom and the neighbor kid race to my side. I still haven't figured out what's happened. My mom reaches up to me and shoves her fingers into the rocks on my face. Every time her hand came down, a rock came with it. It felt like every time her hand came up, another got shoved in.

After what seemed like hours, my mom grabs me around the waist and carries me away. Into this dark, dingy, smelly building. The locker room. Finds the shower and stands me under it while she runs freezing water over me. The rocks tumble across my face, stinging with every bounce.

I look up to get a glance in the mirror. Perverse curiosity.

I can't see anything.

Day 1: Intentions

Topic: Before embarking on a new endeavor, it is always a good idea to set your intention for why you are doing something, what you hope to gain from it, and any obstacles that you might encounter along the way. Use today to set your intention for your writing this month.

My intentions this month are simple.

FINISH THE MONTH OUT!

To me, each day doesn't have to be award winning. Just write something.

Day 15: Bios - Sinclair

Topic: OK, so I really want to keep up, to some degree, with some sort of collaborative writing. I find it fun.

Today, pick someone in the blog group (look in the followers section) whom you know very little about. Based solely on their blogspot pic and the name of their blog (not their writing), write a one-paragraph bio of them.

Her name is Sinclair. She enjoys karaoke, playing dress-up, and hiking. Her favorite sport is rock-climbing. Her favorite color is green. She did beauty pageants til the age of 10. She has studied cello for 8 years. She knows and can perform every step of "The Nutcracker" ballet by memory. Every night she sleeps in a $2000 red satin ball gown that she stole from the mall. (shhhh, don't tell anyone... it reminds her of her pageant days) When she's not singing, rock-climbing, or playing cello, she is scrap booking pictures of her ladybug hunting excursions.

Day 14: Escape Plan

Short sweet and to the point....

FOLLOW BOBBY!!!

I already know that Bobby has it all planned out. So, no need to make my own.
I'm fairly sure that this was one of the first 3 things he thought about when we moved. Flooding options also being up there. I don't have to think about anything. More than likely if there were really an attack so bad that I would need an escape plan, I doubt anything else would be going through my mind other than "FOLLOW BOBBY!!!"

Day 11: Mandyville Hunks

Mandyville has a new wrestling team. (not wwe crap, real wrestling)
The Mandyville Hunks.
Team colors are turquoise and chartreuse.

All the boys on the team are not only chosen because of their wrestling skills, but they also have to be super hunky. All the women of Mandyville started a committee, raised the money and started a petition to get a wrestling team. They are all individual co-owners of the team. They decide who wrestles who and for how long. They are pretty much the only people that come to the matches. Well those that have daughters bring them, too. Men aren't invited. Unless they are gorgeous and willing to wrestle at the drop of a hat.

Day 10: Acrostic Poems

Always trying to procrastinate
Money deprived
Adequately funny
Nearly perfect :)
Deeply in love
Awesome

Just a kiddo
Often silly
Energetic

Overly needy of positive reinforcement
Vivacious
Excited about making music
Rarely pessimistic
Totally girly
Organized
Not afraid to judge people (a favorite past time)


Fast swimmer
Icky slimy skin
Slippery in my hand
Hard to hold on to


Makeovers daily
On camera
Very convincing actress
Intense love scenes with hot hunky actors
Every one wants to know me

Spend the day playing make believe
Tedious paparazzi
Attention
Red carpet

Day 9: Horoscopes

I'm not that into horoscopes. Occasionally, I will read them just to see what it says. But I often forget all of what I read within seconds of putting the paper down. Much less do I remember to apply it to my life. I can't even remember them long enough to see if they came true.
I know a few people who write them for a living, so I mean no offense, but I really want to take a pass on this one. I don't care enough about it to spend my time researching it to write a few paragraphs. Sorry.

I just don't wanna. So, there.

Day 8: Animals

I'm at a loss for an animal story. I will try to come up with something at a later date.

Day 7: Routines

Topic: Routines are a part of our daily lives, something that many of us cannot live without. They can be monotonous or comforting, but without routines, most of us will never get our teeth brushed. Write a descriptive about one of your daily routines.

One of my most important routines (to me anyway) is my showering routine. I may not shower everyday, but when I do, it must be in a very strict order. I shower from top to bottom. Literally. Cleanest most important areas first, dirtiest areas last.
1. Undress
2. Wet hair, then face
3. Wash face first. Don't want to get dirt from the rest of my body on my face, so it must be washed first.
4. Shampoo. Rinse.
5. Conditioner. Leave in.
6. Soap up chest, stomach, back, arms, armpits, butt (then secret areas), legs. In that order. Every time.
7. Shave armpits and/or legs while still soaped.
8. Rinse conditioner and soap all at once.
9. Soap feet last. ALWAYS LAST!!!! I wear flip flops most days. My feet get really dirty. Even when I wear real shoes my feet still get nasty. I never want to get that nastiness on any other part of my body. So, they ALWAYS get washed last.
10. Double check all soap and conditioner have been rinsed.

