Woah, yesterday was my 90th post, which means that this is my 91st post. Which means that after this post I only have 9 more days left to go. That’s crazy. I knew this process would go by fast, but somehow things have made sense at the pace they’ve gone at.
Ok, so I don’t know if this will be my last prompt, but we’ll see. So anyway, let’s get at this! Prompt now. Writing after the cut!
I can’t figure out if they’re real smart or just really, really lucky.
Five minutes on the clock…
If you want a golden rule that will fit everybody, this is it.
And away we go!
Y’all know the drill!
5 minutes on the clock.
Help him, maybe, but don’t tell him what to do.
With the newly sprung spring air,
the weather is fresh and fair.
Sunshine basks the green ground
and banishing winter all around.
Showers come and send the cold away,
but humidity tends to linger all day.
The air grows damp with season’s dew
and in the wind something stirs anew.
It springs every year, but always creeps;
leaving me surprised by the pain it keeps.
Stuffy nose, watery eyes, congested head-
all day I ache and wish to go to bed.
Beauty lingers all around and I can’t be moved,
for these freaking allergies have stolen my groove.
Work is a pain as my eyes throb with pressure,
I feel like the only relief would be with a thresher.
Go away nasty pollen and poor health creators!
You’re causing me to be cantankerous, like an alligator.
At least till October, I’ll have to find relief
with lots of pills and lots of sleep.
YOU SUCK!
I’ve already taken a nap today, so let’s see if I can manage to do this without falling asleep in the middle. That’s so embarrassing. FYI: I saw the prompt (I know, I know, I cheated, but nyahnyahnyah) and I think I’m gonna go wacky. Plus my brain is fried so I have no idea where this thing could go.
“That’s a big, wonderful word that can cover up a lot of sins,” she said. “I work. That’s what I call what I do.”
(Ohhhh, by the way, I’m gonna start putting the responses after the jump, so, yea, away we go!) Continue reading
Today was a weird day. I can’t quite wrap my head around what I want to write about, so I’m going to let it mull in my brain overnight. Which means I’m taking the easy way out now.
5 minutes on the clock!
It is curious to observe what different…
It is curious to observe what different types of cakes are cakes are at the neighborhood fling. Mrs. Jones made a pineapple upside down; Tabitha made a red velvet cake and the Tanners brought an ice cream cake.
Everyone was there that afternoon, hanging out at the court.
*just fell asleep at the laptop, need to go*
A friend of the show (I love that phrase, despite the fact that it’s not appropriate to this situation) prompted a question about where you’d rather be. And really, Paige put it much more eloquently than I, but if you suffer from tl;dr (and if you do, why are you here?), what it boils down to is that Paige was feeling nostalgic about her time in Perugia and she wondered what people were missing, etc.
Last night, at Vintage 21, the pastor mentioned something similar and talked about how sometimes you’re in exile. In Jeremiah, the Israelites assumed they’d be in exile for just a few months, but it was supposed to be for two generations. The point was that, even though you may feel like you need to be somewhere else and that where you are is only temporary, but in reality you need to prepare for the long haul. You need to love the place you’re in… Or at least anticipate a long stay.
That’s kind of hard for me to swallow. Especially with the memory of LA (a fantastic city for marketing and cinema) fresh in my mind and the dreams of Paris still lingering. The city has taken an incredible hold of me and I doubt I’ll ever forget a moment of the 3 months I spent there.
For the longest time I thought I was crazy for missing Paris as much as I did/do. Sometimes I’d get bummed out looking at my old pictures because I missed not being in that city. It held so much rhythm, life, culture, movement, art, vitality, fun, adventure and promise. Even at my most homesick (hello, Christmas) I felt like I never wanted to leave. I walked everywhere and enjoyed all the sights, sounds, smells… Despite the cliche, the people were lovely. A few well placed “s’il vous plait”s and “bonjour”s and most of the folks were more than willing to chat with you and talk about they’re passion for their shop or the family or their music. It was such an amazing town.
Anyway, I loved the place and before I loved the city and the country, I loved the language. “Tu me manques” means I miss you, but it literally translates to “You are missing from me.” It’s so much more… romantic to think of it like that. If you miss someone, you acknowledge that they’re not there, but it doesn’t carry the same weight. When someone is missing from your life you feel the impact acutely. The lack of that person’s presence hangs heavy in your atmosphere. And in this case, that person is the city of lights.
Pic spam before I get all misty.
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J’espère…
So glad this week is over. Gotta be honest, totes phoning this blog in tonight. But that’s ok, because I’ve decided to have a short story done by the end of March. I know that seems long, but I’ve gotta jump start my brain and brainstorm and then write it and then edit it and then first draft it and then get feedback and then second draft it and then completely doubt everything I’ve ever written and then tell myself I’m a hack and then hate myself for wanting feedback and then submit and then receive no comments and then wallow and then reread it for the 84th time and find that I kind of like it.
Creative writing is a long arduous process. That’s why it’s good to have time limits on these nifty time-wasting writing prompts!
Five minutes on the clock… Allons-y!
Truth is independent of fact. It does not mind being disproved.
