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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Prompt: Imagine yourself in a war setting where everything becomes changed and magnified. What can a war destroy? How much can success, independence, love, art, or family weigh in one’s life when everything is falling apart? ======= I was born during the World War II, in a country that was not attacked directly, but the idea of war and the subsequent threats of war have been enough to make me feel scared of being in one. For that reason alone, I have great respect for all the veterans of any country who willingly go (or have gone) to war to defend their people and the welfare of their country. Most of my reading during the last few years have been war stories; therefore, as if by proxy, I have experienced a little bit of what might happen, and it is not pretty because most of all wars are psychological and cyclical. It is as if some leader or some group occasionally starts itching to declare or go to war. I believe we all need to think about this and imagine a war, so we understand what the people caught inside a war in their country can be going through. Aside from the shortages and the fear, can you imagine how it would feel ten thousand thunderous noises above your head and the fear of being hit by a bomb of any kind, constantly? Then the maimed, dying, crying, population some of whom can be your family, relatives, neighbors, and friends? No, it is not pretty and it is not sweet, but it is something we need to think about without getting freaked out. We need to think about this so we can feel empathy for those who are being caught in a war. We need to think about this, so we can do everything in our power to stop all wars. We need to think about this, so we can pinpoint and appreciate the true peace-makers when we choose our leaders. It isn’t easy, but peace, world peace has to happen if we want to keep this planet intact for future generations. I certainly believe world peace is possible, maybe not in my lifetime, given the moodiness of mankind, but maybe in future. I sincerely hope that future comes immediately or at least, as soon as possible. |
| Prompt: Let's talk about the women in your life: after all, it is Mother's Day weekend. -------- Most memorable women who are related to me have passed on. Among them are my Grandmother and my aunts. The women who are living who are now in my life are my cousins, younger or older than me, mostly younger. I love and adore them all. But then, there are and have been other women in my life who are not related to me or I have never met, dead or alive. Those are the women who had a great influence on who I am, today. One of them was my high-school Lit teacher who introduced me to serious literature. In fact, she took extra time to spend with me and encouraged my reading in different cultures. Earlier, when I was in Junior High, the first woman who opened my eyes to the existence of who women really are, other than being there to live under the other gender, was Louisa May Alcott with her Little Women. Granted, her women still had to have men in their lives but they were their own persons. Then, I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, whose writing I admire to this day, and most anything by the Bronte sisters, since I commiserated with Jane Eyre, who out of necessity had to fight her own way in the world. Later on, I met Madame Curie and Margaret Mead. I was so taken by Margaret Mead that I used to wish she were my mother. Funny, what teenage minds can come up with! I am writing all this because it is difficult to write about the real women in my life who helped me with my everyday living. I have loved them with all my heart and my own mother, too, but when one is so close to people, it is impossible not to see the bad together with the good. That is why I can’t write about them in full. Sometimes, in my other work such as poetry and fiction, I take one of their assets and write about that, and that is fine by me. In short, I think deep down, whether they are mothers or not, all women are strong but some don’t know it. As such, strong women always impress me, as long as they don’t flaunt their strength for flimsy reasons such as a wish for power or partisanship or for their own ends. |
| Prompt: The mirror never lies. Or does it? === Yes, it does. Have you ever looked at yourself on curved carnival mirrors in a country fair? Did you see your nose curving every which way and your mouth larger than your forehead? And your hair, where did it go? Just like anything else, there are mirrors, and then, there are mirrors. There are mirrors that only reflect your outer shape, and there are mirrors inside people’s eyes who truly love you and they reflect your loveliness with a joyous spark. After all, our humanness is our best reflection, not our outer shape. For this reason, why we covet outer shapes always passes me by. There are, however, broken people who believe in what they see in their outer shape, and despair. To them, I would like to say, “If you believe what that mirror is telling you is true, break that mirror and see what happens.” Most of the time, shards of a broken mirror show shattered images multiplied inside them, with as many images as there are mirror pieces, distorting, cutting, and multiplying shapes. That is what brokenness does. Yet, I bet you won’t break any mirrors. Heaven forbid! Who wants seven years of bad luck? And if you believe in broken mirrors bringing bad luck, I have to surmise that when big bad wolves order their underlings to do away with millions of innocent people, those innocents must have broken a million truckloads of mirrors. But that has never been the case, has it? And I have digressed again because my mind is like a spent blow poke when it exhales its last breath. And when it inhales again, a different kind of wind brings out different words. Then since I am so good with digressing, do you know I have a tiny note on my mirror that says, “This mirror may not lie. Just be happy that it is not laughing at you out loud.” So, I end up laughing at the mirror out loud, instead. Just maybe, all mirrors are for laughing at. |
