The cover looked so good

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Posted on March 20, 2013

The bar was at capacity and the air was electric. The band was loud and the crowd was euphoric, floating on the notes of the songs and dancing like nobody was watching.

He saw me first. I was at the bar doing everything I could to get the bartender’s attention when he casually slipped in beside me. With one flick of his hand he elicited a response from the bartender and my drink was ordered for me. It wasn’t what I was drinking, but I guess he assumed I would enjoy it because it was free.

He was attractive and seemed to ooze charm. We became engaged in conversation and I was drawn in by his deep blue eyes. There was a merriment in those eyes and his words fell on deaf ears until I regained my composure and began to participate in the rhetoric. My attempts to interject words into his monologue, however, were in vain and all I could do was sip the foreign liquid in my glass, nod my head and smile. I did manage to utter a few “mmm hmmm’s” to make it seem like I was mildly interested.

His inflated ego began to infect my mood. The conversation revolved solely around him and the walls felt like they were closing in. I was beginning to suffocate as he used all the available air to continue to talk about himself. I slowly began to back away from the bar and I don’t even think he noticed. I lost myself in the swaying crowd and found my way to the door. As I glanced back to look at him one more time, he was still talking but there was nobody there to listen.

The outward look of him held so much promise. Too bad the meat of his story contained only one word repeatedly typed on every page – me, me, me. I should know better than to judge a book by its cover.

This post was written for the Trifecta Challenge:

Please pay attention to the third definition this week. If your post has to do with bacteria or disease, you’ve likely misused the word.

INFECT
1: to contaminate with a disease-producing substance or agent (as bacteria)
2a : to communicate a pathogen or a disease to
b : of a pathogenic organism : to invade (an individual or organ) usually by penetration
c : of a computer virus : to become transmitted and copied to (as a computer)
3a : contaminate, corrupt <the inflated writing that infects such stories>
b : to work upon or seize upon so as to induce sympathy, belief, or support <trying to infect their salespeople with their enthusiasm>

I need smaller plates

34 Comments

Posted on March 19, 2013

I tend to not go to restaurants that offer buffets. Not because I don’t find the vast selection appealing but because I find I put too much on my plate, too many different things, and I can’t focus my attention on the things I find most appetizing. I tend to spend more time separating the food into different piles and less time zoning in on what I really wanted to have in the first place.

Lately, I have been finding my life reflecting the same level of stress I feel at a buffet, but only because I’ve loaded too many tasks on my plate and I feel full before I even tackle the meat of what lies before me. The conglomeration of work and home life has been piled higher on my plate and I’ve reached the point that I am creating those contrasting piles and having to decide which flavor has become more important.

(photo credit: kahakaikitchen.blogspot.com)

If I try to tackle the dish as a whole, I begin to lose myself in the process and spend more time mixing up the components only to create a false sense of accomplishment. I push the food from one side of the plate to the other, but the illusion of clearing the items from the plate is just that, an illusion. The same items still exist, they are just located in different places on that same large plate.

I need to learn to take a moment to separate the items on my plate and create a series of smaller plates. Being able to prioritize the importance of the items on each plate will help me work through them one at a time and the daunting portions will become easier to tackle. I need to digest each plate one bite at a time. If I can learn to see it for the fractions of all of its parts instead of just seeing a mountain of food, I can savor each morsel that appeals to me and slowly chew through the rest that keeps getting added to that plate. I’m already full, but the service never ends!

What do the plates in your life look like?

My life is a romantic comedy, minus the romance

12 Comments

Posted on March 18, 2013

(photo credit: hdw.eweb4.com)

For the past few months, I have been inspired by the genius idea from one Mr. Edward Hotspur. He has encouraged us to write about romance, whether it is poetry, short fiction or a personal reflection. I love everything that romance embodies, but the posts I have written that were spurred on by the Monday challenge were all pulled from the vault of my memories, fond recollections or wishes for the future. My life, although loosely resembling a romantic comedy, currently contains no romance.

My daily existence does round out the rest of the requirements for the romantic comedy. I’ve got some unique personality traits that could create a funny story line, I’ve got some quirky friends that make an appearance every few episodes, I have a job that allows me some creative material and a dog that could steal the show.

