This is a cautionary tale about not drinking six cans of Throwback Mountain Dew when you are extremely bored.
I give myself a running start and jump, landing on the couch next to Lauren in a position similar to that of a dog begging for food. "Can I help you?" Lauren says, not even looking up from her computer screen.
"Hi!" I said, grinning maniacally.
She gives me a look that seems to say, 'you're creepy, please go away' but then grins and says "Would you like a cupcake?"
"CUPCAKE!!!!!!!" I yell. "Wait, do we even have cupcakes?"
"I don't think so."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" In my head I am impersonating Darth Vader. In reality I probably sounded like a dying cat.
She laughs finally. I glare at her. "Make with the cupcakes, bitch."
"I don't have any!"
I start to storm up the stairs. "When I return, I will have muffins! EXPLODING DEATH MUFFINS!"
"What about cupcakes?" She shouts back at me.
"NO CUPCAKES! You ruined them by turning them into a lie! I spit on your cupcakes!"
Her laughter follows me upstairs.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Fiction: Why not?
He looked down at me, his puppy dog eyes so damn hopeful, and I just got mad.
"No." I said, spitting the word at him. I turned around and walked out of the house. The noise of the screen door clattering shut was strangely satisfying. I started walking across the lawn when the the screen door flew open and Paul stormed out.
"Why not me." He shouted at me. I whirled around. His face was red as he choked out, "I'm a nice guy! Better than those dicks you dated before!"
"Why not? You said it yourself! You're sick of being single."
"So what?"
"So I'm sick of being that girl who guys turn to when they are 'sick of being single'. I deserve to be more than that girl who happens to be there at the moment that you are getting lonely!"
He stared at me, mouth agape. I turned around again and started walking towards home.
"No." I said, spitting the word at him. I turned around and walked out of the house. The noise of the screen door clattering shut was strangely satisfying. I started walking across the lawn when the the screen door flew open and Paul stormed out.
"Why not me." He shouted at me. I whirled around. His face was red as he choked out, "I'm a nice guy! Better than those dicks you dated before!"
"Why not? You said it yourself! You're sick of being single."
"So what?"
"So I'm sick of being that girl who guys turn to when they are 'sick of being single'. I deserve to be more than that girl who happens to be there at the moment that you are getting lonely!"
He stared at me, mouth agape. I turned around again and started walking towards home.
Fiction: Needs
It hasn't rained in so long that the dirt has turned to dust. I play with it idly, drawing patterns with my finger.
"Have you ever thought about it?" I say, not taking my eyes off the circle that I am etching into the dust.
"What? Aaron doesn't open his eyes.
"The world. There's always that one thing the world needs, that we need. We're always so far away from fulfillment, and it seems like the more we try to fix that, the less happy we are. It's all just so... broken."
His eyes open, and they are searching mine. "Is everything ok?"
I look down. "Yeah, just thinking."
He grimaces, but doesn't press the issue further. Instead he says, "Maybe we need that brokenness."
"What do you mean?"
He sits up. "If we had everything we needed, there would be nothing to strive for. We need that... imperfection, because without it there is no drive to do anything."
I sigh. "You're right." I lay down on my back and look up at the sky. The sun blazes down without a cloud in sight to obscure it. "But couldn't you just imagine it? What would it feel like to need nothing."
Aaron's hand slides over mine.
"Have you ever thought about it?" I say, not taking my eyes off the circle that I am etching into the dust.
"What? Aaron doesn't open his eyes.
"The world. There's always that one thing the world needs, that we need. We're always so far away from fulfillment, and it seems like the more we try to fix that, the less happy we are. It's all just so... broken."
His eyes open, and they are searching mine. "Is everything ok?"
I look down. "Yeah, just thinking."
He grimaces, but doesn't press the issue further. Instead he says, "Maybe we need that brokenness."
"What do you mean?"
He sits up. "If we had everything we needed, there would be nothing to strive for. We need that... imperfection, because without it there is no drive to do anything."
I sigh. "You're right." I lay down on my back and look up at the sky. The sun blazes down without a cloud in sight to obscure it. "But couldn't you just imagine it? What would it feel like to need nothing."
Aaron's hand slides over mine.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
New Year
My new year's resolution is to write at least a hundred words per day, and post them to my blog (and yes, this counts). We'll see how long this lasts, not that a hundred words is a lot, but I am notoriously terrible at starting new routines, but I need to work out my self consciousness about writing somehow.
Lessons I learned in 2012:
Not everyone will like my writing, but the people who do are worth it.
False friends can leave deeper scars than any false lover could touch.
Following something that is safe but not my passion will never satisfy me.
Following my passion is terrifying.
Curviness is beautiful.
Kisses don't always have to become relationships.
Sometimes the cute guys aren't as good of kissers as they would seem.
Blood does not always mean family.
I deserve more than ordinary.
I am stronger than whatever parasitic coping mechanisms I may have felt I needed to rely on.
