Writer/ Aspiring Author/ Reader/ Gamer/ Book Slave. Blogging my writing, travel, and random thoughts. I blog book reviews, my writing struggles, favorite quotes I come across, and even some random creative prose. The views and opinions expressed on this website are purely my own. Some of the links on this website are affiliate links. This means if you click on the link and purchase the item, the owner of this website will receive an affiliate commission. Regardless, I only recommend products or services that will add value to my readers.
House Stark/ House Mars/ Allonsy.
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I was writing. This night in this car a moment of inspiration struck and I was typing it down on my phone, thumbs moving around the small smooth screen mixing in neighbor letter bringing red lines until my phone died. My inner voice still talked. I took out a pen from my bag but I had no paper. In a moment I started gliding the words out on my hand.
The driver broke in and asked, “why I was writing on my hand?” I continued to write. “I had all these thoughts in my head and I just felt I had to get them down.” The driver smirked, “Why don’t you write on paper.” If I wasn’t in the car I probably would have made a sarcastic comment but all that was said, “I don’t have any and in this moment I hate I have relied on my phone…
I’m wearing shorts, tank top, and these boots today. Nothing fancy. An outfit I thought was low-key. They’re my new boots and I love them. I already have a plan to wear them not only with jeans but shorts and dresses. Seriously, they are bad ass.
Walking home from the store today and crossing a street a car stops at that street’s stop sign. The man is maybe in his late fifties. He waves the fingers on both hands while his thumbs stay rapped around the steering wheel. I guess this is him waving me on so I walk with a slight wave of thanks. I hit the corner and keep walking. I hear the man’s car roll up to the pedestrian cross walk just before turning on to the intersection and he says snarky, “Boots in Summer! Really. Okay.”
I didn’t turn around, just kept walking and ignored him as he drove away but I did think, “The better to kick your ass.” Maybe I should have delivered the burn but I don’t think I would feel less annoyed. Tired of rude people that don’t know me and feel the need to make comments. Why is it important to yell at a total stranger not bothering you? You can say it put a damper on my mood but I’m letting it go. I do think his momma should have taught him better manners.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the day I stood up a lab partner. Why would I do such a mean thing? Anxiety, nerves, and fear. I can still picture him sitting in the Hunter Library at a table against the window. He had his book out and he would glance out the window while he waited for me to show. I hid behind a library stack. I would pace away and walk back ready to show. The moment before I would reach his line of sight I would stop and take my stand back behind the bookcase. If others walk by I would stare at the shelves of books. I can’t tell you what books that section held because I never read the bindings. I just thought about how I would walk up to him, sit down, and study.
I thought about making some silly slip up. It was a study section which meant I would have to talk about a subject we took together. Talking meant he may find out he was partnered with a mute, limited vocabulary, or studding spaz. What happens if we started studying and he realized I was just a dumb broad who didn’t really belong in college. I panic at the though of what if he liked me. It’s amazing how the brain can just keep thinking of situations. The situations become more outlandish and anxiety becomes bigger. This kid just wanted to study with his lab partner and in that library I was making up fictitious scenarios psyching myself out.
I forgot the lame excuse I gave him the next time we met in class but we never rescheduled that section (probably my doing). I am not in touch with that lab partner anymore but sometimes I wish I was. I would explain and give him a proper apology. I’m not over my social anxieties but I never did this again. Just have to learn to grow up and get over the fact meeting people is not a big deal. Actually, it can be a lot of fun.
I wrote a six word story last week. Some may think I cheated on my writing production but many famous authors have used this form of writing to tell a story. There is even a story behind the six word story. It goes, Ernest Hemingway was challenged or bet he could write a short story in six words. Hemingway wrote, “For sale: Baby shoes, Never worn.” He won the challenge/bet with this powerful, simple six word story. In 1991, Arthur C. Clark wrote in a letter, “he still can’t think of it without crying.” After many years there is some question whether this actually happened and if Hemingway even wrote this story but the legend lives on and inspires people everyday to write their best six word story.