| Prompt: What do you love about life? -------- Everything. I love everything about life. Loving life is instinctive in the first place even if we are not aware of it. Some people who have been rescued from suicide attempts have said during the last few seconds they’ve had doubts. The thing that encourages those doubts is the instinct for living. Aside from the instinct, what I love most about life is people, all kinds of people, my species, then, nature and other species. I love all living things. I love the ways how we all breathe and feel pain or the relief from the pain and all kinds of emotions and how we attach ourselves to different and similar belief systems. As far as living things go, I even love snakes and roaches and hate myself when I have to kill an insect. I love the sunsets, the stars, and the moon in all its phases. I also love the clouds and how they capture light and sometimes color. In addition, I love what we can produce as art. I also love what other species and forces of nature can produce like birdsongs, the wind through the trees, the mewing of kittens, the barking of dogs, the fragrance of flowers, cut grass, and bread baking in the oven. I love classical music, folk music, instrumental music as well as a beautiful voice singing a song. I even appreciate any voice trying to sing because it reflects something of the person singing it. I love the sound of rain, the waves on the ocean, the feel of sand under my feet at the beach, the pebbles polished by water and sea glass. Of everything I do in life, I love to read the most. Through reading, I can experience life even more. I am not much for TV watching, but I can appreciate its existence, too, because I think it is a fantastic invention, all manmade. I love staying home and going out equally. I appreciate friends and neighbors and just about everyone I meet. I love when things stay clean and I love the feel of water running through my fingers when I do the dishes. I am always so deeply impressed by things we take for granted in our homes, like the sturdiness of the house structures, the windows and sliding doors with glass panes, and screens, the constant running water, hot and cold, electricity, our cars and traffic systems, telephones, internet, being able to be in touch with people all over the world. I am never the one looking for perfection but I try to do my best. I am never perfect and so are (or aren’t) the others, but I can see a beautiful perfection in all imperfections and what makes us be us. Most of all, I love how we, each in his or her own way, deal with living our butterfly-length lives. |
| Prompt: "What the mind can't remember, the heart doesn't forget." Write anything you want about this. This applies to Alzheimers Disease or anything else you have in mind. ----------- I didn’t know this quote applied to the Alzheimer’s Disease. The second I read it, I thought of PTSD sufferers who, even though they suppress the memories in their minds, end up reliving them in their dreams every night. It goes to show what we wish to forget, we don’t if our hearts remember it. Sometimes I see a sweet smile on someone’s face and it immediately reminds me of someone else from my past, a friend or a relative, even though I wasn’t consciously thinking of them. On the sore side, the more painful an experience the more our mind will work hard to make sure we don’t forget it, so we don’t make that mistake again. And if the painful experience wasn’t our mistake, then our heart will remember when spotting the same heartbreak someone else is experiencing. This makes me believe that our hearts are created to teach us empathy. Then back to the Alzheimer’s, such a devastating disease, and yes, the person may not consciously remember a nice gesture or a visit from a loved one, but still such actions by others make them happy. My cousin took care of her mother suffering from Alzheimer’s for twenty years until my aunt’s death. My cousin, who I think is up for sainthood, says her mother, even during her later years, smiled and felt happy after my other cousins visited her. I think even though her mind stopped working, her heart felt the love offered to her. After all, in all our lives, not something material but a beautiful moment is what matters the most. |
| Prompt: Is what people learn in schools enough for living this earthly life? Or what are some of the things you learned in life that the schools didn’t teach you? And what would be important to teach young people before they start on their own? ==== I was very lucky with who my teachers were, especially during my teen years. I attended an accelerated school that hired retired college professors, most having had a good amount of life experiences under their belts, and they didn’t hide their experiences or advice from us. Most of them talked to us when we needed help and even when we didn’t. Especially our Home-Economics teacher Miss Lindsay (RIP) was an excellent teacher. She not only taught her subject well but also went above and beyond the course requirements. For example, one of her advises was how to get along with in-laws. These and her other tips weren’t large psychology tomes but little pointers that helped me greatly in my life. My higher education teachers weren’t like the ones I had in my junior high and high school years, but they were all good knowledgeable people in their own areas. Still, as lucky as I have been with my schooling, life had many more areas that I had to learn on the job, and that learning never stops, as I assume, even to the last breath. What would be important to teach young people? On top of morals, integrity, and a quest for wisdom, young people should be taught how to use money and manage their finances well. Even with subjects like Finance and Economics, students are not taught the fundamental day-to-day dealings with transactions. I also find, both in my own children and others, that young people rarely understand the value of good economics and the ruin impulsive spending may bring. Also, they need to understand that goodwill, generosity, letting go of biases, and smooth interpersonal relationships are more important in the long run than they might grasp during their young lives.  