There is only one way to go, and that is forward. Everything else in my earthly path of existence seems to disagree, but I forge ahead, ignoring any warning signs.
Life is a contradiction in terms.
I pick and choose my meanings.
~~ Written for the Gargleblaster #162.
Which way to go?
Give us your answer in 42 words. Don’t go where we expect you to. Don’t write down the first thing that comes to mind. Think, craft, edit, and craft some more. Give us your very best.
There is a slight buzz across the Canadian provinces and it has nothing to do with Black Flies. The Victoria Day Long Weekend is upon us and, for those who are fortunate enough to have Monday off, that means a three-day weekend. The multi-lane highways that allow travelers to reach our vacation destinations in Muskoka are already becoming congested and the stress levels of those trapped in their cars in slow-moving traffic is escalating exponentially.
They’re coming. The locals feel the change in atmosphere like a phantom pain in a missing appendage. We sometimes wake in the early hours of Friday morning in a cold sweat, knowing what is in store but never fully prepared. Although we survive this phenomenon every year we are never able to control the urge to flee and hibernate until November.
When faced with the promise of a three-day weekend, historically, I would be overjoyed. Now the long weekends have the reverse effect on me. I work in hospitality so those three precious days are a thing of the past. What began as joyous memories of lounging in the sun without a care in the world slowly evolved into feeling like I am in a constantly moving rocking chair – it gives me something to do for three days, but it gets me nowhere.
Long weekends, for those of us on the job, become extremely long. We awake on Friday morning to the guarantee that our work day has just been multiplied by 1 1/2 times its normal duration and will continue as such until the small reprieve we get with a regular work day on Tuesday.
Long weekends, for those who have clawed their way through traffic to arrive in the sanctity of Muskoka feel the time slipping away as soon as they step out of their cars. What they had anticipated would be three days of recharging their batteries becomes a blur of time and, before they even realize what happened, they are getting back into that vehicular jungle to fight for their place in the highway hierarchy on the way back to the city.
(image credit: citynews.ca)
Whichever side you are on this weekend – take some time to enjoy it. At least it’s not snowing!!
I have been devoid of words for the last few days. I have felt unmotivated to read or write and that is very unlike me. I have no clear excuse for the change in my patterns, but have felt a shift in my mood. A funk seems to have settled in the corners of my brain and is spreading like a low-lying fog making everything in its path disappear.
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I took my dog for a walk this morning and this was the sky that followed us as we forged ahead. Perhaps it is a sign to me that the light will shine through once again and life will get back to normal. I have missed reading blogs by my fellow WPer’s and vow to kick these blahs to the curb and feel that flow of creativity once again.
I hope you all have a happy Friday and a great weekend to follow.
I feel his stare before I am aware of his presence.
If I had to, I could answer my own question.
I know why he suddenly appears.
My dad said he would always be with me.
The owl only proves his promise.
~~
Written for the Gargleblaster #160.
We’re turning to The Carpenters for this week’s ultimate question. This song has been stuck in my head since the gargleblaster started.
Why do birds suddenly appear?
Give us your answer in 42 words. We know you all know the next line in the song. Let’s see if you can make us think of something different. Take it out of context of the original song and help me clear my head!
I grew up in the 70’s. And in that decade color was so prevalent you could almost taste it. From the psychedelic album covers (for those of that actually know what albums are) to the drastic disco outfits and lava lamps – color was everywhere. Wall posters of our favourite bands awash in reds, oranges and purples were plastered on the walls in our teenage bedrooms and things as ordinary as kitchen appliances were bathed in a spectral representation of the full color wheel.
Mood rings were all the rage and my mother’s affliction for that particular piece of jewellery was my first foray into the correlation of color and feeling. Colors are tied to our emotions and even used to describe feelings. People will tell you that they are feeling blue when they are depressed or green with envy and when angered, they see red.
Contrary to some opinions we dream in color. The intensity of the hues in the hours of our sleep are described as representing the emotions we are experiencing in our conscious hours. Dreams of black often epitomize stress and the feeling of being overwhelmed and the presence of color can be translated into the myriad of emotions we face each day.
We all appreciate color in our own unique way – from the clothes we wear to the decoration and palettes we choose in our home. Color can be used to represent who we truly are and the state of mind in which we find ourselves. I love the outdoors so when it came time to choose the items in my home I brought a part of Mother Nature’s landscape indoors by decorating in greens and browns. My home gives me a sense of comfort with those rich colors and relaxes me in a way that a stark monochromatic home never could.
There really is something golden in the absence of sound. I am going to spend an hour after work letting the warmth of that orange sun settle on my creamy flesh. I am going to smile at the red buds on the branches and allow the blues and greens of nature soothe my soul.
What color are you feeling today?
I charge into battle,
head held high,
armed with neither knives nor guns.
My ammunition carries no physical weight.
The only weapon I use to defend myself will not extinguish a life.
My battles are fought with words.
The only dagger I possess is my sharp tongue.
My army is my vocabulary,
my stealth is the thesaurus in my brain.
My mind is the only weapon that doesn’t need a holster.
My elders warned me – ‘life moves at a million miles an hour’.
When you are young and full of disdain for authority, you make up your own rules, you choose to believe what you want to believe. So I kept pace, moving along at that million miles an hour.
Who knew I would crash into my future self at such a young age? Who could have predicted my youth would come to such a screeching halt?
All I can do now is sort through the wreckage and try to put the pieces of the carnage of my life back together.
~~
Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. This week’s song is Crash by The Primitives. Go check out the fun challenge and join in!!
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Mother Nature cleared her throat to get my attention yesterday.
![IMG_1224[1]](https://polysyllabicprofundities.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/img_12241.jpg)
The sky whispered that summer is coming.
![IMG_1225[1]](https://polysyllabicprofundities.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/04/img_12251.jpg)
The clouds stretched to reach the sun. I watched as they slowly dissipated and the show was spectacular.
Time slows.
The air is chilled.
My breath lingers as vapor
and I feel you near.
Neither tick nor tock
echo in the hallway.
Hands are frozen and each clock, like you,
is suspended between life and death.
Which light is stronger?
~~
Written for the Gargleblaster at YeahWrite.
This week’s ultimate question was suggested by Erica M, and comes from Alice Munro’s short story A Real Life.
Have all your clocks stopped?
Give us your answer in 42 words. You don’t need to include the question in your response, but make sure your answer stands alone. What do we mean? Write down the question. Write down your response. Now cover the question with your hand and read your answer out loud. Does it still make sense when you don’t know the question? That’s what we’re looking for. Be creative, and remember: no family allowed!
Like a charcoal sketch,
I see myself outlined his eyes,
I see my silhouette as he sees me.
So vastly different
from my reflection in the mirror.
But I follow deep into the abyss,
into the portrait he has created of me.
I follow those lines,
to try to see what he sees.
In my mind I trace the outline
following each stroke of the pencil.
And I journey
as deep as I can go,
swimming in his reality of me,
truly understanding how he sees me.
I may have changed a few lines,
but to him I am perfection.
~~
Written for the 100 Word Song Challenge at My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog. This week’s song is Deep As You Go, by October Project.
Go and check it out if you haven’t been there!!
polysyllabic profundities 