I’ve decided to take on the challenge. It’s not as easy as you think. I don’t know if I’ll ever write anything as moving as “Baby shoes” but I will continue to challenge myself and you will witness it from time to time on this blog because I intend to post when I have one I think is good. Do you fine the Six Word Novel as good writing tool? Does it help or hinder?
I was happy with the bundle I picked on Monday. Gardening is an act in patience and it is beginning to pay off. Two tomatoes ripen, the eggplant is long and delicious, the Kale is growing wild, and I’m trying to cut the cucumbers before they become too big. The tomatoes seem to be growing bigger this year and there are many green ones hanging on the vines.We gave the plants a bit more room and they are in a row at the back of the garden instead of rows of three next to each other. The plants seem to be bigger and more plentiful this year. Apparently, the squirrels can’t wait for the tomatoes to mature either and have started to steal some. The culprit is pictured below. We have lost two tomatoes (As far as we know) from this little guy and the first one he didn’t even finish. Ungrateful little fur-ball. I joke. We have plenty growing to go around, I just wished he asked first. Another surprise happened with the shape the eggplants. We were expecting Black Beauty Eggplants, which are fat and round. We are surprised the eggplants growing are long and thin but who cares? They are still savory. The peppers are almost big enough to pick. There is something better about growing your own ingredients. Maybe its the taste or the freshness nevertheless I can’t wait to get cooking.
I wrote a topic for Fodor’s forum. After my recent trip to Germany I spontaneously stopped at Schloss Harburg. I was upset and shocked that the Fodor’s edition I carried with me mentioned the location of the castle on the map but had no information listed in the book. Not every adventure is planned and it was a nice stop after a long time stuck in the car. When I returned home I looked on their website to see if I was more prepared and looked be for leaving was the information attainable? But the Fodor’s website offered no information. So I wrote a forum topic on Schloss Harburg. It is my first attempt writing travel even if it is a forum. Check it out. Leave comments. Hope it helps others looking for this same information. Tell me what you think.
I thought I trained my brain to write in the afternoon then last night my mind wouldn’t turn off. I was comfortable in bed with the light off and my brain started to weave words. I was tired and when I’m tired I always think everything sounds noble prize brilliant. I didn’t have a notebook and pen by my bed (what happen to my night notebook?). I didn’t have my phone either. (It is best left charging in the other room incase of 3am emergency alerts.)
Why didn’t I get up and listen to the muse that decided the best time to visit was bed time? I can’t help but think of Elizabeth Gilbert’s TED talk and that quote by Tom Waits where a muse or melody visited him while he was driving and he said, “Excuse me, can you not see that I’m driving? Do I look like I can write down a song right now? If you really want to exist, come back at a more opportune moment when I can take care of you. Otherwise, go bother somebody else today.”
I guess my muse is still in adolescence and although it might see me showing up to the table it doesn’t always feel like writing when I do. It would rather stay in bed and sleep in some days. Then as the light switches off it remembers all it had to say and decides it can’t wait until morning. Now, when the words come, I can sleep because I have less anxiety knowing I’m not missing a story I can write tomorrow. Sometimes, in the morning, I am disappointed I can’t remember what was running through my head but I move on. I start the day with my writing schedule. Occasionally, I find the muse shows up to the table and those days we work in harmony. Those are the days I’m fighting for so I have my nights for sleep.
I have kept many notebooks and journals with “poems,” ideas for novels and short stories scribbled between their pages. It shouldn’t be surprising when I started using my laptop to write I would hoard it on my hard drive and I have. Recently, I decided it was time to go through and organize my computer. I was cleaning and organizing my laptop and I found many story and article ideas that have lead nowhere. I deleted some. For this small feet I am so proud of myself. It is hard for me to throw away anything I have written. I still find and keep tiny pieces of paper with sentences I have created falling out of other notebooks of scribes I swear I’ll need one day.
A few I finished and put on this blog. The last two post, “Go Out And Adopt a Pet” and “To Whom Ink May Concern” were two articles in my documents never being read. “Adopt a Pet” was an article I wrote as a writing sample for a job application (which I didn’t get). “Ink” was a blog article I was writing for years. I thought it should finally be finished and see the light of day. I put most away into files but now what to do with them? I keep asking myself, “Will I use these ideas and create a short story, novel, or screenplay out of them? There aren’t as many on my laptop or computer as there are in my closet.
