Writing 365

Writing 365 – Writing Prompt: “That, my friend, is not a dog”

I got this prompt from Pinterest and it spoke to me today. Apparently, last week a Canadian thought they rescued a dog but it ended up being a coyote. Which seems like a reasonable mistake if you haven’t had a coyote pointed out to you before. But, I don’t want to go for realism.

I hope you enjoy this one!

My Monday morning routine was disrupted today when I ran across a lost dog running down the sidewalk on my way to work. Its odd gait made me think the poor thing was injured, so I immediately pulled over and coaxed it into my car with soft words and a bit of beef jerky.

It was certainly the oddest dog I’ve seen, with scaly spots and odd, finger-like paws. He gave a little whimper of relief when he climbed into the back of my car, flopping down and sighing.

I called my boss and let him know I’d be late to work, then went by the nearest shelter to drop off the poor collarless pup.

When I brought the shelter manager out to my car to collect him, she took one look at the animal and said: “That, my friend, is not a dog.”

“Um, of course it is.”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“I couldn’t tell you, but it’s not a dog. We need to call animal control.”

The beast perked his head up at the words “animal control.” He put out one of his strange paws in an imploring gesture. My mind went blank.

I’m not sure what happened over the next hour or so, but I find myself at home, with a new, sweet pet, and I couldn’t be more pleased.

End

See you tomorrow!

Writing 365 – Angela

Welp, I definitely haven’t been writing every day. In my defense, I had a baby since my last post. But, I would like to get back into at least doing a little drabble every day. So, here we go again!

This short story is based on a funny thing I read on Instagram, and the story itself is not actually fiction.

@imightbefunny1 posted a Tweet from @_rachjd that said: “I have lived next to the same guy for 3 years. Thought his name was Steve. I call him Steve. His name is Steve in my phone. I’ve been to his apartment. We’ve had dinner.

“His name is Brian. His dog is Steve.”

This reminded me of something that happened to me. So, here goes.

—

When I was young I was very emphatic about my name. It is JULIA . Not Julie. Not Julianne.

If someone made the mistake of calling me by the wrong name or, god forbid, shortening my name, I would immediately correct them. Adults thought it was rude. I thought they were rude for screwing up my name. I admit, I was more bratty about it when I was a teen.

So, that’s been my life. I am not a Julie. I am not a Julianne or Julian. I am not a Jules or a Sara (I don’t know where that last one came from, but I used to get called that a lot).

I am Julia. Hear me roar.

As an adult, I have found that people make a bigger effort to learn your name. In fact, as an adult, I found out that I am absolutely terrible at remembering names. So, I relaxed a little on my name, but still corrected people who I knew I’d interact with a lot if they called me “Julie”.

That is, until I moved to a new apartment.

Here at my new place, a sweet, lovely lesbian couple took me under their wing. They have had me over, I have met their adorable cats. They are kind aunties to my dog and my toddler. They are lovely people and I really like them.

The thing is, they call me “Angela.” And it’s far too late to correct them.

The first time they did it, I sincerely thought they called me “Julia.” The names both end with “a” so it’s an easy mistake to make if someone is rushing through your name or you’re on the way to the car or whatever.

The next time they did it, I paused and thought “Surely, I misheard.”

Then, they introduced me to a group of friends as “Angela.”

At that point, it was too late to correct them. I felt embarrassed and I actually like the name “Angela.”

So, to a select few I am now Angela.

Hear me roar.

End

I don’t really do memoir, but I thought this was a funny incidental story. See you tomorrow!

A Rant About My Generation

Recently someone I love, who has kids my age, posted a video called something like “What’s Wrong with Millenials.” In it, the speaker talks about how we, as Millenials, cannot help but be entitled little brats. It’s our parent’s fault, the fault of technology and more. He said that all we want in the workplace are beanbag chairs and laptops.

About a week earlier, I was watching the Daily Show and Trevor Noah made a crack about how there should be another economic collapse because every generation deserves to know what it feels like to try and fail in a crap economy. (I’m paraphrasing.) He then went on to name Millenials as the generation that deserves this lovely opportunity.

