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.
Saturday, April 11, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
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."
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."
Saturday, April 4, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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.
"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.
My intentions this month are simple.
FINISH THE MONTH OUT!
To me, each day doesn't have to be award winning. Just write something.
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