The Humbling Nature Experience. Or, How John Muir Taught Me How Awful Nature Can Be.

View of Penacook Lake on the Marjory Swope Trail

I've been having these Epic John Muir-esque Fantasies. Dreams where I should be backpacking in Acadia National Park, The Long Trail, and The Presidential Mountain Range. In these fantasies, I am dislodged from my dull routine life and finding my bliss among the mountains and forests of New England, living among the elements for a few weeks and becoming connected with the oneness of our amazing planet. Enlighten myself to nature and have the wild, rooted parts of my soul engaged with the beauty of near solitude.

So - on my day off - I decided to go take a hike. Disconnect from the computer, my books, my material possessions and take a walk in the woods alone. Maybe it would lift my spirits a bit and get me out of the house on a beautiful summer day.

My first mistake was waking up to the downpour.
Oh I thought. Well, maybe it will just be a sprinkle. It should clear up by the time I start my short hike. I laced up my swanky, expensive, waterproof hiking boots, grabbed an umbrella, and headed off to the trailhead in my car. The rain didn't let up. That's okay! I won't melt, I have an umbrella! I started my way up the incredibly short, beautiful jaunt around the Marjory Swope Trail.

The second, bigger mistake was being unprepared.

Even though I have lived in New Hampshire most of my life, even though I knew how to read a map, even though I read books and heard plenty of news stories about how terribly awful the weather can get if you are unprepared for ANY trail. I still pushed all warnings to the back of my skull. I may be a novice hiker, but I still know how to hike, or so I thought.

I have an anxiety disorder, it makes me overthink a lot of scenarios and then those almost always snowball into irrational thoughts. An example would be: BRING PLENTY OF WATER IN CASE YOU GET LOST. OH, AND BRING A WHISTLE TOO IN CASE YOU FIND YOURSELF ATTACKED BY VAGABONDS. Kinda like that. It got so bad today that I chickened out 5 times before leaving my house this morning, purely because I was scared to go hiking alone. Anxiety Kelso said: MAYBE YOU SHOULDN'T DO THIS TRAIL BY YOURSELF, THERE COULD BE ROVES OF MURDERERS CAMPING OUT THERE READY TO RAPE YOU. AND BESIDES, YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW THE TRAIL VERY WELL. But I decided to ignore my brain and just go for it. I would be in town, the trail looked more like a nature walk than an actual hike, and it was short enough that I would be back to my car in less than an hour. I didn't feel it was necessary to weigh myself down with a backpack full of things you would typically bring on a hike, medicine, bug spray, snacks, and - oh yeah - water. The only things I carried were my keys, my umbrella, and my cell phone.   You will be fine. I told Anxiety Kelso before heading out onto the trail. Quit being a baby. 

However, there is a fine line between irrational, anxiety thoughts and being safely cautious. Most of the time I am packing at least a water bottle and my epipen, even if I'm taking a short walk down to the store. But on this particular day, I wanted to be blissfully ignorant, I needed my John Muir Fantasy so badly that I was pushing back all thoughts, rational and irrational. I'm getting on that trail and I'm going to find some goddamn happiness. And I did, and I'm happy I went. I had fun going off by myself and letting go of all my everything. When I reached the vista with the breathtaking views of Peanacook Lake, I felt happy to be alive. I sat down in the dirt and meditated with my eyes closed (I had to force them shut since I still felt like someone was going to sneak up on me and stab me in the back) for a few minutes. Nothing but the rain, the view, and the ground. I felt wild, free, recharged, and wonderful.

Hemingway Diaries: Noun - Foot

Note: Hemingway Diaries is a new, condensed series I will be doing from time to time in which I write six worded (or less) stories in batches of 4 or more with only one writing prompt. Examples can be seen Here or Here. More about Hemingway can be found Here. I hope you enjoy. -K.
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Vagabond feet kindly rubbed. Found home.
______________________________

Two feet before. One foot after.
______________________________

My child: A Size 6 once.
______________________________

Calloused, Rotting. Welcome to the Congo.
______________________________

Red footprints at door. Not paint.
______________________________

One flesh, one plastic. Still dancing (for Adrianne)
______________________________

Elaborate: "It’s not you, But it is."

Dear Sean,

I cannot stall this any longer, I have run off with your clone.
I’m sorry it had to come to this, he’s just attentive, he’s always there for me with an open ear. While you’re out at work, he also makes a better video game partner.

Sometimes he lets me win.

Just like you.

I couldn't take the laziness that has become you,

you’re always working, or playing video games with him.

It’s like you keep stealing him away from me,

and those terrible puns

“I’m beside myself!”

ugh.

Sometimes I wonder if you really did spend 12 billion JUST so you can say that 50 times a day.

He’s incredibly attractive, with that mess of strawberry blonde hair and those bright blue eyes.

and that beard puts yours to shame.

He keeps himself motivated to exercise, he’s even pushed me to run several times.

Not like you ever compliment on my metamorphosis like physique.

And the sex. Well, lets say my expectations have far succumbed to my satisfaction.