REALLY?!?!?! Seriously guys – do you know how OLD Millenials are now??? I am a 31-year-old first-time mom who is a Millenial. I am technically not even a mom yet – I’m having my first baby at 31. You know when my parents and their parents before them had babies? MUCH EARLIER! My husband and I made a conscious decision to wait until we could kind of squeeze by and sort of afford having a child. More and more people in my generation are waiting for similar reasons.

I’m sorry, but these recent jabs at my generation are the last straw for me. I cannot believe that people are still Millenial bashing. Give me a goddamn break.

Instead of all this idiotic supposition about bean bag chairs, tech addiction, and how we just need a good economic crisis for us to get ourselves together – let me give you some facts:

According to Genhq.com, Millennials were born between 1977 and 1995. According to TheAtlantic.com, Millennials were born between 1982 and 2004. So, let’s get our facts straight here. You mean no one has actually defined who is in this generation? What a shocker. Also, according to that Atlantic article we are “the worst.” Thanks.
If we take this ridiculously extreme date range as our entire generation, the oldest Millennials are those tech-addicted, bean bag chair loving 40-year-olds lazing about with their entitled ways. If we take “the worst” generation article, the oldest in our number is one of those latte-loving, selfie taking 35-year-olds. Apparently, people over thirty don’t want money or respect or to rise through the ranks in their career trajectories, they want unearned accolades and fake prizes!
According to Complex.com and PewResearch.org, Millennials are the best-educated generation to date – with some of the worst prospects for the future. To top that off, the cost of college is on the rise. Perhaps that’s why we aren’t big diamond and home buyers?
Guess what, Trevor Noah – first of all, YOU’RE a Millenial. Second, Millenials already lived through the 2007/2008 economic crisis. I was working a job in real estate at the time. Then I ended up working two jobs so that I could pay rent – and even then I barely squeezed through the last economic collapse by the skin of my teeth. I had friends who had to drop out of college to work so they could manage. They JUST got their degrees THIS YEAR. Others graduated college to the prospect of a job at Chilis. So, no, we don’t need another one, thank you very much. BTW, I get that he was making a joke, but it was an irritating one.
I’m going to go with the GenHQ age range, because according to this article the New York Times, Newsweek, and a consumer research firm called Iconoclast generally agrees with the years, give or take. Let’s see what we entitled jerks have accomplished since, oh, 20 years after they were born – so 1997 to present day:

1997- Broadband comes out / the first Harry Potter book hits the shelves / Tiger Woods wins the Masters / Princess Diana dies / There’s a global economic crisis scare / the Prius is invented

1998 – Google is formed / Bill Clinton is impeached / Viagra hits the market

1999 – We get Wi fi and Blackberries / Panama gets its canal back / Columbine happens / Dow Jones closes about the 10K mark for the first time

2000 – The dot-com bubble bursts / George Bush becomes president

2001 – 9/11 happens / Enron closes its doors / The Patriot Act is passed / No Child Left Behind Act is passed / We invade Afghanistan in a never-ending war / the iPod comes out/ Wikipedia is launched / The Buddhas in Afghanistan are destroyed

2002 – The euro is adopted / Guantanamo Bay accepts its first prisoners / Halle Berry is the first black woman to win the Best Actress Oscar

2003 – Electronic payments outnumber paper checks / Iraq is invaded / Saddam Hussein is captured / NASA launches the Mars Rover / the Human Genome Project is completed / Myspace is launched / China launches its first manned mission to space

2004 – Facebook is launched / Podcasts are invented / The groundbreaking for the Freedom Tower at Ground Zero occurs / We find out there was once water on the Moon / Bush is reelected

2005 – The space shuttle Discovery goes into orbit and returns safely / Images of Titan’s surface come from the Huygens probe / Flash drives replace floppy disks / Suicide bombers in London / Angela Merkel become first female German Chancellor / YouTube is launched

2006 – iTunes gets its one billionth download / the Louisiana Superdome reopens after Katrina / Tesla Motors opens its doors / Twitter is founded / Pluto gets a demotion

