"Someday, I'll stop seeing only the outside edges of life," thought Samantha. She has long ago been diagnosed as having obsessive compulsive disorder, and her routine of mathematically calculating numerical values for everything she encounters has taken over her persona. She cannot walk past a bus of school children without counting their small, round heads, or adding together the number correlating to each letter in the alphabet for all the words in a street sign.
This is more than just a little quirk for Samantha, it's her security blanket. She is more comfortable when she can safely know that each element of life is represented by a number, they're so absolute and unwavering, they must inherently hold more meaning than the thing they are representing, she rationalizes. The only thing she has ever lost count of was how many times her friends and family have tried to get her to stop counting.
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
My Tree
This morning, flowers fluttering on a crabapple tree outside my window greeted me with a warm spring scent. Their whiteness always impresses me. I feel so lucky to have them closeby, only I also have to prepare myself for their eventual demise. Soon the delicate petals will become ripe fruits, tempting birds and squirrls alike. The remants of their beauty scattered about on the grass below the many branches.
But for now, today, I can enjoy the flowers as they are, complete and unmarred. Existing for my pleasure.
But for now, today, I can enjoy the flowers as they are, complete and unmarred. Existing for my pleasure.
Monday, April 27, 2009
The woman...
The woman worked hard to maintain her composure. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her cry. "Men make mistakes too, but it takes a lot more for them to admit it, especially to themselves," she mused.
Her tousled hair clung in sweaty strips to the side of her face as she hefted the forty pound sac of flour over her shoulder. Making her way into the kitchen she could see that he had realized her trespasses while she was out. The earthenware bowls she adored so much lay smashed to bits in one corner of the room. Furniture was pushed out of place, as if he couldn't decide where to vent his fury so he ultimately paced back and forth, knocking and punching the tables as he moved.
"Well," she thought, "this day was bound to come. I should have been better prepared for it, or long gone." He stood, intently studying her face, and trying to unclench his fists, expecting her to give up some half-hearted explanation and then to beg for his forgiveness.
She did neither. She only began to straighten out the mess and silently, secretly, formulate a better plan for next time.
Her tousled hair clung in sweaty strips to the side of her face as she hefted the forty pound sac of flour over her shoulder. Making her way into the kitchen she could see that he had realized her trespasses while she was out. The earthenware bowls she adored so much lay smashed to bits in one corner of the room. Furniture was pushed out of place, as if he couldn't decide where to vent his fury so he ultimately paced back and forth, knocking and punching the tables as he moved.
"Well," she thought, "this day was bound to come. I should have been better prepared for it, or long gone." He stood, intently studying her face, and trying to unclench his fists, expecting her to give up some half-hearted explanation and then to beg for his forgiveness.
She did neither. She only began to straighten out the mess and silently, secretly, formulate a better plan for next time.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Friday Free Write
Today I thought I'd do a little free write exercise based on a post that Bridget recently did. I know it's probably not the million dollar idea she had in mind, but I figured it's as good as anything else I can think of to randomly write about.
__________
Darlene thought it was about time to teach herself to appreciate her surroundings a little bit more. She is too used to rushing through life and taking certain things for granted, she decided. Today she made the conscious decision to go out for a nice walk and let her legs lead her where they may. Her neighbor's cherry tree in bloom was the perfect beginning to set her off with a smile, fresh petals so white they seemed to glow against the vibrant green of the woods behind.
She grabbed a light jacket, closed the side door behind her with a soft thud and a little push to make sure the latch caught completely in the jamb, and made her way out to the road. In these early morning hours just after the sunrise the road would be near desolate. She could marvel in her geographic juxtaposition between towering mountains and the wide expanse of the Hudson river from the main road without worrying that a speeding vehicle would come out of nowhere, plowing her into the pavement.
Darlene has spent most of her life living in this area, or rather, getting through life in this area. She has long been making up for her discordant upbringing. But for today, at least, she only wants to focus on the over sized bumble bees buzzing about with their bee business, and on the way Queen Anne's Lace always seems to grow in wide clumps, never alone.
She walks along, so content to let the fresh, fragrant air fill her lungs. The calming effect is almost toxic. She can't even hear the pebbles crunching under her own feet, entranced by her own revelry. And then she almost tripped over it; a bright white sneaker, lying harmlessly on its side on the road directly in front of her. Darlene stopped, captivated. She bent down and grabbed the misplaced shoe and turned it over in her hands. The leather was so white and the sole so clean that she could tell immediately that it was virtually new. It even had that pungent rubbery smell that new sneakers have. She tucked it under her arm and kept walking.
About an hour later, Darlene returned to that same side door she had embarked from. This time when she went through to the kitchen, Lloyd was home from the late shift he worked over at the factory. Her serene mood was instantly shattered.
"What is this, Lloyd?!" she yelled, waving the sneaker in front of his face as he stood in front of the open refrigerator. "How many times have I told you that you have to be more careful? You can't take care of most of the details and leave something like this behind to connect you, and ME, to everything!"