Living in a small town doesn’t afford too many opportunities to stumble upon romance. I’ve caved a couple of times and tried online dating sites to see who may be lurking out there, but even the sights that promise to deliver matches based on specific traits that I have listed as important seem to fish in the shallow end of that dating pool. I’m amazed at some of the “matches” that are sent my way and the online romantic search ends before it really begins. Even though I have moments of bravery thinking I will give it another shot, I recall this experience and run, screaming, away from my laptop.

Although I’m fine being on my own, I find inspiration in the stories and poetry I read on this blog site written by strangers and by new friends. They are happy to shout their romantic thoughts and experiences and it makes me want to continue the quest for that ever elusive romance. The dream of him is still alive and I will continue to hold that dream close. If we don’t embrace the darkness, we will never be able to see the stars.

What we’ve got here is failure to communicate

20 Comments

Posted on March 17, 2013

Cool Hand Luke – so cool, and so right. Good communication is the cornerstone to any relationship. Whether it be a work situation or an intimate kinship, the ability to be able to convey an idea through honest and open dialogue is the key to any successful alliance.

(image credit: 123rf.com)

Most human beings like to avoid conflict as much as possible. The thought of an open discussion, face to face, with the person you need to deal with is unbearable. We tend to alleviate the anxiety of that topic by discussing it with a multitude of other people rather than facing the dragon head on. But we fail to realize we are only delaying the inevitable and that myriad of other people we share our dilemma with will only add fuel to the original fire, giving it the potential to burn uncontrollably.

Life could be so much less complicated if we always had the nerve to face our problems head on and communicate our issues with the person that is at the root of our predicament. I have been guilty of avoiding confrontation myself but the end result was always exponentially worse because I was not dealing with the quandary first hand and I let outside influences sway my judgement.

I have made a much more conscious effort to communicate my thoughts and deal directly with situations before they spiral out of control. Sure, summoning the courage to take the first step is difficult but ultimately clearing the air at the very beginning of the conflict will allow you to breathe easier in the long run. The conflict can be easily resolved if it’s not allowed to take on a life of its own and the weight of the problem that sits on your shoulders is assuaged.

I am slowly building the courage to face my demons directly and not allow other voices to be my own. Only I can have the most honest discussion about the issue that I am faced with and I am learning to have faith in my ability to communicate. One honest voice is louder than a crowd.

What do you do when faced with a situation that requires confrontation?

Choose your words wisely

23 Comments

Posted on March 15, 2013

There is a myriad of words in the English language to choose from that will accurately portray feelings. We must go gently into that good thesaurus to succinctly define our emotions. Words can embody beauty and timelessness, but words can also be weapons. Words can sting and they can leave scars if not used properly.

The word “hate” is a word I try to use as little as possible. There are very few things in this world I can honestly say I hate. There are many things I dislike, even dislike intensely, but hate is such an absolute word and it delivers a large impact for such a small word. If I am vehemently against something, I will do my utmost to modify my language before I allow that powerful four letter word to escape my lips. The word hate, to me, is like nails on a chalkboard.

(photo credit – creativeclass.com)

Feeling an extreme aversion to something is a normal human experience. I have an immense distaste for liver and onions, but I have found many other ways to discuss my negative feelings about the memories of those dinners served long ago rather than use the word hate.

I hear the word hate tossed around so casually and wonder if the people using that figure of speech understand how harsh a word it truly is. I’m sure if I looked through a magic crystal ball, I would see myself in public school using the word hate several times, not truly comprehending the consequence of using such a powerful expression. Hate conjures feelings of bitterness and rage in the person using it and elicits sadness and depression in the person receiving it.

Hate is like a virus that slowly spreads through us and pollutes our emotions. I have the misfortune of feeling that hatred for one person that has affected my life, or more so the life of my brother. It was twenty-two years ago and that horrible emotion still bubbles to the surface when I think of her. That one person made me realize the overwhelming feeling associated with that tiny word and she is the only person that embodies the emotion associated with the intense dislike it defines.