Even when I dry off I tend to do it in the same order. Weird. I never thought about that before.
I just realized that it's possible everyone may shower that way. But I find it super important that it be done in that specific order. Every time.

Day 6: Bourdain's Companion

Topic: Anthony Bourdain gets to gallivant around the world indulging in a culinary map of marvels as we suckers sit home, salivating over some rare delicacy, or dry heaving over an even rarer delicacy. If you could go anywhere in the world with Mr. Bourdain, chef and booze-hound extraordinaire, where would you go, and which foods would you absolutely have to try? Pretend that this is a pitch to get him to pick you out of thousands of people, and really sell your idea. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, get out from under your rock, and go to travelchannel.com.

I'm no good at selling myself and I'm well aware of it. So, I'm not going to try. Let me just say, Mr. Bourdain, if you would like to take me with you to a foreign country to try new foods, cultures, sites, experiences... I pick Italy. I have always wanted to see Rome and Venice. And really, I've never met a bowl of pasta/plate of cheese/bottle of wine/baguette that I didn't become very good friends with in a very short time. All I'm saying is, if there's a free ride and good pasta to be had, sign me up.

Day 5: Ex Love Letters

Topic: This blog called "Dear Old Love" is a really fun way to waste a few hours. Similar to postsecret- people mail in their notes anonymously to their exes. The blog owner comes up with the title.Some are sweet, some are sad and some are..vengeful.enjoy!
Book Him
via Dear Old Love on 1/4/09
I finally finished my novel. It’s nothing like the early drafts you read. The character based on you kills himself because he’s a jackass and everybody hates him. Especially me.
Now that is a dish best served cold. Write a note to an ex. And don't be shy.

Dear______,

Remember that time you got mad and punched a hole in the dashboard of your truck because I wanted to go to a party and you didn't? I really thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

Remember that time you pushed me to the floor and screamed at me because you wanted to go to the movies and I didn't? I really thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

Remember that time you punched a hold in your wall and then charged toward me with your fist up because I wouldn't tell you the secret that I told my friend at school? I really thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

Remember that time you went ballistic because I wanted to spend the weekend with my friends instead of you? I really thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

Remember that time you punched the concrete wall because my director wouldn't let you in to watch my high school play rehearsal? I really thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

Remember that time I broke up with you and you made me sit in your truck with you while you cried? I still thought you were going to hit me then. I'm glad you didn't.

After all the times you never hit me, I'm so glad you're not my boyfriend anymore.

Day 4: Idioms

Topic: When studying a foreign language, one of the most perplexing, yet amusing forms of speech to master is the idiom. It's one of those things where the literal interpretation usually ends up to be hilarious, offensive, or outright jibberish.
Choose an American idiom and use its literal meaning as the basis for a story.


Sitting high above the factory floor in His big high-end office, He looks out the floor to ceiling windows that cover an entire wall of his office. Down he looks at the hundreds of workers, slaving away to make quota. Stitch by stitch, snip by snip, and fluff by fluff, we sweat. All the while, He sits in his air conditioned office, chatting to God knows who. For all I know, it may be God himself.

Hamied, angel of miracles, is His right hand angel. Second in command. Or third, depending on how you want to look at it. Either way, I guess He realizes it's going to take a miracle to get all these clouds made in time for the upcoming storm. Hamied wanders around the factory floor making sure everything is going as scheduled. 'Helping out' where needed.

"Hamied... to my office, please." The speaker in the factory squeaks and cracks with every word. It's just as outdated as the machines we sew on. Covered in rust and falling apart. You would think, being in Heaven, that everything would be new, pristine, beautiful and white. Well it is. Everywhere but this room. His office is all of those things. Top of the line everything. But once you cross those windows, that stops.

Hamied hurries up the stairs to the huge corner office. As Hamied enters, He stands up in His tailored pin stripe suit. Starts flailing his arms around. Uh oh. It looks as though He has finally found out about the gray fabric we've been using for the past few days.

Last week we were running really low on our usual liner fabric. The next shipment wasn't scheduled for another 2 weeks. Uriel, angel of creativity, being a little over shadowed by Hamied, decided to take it upon himself to fix the problem. Taking 'creative liberty', Uriel decides that gray would be more appropriate for storm clouds. So, thats what we've been putting in them. For almost a week now. Do you have any idea how many clouds go out of this place in a day? Much less a week?

"STOP!" blares the speaker. The entire floor, all the machines, all movements halt. The door at the top of the stairs opens. One polished Stacy Adams shoe steps out to the landing. Then the other. He slowly walks down the steps to the factory floor. He never comes down here. I can imagine He's probably not real happy about being down here.

"Whoever it was that decided to change the lining to grey, please find me in my office in 20 minutes. As for the rest of you, take the rest of the day off. BUT... Be prepared to work twice as hard when you get back. We are canceling the storm this friday, but that means doubling up next week."

As I packed up my things, I watch Uriel sulk up the stairs. The door opens. The curtains close. "Sit please." The speaker was left on. I could hear everything. I was the only one left and with the curtains pulled, no one knew I was still here.

