Rivers Run, Teachers Teach

 Response to Prompt #65 Random Page

 

Lately I've been wanting to write some kind of recap of first semester. This morning I began in earnest, reading through my series of poems from August until yesterday. But it didn't seem lead to much of anywhere.

I've also been thinking I'd like to write a nonet, because it has been a while since I've written one.

This afternoon I had a bit of time open up, and so I picked up the book I've been reading every morning, a little at a time: Instructions to the Cook by Bernie Glassman.

I found this on page 97:

Usually we think we have to go through or over the rock that seems to be in our way. But the river never goes up against the rock directly. Water is gentle, but it is also the most persistent of elements. It always finds a way to go around the rock.

 With that in mind, I wrote my nonet, which has also covered what I need to say about first semester.

 

 The water will always find a way

Rocks do not impede the progress

With patience and persistence

Right elements appear

Gentle flow and go

An opening

A true path

Rivers

Run

 

Prompt #65--Random Page

I am not sure who handed me the idea for this practice--I doubt very much I made it up on my own.  I do know it coincided with the practice of reading a Bible verse everyday, so I am guessing it was a youth minister. Regardless, I often find myself doing it: opening to a random page of a book to receive the message I am supposed to receive that day. Sometimes it is eerily on point, other times I don't find much purpose. At those times, I flip to another page, ultimately defeating the purpose. 

So, I'd like to challenge myself--and my writing partners--to engage in the practice without allowing a redo. Choose any book--a novel, a collection of poetry, a memoir, a self-help book, a book about writing, etc--and open to a random page. The first line your eyes settle upon will become the focus and (hopefully) the inspiration for your piece. 

After 2020, random seems fitting and making the best of what is handed to you seems like a great way to build flexibility of thinking--something that can really help when life seems so arbitrary. 

Getting Ready

Response to prompt #64: Language of the Times

First up, true confession: 

When I first read this prompt, now two months ago (yikes!), I was super excited. A self-professed logophile (c. 1923) the idea of looking at what words entered the language of society and when sounded intriguing and well, fun. I couldn’t wait to get started. The Merriem-Webster Time Traveler was waiting, and I had my ticket to a journey through the past. Next up was deciding which year to visit. My birthday? Nah, too predictable.

Side note: I did go back and look later... LOTS of new words the year I was born. Check it out. Among the words born the same year as me: underwire (hmm...that doesn’t seem like coincidence); video game, pro-choice, and edutainment. Many more, definitely as signs of the time ie: Watergate).

I considered the year I got married, the year my son was born, the year I met my husband, and of course high school graduation. Nothing was inspiring me. I felt like each time I tried, I ended up singing “We Didn’t Start the Fire” in my head. So I left the prompt many times and went on to other things. I thought for sure inspiration would come eventually. But it didn’t. It really hasn’t, still.

Continuing the quest, I looked at combinations of years and progressions of years (Suppose I was overthinking it a bit?), and noticed a few things. The longer I went back, the more words were attributed to a particular year. It seems we have added less and less in recent years. This begs the question, are we generating fewer new words or are we being more selective about those which are added to the dictionary? And by we, I mean the editors of the Merriem-Webster dictionary? (See snark, c. 1999). Another thing I noticed is how many of these words have evolved from advances in medicine and technology. Bio marker, 1973, Chemobrain 1991 and e-waste 1999.

I was also surprised certain words were as new as they are. Refinance and regift, for example, 1995 and USB and instant message same year. I never would have guessed that. Mixtape is also from 1995. Really? I guess it just took that long for the Merriem-Webster folks to add it to the dictionary. Still other words were older than I might have expected. Cybersecurity from 1989, and cybercrime, cyberspeak, and cybersex, all 1991. That really threw me for a loop, because most people didn’t even have home computers in 1991. I remember because I graduated high school that year, and I didn’t even have a computer until well after I graduated college and started graduate school.