Two sides to every story and then there’s the truth. Meg knew there was a reason she’d come back from her desk to find a puddle of glue and a ripped children’s book pages littered all over the little plastic craft table, but as of yet, her two suspects hadn’t been very forthcoming with the facts. He said she ripped the pages and knocked the glue over. She said he pulled the book and it’s pages out of her hands and the glue spilled in the process. Then there was the defiant standoff where both refused to acknowledge any truth to the other’s story. It’d made for a spaghetti western stand-off of sorts that only came up to her knees. Her other kindergartners watched, mouths gaping open in quiet shock. They assumed the other two would be punished, but they had no idea what could be coming. They kept working on their own cotton ball snowman projects, but they were entirely aware of what was going on.
“Well, you two, what happened?” She asked. “Please, tell me the truth.” Had there just have been glue, there wouldn’t have been an issue, but one of the few books the class room could afford had been ruined and Lana had a flustered face and red eyes. The yelp that brought her over there of course made her want to investigate, as well.
Tyler sniffed and locked over at Lana. They were both pouting, but seemed resolved to stay quiet.
“Ok. If you’d rather not tell me, I’ll have to put you both in the quiet corner.”
“No, wait.”
Lana sighed and looked back over at Tyler. “It was both our faults. He wanted the book, but I didn’t want to share.”
“I grabbed the book by it’s pages and pulled. We both knocked over the glue when the book flew.”
“So Lana, you didn’t share and Tyler you grabbed it, you both knocked over the glue. I think you both know what you need to do. Apologize to each other and then work together to help me clean up this mess.”
They nodded their heads and looked sullen.
“Sorry.” They said.
Meg had the feeling that there was more truth in their desire to clean up the sticky glue and sodden pages then to make amends, but the fact remained that they’d both need to work together and not be so stubborn.
______
Done, went way beyond the time limit, but whatever, I was watching TV.
I can’t remember the last time I used Elmer’s glue…
Y’all know the drill by now.
5 minutes on the clock.
Prompt:
They have their own thoughts.
They have their own thoughts. At least, I always assumed as much about my toys. When I was a kid, stories like Goodnight Moon and the Velveteen Rabbit made my head swirl with this idea that things were… sentient, anthropomorphic, alive. When the movie Toy Story came out, my suspicions were confirmed. But I guess now I know better. Adulthood let my imagination wane and reality prevailed in all aspects of my life. As an adult sometimes it feels like even day dreams have lost their whimsy. Sometimes I still wish I could imagine that my favorite stuffed animal was as alive as she was when I was seven, but that’s not the case.
———-
Ugh, I’m gonna be honest. That’s all I could muster folks. I apologize.
Lemme make amends.
Joseph Ducreux schools you on your phone call.
You have no idea how much I wish I could write about something else right now. I’m bursting at the seems to blab about something, but I can’t quite yet! I’m also totally nervous and wrought with the anxiety of ridiculous anticipation. Which is awesome, sad, silly, great and nerve-wracking all the same time.
Bottom line is, since I can’t write about what I wanna write about and I need to hit the hay early (which is why I’m at work late, but blogging early)… I’m gonna focus my attention on something else. A writing prompt.
The following prompt came from here, but there are no rules so I’m going to keep my time flexible. I don’t have to write for a specific length of time, but I can’t spend more than ten minutes on it. So let’s kick it off with the prompt!
“Hot or cold? Compare or link someone close to you to a type of breakfast cereal. Explain your thinking through writing.”
When I first read the prompt, I thought of how much my mom adores oatmeal. Steel cut, made fresh and sprinkled with dried berries, nuts and cinnamon. It always smells warm and inviting and like a fresh harvest or those September days in Carolina, where it’s a little bit frosty in the morning, but bright in the afternoon. I guess my mom, if she had to be like any type of cereal, would be like oatmeal. Not because she’s lumpy. She’s not. Not even a little bit. But because she’s so comforting. She makes hers fresh in a pot and it simmers for a while and she’s very patient and likes to spend her time mulling things over. Plus, even if I’m not always in the mood for oatmeal, it’s always good for me… But she’s not plain oatmeal, not in the slightest. She’s full of different things that make her less bland and not a typical suburban mom. The dried berries and nuts are good for you and sweet, which balances out the steady flavor of the grains. But also like oatmeal, my mom isn’t necessarily the best when ice cold. But most people have their not so great moments. My mom however, is generally awesome. Just like oatmeal. And if you hate on oatmeal, substitute it for cheese grits. But are yum.
My brother, is probably like peanut butter captain crunch. With a side of bacon. Because he’s weird and fun and can sometimes cut the ruff of your mouth, but he’s sooo the breakfast food you wanna hang out with.
My dad? A doppio with eggs &. Fast and too the point, my dad’s like a standard breakfast with a better twist on the original.
Me? My first guess would be a strawberry and creme cheese blintz. But that could just be because I’m hungry.
And done.
Totally pooped out on the descriptors later on there, but food was making my tummy grumble. Seriously, is there ever a bad time for breakfast?
Nope. But there is a good time to get a move on.
Katelyn
Penned Down 