However, fear not.

I have left you with a few strands of my hair.

I know I never wanted to clone myself, as I am personally a naturalist at my core.

But I couldn't leave you in the cold cruel world by yourself. That's just unnatural.

Hemingway Diaries: In 6 words, a Snapshot of a Relationship Between Two People.

Note: Hemingway Diaries is a new, condensed series I will be doing from time to time in which I write six worded (or less) stories in batches of 4 or more with only one writing prompt. Examples can be seen Here or Here. More about Hemingway can be found Here. I hope you enjoy. -K.
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She liked women, he was forgiving.
______________________________

Not her son, loved him anyway.
______________________________

He smiled at her. She didn't.
______________________________

"Sign here." She said. He couldn't.
______________________________

Caressed Gingerly, twenty on the dresser.
______________________________

"I love you." "Go Fuck yourself."
______________________________

He cried. She checked her phone.
______________________________

[Flash Fic] The Rooms of Ruin Where the Spiders Spun and the Control Panels Were Going Dark, One By One. (less than 100 words)

Nobody saw it coming. Not even the spiders who were now crawling about the control panels. The humming, murmuring, and buzzing finally started to relieve themselves like a television dying out, reaching it's zenith in the center of the screen, then dissolving. The only thing alive now apart from the insects and the moss, was the tiny intercom. Just before the final rusted cell battery gave way, the low mum of a message had repeated over and over into the stillness: "Mission Control, this is the International Space System. Please. Someone please pick up."

(94 words, about 15mins b.e / 27mins a.e.)

Retell the Most Recent Joke You've Heard as a Short Piece of Fiction (for my kid, who loves telling this joke)

Sarah had heard a knock on her door. This was her first night living in the city one thousand miles away from her hometown, and she was getting a little jumpy. The door kept knocking, it was 2pm so she thought it must be her new roommate She peeped thought the eyehole.
No one was there.
"Hello? Who's there?" Sarah called.
Nobody answered.
"Who's there?"
Again, silence.
Sarah opened the door a crack, then a crack more.
in the middle of the hallway, she found a banana.
She peek out, turned her head left, then right. There was nobody in the hall. "This mush be some type of hazing trick." She thought to herself. Sarah grabbed the banana off the hallway floor and went inside, locking the door behind her.

2 hours later, as she was unpacking her kitchen and getting ready to order dinner, she heard another knock on her door. "COMING!" She yelled as she strode toward the door, her cat following in her wake.
The knocks sounded closer together.
"WHO'S THERE? ASHLEY? IS THAT YOU?' Sarah called while getting into tiptoe position in an attempt to peep through the eyehole once more.
There was nobody there.
Sarah opened the door, and - sitting on her welcome mat- was another banana.
"OKAY GUYS, I GET IT. VERY FUNNY!!!" she yelled while entering the dead silent hallway. She opened her ears and listened hard for any signs of life. All she got was silence in return.
She turned to her cat: "It's really quiet for a Saturday afternoon." while picking up the banana. Sarah walked inside, locking the door behind her.

Write a Love Letter to Someone You Dislike

Dearest talkative, biggoted, agressive, internet blind date I had 4 years ago.

You sir, were something else.

My Valentine's date with you was more than wonderful. I throughly enjoyed you blaring your horn at me while I was still inside my apartment. It's nice to know when a guy can announce himself in a professional manner. Also you are SO considerate by parking right up to the massive snowbank and making me trundle over it in high heels so I could get into your potent, sour milk aromatic car. I can tell that you good sir, like your women with frostbite.
It was refreshing to sit in your car after you screamed at the hostess in the local Olive Garden about having to wait 45 minutes for a table because it was Valentine's Day and you didn't think it was right to call for reservations on the busiest holiday restaurants will ever see. And punching a hole in the wall before you were escorted out? Such class!
After scoffing at my idea to go see a movie, you insisted that I pay for both our tickets since, obviously, it was my idea and hey, you're the one who asked ME on a date. So why not? I also enjoyed how huffy you got when I picked out the movie after you told me explicitly that you didn't care anymore. SWOON!

But my absolute favorite thing about you? The fact that you had incessantly talk throughout the entire movie. Talking endlessly about how smart you were because you're a biochemist and went to Dartmouth, how you believe that people who are facing poverty should really just kill themselves for the sake of humanity. The real kicker was your viewpoints for eugenics for Afrocentric and Jewish persons. It's like you only had ears for yourself! I especially found you irresistible when you started belittling me when I used a "big word" like enigma. You even had the wherewithal to ask me what it meant, and when I responded with "it's a mystery" you immediately quipped back with furrowed brow "If you don't know what a word means, don't use it."
God, you were so right! I. Also. Enjoy this thing called a dictionary too!