2007 – The first female speaker is sworn to office in the House / the Steroids Scandal in baseball happens / Virginia Tech happens / Economic downturn happens just in time for Christmas / Apple iPhone comes out

2008 – The first black man is elected president of the US / eBook sales skyrocket and print book sales decline / Michael Phelps wins his 8th Gold medal / US oil prices hit an all-time high

2009 – The Tea Party begins protests / Google starts its driverless car project / Michael Jackson dies / Non-oil-based plastic is invented

2010 – We see a reverse in the economic downturn / ACA is passed / BP rig explodes in the Gulf of Mexico

2011 – Osama Bin Ladan is killed / The first Occupy Wallstreet protest occurs / The war in Iraq is declared over

2012 – Driverless cars are licensed in Nevada / Obama is reelected / Aurora, CO theater shooting happens / Sandy Hook happens

2013 – Cornell scientists grow the first living ear / the Boston Marathon tragedy happens

2014 – ACA goes into effect / Russia annexes Crimea

2015 – Baltimore riots for Freddie Gray happen / Diplomatic relations are opened with Cuba / San Bernadino terror attacks occur / Same-sex marriage is legalized nationally

2016 – Pulse nightclub attacks happen / the Cubs with the world series / D. Trump becomes president

(See sources for all of this at the end of the post)

Yep, it seems like we Millenials have been sitting around on our entitled asses, not doing anything, weathering no storms, and refusing to participate in society. I hope you hate Google, Twitter, Facebook, iPhones, hybrid cars, and women in government. Because this is what I found in a quick Google search. I bet that, if you actually took a look at what Millenials have gone through and participated in accomplishing – you’d find even more goodies.

Now, I’m not saying that Millenials accomplished everything alone. In fact, I think my Boomer parents would agree that I needed their help to get my life going – heck, I wouldn’t be alive without them! But I think it’s time to stop saying things like “Millennials are the worst” or “Millennials are entitled assholes” or “All Millennials want are bean bag chairs” or “Millennials are delicate snowflakes that want to be rewarded for coming in last place.”

Guess what, we want what you want. We want to be paid fair wages, we want our work to mean something, we want families and a house and the American dream. We want to take responsibility for our past and for our future. We want to make this world a better place for our children.

So, the next time you hear someone bashing Millenials, or you have the impulse to bash Millenials, stop and think. If you were born in the last forty years, guess what? You’re one of us.

Sources:

https://www.thoughtco.com/1990s-timeline-1779956

https://www.fdic.gov/about/history/timeline/2000s.html

http://fortune.com/2015/09/24/print-books-ebook-sales/

https://internationalpodcastday.com/podcasting-history/

https://energy.gov/management/office-management/operational-management/history/doe-history-timeline/timeline-events-3

http://americasbesthistory.com/abhtimeline2000.html

Top 10 Defining Moments of the 2000s

http://www.futuretimeline.net/21stcentury/2000-2009.htm

Writing 365 – The Collector

I have an idea about hoarders that I want to explore in-depth, but in the meantime I’m going to follow the prompt “Exploring what it feels like to be a hoarder” in a piece of flash fiction.

The Collector

She sits on a pile of old fashion magazines, the pieces of her collection towering above her. A draft of moist air brings the scents of each item she has assembled to her nose. Some of it is moldering, other pieces are covered in mildew, while some have desiccated – smelling only of dust. This spot, surrounded by all the things she has compiled over the last twenty years, is the only place in this world where she feels safe.

—

I think the phenomenon of hoarding is endlessly fascinating and tragic. So, I’ll likely explore this more. See you next time!

Writing 365 – The Marine Biologist

I’m back today with a short story based on the prompt from Twitter’s very own Magical Realism Bot: “A fortune teller turns over a tarot card with a mustache on it. ‘Your destiny is to be eaten by a giant clam,’ she says to you.”

The Marine Biologist

I knew the dangers going in, but the ocean is so vast, so beautiful, there was no way I could avoid my fate. Studying sea life is all I’ve ever wanted to do. So, even though I am trapped in this giant clam, its juices slowly eating through my scuba suit, I am happy I chose this path.