Truly, this was interesting, and in the end I decided to focus on some pop culture and everyday living words from the 5 years I graduated high school, college, grad school 1, 2, and 3. These years are: 1991, 1995, 1999, 2011, 2013. I guess it’s a bit of a vignette. You all know how I feel about writing fiction!

Getting Ready

Emma sucked down her Slurpee so fast, she had to nurse the brainfreeze for at least two whole songs on their favorite mixtape, her tongue pressed against the roof of her mouth. What a freakin’ timesuck when they had little time to get ready for the concert of their life. Laura knew her bestie Emma was out there, but if she was looking for a buzz why not a whippit or a good old fashion jay?

Emma flipped through the clothes in her closet dismissively, some of them still with tags. “How about this one?” she asked Laura.

“Hell no!” Laura barked back at her. I’ll look like a hoochie in that. Besides, my boobs would fall out of it in the mosh pit. You know I want to bodysurf to the stage.

“I know,” Emma said with an eye roll. “You gotta get to the stage to...

“At least touch Eddie’s shoes” they said in unison. They both laughed.

“Well you better at least put something over those granny panties, in case you make it back stage. Here, I think Eddie would like this.” Emma held up a lacy pair of g-string underwear.

“Why is there no moderation with you, Emma? Seriously? If it’s not made of floss and has any fabric, you call it granny panties. Keep your floss, I’ll stick with my Vickie’s Secret lace. Thank you very much.”

The girls finished getting dressed and stepped in front of each other the way you do a mirror when you’re trying on clothes. They slapped their hands together and latched onto each other with laced fingers, holding on tight. Laura began her usual self body shame and asked if she was light enough for the mosh pit to carry her to the stage. Emma reminded her as best friends do that she is perfect just the way she is. 

They leaned into one another and put their faces up close so the tips of their noses were just barely touching. “Remember,” Laura said. “No drinks from people we don’t know. We arrive together, we go home together.” They had a pact when they went clubbing or to concerts, and they always stuck to it. Stories of date rape drugs were on the news just about daily, and they had a healthy fear of guys who were all too eager to supply free drinks. Their favorite nightlife blogger recently warned of a spike in local clubs, and encouraged women to stick to the buddy system. No sweat for these two. They were attached at the hip anyway.

“One last check,” Emma said. “How do I look?”

“Hang on, you need a little bling.” They each added some earnings and left the bracelets behind.

“Perfect. Let’s Jam!” And they were off.

Mother/Daughter 1969/1999

 Response to #64 Language of the Times

 

I cannot believe it has taken me two months to pull this together. But here, alas, it is. It was definitely a harder prompt than I anticipated.

Fortunately, I came upon some inspiration that helped moved things forward. I modeled this after a poem called “Two Young Women” by Deidre Barry I found in Linda Christensen’s book Reading, Writing, and Rising Up 2^nd edition.

 

Then I used the "What's Your Word" cards Kathy gave me to answer 33 questions for each character represented here. This gave me tons of background information I could draw from to make them come alive just through a collection of statements. It helped me draw distinctions and connections between them. Ginny and Kimberly also might be characters I come back to for other little stories. I found a lot of conflicts between them and others that could be fodder for some stories.  We'll see.

Anyway...enjoy. Looking forward to your feedback.

 

 

Mother/ Daughter  (1969/1999)

 

I am Ginny, 30-years old, separated from my husband, and with child.

I am Kimberly, single, purposely busy, and one who thinks it’s pretty cool that a new millennium is upon us soon.

 

I am grateful I have a job and for this baby I am carrying inside me.

I am grateful for technology and the Internet, and for all the things my mom taught me about writing.

 

I want to let go of my fear of having this baby alone.

I want to let go of my childhood and feel like a full adult. Why is it so hard?

 

If I were not afraid I’d open my own public relations firm – then I couldn’t get fired for being pregnant.

If I were not afraid, I’d go to fashion design school. It seems frivolous, but I think about it all the time.

 

When I was a child I dreamed of being a writer like Laura Ingalls Wilder.