I can honestly say the most fascinating part of our date together is when we went through the McDonald's drive thru and only ordered for yourself, letting me know that you did not like fat chicks. You did, however didn't believe me when I told you I was a vegetarian because, and I quote "You look good, but you're not THAT thin. And you're kidding yourself if you think you could lose more weight." All while stuffing your face with chemically processed "meat" and fat via a Big Mac and telling me I should eat "real food". It's nice to know how excited you are about my lifestyle choices, darling.
I was sad to see you pull up to my apartment, and let me hit your car door with the 5 foot snowbank that you believed I had to climb over. (Because you care so much about my fat, lying about being vegetarian ass to actually force me to lose weight.) You also added that it was way too icy to help me walk to my door and that I could take care of myself. You were absolutely right about that too! You are so smart and chivalrous! And when I decided not to kiss you (and believe me, that was the easiest hardest choice I had to make the entire night.) You were incredibly passionate and tactful by calling me a "hippie lesbian" then driving off into the night.
I was also wrong by pelting your car's interior and you with ice slushballs while you were peeling out. WHAT WAS I THINKING?! I wanted to apologize for my behavior that evening, You were right about everything. I have since changed my ways and took your advice and decided to go full lesbian. Thank you for showing the err of my ways. I hope you decide to chop your dick off (since it's the only way you can be a man) and decide to go forth with your stance on eugenics.

Love,
Kelso.

(PS - Brad, if you're reading this. You are an inconsiderate ass-hat and this is what you did wrong.)

Write About an Arrival that Caught You or Your Character Completely Unaware.

God had showed up at the front door today.

There was the sound of glass breaking, and the apartment door being jimmied open. God was tall and thin, he must have been no older than myself, but his bony frame, pot-marked complexion and bloodshot eyes told me he had lived a million lives. God skittered like a rat in a maze, I could hear him tearing through the living room looking for the same thing that I was looking for: To Abscond.

I know what you're thinking, "Oh geeze, another one of those stupid 'miracle' stories that saves the main character from certain death." But I promise you, it's not that kind of story.

I think we both were caught off guard of each other when he spotted me atop the kitchen table with the rope around my neck. Yes, I was going to hang myself in the kitchen. I am a failure at life, I had lost the 8th grade soccer match that day, and my parents had finally finalized the divorce and my mother had moved us three-thousand miles away from Sweden, leaving me alone most of my day while she went out and worked 2 jobs to keep the lights on. That classic American Hustle. Like anybody would care if another youth were to die in today's society, it happens here so often that they stopped showing it on the news. Because why bring anyone down during this American Turkey Day? I am a failure of the American Dream, and a failure to my country.

He kept staring at me, taking in my sobbing, tear stained face. I was trying to explain myself in broken Swedish to a strung out Hispanic teenager. I was getting no where. Thus the story of my life, you try and try to be heard but nobody ever listens. He came towards me, watching me cower. But at that moment, I knew we had an understanding....

[FF] [200 Words or Less] First Sentence: "well that wasn't my brightest moment"

Well, that wasn't my brightest moment.

It's hard to control impulse, and I didn't know what happened before the impact. The brief connection to soft tissue and wet, warm blood. All I remember is my wife taking my child to the ER. And me being placed into the back of that cop car.

I didn't think my kid's nose could contort like that.

(Originally Posted Here)

Write a Story that Ends With the Line "And This is the Room Where it Happened,"

She was never going to give it back. It was gone forever. Sarah deserved it however, ever since she picked that fight with her last week about who was going to go as Ariel and who was going to go as Sleeping Beauty. They both wanted to be Sleeping Beauty but there was only one costume in the entire in the tri-town area (or it was so assumed, since their mother didn't really bother with urgent matters such as Halloween costumes).

As far as she was concerned, she should have gone as Sleeping Beauty, since she was younger than Sarah by a whole 14 minutes, AND she still had her white-blonde hair. Unlike Sarah, whose hair looked as if she ran a shit-smeared comb through it. She remembered the fight that broke out in Marshalls, how her mother grounded her for scratching Sarah's face. But, of course, Sarah didn't get grounded, even though she TOTALLY yanked MY hair. She was always the favorite, of course, always striving for mommy's love. But nothing can be perfect forever, oh no. Even if we did make up in time for us to go to the Halloween dance, it was only a clever ruse in order to get un-grounded.

 This was payback time.

I attempted to flush the stuff, but unfortunately, when you're trying to rid the place of biological evidence, the best way to go about it (or so I've read) is to burn it.
Little did my true-crime novellas failed to mention, is how horrible the smell is.
Needless to say, I set off the smoke alarm. Waking my mother from her Valium-induced slumber, her blood curdling scream woke up the entire neighborhood....

Describe the Perfect Roommate

I hated all my former roommates except this previous one. He answered my post on craigslist and we spoke only briefly via emails. He had moved in over a long weekend when I was away on a trip. He was the perfect roommate, never was noisy, always cleaned up after himself, always did his own laundry and seemed very friendly from the 2 email interactions we had after he moved in.

I never really see them but the $600 rent money is always deposited under my door on the first of every month,  and their exact half of the utilities are in the same plain envelope on the 15th of the month. Their room is next to mine and I hear them every now and then playing on the computer, playing the piano, or watching a movie. I will try to use the bathroom only to find out that the door is locked. I assume we work different hours since I only ever hear their footsteps at night. One night in particular, I couldn't sleep, I heard the door open and I was curious to know who my roommate was. I went to knock on their door, no answer So I opened the door to...an empty room.