"Oh. Sorry. I thought I got all her stuff and I guess she must have lost that sneaker in the back of the truck when I first picked her up. I found it when I was cleaning and I just chucked it in the woods. How would anyone know it was her shoe anyway?"
"Dammit Lloyd! If you can't learn how to tie someone up properly and dispose of your evidence we're going to run into some serious trouble here! Now be a good boy and run and get some wood." Darlene turned to head upstairs, "All that fresh air made me queasy. I'm going to lay down."
Lloyd did as his mother bade him, he hated to see her angry. Returning with the wood, he arranged the logs just right in the small cast iron stove. Once the fire was going he threw the shoe inside and closed the door. He lumbered over to the kitchen table and sat down with a tired groan. He wanted to think of something nice to do for his mother before she woke from her nap...
__________
Darlene thought it was about time to teach herself to appreciate her surroundings a little bit more. She is too used to rushing through life and taking certain things for granted, she decided. Today she made the conscious decision to go out for a nice walk and let her legs lead her where they may. Her neighbor's cherry tree in bloom was the perfect beginning to set her off with a smile, fresh petals so white they seemed to glow against the vibrant green of the woods behind.
She grabbed a light jacket, closed the side door behind her with a soft thud and a little push to make sure the latch caught completely in the jamb, and made her way out to the road. In these early morning hours just after the sunrise the road would be near desolate. She could marvel in her geographic juxtaposition between towering mountains and the wide expanse of the Hudson river from the main road without worrying that a speeding vehicle would come out of nowhere, plowing her into the pavement.
Darlene has spent most of her life living in this area, or rather, getting through life in this area. She has long been making up for her discordant upbringing. But for today, at least, she only wants to focus on the over sized bumble bees buzzing about with their bee business, and on the way Queen Anne's Lace always seems to grow in wide clumps, never alone.
She walks along, so content to let the fresh, fragrant air fill her lungs. The calming effect is almost toxic. She can't even hear the pebbles crunching under her own feet, entranced by her own revelry. And then she almost tripped over it; a bright white sneaker, lying harmlessly on its side on the road directly in front of her. Darlene stopped, captivated. She bent down and grabbed the misplaced shoe and turned it over in her hands. The leather was so white and the sole so clean that she could tell immediately that it was virtually new. It even had that pungent rubbery smell that new sneakers have. She tucked it under her arm and kept walking.
About an hour later, Darlene returned to that same side door she had embarked from. This time when she went through to the kitchen, Lloyd was home from the late shift he worked over at the factory. Her serene mood was instantly shattered.
"What is this, Lloyd?!" she yelled, waving the sneaker in front of his face as he stood in front of the open refrigerator. "How many times have I told you that you have to be more careful? You can't take care of most of the details and leave something like this behind to connect you, and ME, to everything!"
"Oh. Sorry. I thought I got all her stuff and I guess she must have lost that sneaker in the back of the truck when I first picked her up. I found it when I was cleaning and I just chucked it in the woods. How would anyone know it was her shoe anyway?"
"Dammit Lloyd! If you can't learn how to tie someone up properly and dispose of your evidence we're going to run into some serious trouble here! Now be a good boy and run and get some wood." Darlene turned to head upstairs, "All that fresh air made me queasy. I'm going to lay down."
Lloyd did as his mother bade him, he hated to see her angry. Returning with the wood, he arranged the logs just right in the small cast iron stove. Once the fire was going he threw the shoe inside and closed the door. He lumbered over to the kitchen table and sat down with a tired groan. He wanted to think of something nice to do for his mother before she woke from her nap...
Thursday, April 23, 2009
The boy...
The boy followed the teacher as he was supposed to, walking with his head hung low, chin tucked against his bony chest. He hadn’t done anything wrong; this was how he always walked, afraid to look anyone in the eye.
As he listened intently to the directions from the teacher on how to use the combination lock on his locker, he shrunk a little more into himself. He could feel their stares on his back, and all around him. His palms grew moist and he couldn’t help shifting his weight from his right leg to the left and back again. It was going to be the same here as it always was at the other schools.
The teacher, attempting to reassure what he thought was just ordinary nerves, offers politely “We’re a friendly bunch here in Crendleton. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the other children in no time.” The boy knew better than to get his hopes up, he’s heard this line before.
As he listened intently to the directions from the teacher on how to use the combination lock on his locker, he shrunk a little more into himself. He could feel their stares on his back, and all around him. His palms grew moist and he couldn’t help shifting his weight from his right leg to the left and back again. It was going to be the same here as it always was at the other schools.
The teacher, attempting to reassure what he thought was just ordinary nerves, offers politely “We’re a friendly bunch here in Crendleton. I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the other children in no time.” The boy knew better than to get his hopes up, he’s heard this line before.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Are you there Blog, it's me Lana
Dear reader, in a departure from the social commentary which I enjoy so much, I have decided to use this blog as a venue for continuously examining my journey to becoming a "serious" writer, hopefully without taking myself too seriously. I have long since been aware of how much I enjoy writing, and also aware of how little I actually know about the technical side of it. I can't even say specifically what I'd like to write about, but I know that whatever I do, I need to practice.