Prompt: If you have ever met a highly manipulative person, what are the characteristics, actions, or feelings of such a person? Or if you haven’t met one, can you imagine what they’d be like, and could you use such a character in your fiction? Can you make him or her the protagonist, antagonist, or a secondary character? ========= Manipulation means exerting unwelcome or unexpected influence on others through mental or emotional exploitation, intending to control the other person or people. In itself, manipulative behavior is toxic; however, many well-meaning people use those tactics on people they want the best for, namely parents and teachers. Their designs, according to them, work in the victim’s favor, but also theirs, too. Who as a parent or a teacher would want to be associated with a wild and misbehaving son, daughter, or student? This supposedly positive manipulation can take the form of insincere flattery to appeal to the ego or vanity, promises of acceptance with a catch, fake closeness, and offering support, rewards, and rights and then, taking them away as punishment for noncompliance. Then, such people present to their victims a helplessness designed to exploit the offspring’s or any other person’s goodwill, sense of duty and obligation, or guilty conscience. Other modes of manipulation can be finding excuses for themselves and blaming the other person and everything else, changing the truth and exaggerating it, giving mixed messages to unhinge the mental well-being of the other person. Manipulation can also be administered through all kinds of abuse, bullying, intimidation, brainwashing, tantrums, and oppressive rules and restrictions. In fact, the more I think of this, the more I can come up as to the ways of manipulation. Have I met a manipulative? Yes, and countless ones, in fact. First in my family, then in the wider world. They all left me not trusting them, feeling alienated, disappointed, betrayed, sabotaged, coerced, and mostly cheated. I also observed such people’s reputations damaged and their words not taken seriously. This loss of integrity adds on to their low self-esteem and still triggers their egocentrism, narcissism, and passive-aggression tendencies. Some manipulators may feel great stress for having to cover up and for to not be found out and exposed. In the long run, the manipulators themselves are the ones who end up having a difficult time because of their own shortcomings. Having said all that, in creating fiction, manipulators are priceless to invigorate the plot of a story, and they don’t even need to be the villains. They can be allies to the protagonist or just secondary characters whose actions may act as catalysts to many twists and turns. |
| Prompt: Happy Cinco De Mayo! It's all the Kentucky Derby! Let's put on our crazy hats and slug back a margarita before we answer in celebration. Did you know it's been 4.2 years since Blog City opened its blogging forum? Time flies when you're having fun. What's been happening in your world? What would you like to see happen in your world? What can we do to make blogging more interesting to you? === I came into BC after it has been running for some time, possibly less than a year, on Cindy's insistence. Before that, I was keeping a blog on my own and focusing on writing as its central theme. When I first came in and faced the prompts, some of them shocked me because they were asking for personal data. I admit that I acted in a snarky manner in answering them, at the time, but of course, I soon realized asking someone how many love affairs they had in their lives could be answered from a fictional character’s POV, and not the actual writer’s. Now, I love answering prompts. In addition, it is much better when different people give the prompts. For that reason, I have been missing Princess Megan Rose 22 Years  ’s prompts for the last couple of weeks, even though Lyn's a Witchy Woman  is a very versatile prompt giver and I adore her prompts. Whether we have four or three prompters each week, writing every day--at least trying to write every day--is a great discipline for writers. What’s been happening in my world? Lol, where do I begin? But you are asking about blogging, aren’t you! I like the status quo, especially in BC as here we write because we want to and not because to win something or prove ourselves to be better in some way. I always thought of writing, in its essence, to be a personal, non-competitive choice and not a race of some kind, even though the publishers, with their business frenzy, have made it a race and turned perfectly good writers into vendors. I think the self-publishing flood of today serves them right. Not that there is anything wrong with a bit of competition. I know that every once in a while, a friendly contest motivates and fires up the will to write, but for something I am doing on an everyday basis, I like the non-competitiveness of BC. Maybe I am so old that I’ve become cemented in my ways. In any case, Happy Cinco De Mayo, Dear Blog City, and I love horse races. I’ll be rooting for a couple of numbers in the Kentucky Derby. I said numbers because I can’t keep the horses’ names in my mind. So, before the Derby starts, I pick two numbers and hubby picks two, and as we watch the race on TV, we egg on the horses carrying our numbers. What do you expect from an oldie who already has difficulty recalling people’s names? You certainly wouldn’t expect me to recall every horse and its pedigree, would you? Prompt: Since Fivesixer likes facts on Fridays, let's give him 11 uses for a drinking straw except drinking that's too dang easy ---- How about the straws’ uses and flaws, together? I can’t list the positives without facing the negatives, can I! 1. The UK is about to ban the plastic straws because they are the worst non-biodegradable product ever. McDonald's and a few other companies are also cutting down on their uses in deference to the problems of pollution in oceans and landfills. 