Sometimes it takes revealing my biggest weakness to discover how alone I'm not.
My life is better off without certain people in it.
Goodbye 2012. Good riddance.
Hello New Year.
Lessons I learned in 2012:
Not everyone will like my writing, but the people who do are worth it.
False friends can leave deeper scars than any false lover could touch.
Following something that is safe but not my passion will never satisfy me.
Following my passion is terrifying.
Curviness is beautiful.
Kisses don't always have to become relationships.
Sometimes the cute guys aren't as good of kissers as they would seem.
Blood does not always mean family.
I deserve more than ordinary.
I am stronger than whatever parasitic coping mechanisms I may have felt I needed to rely on.
Sometimes it takes revealing my biggest weakness to discover how alone I'm not.
My life is better off without certain people in it.
Goodbye 2012. Good riddance.
Hello New Year.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Forgotten
I am using a random number generator to decide how many words will be in each sentence. No sentences will be over 15 words
She brushed the makeup slowly in a circle across her sunken cheek. She avoided meeting the cold shining eyes of her reflection. Still she felt them staring at her, accusing her of a million crimes. Her hand spasmed roughly. The brush dropped down. It clattered in the sink. Her eyes filled up with tears.
She doubled over, trying not to cry, trying not to think, anything not to feel.
"Shit." It didn't work.
The truth glared at her, irresistible, powerful, unable to control. She did not want to know this.
Brian had been over there the night before. It had been perfect, everything she'd never had, yet she had been afraid. He had been kind. Yet, she had feared that he would force things she didn't want to happen. He always asked permission, always made sure she was okay with what was happening. He was the kindest man she had ever been with, and she turned away.
Now she began to remember things purposefully forgotten. She paced, restless, burnt out. Grabbing the shower door, she roughly slammed it shut. SHHHHHK BANG!
"HOW MUCH MORE CAN I TAKE FROM YOU?" No answers from on high or down low. Silence.
She crumpled to the floor. Time passed over her without real measure. Still she cried silently over wounds of the past, forgotten and remembered again. Unhealed.
And then she just stopped crying. She picked herself up off of the floor. She wiped her face and gently washed off her makeup. Quietly, she walked out of the room.
She brushed the makeup slowly in a circle across her sunken cheek. She avoided meeting the cold shining eyes of her reflection. Still she felt them staring at her, accusing her of a million crimes. Her hand spasmed roughly. The brush dropped down. It clattered in the sink. Her eyes filled up with tears.
She doubled over, trying not to cry, trying not to think, anything not to feel.
"Shit." It didn't work.
The truth glared at her, irresistible, powerful, unable to control. She did not want to know this.
Brian had been over there the night before. It had been perfect, everything she'd never had, yet she had been afraid. He had been kind. Yet, she had feared that he would force things she didn't want to happen. He always asked permission, always made sure she was okay with what was happening. He was the kindest man she had ever been with, and she turned away.
Now she began to remember things purposefully forgotten. She paced, restless, burnt out. Grabbing the shower door, she roughly slammed it shut. SHHHHHK BANG!
"HOW MUCH MORE CAN I TAKE FROM YOU?" No answers from on high or down low. Silence.
She crumpled to the floor. Time passed over her without real measure. Still she cried silently over wounds of the past, forgotten and remembered again. Unhealed.
And then she just stopped crying. She picked herself up off of the floor. She wiped her face and gently washed off her makeup. Quietly, she walked out of the room.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Silence
SLAM!
Wood on wood, splintering, but only inside this fleshy sac, this body that never was quite good enough.
Stop. Done with that thinking now.
Done
Forever?
It's for the best.
Creaks and shudders of the quiet night.
So quiet it is oppressive.
Shouts still echo in my ears.
More oppressive than the silence
Wood on wood, splintering, but only inside this fleshy sac, this body that never was quite good enough.
Stop. Done with that thinking now.
Done
Forever?
It's for the best.
Creaks and shudders of the quiet night.
So quiet it is oppressive.
Shouts still echo in my ears.
More oppressive than the silence
Dishes
Dishes are used for setting a table, serving food and for dining.[1] The term dishes does not include cutlery, or the cutting words he said.
In the United States, tableware is most commonly referred to as dinnerware. Dinnerware can be meant to include glassware, however not flatware, as he has reminded you time and time again, stupid.
Don't forget to wash the dishes. Scrub them til they shine.
Remember the way they flew, crashed and broke around you, Alice.
The old dishes had a rose pattern. These are covered in daisies.
[1] "This is my home too."
In the United States, tableware is most commonly referred to as dinnerware. Dinnerware can be meant to include glassware, however not flatware, as he has reminded you time and time again, stupid.
Don't forget to wash the dishes. Scrub them til they shine.
Remember the way they flew, crashed and broke around you, Alice.
The old dishes had a rose pattern. These are covered in daisies.
[1] "This is my home too."
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