My childhood dream was to be a fashion model. I quickly learned I don’t have the body for it.

 

My biggest regret was being so naive to trust Bob. We met in high school, and he was drinking a lot then. Why did I think it would be any different when we married?

My biggest regret is not going to fashion design school because my mom thought writing was more important. So here sit my English and Journalism degrees, but my mind is always on fashion. I feel unfinished in so many ways.

 

I recently tried a zapper, also called a remote control for the television. It is convenient, I suppose.

I recently started listening to K-Pop. Great music.

 

The defining moment of my life was when Bob got his third DUI on the day I realized I was pregnant. Everything has changed since then.

A defining moment for me was when I learned about the blogosphere. Here was a place to publish without going through a ton of rejection. I started blogging about all the latest fashions and jewelry, and probably won’t ever stop. It's my passion.

 

The most important thing to me right now is this baby. And keeping my job, even though my boss is an unknowledgeable, flesh-pressing, jawboning idiot – and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I love this job and desperately need it. The break point will come when he finds out I’m pregnant. Thank God I don’t have to deal with any sexual harassment from him. He has called me a “straight arrow”  about a kazillion times. He seems to think I’m too old, even though he’s well into his 40s.  Yech—agism raises its ugly head, as usual. And his reasoning sounds like some fuzzy logic to me!

The most important thing to me is my computer. I know it increases my carbon footprint, but how could I possibly live without it?

 

My dream is to have my own PR firm. Not that it is possible given my present circumstances.

Someday I dream of getting deeper into the history of fashion and writing a book about why it matters.

 

Success is writing well, raising a great kid, and not being dependent on a man.

Success is moving forward on my dreams of being a popular blogger, of being more involved in fashion (beyond the merchandising I do now), wearing all the latest designs and bling, falling in love, and having children. You know, have it all. Isn’t that the promise from the Women’s Movement to those of us who followed?

 

The kindest thing anyone ever did for me was when my mom helped me know I don’t need to stay married to an alcoholic jerk, even though I was pregnant. She helped me feel like everything would be all right, even as I was bringing shame on the family. We have really bonded since then. She has even suggested I hire a doula to help with the birth. I guess that’s like a midwife? I’m not sure, though. A regular old doctor will probably be best.

The kindest thing anyone ever did for me was my mom setting me up with technology. When she knew I wanted to be a blogger, she bought me one of the best computers on the market and paid for Internet service for a year. Having her own PR firm, she understands this stuff, even if in other ways she’s clueless. Let’s face it—she did it because I was living her dream for me of being a writer. Okay—I’m being snarky. It was kind, and very helpful, and I need to remember that.

 

I feel loved when someone makes me a cup of tea—even if I don’t drink it. Like my mom has always done when I was down.

I feel loved when someone “gets” me. So far, that is my friend Marti. I never have to explain anything her, she doesn’t tell me what to do, and she doesn’t do any other stupid stuff that drives me nuts.

 

I need to overcome the challenge of divorcing, having a child, and possibly losing my income.

I need to overcome the challenge of the constant negative talk in my head, the chatter that tells me my dreams aren’t good enough, and no guy will ever really love me. I have just had bad luck in that area. The last one I was with was a hoarder, and I can’t stand clutter. The one before that had a mood disorder which made him impossible to be around sometimes. And then there was the guy who didn’t smoke regular cigarettes – he vaped. Who does that? And not one of them “got” me. I want to get excited for the future, but I’m almost 30-years-old. When will it happen for me?

 

I make a difference in the world because I help companies communicate to their customers who they are and what they stand for. Even if I’m only an assistant, I do a lot to make these things happen.

I make a difference in the world because I champion beauty.

 

My big question: Is it a boy or a girl (I hope it’s a girl.)

My big question: How do I get rid of the negative voices in my head?

 

One kind thing I can do right now is take my mother some flowers for supporting me though this crazy and difficult time.

One kind thing I can do is to invite my mom over for a cup of tea. Yeah. I think she’d like that.