Words can be beautiful, but words can also be ammunition. If misused, those words can cause a great deal of pain and affect people long after those idioms have been uttered. Each of us has the power to keep our weapon of language holstered – choose your words wisely.

I thought I was in charge

5 Comments

Posted on March 12, 2013

Writing is a passion that requires discipline and focus. With encouragement from Sage Doyle, I have made the conscious effort to drag my body from the warm cover of my duvet two hours earlier than usual, saturate myself with coffee and develop my relationship with the characters in my book. Ensconced in the darkened tomb of my living room, I go on a two-hour journey with people I get to know more intimately the longer we spend together. They take me with them on their epic adventures and I am merely there to document their trials, tribulations and triumphs.

Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings are now dedicated to coaxing those characters from their lair in the cerebral hemisphere they call home and watching how they interact with each other. They help me understand their quirks and allow me a brief glimpse into what makes them tick. They seem to have complete faith in my ability to share their tales from the most genuine and descriptive perspective possible.

Monday night I decided to set the alarm and throw a Tuesday into the early morning writing mix. I woke up early, grabbed a steaming hot cup of coffee, a liquid that is quickly becoming my life’s blood, and sat waiting for the characters to emerge from their cranial apartment. I sipped coffee and waited. I filled the mug again and waited. I knocked several times on the door that shields them from other cerebral functions, and still, nothing. I pried open the door to their locked quarters and they were gone.

Those elusive characters, seeing the calendar and realizing it was Tuesday, thought they had the day off. Not one of them had stayed behind with the hopes of participating in a spontaneous writing session. They sent me holograms of photos from Disney with trite lines about wishing I were there and each one of them, even the villain, was wearing Mickey Mouse ears.

(image courtesy of yourwdwstore.com)

I will set my alarm tonight and wake tomorrow with the expectation that they will be here and ready to go to work. I will only knock on that door once and if they stand me up again, I will have their pink slips ready to go. They’ll never work in this genre again!!

Braker, braker

28 Comments

Posted on March 11, 2013

Dear Driver in front of me on my way to work,

Why, oh why, must you incessantly tap your brakes for no apparent reason. I understand you became alarmed when you noticed you were going 52 km/h in a 50 zone, but did you know that by relieving the pressure your foot is putting on the gas pedal that your car will slow its pace without having to brake? Since you are on a relatively level road, the decrease in acceleration will happen naturally and not cause a chain reaction of undue panic in the cars behind you.

(image courtesy of diymyhonda.com)

Instead, in a town littered with reckless wild animals that like to create their own crossing spots, you choose to feather your brakes causing drivers behind you to look for invisible dangers encroaching the sides of the road. Your reckless braking in the wee hours of the still darkened morning is causing those needing more caffeine (such as myself) to shout obscenities that should not even be thought of that early in the morning let alone uttered aloud at a decibel suited for a live concert.

Perhaps my opinion is somewhat jaded since I have been driving a stick-shift since I was 17 and am used to gearing down rather than braking, but, for the love of God please stop putting your brakes on every 10 seconds when there is nothing ahead of you but the open road and no wild beasts leaping from the woods to ambush your car.

I thank you in advance for your cooperation in this matter.

Sincerely,

The person that flipped you off from the CR-V behind you.

Varying degrees of interpretation

29 Comments

Posted on March 10, 2013

I love blogging. It allows me to truly be myself, to express words and feelings that come to mind without having to think about them. Stories that would be otherwise untold rise to the surface and hurtle themselves at the page through my fingertips.

When I jumped into this creative ocean, I had no idea what to expect and absolutely no realization that I would cast myself into a sea of churning drops of water that, although they combine to create a large body of water, each possess qualities that make them truly unique. The vast array of blogs that I read allows me to look at the world through different eyes and see things in a way that may have escaped my attention. They create a path for me to follow through a portal into an inspired world that I may never have found on my own.

(image courtesy of naturealive.asia)

The Trifecta Challenges embody these varying degrees of interpretation. A great number of bloggers are given the same challenge and no two entries are similar in any respect, apart from following the rules for submitting posts. Each writer is struck by a lightning bolt of creativity but that bolt is generated from a completely exclusive storm and the raindrops of ideas saturate only their mind.