For my first entry into this blog/notebook, I really wanted to do an exercise that I read about recently. The goal is to take a scene from a book or short story, and rewrite it in your own words using the original characters and plot. Purely for my own use, it seems like an exercise that would be helpful for me to gauge my progress the more I do it.
I'm going to use a scene from Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. I chose this novel particularly because it's so descriptively set in 1952. My goal here is to convey the same mood and mindset of the main character, yet modernize his speech. The following scene is when deputy sheriff Lou Ford starts to recount for the reader his version of events occurring right before he killed his fiancé, Amy Stanton:
I killed Amy Stanton on Sunday night, April 5th, 2009, at just a few minutes before 9:00.
It was the kind of night that you'd expect from April, cold enough to make you wonder if the long awaited spring sunshine actually warmed your back earlier in that same day, or if it was all just your imagination. It was the perfect night for Amy and me to run off together. She took care of her part efficiently and unalarmingly, as is the only way she could have. Her parents never suspected a thing when she surprised them with tickets to the new musical that just opened in the city. She saw them off at 7:00 and came over to my place around 8:30 and...and...
I knew when I saw the Stanton's car drive past my house that Amy's facade of innocence was already being melted away by a hot shower, as she began to make herself ready for her big night. She must have been a whirlwind of activity now that they were finally out of the house. There had to be very deliberate thought put into her chronology of events so as to achieve the perfect amount of preparedness while masking her true desperation.
I can see her rushing from room to room, checking every little detail. She would be sitting in front of her vanity with the magnifying make-up mirror, shaping her eyebrows hurriedly yet effortlessly, the curling iron heating on the table beside her, ready to steam her wispy locks into waves. She's checking her suitcase for all her necessary accessories. She's probably busy with the final decision about which dress to wear, trying on both in front of the mirror. Her mouth must be alternating between a pout and a smirk as she pretends she's walking towards her husband-to-be, I guess. It must be difficult for her to arrange her cleavage just so, turn her head this way and that, lift her arms to check the movement in the dress. And then, that must have been about all, I guess. Then she came over, over to my house and...
I was in the kitchen when she entered through the side door. I wasn't dressed, but I was ready for her. Her chest heaving from running up the steps, and excited about finally getting her way, I guess...I guess...
I guess I'm not ready to talk about it yet. If I talk about it now, then it will all be over and that would be the end. I don't want it to end so soon...
For my first entry into this blog/notebook, I really wanted to do an exercise that I read about recently. The goal is to take a scene from a book or short story, and rewrite it in your own words using the original characters and plot. Purely for my own use, it seems like an exercise that would be helpful for me to gauge my progress the more I do it.
I'm going to use a scene from Jim Thompson's The Killer Inside Me. I chose this novel particularly because it's so descriptively set in 1952. My goal here is to convey the same mood and mindset of the main character, yet modernize his speech. The following scene is when deputy sheriff Lou Ford starts to recount for the reader his version of events occurring right before he killed his fiancé, Amy Stanton:
I killed Amy Stanton on Sunday night, April 5th, 2009, at just a few minutes before 9:00.
It was the kind of night that you'd expect from April, cold enough to make you wonder if the long awaited spring sunshine actually warmed your back earlier in that same day, or if it was all just your imagination. It was the perfect night for Amy and me to run off together. She took care of her part efficiently and unalarmingly, as is the only way she could have. Her parents never suspected a thing when she surprised them with tickets to the new musical that just opened in the city. She saw them off at 7:00 and came over to my place around 8:30 and...and...
I knew when I saw the Stanton's car drive past my house that Amy's facade of innocence was already being melted away by a hot shower, as she began to make herself ready for her big night. She must have been a whirlwind of activity now that they were finally out of the house. There had to be very deliberate thought put into her chronology of events so as to achieve the perfect amount of preparedness while masking her true desperation.
I can see her rushing from room to room, checking every little detail. She would be sitting in front of her vanity with the magnifying make-up mirror, shaping her eyebrows hurriedly yet effortlessly, the curling iron heating on the table beside her, ready to steam her wispy locks into waves. She's checking her suitcase for all her necessary accessories. She's probably busy with the final decision about which dress to wear, trying on both in front of the mirror. Her mouth must be alternating between a pout and a smirk as she pretends she's walking towards her husband-to-be, I guess. It must be difficult for her to arrange her cleavage just so, turn her head this way and that, lift her arms to check the movement in the dress. And then, that must have been about all, I guess. Then she came over, over to my house and...
I was in the kitchen when she entered through the side door. I wasn't dressed, but I was ready for her. Her chest heaving from running up the steps, and excited about finally getting her way, I guess...I guess...
I guess I'm not ready to talk about it yet. If I talk about it now, then it will all be over and that would be the end. I don't want it to end so soon...
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