Diaries, journals, and notebooks collecting dust with sentences I’ll never use. Do I just burn or shred everything without a glance or read and edit it all waiting for the day I may use it? I guess the best thing would be to throw them out but I must go through them first. Memories and feelings I have forgotten. I read through one of my diaries once. It was hilarious. I recalled that I was just as ridiculous (I’m not talking about rude or obnoxious) at 18 or 22 as every other 18 or 22 year old. I think I would like my novel to be like Roman á clef and use those times/feelings in a book but will I? I know these are the questions every writer asks themselves but the feeling can be overwhelming. Some of the young pieces, like the short story I wrote when I was 12, I will keep. This stage in my life reminds me of a quote from Edgar Degas which said, “Painting is easy when you don’t know how, but very difficult when you do.” They are cute, funny, and a memento of when I thought all I wrote was a priceless piece ready for publication.
Cleaning is causing me to make decisions and with these little things I’ve created it feels like a big deal. However, I know no matter how much you like a piece or section sometimes it doesn’t fit and you need to edit it out. You can put it on the side and hope to use it somewhere else one day but it is very unlikely it’s ever used again.
How do you keep your writing? Do you have an expiration date before you can delete it, do you trash right away, or do you keep every thought that makes it on paper (or screen)? How do you organize these scraps of ideas?
I have seen friends met with negative comments because they have tattoos. Tattoos are for pirates, prisoners, sailers, etc., right? People only get ink for attention, or peer pressure. While some of these stereotypes can be true for a few people, it is not the complete reason everyone who has skin art has gotten one.
I don’t have any tattoos so why should I bring up such a topic? I wrote an article for The Celebrity Cafe sometime ago about Megan Fox having her Marilyn Monroe tattoo removed from her arm. The comments that followed below the piece had nothing to do with the article but people’s opinions about tattooed people. This article is old and I worked on this blog post along time because I didn’t know if people would except a non-tattooed person writing about skin art.
In the comment section it was mentioned that tattoos are a self-esteem issue and someone’s need to be noticed. However, over time tattoo culture has had a much more in-depth history. Different cultures, communities, and times skin art has been used for healing purposes, rites of passage, marks of status and rank. Some marks are symbols of religious and spiritual devotion, and decorations for bravery. There are even tattoos used for sexual lures and marks of fertility, pledges of love, punishment, and protection. The leased liked marks may be that of outcasts, slaves and convicts. The ones with these marks may find their permanent label empowering. Numerous people use skin art to honor a dead relative or as a reminder of conquered tough times. This is where I think others should think twice before they push their judgement.
A few will use tattooing as an “in” thing but don’t demean the people that have tattoos that hold deep meanings of self-expression. Not everyone who has tattoos should be lumped in with Megan Fox. Not everyone that has tattoos have low self-esteem. Not everyone that has tattoos get them to be notice. Most people I know seem to have a tattoo or ten. And judgement goes both ways. Something I have seen some (not all!) tattooed people looking down on people without tattoos. I have been shunned or had a look of attitude or annoyance come my way when I reveal I don’t have any tattoos. I started keeping quite on flesh art because I was tired of defending why I like tattoos on others but why I don’t have/want any.
I had friends try to help me find something I can ink on to my body but after sometime they gave up and I realize that I don’t have to have or own something to say I like it.I guess I can say I look pretty plan to a tattooed person. The only marks on me are freckle, beauty marks, and the occasional bruise or childhood scar. I have been met with prejudice by friends when I find a man attractive who is tattooed and pierced. A “good” or “plain” girl like me shouldn’t step out of her stereotypical group. I have even shocked a friend or two and was told I couldn’t date someone that was excessively tattooed because I didn’t fit in with that attractive man’s image. I could have argued, “How do you know what any stranger finds attractive?” but we all have perspectives we place on people whether they are tattoo, pierced, or bear. In the end, I think (and I’m no one), who are we to make broad assessments and judge someone.
State Street’s tattoo shops mainly catered to sailors in the Great Lakes area. (Archival photo courtesy Nick Colella).
Random Thoughts 
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