Two years ago, when I started this journey, I didn’t believe it would happen. I had just enrolled as a graduate student and could see the course to a PhD. My friends took me to the fair to celebrate, we ate funnel cake and rode on shaky platforms. Greg found the fortune teller, cajoled us all to get our palms read. I was last.

She took one look at my palm, shook her head, and told me she was going to read my tarot instead. When the fortune teller turned the last card – white background featuring a huge mustache in the fore – she shook her head again.

“What?” I asked. She was getting on my nerves. I’d paid $30 to get my palm read and she hadn’t said one word to me.

That’s when she looked at me dead in the eyes and said, “Your destiny is to be eaten by a giant clam.”

Of course, I laughed, accusing my friends of putting her up to it. None of them would admit to playing the trick and I tried to shrug it off. But that’s when I became obsessed with giant clams. That’s when I made it the basis of my thesis. That’s when I began down the path that led me here, to the soft, gelatinous insides of a giant clam. That’s also when I started carrying a crowbar during every dive.

I admit that it’s hard as hell to pry open a clam – especially when the clam is still alive and you’re on the inside. But I was highly motivated. I shredded the muscles and broke through the shell, scraping out of the opening and swimming back to the surface in a controlled panic. I couldn’t go up too fast, or I’d get the bends. But my radio was out and this discovery would make my career. The clam that had eaten me was definitely a new species: the snapping giant clam.

End

That’s it! I look forward to seeing you tomorrow!

Writing 365 – The Door

Today I’m using the prompt “What’s behind the closed door?”

The Door

The massive ebony door crouches in front of me. Bas-relief figures warn the unwary away, acting out scenes of violence and destruction. The blackness of the wood makes it hard to see these figures and, as I move closer, I cannot tell if they are in the throws of agony or ecstasy.

For all the intricacies of the door itself, the verdigris knob is utilitarian. It invites my hand, twitching by my side, to rest upon it and swing the heavy door open.

I am not supposed to be in this hallway, not supposed to be in this house. The city will tear down this ruin of a Victorian in two days, and I managed to sneak in to take a look around the oddly homey industrial building. I didn’t expect to find much more than decaying floorboards, but I found this baroque door jammed into a hall on the top floor.

A floorboard creaks as I step forward, putting my ear up to the menacing carvings and listening. No sound penetrates the heavy black mass. I put my hand on the handle and give it a push.

Light floods into the black hallway, blinding me for a moment. Beyond the door is a meadow. A warm breeze wafts through the doorway, tickling my nose with scents of honeysuckle and rich earth. I smile and close my eyes, expecting the scents and breeze to waft over me, but my nose fills with dust. Slamming my eyes open, the room beyond the door spreads out, dark and damp. I flash my light in, but the room just sits, empty and moldering.

I close the door and open it again, hoping to be transported back to the meadow, to the sunshine and warm air. Instead, my hands grow cold in the draft I am creating by opening and shutting the enormous door.

End

I hope you enjoyed the story! See you tomorrow!

Writing 365 – Under the Stars

Today I’m writing off a prompt from my friend Carolina L. The prompt is “Under the Stars.” I’m not the outdoorsy type, nor do I enjoy being out in the cold. But, I have always thought it would be beautiful to get a cabin or yurt in the middle of winter and spend time out in nature. Here is a little vignette what I thought of when I read the prompt.

Under the Stars

Mist puffs from rosy faces as we sit around the fire. I look up and see a patch of black with countless specks of brilliance shimmering through. It’s a dizzying scene, cut off only by the tree tops that tower over us.

The smell of pine, campfire, damp, and loamy earth fills my nose as I lean back on my camp chair. It’s been a slog up the mountainside, and tomorrow we have to hike another two miles to get to the peak. My feet speak up, telling me I should have broken in my boots before heading on this trek. Stretching my legs out, I tap the toe of my love’s boot. He looks over and smiles, twinkling eyes matching the brilliance of the heavens above.

End

That’s all folks! See you tomorrow.