2. Your face looks ugly when drinking from a straw. 3. Drinking from a straw with that sucking motion encourages a lot of creases to form around your lips and the upper and lower parts of the mouth area. 4. They may, however, have some kind of a use for disabled or sick people. 6. Straws can be made from bamboo and other bio-gradable products, but their production is difficult. They have been made from paper in the past, but paper doesn’t hold up every liquid drink as well as a plastic straw. 7. You can blow on a liquid, creating waves, ripples, and sprays and try to entertain babies and young children. I saw my mother do this with her grandchildren, which totally stunned my kids who argued with her that straws were not made for that use. This was forty years ago, more or less. 8. Straws are lightweight and easily replaceable, should they fall to the ground. 9. A straw is used by one per person and for one time only. This discourages the contagion of disease or anything close to it through the mouth. 10. Two people can drink from the same container by using their separate straws, although I would hate doing this. Too much togetherness, you know! 11. If you are drinking from a can of soda or even a cup of something in a movie theater or some such place when your mind is focused on elsewhere, using a straw prevents spills. |
| Prompt: "Spring is like perhaps a hand / (which comes carefully / out of Nowhere)arranging / a window, into which people look," writes e. e. cummings, using the image of a hand and its actions to describe the nature of spring. His musings go on in the poem to make various imaginative leaps, but its twists and turns are held together by the shared exploration of a specific subject. Try writing a poem, short story or blog entry that begins with, "Spring is like..." and explore the season through similes. ====== Spring Is a Slippery Trickster (a haibun) Spring is like the pollen it produces. When spring comes, pollen replaces the ice and the snow, but it is just as annoying if not more so. In addition, pollen is a two-faced cheat and a witch that casts spells in the name of spiritual alchemy, creating blooms that erupt in rainbows of dust mimicking sunshine. From the ice and snow to one bewildered beauty some fools like to kiss When spring booms with thunder to bring the sweetly singing rain, which cleans the air but acts as the instigator for plants that, due to the buoyancy of their drinking spree, produce blooms and more blooms, thus more flurries of adhesive pollen plummeting from the air into people like feathered arrows. not only sneeze attacks but synchronous asthma too conniving murder |
| Prompt: Zachary Schomburg's poetry collection Fjords Vol. 1 (Black Ocean, 2012) was inspired by his desire to write poems based on the dreams his friends had shared with him. In an interview for the Pleistocene, he explained that part of his process was "e-mailing my friends or having a beer and talking to them about their most interesting dreams or their most recent dreams, and trying to make poems out of them." The resulting poems have the odd clarity of dream logic. Have you ever written poetry or stories based on your dreams either your own or friends? Let's discuss dreams a bit. Do you believe writing about yours or someone else's dreams can be beneficial? How reliable do you think dream recall is? =================== I used to write down my dreams about 30 or so years ago. Then I stopped after several years, not seeing the point in them. Some time ago, when I was looking into that dream note-book, I realized some of those dreams came true later on. One is even scary. I had dreamed of 9/11 and my older son in it, 9 years before 9/11 happened, and my son was really in it, as he was working in downtown NYC, but luckily he came out of it physically unharmed, except for PTSD of some kind. There are other instances, too, but this one was the scariest and the weirdest. I don’t take precognition very seriously, even though I don’t deny it. I guess writing our dreams can be beneficial for introspection and that was why I was doing it when I was doing it. After a few trying dreams like the one I mentioned above, I decided I'd rather write after I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee in the morning and I am wide awake. But I may have poems on dreams or some such thing. I’ll check and then continue with this entry. Okay, here’s one I wrote in 2015 after I dreamt I was living in NYC again. First stanza is totally the dream itself, if I recall it correctly. Second stanza has something from my real life in just a couple of lines, so I must have inserted that part to give some meaning to the poem. Keeping It Molten Back in the vast city. I’m nowhere and everywhere, tunnels, canals, tankers, taxis, slums, skyscrapers webbed, veined, and no skin transparent. Crooks and junkies in this dark metropolis? But no, only phantoms smelling of fish ghosts from a graphic story--singed, somber and tragically misread—still hiding in the tenements of my mind. This city has been a bloody slaughterhouse littered with noise, and I still writhe in a corner park, watching the 59th street bridge with steel biceps where she once said they met in secret and broke all circuits inside me, and voiceless, I screamed underground poetry to inflame the avenues in my roiled solitude igniting the Hudson River. |