It was then that I realized I was completely alone.

Toto. If We're Not in Kansas Anymore, Where Are we?

The land was flat.
It's makeup was - mostly - corn based.
Basically, You could see Topeka from where we were standing. It was just impossibly far.

The tornado displaced us next to a Runza. We should have been excited except we already had one in Kansas. Regardless, the dog needed to eat something.
As we sashayed ourselves into the restaurant, we were quickly displaced again by a rumbling and roaring of - not a lion- but a swath of drunk frat good ol' boys intensely focused on the Football game displayed on beat up old Toshibas above the takeout menus. Toto became confused with all the commotion and decided to bark along with the rest of these pesky teenagers.

As the time approached to order my lunch, a weird noise came across my ears.
Silence.
Toto wasn't barking anymore.
"Hey, Dorothy! Go back to Iowa!!!"
Apparently none of these Cornheads were Film Majors.
But they did have Toto spray painted Red and White. 

I waltzed over to one of the Herbie Husker motherfuckers and made a swift sidekick straight to the goods. Causing a gold rush of drunk kids to rage on the Runza shop.
I gracefully grabbed the confused Toto and got the hell outta dodge. While I was grabbing the next tornado vortex outta there - not caring where it dropped me off next - I vowed that even if I were deposited into the bowels of Hell, it would sure be better than Lincoln, Nebraska.

What Can Happen in a Second

Eye blinks, air bags deploying, cell regeneration, 1000 beats of a hummingbirds wings. A heart beat, one tire revolution, a revelation, a revolution, an uprising.
one byte of downloaded information, one byte of information torrented. A breath, falling in love, falling out of love, a thought, a fleeting action. A kiss, synapses firing, dying, becoming reborn out of a teacup.

Describe Nearly Drowning

I want to slit slits into my neck
So I have a reason to believe I will be alive after this.
Ironic to think,
That two little hydrogen atoms,
lighter than air
can make the difference between the oxygen we breathe and
the stuff we're made out of.

Ironic to think,
Of what's slowly killing me now,
is essential to life on this planet.

To inhale the ocean
is like getting to become one with nature
before she destroys you.

You're Filling a Time Capsule to Bury in the Backyard That Will be Dug up in 500 Years. Write the Letter You'd Put Inside to Describe Life As You Know It Today.

Greetings,

Firstly, I hope everyone is well, and healthy. Even the androids.
If I'm reading this due to some incredible advances in medical technology which lets me and Sean live forever, then what the Hell were you thinking? Did Sean talk you into getting that robot arm? Dear God, I hope not. I mean, it's cool if you have one, but one day it will crunch the grandchildren into a million pieces. Those things have a mind of its own, you know.

Jesus, now I sound like my mother. Anyway, I bet you really wanted to read this to figure out what life was like 500 years ago, well. Go read a book. No, not an e-reader or a smart phone or one of those Google/Apple/Android/Motorola Eye things you young kids pop into your eyeballs when you want to catch up on the internets. I mean, go to a library (because they will still exist) and ask the robot to take you down into the depths of the cellar, you will find these books there.

Run your hands across something tangible, feel how thin the pages were, touch things that are not a computer screen or a keyboard. Be tactile, get in touch with the world around you. Feel it. Everything is alive outside your digital bubble. That's the first step in going back 500 years, even with the onslaught of tiny machines, we still took the time to unplug ourselves from them, they are not part of our physical or mental extensions.

The next thing you should do after unplugging yourself - if we as a species didn't murder nature to unhospitable conditions- is go outside. Not that artificial green astroturf shit they have in your eco-dome, but climb beyond the walls of that and take a hike (wear sunscreen, at the very least it's gotta be hot as hell out there.) Learn about real trees and fresh air and exercise! Your body my scream and suffer for now but your mind and soul will thank you after a while. Fill yourself with what you are, biologically speaking. Learn to love being outside and wow yourself with things you could only dream of seeing on a computer.

Lastly, you should communicate. Not facebook, not twitter, not skype or whatever teleportt]ation device you may have. But actually meeting up somewhere face to face. Over tea if necessary. Have a conversation, really look into the expressions on peoples faces, fall in love with them. Have your eyes consume every atom in their face. Do not hide behind the wall of a keyboard and a camera, really enjoy the aura of someone. Long for them, pine for their face, get lost in them. Love them with your actions, not your zeroes and ones. Life would be much less complicated if we all sat down and saw each other face to face.

And, above all, live simply.

What Your (Work) Desk Thinks About At Night

I am cold back here,
but at least the view is nice and I can be left alone.

The woman who sits with me, we just had our one year anniversary together in October. You can tell she enjoys the time spent back here. Reading.