When I post an idea I look forward to the comments I receive. Initially I would have child-like reaction if a comment held an opposing view, but I have come to appreciate being able to see my thoughts from another perspective. Each comment is like a golden pin of light shining through the words, altering the original picture and making me look at my own thoughts in a different way.

This blogging journey has expanded my mind, not only in my writing but also my ability to ingest words from other writers and see the world through their eyes. And whether their world is dripping in sarcasm, prolific with poetry or fraught with haunting truths I enjoy being a part of their journey as well as having them be a part of my literary pilgrimage.

How has blogging changed your world?

Setting aside the time

14 Comments

Posted on March 8, 2013

Finding time to set aside precious hours, or even minutes, for those things we truly love to do seems to be more difficult as we get older. Responsibilities pressure us into doing the right thing and prioritizing family, work and chores leaving little time to do the things we yearn to do. Hobby items collect dust and ideas for great stories become trapped in the vault of our mind waiting for that large iron door to swing open and let the ideas tumble into the forefront of our thoughts.

(image courtesy of Google)

I am learning to make more time for myself. In the winter months it is much easier to make that time since I work the normal Monday to Friday hours that an office job dictates. However, when the resort opens for the season, I am back to six days a week and generally my work days start at 7:00 am and ends at 6:00 pm, if I’m lucky. The summer affords me one day off a week which is spent catching up on the aforementioned priorities, leaving little time for recreation or writing. I am an avid golfer and at the end of last summer had not even played one full round of golf. My gazebo waved at me from my front lawn as I passed it on my way to work and simply sighed as I dragged my weary body into the house on my way back from work.

This summer will be different. Life is far to short to spend all of my time making someone else happy and forgetting about my own happiness. Changing patterns and routines is difficult, but I have already begun the process to alter my patterns. With the help and advice of friends I am slowly learning to make myself my first priority. My alarm encourages me to rise an hour earlier than normal and my laptop is eagerly awaiting the gentle touch of my fingers on its keyboard. My golf bag smiles knowingly at me every time I pass it on my way to work, somehow sensing that this golf season will be the pendulum swing our relationship needs to get back on track. And my gazebo seems more inviting than ever.

I have finally come to realize that the change can only begin with me. If I don’t make time to do the things I love to do, nobody else is going to make that time for me. I am going to print this post and put it on the wall in my office to remind me that life is not all about work. Although I enjoy my job, work is a means to an income. Nothing will ever be as satisfying as writing a paragraph rich in imagery or hitting that perfect drive down the middle of the fairway.

Do you make a point to set aside time for the things you love?

Daily Prompt – Seven Days

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Posted on March 7, 2013

The Daily Prompt today is this – You wake up tomorrow morning to find all your plans have been cancelled for the next seven days and $10,000 on your dresser. Tell us about your week.

This post would have been completely different had there been an extra zero in the dollar amount left on my dresser. That scenario would have included a well drafted letter to my employer thanking the company for covering my bills for the last ten years. Or perhaps just a postcard from a beach with a few expletives and a hastily drawn cartoon of me in a hammock with a Margarita in my hand. I guess the resignation letter would depend on the amount of tequila I had consumed before the writing process began.

Having ~~only~~ $10,000.00 in cash and a week in which to spend it led me in one direction – my mom. My mother has fallen victim to ill-health over the last few years and is slowly giving away her freedom, piece by piece. She lost the vision in one of her eyes due to nothing more than simply aging and had to give up driving. She sometimes feels like a prisoner in her own home until either my brother or I spring her from her cage for a few precious hours of escape.

She wants nothing more than to travel to Niagara Falls and visit the Butterfly Conservatory and that random pile of unlaundered cash on my dresser is just the thing needed to get her there. Our week would be spent in the best hotel (maybe we’ll get to hook up with The Hook) pampering ourselves as much as possible. We would tour the Conservatory at a leisurely pace, taking in the beauty that metamorphosis created and watching life breathe in three dimensions.