| Prompt: What do you think affects a good night’s sleep in a negative way? The kind of bed, the pillows, the covers, life’s stresses, relationships, noise, illness, medication, and/or anything else you can come up with, in addition to all of the above? === I think anything and everything might mess up a peaceful sleep at night. Most people who have studied the subject advise to go to sleep at the same time each day and to keep away from napping. But that doesn’t work because it isn’t doable, at least not always. Even when it is doable, many things can interfere with our sleep anyway. Other professional recommendations may not work most of the time, also. Reading in bed before feeling sleepy helps me, provided the physical requirements--such as a quiet, dark, and cool room etc.--are in place. Then, when I wake up in the middle of the night and can’t go back to sleep, I use a tiny music player, similar to an iPod, and listen to music or books. I have had several dreams about the music and the books I’m reading and listening to, which were a lot of fun to recall in the morning. I’d rather do this than get up and lose even more sleep or use pills or other sleep-aids. Prompt: Do you believe hate, fear, and bad behavior can be contagious, not only among kids but adults as well? === Absolutely. Bad behavior and negative feelings can become an epidemic if people do not watch themselves. I believe such contagion may arise from being inspired, a desire to imitate or to belong, perceived similarities, idolizing or sympathy with a cause, a wish for fame. Since like-minded people are emboldened when they can clump together and feel justified in their anger to the point of acting that anger out, negative feelings and behaviors are bound to increase. Then, their group violence emboldens such people and forces the others either into a fearful submission or detachment. Very few can rise to defend their personal views against such violent behavior. I think such people who are so easily persuaded are the insecure ones, who in a group of offensive people, feel emboldened and even idolized with the help of the internet, corrupt media, and the undeserved accolades. This way, they are no longer alone with their insecurities, since they’ve now joined a subculture to feel special, apart, and above the rest of the society. To them, what is deviant is acceptable and even noble. |
| Prompt: What's one of your most favorite Springtime activities, and how did you happen to get into it? -------- We don’t have springtime where I live. Instead, we have a jumble of seasons without snow from December to May, then from May to September, very hot summers. However, when we used to live in Long Island, NY, we had the springtime all right, and my favorite activity was putting in the seeds or saplings for the vegetable garden and feeding or pruning the roses and other plants and trees.  Prompt: The little blue boy and the man on the moon and??? -------- the man on the moon has a blank look carved off the air but he sends a smile to the wild dogs howling and to the little blue boy holding no illusions of dancing, inside him Prompt: “Sometimes love is nothing more than a sticky web; illusions spun from clever minds and bitter hearts.” ― Nicole Lyons "Good God, no. The lies we tell other people are nothing to the lies we tell ourselves.” ― Derek Landy, Death Bringer What's worse--- telling someone the truth and hurting their feelings or lying to them to spare their feelings? -------- It all depends on the other person. If the truth you’re going to tell the other person will force him or her to go into deep depression or cause them to have a heart attack, you’d better keep that truth to yourself. On the other hand, if the truth may hurt their feelings at the moment but help them in the long run, it’ll be the most humane thing to stick your neck out. If the truth would hurt their feelings and not help them, it may be a good idea to take the fifth. You don’t have to blatantly lie to spare anyone’s feelings. Even if hiding the truth can be considered a form of lying, you can evade the question or saying something by changing the subject. |
| Prompt: Have you ever done karaoke? What kind of songs do you like to do? If you haven't... have you thought about it? ============ No, I wouldn’t sing in a crowd or for others as my singing would frighten the frogs. On my own, I can’t hold a tune. Funny thing is I know immediately whatever croaking coming out of my mouth is faulty and doesn't fit the music at all, but I have no control over my voice or my breath (due to asthma). Still, I have tiny music players with earbuds that fit a shirt pocket. Sometimes, while doing housework I sing a song along with them. My husband says I sound good. But he is biased or afraid  to say anything to hurt me. Prompt: One of our long Blog City members passed away on Monday Cheri Annemos, please take a moment of silence in her memory. If in the event of your own demise, have you considered what happens to your writing here on WDC? Does your family know how to access it? Or would you rather they not see your writing? I know I keep saying I'll get around to it. ========== Cheri was a kind, generous, and gentle soul. She worked well in a team or alone. And she didn’t like mentioning her disease, that awful cancer. I will always remember her as a fine friend, teammate, and a WdC writer. May she rest in peace and in the light.