She's got some FANTASTIC taste when it comes to books, not like the other desks that drone on endlessly about Alex Cross or, Heaven forbid, Kinsey Millhone.
No, I get to read literature. 
Homer, Dante, e.e. Cummings, Anais Nin, John Steinbeck, Betty Smith, Patti Smith....
Hell, This girl got through Nabokov in a week!
A week!
This chick is amazing.

She is, however, alone.
stuck in the back corner, under the air conditioning unit, next to the window.
Like a forgotten lunch pail, hiding in the back fridge for months, untouched.
Until she is barraged by her supervisor, about a mistake she made in a call,
about some paperwork she wrote up wrong.

She ends up thinking she's useless during these times.
She is never rewarded or acknowledged when she cleans up a coworker's mistake.
Never rewarded by going above and beyond helping every customer she talks to.
Every secret payment she's made to a strangers account, out of kindness.
She believes she's useless at this job. When, in actuality, she's the best rep I've ever seen.
Everyone makes mistakes.
At least the sun shines on her.
Always alone, but never lonely.

Maybe.
Because she sometimes leaves tear stains on my varnish.
Sometimes, she hides back here during lunch.
Unable to leave for the break room, no. She only leaves me when she really needs to go to the bathroom.

You can tell how conflicted she is when she hides back here. In her fort.
I can hear her, try and make friends but nobody seems interested.
She pretends to follow football so she has something to talk about with her boss.
She read all the AA books so she has something to talk about with her supervisor.
She even read a goddamn Alex Cross novel so she had something to talk about with her coworkers.

It all adds up to her. Sitting here, day after day, alone in her corner cubicle.
wishing for a friend.

I want to hold her.
spread my maple-wood desktop around her body.
use this L-shaped body like arms and cradle her.
To speak to her in the language that she gets.
That she wants.
"What did you think about this character?"
"How was your drive into work today?"
"Where do you want to go for lunch?"
I want to be her friend, tell her that she is not invisible.
Her heart doesn't have to be so hard when she's back here.
I promise you are interesting, I promise people like you. If you could only get over your anxiety and break out a little at work.
I promise that you're not weird.
You are okay.
I promise.

You can sometimes hear her mumble softly to herself since no body can hear her in the back corner cubicle, staring out her window.

"I am cold back here,
but at least the view is nice and I can be left alone."

What Is The Most Recent Incident In Your Life That Made You Laugh?

Anything my kid says.

The amazing thing about living with a 5 year old child you look after and help raise is that they say the most wonderful, crazy, and deep things you will ever hear. Stuff is writers gold.

Just recently, he found me looking up Vegan recipes and websites, which eventually led to a discussion as to why I (almost) never eat meat at home, even if I cook it for him and dad. I told him I don't believe in eating anything with a face, and I never really liked the taste/texture of meat to begin with (But he still needs to eat what is given him. Regardless if he likes it or not, because that's how you learn what you like and what you don't like.) This then leads to the discussion of what  - exactly - meat is made out of. I told him hot dogs are made out of pigs, hamburgers out of cows, chicken made out of chicken etc. He then sat down for a while and - after 10 minutes of concentrated silence - decided he didn't want to eat meat anymore.

I'm all OH FUCK YES! This is a win for me!!! Suck it S! Muhahahaha! tofu babies for lyfe! I am super excited, but then S retaliates with "no more hamburgers, hot dogs, chicken burritos" and, to both S and I's complete surprise, Boyo is saying "OK" or "I know Daddy" to everything he is listing off.
Then, as things are starting to look up for ol' Kelso, Boyo drops a bombshell:

"Except Ham. Because I love ham."
"And chicken nuggets from McDonalds, but ONLY McDonalds! I don't like Burger King chicken nuggets."

Sweetheart, you know ham is made out of pig, right?
"Yeah? So? They eat grass! I'd still be a Vegan! Problem solved."
I just got kid logic'd.

I don't think I've ever laughed so hard at anything, I had to get up and leave the room. He follows me, then goes "DON'T CRY KELSO! I STILL LOVE PIGGIES! I JUST...... LOVE..... HAMMMM!!"

You Know When it Comes to a Decision Between the Job that Pays Well and the Job that's Fun? He Made a Colossal Mistake of Picking The Fun Job...

We all thought Nick would get some exceptional poon points with the cute veterinary technician, but working as a trainer at the New England Aquarium had it's major drawbacks.

At first, the director was impressed with the supposed extensive marine biology degree he received at the prestigious :"U.R. Bullshittingme Academy" that he gave Nick the precarious and important task of cleaning the penguin shit off the rocks in the famous penguin tank. After Nick was done, he tried to release them back into the other half of the habitat while explaining to the cute Vet Tech how much he could bench press. This is when his mouth got the best of his brain and decided to have the penguins swim loose with the rest of the fish. What Nick had failed to note, however, was the amount of exotic fish 15 penguins can consume within a 20 minute span.
After this faux pas, the aquarium director decided he was better off assisting in training the manatees in the Water Mammal Exhibit. However, after Nick taught a class of 3rd graders a colorful mix of swear words when a giant manatee came to rest on his foot, which in turn caused him to lose his balance and tumble head first into the pool; making him part of the show. They decided it was best to let him go home for personal leave that day.