"Dude. You've worked here almost as long as me. You know every cloud has a silver lining. I mean, come on, man! This is wack, dude. My Dad is totally going to freak! Check it, man, you gotta help me get all those clouds back. If He finds out... Oh man, I can't even think about it. You totally owe me a brew for this one, bro. Call Hamaliel and Perpetiel. See if they'll join the search party. Oh man... huh huh. We're so dead."

Day 3: Natural Disasters

Topic: So, I was going to do something else today, but since I was so drunk last night (and my computer shut down), I didn't get it in.
This morning (noon counts as morning, right?), I woke up from a dream about being in a town where a small volcano exploded. My brain took lots of strange things and put them together to create the reality of this experience, which ended up involving dinosaurs, antique stores, and banana cream pie milkshakes.
Natural disasters are something that almost all of us will deal with in our lifetime. Earthquakes, hurricanes, fires, tornadoes, tsunamis. They are also great elements in literature, for if it there were no tornadoes, how would Dorothy have made it to Oz?
Today, write about a natural disaster. Either write about your experience with one, or write about a fictional event from a character's first person point of view.

It's Saturday afternoon. Me and all my cousins are at my grandma's house. This is a usual occurrence. We are all under the age of 16 so this is an easy way for our mothers to baby sit us all at the same time. All our moms and Gram are in the kitchen doing whatever it is that grown women do. Cook, drink wine, gossip. I don't know. And all the cousins are in the living room competing in the "Tickle Tournament." The boys get really into these tournaments. They have even made out a tournament chart.



Every one of us are in for the tournament with the exception of Chloe. She's never won a tickle fight to date and has become a very sore loser. Instead, she locks herself in a bedroom upstairs and turns the stereo up loud enough to drown out the fun she's missing out on.
It's down to the last match between Zeke and Cameron. Zeke is the oldest and wins almost every time. Cameron is second youngest. His wins and loses are about half and half. He's the most fun to watch though, because he's got quick moves and the best laugh of us all. Near the end, it's obvious Zeke is going to win, so we all join in and dog pile Cameron. The best part about Cameron is that he pees his pants almost every time.
Cameron squirms out the bottom of the dog pile and runs to the bathroom. The rest of us all giggle and high five as John throws and extra pair of sweat pants into the bathroom.
Gram hobbles in with her cane and hollers at all of us to get to the basement. Living in tornado alley, most everyone has a basement. Zeke grabs Cameron from the bathroom and we all trudge our way down to the damp, dark, rarely used basement. Our moms grab a few boxes of snacks and some water bottles on their way down.
The basement is a six by eight sq. ft. room. It serves its purpose, but its a small space for fourteen people. Even if nine of them are kids. The floors and walls are cold concrete. There's a small window at the top of the room just barely big enough to slide through if you had to. It sits just above the grass outside and looks out to the above ground pool about six feet away. After a few minutes of situating everyone in the small space and laying out blankets on the floor for an attempt at comfort, someone realizes there are only thirteen people down here.
CHLOE!
No one even remembered that Chloe had gone upstairs. Gram starts freaking out because the sirens have now stared blaring across town. Zeke, being the oldest and most trustworthy, gets sent up two flights of stairs to get Chloe from her cocoon of self pity. Once they return, they join us crowded at the window hoping to get a glance at a real tornado. After a few minutes, it's obvious there's nothing to see, yet. We all find our spot on the blankets and settle in for a long haul of sitting and waiting. And maybe a few card games.
My mom and I are in a corner together. I lay my head down on her leg as she strokes my hair. I listen to the others laughing and teasing, filling Chloe in on Cameron's soggy pants.
Next thing I know, I'm laying on the couch upstairs. The tornado came and went. Everyone watched it go by from the window in the basement. And I slept through the entire thing. Happens to me every time.

Day 2: Year of the Ox

Topic: 2009 is the Year of the Ox, a beast of burden that occupies very little space in our literary history. Babe the blue ox has pretty much had to hold it down in that world, so help keep him company by writing an ode to the ox. A poem is probably the most fun way to go, but feel free to write in any style you want. Read more about the year of the ox on Wikipedia.

With a "get up" here and a "back up" there and a couple of "whoa" "gee" "haw"s, that's how we work the day away in the hairy ol' land of ox.

With a "plow" "haul" here and a "transport" there, we're a couple of handy steers, that's how we works the day away in the hairy ol' land of ox.

Day 1: Intentions

Topic: 1/1: It’s the first of the year and you have a blank canvas in front of you. On that glaringly white piece of paper, set your intention for the year. Fill that page with five words that reflect your goals for your life as a writer. Expand upon them if you want, or let them be powerful enough to speak for themselves.

I don't think of my self as a writer. (great way to start a writing blog, i know) I've never been good with putting my feelings, emotions, thoughts into words. So, in an attempt to better myself in that department, I am trying this blog just to see what happens.

My intentions with this blog are to actually put some Effort into getting my thoughts out coherently. To actually Commit to this and not quit halfway through. Hopefully I can add a little Humor in here and there. Lastly, I'd like to Create something here that I can be Proud of.