“My good, my noble, in their prime, Who made this world the feast it was, Who learned with me the lore of time, Who loved this dwelling-place.” From Ralph Waldo Emerson’s Dirge As to my demise, if my offspring are so keen on my writing, they’ll find a way to get it. If they don’t, so be it. Almost all of my writing is on my flash drives, at least in their original forms before edits. Some have the edits. I also have a place from which they can get my passwords and stuff. I really don’t care about what legacy I’ll leave behind or if anyone sings a song or plants a flower. That I know I didn’t hurt anyone knowingly is enough for me and whatever effects I leave behind are what I leave behind. This is because when death comes for me, it’ll find me ready and willing. Then, I hope to God, I don’t reincarnate on this earth again, a place created to be beautiful but one that is so full of rage, selfishness, and hate, with some unkind, self-important people in mobs siding with one unimportant and hateful party or another, against their fellow human beings with the excuse of hanging on to the premises of resisting or fixing (in their way) something or other. |
| Prompt: What do you think of cardboard boxes, their uses, or abuses? And what memories they may contain, if any? ---------- I keep potting soil and peat moss in a large cardboard box which is placed on top of another larger box in the garage, so when I repot a plant I don’t have to bend down and the soil mixtures stay drier. I love cardboard boxes for temporary storage, too. I keep my physical books on the to-read list in another smaller box. When a book is finished, another takes its place and the already read book goes on to a shelf or is given away. I got into this habit, years ago when we were traveling a lot. I used to leave in hotel and motel desks the books I was done with. I was even part of a group who did such stuff, like leaving books in all kinds of public places. I don’t know what became of that group. After a friend passed away, a long time ago, some things he had willed to me were handed to me in a cardboard box. Inside it, he had one of my books, something I had translated, from long ago. I kept the box and the mementos together. I also keep the photos I didn’t have time to place in albums in a cardboard box placed in a plastic box. I find a plastic box alone does not keep things intact as much as a cardboard box placed inside a plastic box. Then, let a child play with a big box, that box will turn into a rocket, or a castle, or a playhouse. In fact, most children end up playing with the box more after they open it up than the toy that came in it. After all, we are like cardboard boxes, packaging things inside, such as beauty, sadness, fun, anger, joy, cleverness, inventiveness, kindness, etc. Once we dare to open up, we can let the sunshine in or sometimes, even a playful cat. |
| Prompt: What is the most peculiar sight you have ever seen in your hometown, where you now live, or in a place where you traveled to? Please, describe it in detail. ---- In the area where I live, restaurant owners will come up with all sorts of crazy ideas to attract customers. The craziest thing I spotted was on the Stuart Boathouse’s outdoor seating, which was made to reflect a sea pirate’s place, with a half-sunk boat in the sand and the monkey on the trunk of a tree high up. It looked like a real monkey, rather huge in proportion and far up overhead, possibly carved of wood. Now, Florida is not famous with its monkeys, except for those in human form like the cheeky waiter who waited on us and because of whom my hubby refuses to go there again, but I loved the place at the one time when we went there with our children. I especially would love to see that monkey (no, not the waiter), the monkey on the tree again. Aside from the monkey and that restaurant, a rather peculiar but beautiful place I’ve been to is in Turkey, in an Aegean town called Denizli. It is called Pamukkale, a place in cascading natural forms of snow and waterfalls that are frozen, but the pond-like structures have blue, hot waters that are said to cure diseases and they are open to the public to bathe in. We were told the place was fed by underground springs and the whole thing had resulted from calcium carbonate deposits. This amazing thing is totally nature-made and has a lovely view around it, besides being something of a wonder in itself to watch and enjoy. Prompt: What do you consider "trouble", and how do you stay out of it? ----- Trouble for me is to be put on the spot where I don’t know the answers or the reasons why I am in the spot that I am in. The unknowing is trouble, to me. If I know the reasons or the answers I can handle the challenges. If I have done something that I am aware of, I am always ready to face the consequences. How do I stay out of it? I don’t and I can’t. How can one stay away from the unknown? On the other hand, if being put in a certain spot consistently is the doing of a specific person, you can be sure I’ll stay away from that person, although there is no such person in my life at this time. |
| Two prompts into one story. Prompt: A writer finds, in a used-book store, the book she/he autographed as a gift to her/his lover. Have fun. Prompt: Whenever a certain person comes to visit, your walls turn from their color to black. -------- Carol Crespo shouldered her backpack and stepped over the Bookmark Joe’s threshold. Inside, people were scouring the shelves and the tables with hungry eyes. Two people near a back table were arguing fiercely both were holding on to the same book. Near the right wall, a guy slowly raised a book to his nose and sniffed it. Weirdos! As if books were a rare commodity! At least, Jason wasn’t that odd. In fact, her boyfriend rarely read a book. Still, Carol had gifted him a book, signed with her sincerest love, because it was the book she had written, her first, while Jason had applauded her efforts and supported her through the grueling publication process. This from a guy who sidestepped a library and harrumphed any bookstore. Carol smiled having found