Several complaints to the Aquarium Board Members, the director decided to give him one more chance at a job he knew Nick would be able to do: Train turtles. When three days went by without a complaint, both the board and the director thought they found a good match. Until tragedy struck.
The Aquarium's main attraction; a 105 year old great snapback turtle named "Big Bertha" was found terrorizing the streets in the Historic North End before escaping to Long Wharf Avenue and into the North Atlantic Ocean. They decided it was best to let him go. His last words were allegedly: "Fuck pruny hands, I'm out!"

Write About What Your Perfect Day Off Would be Like.

Firstly. I get to wake up at 9am. A luxury I am barely able to afford most days.
No kids, no significant others, no cats to tend to. Just alone.
But happily alone. Wrapped up in my blanket cocoon in my nice warm bed on a winter day.

I would then lie in bed until 10 or 10.30am, whichever felt better. I would most likely be thinking about whatever pops into my brain, I tend to do most of my daydreaming on the days I don't have to get up as early, where I can lie down and keep to my thoughts. It's amazing, and welcoming. I recommend it to anyone who has the time. Then I would get up and take a shower, get dressed, but nothing is uncomfortable, because I have the heat up to 70 degrees and all of my clothes are nice and warm and fashionable ane make me look like I had lost 30 pounds but make of sweatpant materials so I can feel as fat as I want to but look sooo fly.

I would go downstairs, make the best Darjeeling chai spice tea I will ever make, grab a few Jane Austen and Charlotte Bronte novels (Because I think they would be good for this winter weather.) and walk to a bookstore/cafe where everyone is quiet and keeps mostly to themselves and nobody bothers you except maybe once or twice to refill your coffee or tea and everyone is considerate and there would be no technology allowed. Just comfy chairs next to a fireplace with large windows overlooking the silent little snowy town I live in.

I would read all day. Without being bothered by chores, kids, significant other, money, worries, and life in general. I would be at peace and super zen. My mind quiet and still, Imagining myself as the strong female characters in every book I am reading. The hours would melt past me but it would only truly be 1pm by the time I was done with all my books and ready to pack up and leave for a stroll. At this point, a cute, tall, young, skinny man with glasses would muss up the courage and ask me to accompany him on a walk through the fields or the woods in the snow. I would say yes and would get to know this cute man and we would discuss ourselves and our dreams and goals and books and Science and Math and everything passionate. We will plan to travel together to Tibet but never exchange numbers because we are both modest and polite people who have lives to get back to. I would not be worried of his motives or if he was going to hurt me because this day is perfect and people are trustworthy and kind. He would not worry about me finding any type of sexual attraction or feeling or deep romantic love towards him either. We just simply wanted to enjoy the companies of another intelligent, beautiful person for a while.

At this point, It would be around 6pm. I would walk back to my home, and prepare myself a dinner of Moe's Italian Sandwiches, Norwegian lobster, and Bova's heavenly fresh baked bread. After consuming the fancy dinner, I would retire to my bedroom with a bottle of wine and write my best and greatest novel for 2 hours. Because, everyone should write their greatest novel for a minimum of 2 hours a day, preferably at night but not so late as before bedtime, because then you would never get it done. I would then go meditate for an hour and afterwards go listen to Radiolab and This American Life before drinking more wine and smoking a bowl and counting the stars on my porch while eating a twinkie. I would retire around 10pm but continue to read some more before I finally doze off to a sound slumber. Not worrying about anything.

A Houseplant is Dying, Tell it why it Needs to Live.

My love, you can't die and leave me here alone.
You're the only reason why I can live in this prison.
You breathe in my little carbon deaths and breathe out life sustaining oxygen.
Your beauty is unmatched by every monochromatic object in my cubicle.
Can't you see how important you are to the tiny world around us?
I would be so lost without you, Christmas Cactus.
Who else would I croon my sorrows to? Share my joys?
I have no one else except for these plastic troll dolls.
But they don't have what we have, baby.
They wouldn't understand.
They're not real.
Please.
Don't leave me here.

Write a Love Scene From the Point of View of Your Hands

Everything is full of warmth here.
New places to discover, temperatures and textures.
mostly smooth, but sometimes whiskery.
beards feel scratch, scratch, scratch!
while glasses have sharp edges around the frames.
Let me undress your eyes for a while.
oils from the forehead bubble into beads of sweat.
skin forever soft.
safe.
All is full of warmth here.

Hard calluses bump over the pads of me
reminders of broken hearts I tried to mend with hard work.
Always working? Never works.
Stick with what you know, hand over hand.
good, now interlace the fingers, let them waltz together for a while
where it's quiet, let them rest. Stay a while.
Have your palms come face to face
and kiss a little, make them get clammy.
All is full of warmth here.

Write a Bathroom Wall Limerick

I once took a shit in this stall

so thick and firm it stood tall.