in her boyfriend the catch of the year. She smiled as she ventured deeper into the store. at the sudden sight of a familiar book cover, she halted at a table. Her book! She smiled. Someone had read her book, but why discard it so soon? Only a month had passed since it was off the press. Cautiously she held the book and lifted it. It was hers and brand new as if never been read. She opened to the beginning. Then, not believing her eyes, she leaned forward into the book. To Jim, my love, My thanks for helping me find my two most important loves, you and this book… Carol “Miss, are you all right?” Carol looked up at the tall woman with smog-gray hair standing by her. “Do you feel faint? You rocked back and forth. I thought you’d collapse.” “Thank you, no, but I feel fine,” she said trying to regain her wits and stay in control. Yet, she felt an empty tension as if her insides were sucked out. “But I’d like to buy this book. Do you know who brought it in?” As she talked, she stepped toward the register. The woman followed. “Yes, I probably…remember. It was only yesterday. It’s in the receipts. I wouldn’t be comfortable giving a name, but it was a young man, blond, handsome I thought. That much I can say. Why? Why did you ask that?” “It’s brand new. That’s why,” “Not everyone appreciates a new author, you know. I’m surprised this is sold so quickly. Only 50 cents.” Carol put two quarters on the register. “I could wrap it if you wish.” “No, no, thanks,” Carol said, pulling her backpack to her side. “I’ll just stick it in here.” Only 50 cents… Not everyone appreciates a new author… The woman’s words sank into her as she walked to her car, her face growing warmer. How embarrassing! And how cruel was Jim! She had no idea how she could face him again. If only her grandmother was alive. She’d take care of things her way…She'd take care of Jim even though he was the best-looking man Carol had tangled with. Once in her place, she threw the book on the living room table, disgusted as if Jim and her book had canceled each other out. Later in the day, when Jim showed up at her door, Carol uttered a plaintive mew at first, putting her hand to her mouth in surprise. Jim didn’t look as handsome anymore, but he leaned and kissed her. She didn’t kiss him back and stuck her foot in between them. Jim leaped over her foot and went inside. “What is with you, today, Carol? Do you feel okay? Why what did you do with this place? Why the black walls?” Carol caught sight of her walls, then. They had all turned black. She turned her head around to see if there were signs of any magical person invading her apartment. Maybe someone from her grandmother’s coven? She glared at Jim. “I don’t want to see you again,” she hissed. “Not after what you did with my book.” She pointed at the top of the living room table. Jim spotted the book and he blushed, taking it in his hand, seeing the inscription, then realizing that somehow, he was found out. “Okay, Carol,” he said. “It is best we called it quits anyway. I had meant to do it for a while myself.” As Jim left, Carol clenched her fist and waved it at him, but nothing happened. Maybe she hadn’t come into her abilities yet, the abilities her grandmother had been so sure of. She closed the door and turned around. Her walls were sparkling white. At least, from now on, I’ll know who is for real from the color of my walls. She wiped her hands on her jeans while moving toward an open window to close it, but when she heard a crash, she leaned out the window, she felt her eyes grow big in their sockets. Jim’s car was wrapped around the large oak tree by the sidewalk, its shape similar to a fist. |
| Prompt: If you could undo ONE thing you did in the last year, what would it be and why? ---- Oh, this is a difficult prompt for me because I don’t normally cry over spilt milk, and I rarely if ever decide on doing things impulsively. If the question would be about something I did over a lifetime, it would be easier since my previous statement doesn’t apply to my much earlier life. I guess I can think of two insignificant things. One, if I knew the whole world of charities collecting discarded clothes and household items would be after me every ten to fifteen days or so, I wouldn’t give old but usable clothes and other stuff to one charity about a year ago, which ended up being the worst charity with the bothering factor. It isn’t an everyday event that I buy new clothes or other things, and they want to collect material from me by calling me every few days. After all, who in the world throws away most everything and renews her stuff every couple of weeks to a month or so? Even if I were as rich as King Midas, can you imagine the work involved? Where would I find the time to write, then? The second thing is, I wouldn’t buy the fancy flipflops that cost a fortune, which I couldn’t wear because they didn’t have good support. I bought them because hubby liked them and I didn’t say no. Well, the flipflops went to the above charity, and I am never shopping with hubby again for myself. Now, how is this entry for snarkiness? |
| Prompt: Oops, your favorite fictional character is sitting next to you in the car and says "Step on the gas!" It's your blog, you tell us. ----- This prompt made me grin because this really happened to me, not by a fictional character, but my father-in-law who was sitting next to me while I drove him and my mother-in-law to a few places on Jericho Turnpike, Long Island, about 35 or so years ago. I was already going at speed limit, but the road was empty. The same exact words (like those in the prompt) made my mother-in-law upset and he got a scolding from her. “Are you trying to make her get into an accident?” May they both rest in peace for they were some absolutely wonderful people. As to a fictional character, I can’t see Prince Mishkin (of The Idiot fame) telling me that, since he was so Jesus-like, but probably another prince, The Little Prince (the Saint Exupery offspring) might. Now, that prince was one who lived on an asteroid in space and he would neither understand nor obey the traffic laws as he liked making laws of his own. He’d probably say, “Tame those traffic lights. They are your traffic lights,” or some such thing, or maybe he’d say, “Never mind watching the road. It is only with the heart that you can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.” Then, for sure, I’d smash the car into a pole or the side of a building. So, he’d say, “You couldn’t master this seeing with the heart thing, but you’ve tamed me anyway. One runs the risk of crying a bit if one allows oneself to be tamed.” And he would cry over the broken car, or the pole, or the side of the building. You see this is what happens when you get hung up on any one prince. You end up with a silly storyline. Prompt: What makes us emotionally dependent on people or anything else? And do you think you might have emotional dependencies with or without being conscious of them? ---- I guess our vulnerability is to blame to make us emotionally dependent on anyone to the degree that we can’t be happy alone. Yet, no one is really alone in the world. In order to survive, we are always in contact with other people, be it for our physical needs. Then, as children, until we learn the ins and outs of the way of living in this world, we are dependent, emotionally and otherwise, on parents, teachers, and playmates. A truly grown-up person should be able to handle his or her emotional dependencies and not become a psychological burden on anyone, even if they are life-partners, offspring, family, and friends. And yes, I think we can become emotionally dependent on someone or something without being conscious of it. For example, I am emotionally dependent on reading and writing and my husband, although I wouldn’t bug him with any of my dependency needs. Some people fall apart when a relationship ends because they’ve become emotionally dependent on the other person and they can’t let go. The same goes for parents and children, in either direction. In the long run, I believe it is fine to have some emotional dependency on those close to us, but for the same reason, if we are adults psychologically, we should be able to let those dependencies not choke or clobber the people we love. |
| Prompt: Is opportunity something that happens or comes to you on its own or is it something you can create for yourself? If both, which one applies more to your life? ======== Opportunity is something offered or taken to advance a learning, a career, or anything one wishes to engage in. Some people detect the opportunities even if they are hidden. Still others can create opportunities when there are none. In my case, not being anything even a mile close to a shark like those guys in the TV program Shark Tank, I never created opportunities for myself knowingly. If anything, when something like an opportunity sprouts up, you can be sure I’ll mess up even if I plan to make use of it. But as fate or luck must have smiled at me, when I pursued an interest close to my heart, it ended up throwing opportunities my way. So, I never had to push myself too hard, applying for a job or working too hard to get one. I guess going after my heart's desires helped a lot in my case. |
| Prompt: What is your personal definition of progress? ==== Progress, to me, is personal growth, and it has nothing to do with success, fame, monetary wealth, or others’ opinions. If we learn or discover something each day, possibly help someone in some way, and anything we put out--be it in words, conversation, music or visual arts, and other actions—springs from the feeling of love and other positive feelings, we grow. This growth is not fancy. It doesn’t happen in the future. It has to happen immediately, each day, putting us in touch with that warm, hidden place inside ourselves. Then, it adds up over time, becomes progress on a wider scale, and inspires others. If each one of us concentrated on his or her own progress, the entire humankind would show progress, too. I think, therefore, progress begins in the home, in the home of the body and mind of each person, to spread and become worldwide. |
| Prompt: Use these words as inspiration : Two of the words are in German, have fun. force, rad, guard, trait, dorm, ergebnis ------- As a young man, I stayed in a dorm while in Berlin where activists have forced a cycling referendum, putting bikes on the city’s agenda with a bang and guarding their wins with gusto. Since I didn’t have a cheap way to move around easily, I first decided to rent a bike or share one with one of my co-habitants as sharing bikes had become a much-applauded trait within the German psyche. Despite my positive plans, the bizarre problem was I had never learned to ride a bike. Luckily, my roommate Otto took it upon himself to be my bike-riding teacher, but I was uncoordinated and didn’t get the balance thing quite right. In view of my difficulties, I figured having my own bike would help, so I found a second-hand bike with a good price, but that didn't help all that much. While Otto was poised for a dramatic change in my attempts and coached me patiently with, “Bitte, langsam, langsam…”, the old man who took care of the grounds wasn’t as hopeful. On our umpteenth try, he shook his head and muttered with sarcasm: “Ergebnis ist wenn er es nicht schaffe, das Rad zu fahren, werde er es seinen Enkeln schenken.” (--The result is, if he doesn’t manage to ride the bike, he'll give it to his grandchildren.—) I guess his remark made something click in my brain, and I was finally able to acquire the skill with enough proficiency. It may just be that the idea of rambunctious grandchildren scared the bejesus out of me. |
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