It balanced on end,
that shit didn't bend,
But fell over and scraped my left ball.
_______________________________________

Here I sit broken hearted.
Came to shit but only farted.
Later on I took my chance,
Tried to fart but only shit my pants,
And now I learned the true meaning of sharted.
________________________________________

There once was a hooker from Devonshire

She said her name was Desire
So I took a chance,
and asked her to "dance"
Now my penis feels like it's on fire!
_______________________________________

That Time You Were Most Terrified - Your Knees Were Knocking, Your Heart Was Racing, You Could Barely Stand to be in Your Own Skin [TW]

(I must inform you before you delve into this. Trigger Warning. - ed.)

This story begins with me and a few college freshman friends in a tiny backwoods town in Chichester. I was in art school and frequently hung out with two wonderfully gay men, their lesbian cohort, her brother, and my best friend at the time. They were all very into Wiccan and Kempo Karate and liked to party out in the woods on their property called the "love shack" a rundown old concrete room with a beat up mattress and chair with one light giving off any sort of ambiance. This was home for many a weekend I sometimes cannot remember. One night, they decided to walk the 2 miles in the dark during the late summer months to the local baseball field to get high and look at the stars. I was completely and uderly drunk at this point and decided - after everyone got done smoking pot, and aggressively making out/having alleged sex, and testing out their mad karate skills- to try and walk myself the 2 miles back to "love shack" by myself. Bad Idea.
This was a small town full of rednecks and wild animals, not to mention police who would most likely not take kindly to a drunk and nearly naked (as I had my bathing suit top on with a pair of cutoff jeans) 17 year old teenager stumbling around without any ID. But I decided to hoof it without the aide of my friends. So there I stumbled, completely alone, in glorified underwear, an open container, and no sense of direction.

The first thing I remember is it getting really cold really quickly. I had left my shirt back at the sack and was determined to get back and wrap myself in it and pass out in my car. The second thing I remember is the car's headlights suddenly appearing behind me.....

Write an interesting take on what the Tooth Fairy does with all those baby teeth.

She had been working hard all evening and was ready to get some well deserved sleep. The teeth in her pouch had doubled her body weight, making it harder to fly back to her house on the south side of town, yet, miraculously, she made it before she ran out of power.
She flicked on the lights. Nothing happened.
"awesome." she sighed while continuing to stumble her way down into the basement and came across the fuse box. Knowing her wand wouldn't do any good, she tried to flick the switches this way and that, to no avail. They were completely out of Magic.

"double awesome." She replied to the candle she had found as she was lighting it. She had trenched over to the machine then began to deposit the molars and incisors into the funnel. She hopped onto the stationary bike, and began to petal.
The funnel started to rumble and wurr. children's discarded bones started to snap and pop under the stress of the gears and were ground into a fine powder and deposited into the jar at the bottom of the stationary bike; making it turn into fairy dust. The Tooth Fairy hated this part of her job, but this was the hustle of her days. Not everyone could be Tinkerbell.

She gathered up the fairy dust from the jar and recharged her wand. She then used the last bit to power up the house, turn the heat on, and have the kitchen magically start making dinner without the aide of clumsy fairy hands.
The Tooth Fairy climbed the basement stairs, magically spun around to find herself after the 360 degree assent in soft, warm sweatpants. She then proceeded to the couch where she was magically served dinner, then fell soundly asleep in her easy chair.

Ten Bad Bar PIck Up Lines.

1. "If you were a library book, I'd be checking you out."
2. "You made my floppy disk into a hard drive"
3. "Damn girl, if you was x squared, I'd be x cubed over 3 plus a constant. So I could be the area under your curves."
4. "Damn girl, you shit with that ass?"
5. "There's only going to be 7 planets after I destroy Urnaus."
6. "You remind me of my pinky toe, small, cute, and I'm probably going to bang you on my coffee table later."
7. "Are you from Iraq? Cause I wanna see you Bagadad ass up."
8. "Wanna go half on a baby?"
9. "Ay Gurl! What cho butt smell like?"
10. "You'll do"

[WP][Personal] What You Used To Do That You Don't Do Anymore.

I used to skateboard, or attempt to skateboard when I was a kid.
I was never really fantastic at it, I was never good enough to do tricks because I would always wipe out, get frustrated easily, and give up. Some days I wish I hadn't. I would cruise around the cul-de-sac we lived in and attempted to land simple olies. To this day I never gracefully stuck one. The only 2 tricks I can do is a front kick flip and a manual.

My kiddo thinks its the raddest thing ever. I purchased him a skateboard for Christmas this year, and I was going to buy myself one so he and I could practice during the summers together. But - of course -life got in the way and bills needed to be paid and food purchased and doctors visited... I'm unable to save up to get a nice board of my own.

I want to though, I crave the days of early springtime and mid summer where he and I are out late at the skate park across from our house, watching the teenagers practicing their flips on the half pipe and failing spectacularly. Then, as I watch my own kid attempt to do the exact same tricks as I tried to do 15 years prior, I will laugh at myself in between gasps of parent panic at how beautifully ironic life can actually be.

[WP][Personal] If You Got One Whole Day Where You Were Both Unable to Feel Any Pain and Totally Indestructible, What Would You Do?

I would go and live my secret dream of being a stunt double, of course.

Or I would go and mediate then practice self-immolation. I want to know what it feels like to be warm all over my body. How it would feel to melt.
Then, I would try an conquer my fear of flying with jumping out of a plane without a parachute multiple times.
I would try and drink myself into a stupor and write and write and write and do copious amounts of drugs that I've always wanted to do without fear of dying or puking or getting really ill.
I would get into bare knuckle fights with Romanian gypsies and win lots of money. Which I would invest back into their community, because I'm a nice lady.
I would play wrestle with the dogs and let my limbs be their chew toys.
I just realized I could eat whatever I damn well please! Without worrying about getting violently ill or needing to be near a restroom.
I would skateboard a half pipe on top of the Sears tower.
I would instigate an asshole cop just so they can beat on me while someone puts it up on youtube and hopefully get fired.
BASE jumping always sounded friggin awesome.
And you don't even want to know about the intimate things...
If this were for 6 months or so, I would hike, everywhere!
Mountains, deserts, jungles....everywhere!

For me, if I were able to forgo pain and misery, it would also take away my fear, and thus my anxiety for doing pretty much every sorta dangerous thing I've wanted to do.

To be honest though, I'd most likely sit and light my fingers on fire while bored at the office. Then maybe try and get hit by a bus then go home and hang out with my family.

[WP] You Have Just Swallowed Your Pride and Done Something You Didn't Want to Do. Your Friend Wants to Know Why. The Two of You Are Driving Around an Almost-Full Parking Garage Looking for a Space for the Friend's Oversized Pickup. Write the Scene.

"Wait dude, you're marrying her?!"
"Well, yeah. It's what I have to do."
"But, you know why this is a bad idea. I cannot believe you're going to go through with this. After all she's done to you. Why?"
"Because, I love her."
"Seriously, I highly doubt you love her THAT much. OOH! is that a spot?"
"...Nope, motorcycle."
"Goddammit, why do they always take up one goddamn spot like that?! USE THE MOTORCYCLE SPOTS ASSHOLE!"
"Relax, we'll find something. It's only the jewelry store in the mall. It won't sell out THAT fast."
"Another question, why are you asking me to help you find a ring? I hunt, I wear Carhart, I play paintball, Christ. I own a pickup truck for God sake, I am not what you say "queer" enough to help you pick out a ring. Especially for someone who cheated on you."
"Dude, it was only 5 times."
"ONLY 5? YOU TOLD ME IT WAS 2!"
"Nope, she confirmed it was 5 the other day."
"WOAH WAIT, BACK THE FUCK UP!"
"What? I was going to tell you while we were getting the ring!"
"I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to grandma who's taking forever backing her old clunker out of the spot. Wait...when did she tell you this?"
"Yesterday."
"And you still decided it's an okay idea to marry this woman, without a prenup?"
"Yeah."
"Even though she got that restraining order against you? Even when she slashed your tires on your own pickup truck not even 8 months ago? Did she really change her ways THAT quickly? I highly doubt that."
"You don't understand, there's more to it than that."
"You wanna know what I don't understand?"
"What's that?"
"How a motherfucking Prius can swerve into MY GODDAMN PARKING SPOT LIKE THAT. THANKS A LOT, YOU HIPPIE ASSHOLE!!"
"Bunch of savages in this town, I swear."
"You're not getting out of my line of questioning that fast, Chuck. You've yet to explain to me why you are going to marry her."
"It's complicated. "
"We obviously have time on our hands."
"Oh look there's a spot!"
"Where?"
"No wait, motorcycle again. "
"FUCKING CHRIST. Remind me to never go to the mall again. I seriously cannot believe all the bullsh-"
"She's pregnant."
"...What?"
"She's pregnant."
"Wh...with your kid?"
"...."
"This is serious, is it yours?"
"...yes and no."
"YES AND NO? It's pretty GODDAMN HARD to have a chick be pregnant and not pregnant at the same time."
"I can explain."
"Explain away. Oh Scientific Miracle worker!"
"She made a mistake cheating on me, she knows this. The father of the kid walked away, she wants to turn over a new leaf. How am I to say no to that?"
"Like this: No. Fucking. Way."
"Listen dude, we made a promise. She's changed this time."
"Just like the last time?"
"Look, having a baby changes people. She's been going to work full time, she's been attending her college classes, and She's been at home all weekend. Her reign of bitchy, partying terror is done. We're all getting old, it's time for all of us to grow up. I have faith in our relationship, we both love each other very much. "
"And what happens if this all falls apart?"
"Well then, that's my fault. That's how life works. Futhermore, if you don't approve of us getting married, then maybe I should find myself a new best man."
"...Where did that come from?"
"My heart."
"You must really love her, don't you?"
"Yes. I do. Every part of her."
"Well. I guess we should go find her a ring."
"OH SHIT DUDE LOOK!"
"OH MY GOD IS THAT A SPOT?"
"No no wait....motorcycle again."
"Son."
"Of."
"A."
"BITCH!"