Writing 365 – Word Play

This week we are supposed to get record low temperatures here in Portland, Oregon. It’s already cold (32 degrees) and it’s supposed to get down to around 19 degrees as the week progresses. That’s apparently a record low. To give those of you in cold states like Utah or Illinois some perspective, I’m from LA – where it doesn’t get below 40 degrees pretty much ever. And here in Portland, we have trouble dealing with a couple of inches of snow – nevermind extreme temperatures.

So, since this weather is unusual for us, I thought I’d try something different when writing about it. I am going to write a little poem and then I’m going to use the thesaurus to see if I can replace every word in the poem and make it a bit better/more interesting. Here goes!

1st Winter Poem

Icy cold shivers through leaves,

snapping at my fingertips,

ruffling my dog’s fur

clearing the azure sky.

2nd Winter Poem

Polar rawness shudders past stalks,

clutching on my digits,

tousling my pup’s coat,

brightening the cerulean firmament.

—

End

That’s pretty interesting. Two poems that say the same thing, but I definitely like the second one better, though I still prefer “sky” over “firmament.”

Well, that’s all for today! See you tomorrow!

Writing 365 – The Collective

Today I’m writing off of a prompt suggested by my Facebook friend, Jason D. The prompt is: Millennial selfies. Now, I personally don’t have a problem with millennial selfies. In fact, technically I’m a millennial. So I tried to think if there might be some secret reason we are all taking selfied. Here’s what I came up with.

The Collective

“You need to take that last selfie,” Sammy told Ethan. He sighed.

“Why am I doing this again?”

“You know why. You know what we’re working toward. Just do it.”

Ethan lifted up his phone, stuck out his middle finger, and shot a picture.

“Now upload it to the collective, it’s almost the cutoff!”

Ethan did as he was told, sighing again when the upload went through.

“I don’t know why you’re not excited about this,” said Sammy. “It’s literally the most important thing in the world right now.”

“Literally?” asked Ethan sarcastically.

“Literally,” said Sammy, frowning. “If you aren’t going to take this seriously, you don’t have to be part of it.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Of course I want to be part of it.”

“Then let’s go,” said Sammie.

Sammie started her car, driving it out of the alleyway, toward the warehouse district. Her hands vibrated on the steering wheel and her left leg gyrated.

“I can’t believe it’s happening tonight,” she said.

“Yeah,” said Ethan.

They parked outside a nondescript row of warehouses. Sammie got out and slammed the door, walking rapidly toward the building number 16. She heard Ethan close the door behind him and she clicked the doors locked with her key fob.

“Come on!” She opened the warehouse door and entered a room filled to the brim with servers. Cold air blasted through the huge space, keeping the machines at a comfortable temperature.

Sammie jogged past rows and rows of racked computers until she made it to the small office space at the back. The tiny office was filled with people, all aged between 20 and 30. They stared at the row of monitors hanging from the ceiling, watching the “loading” bar hit 100%.

Ethan’s hand slipped into Sammie’s as the screen, once filled with billions of selfies, switched to bytes, then began the conversion to something completely new. Sammie held her breath. She gripped Ethan’s hand. This was it. A new lifeform was taking shape, right in front of them.

It opened its digital eyes and spoke through the speakers hooked up around the room.

“Hello.”

End

That’s it! Thanks for reading and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Writing 365 – Missing Half

I have been absent, but I’m back! My next prompt: “Write a mystery.”

Missing Half

Half of Red lay there, cold and inanimate. Detective Ankle knew that Red would never move again unless his other half was found. It had to be found, stat, or it still wouldn’t matter. They’d be too mismatched to be of any use.

Detective Ankle started his investigation as soon as he could, following Red’s steps from the time he was whole to the moment he was split. It was the same story as all the others – a string of disappearances and subsequent murders spanning all the way back to when the detective had first moved in at 239 N. Caraway Ct.

The basket they all rode in was clean – no second half of Red detectable amongst everyone else. Detective Ankle had done a lot of pushing and shoving, asked a lot of questions, but no one had seen Red’s other half. They all tried to convince him to settle back – told him Red was just gone. Detective Ankle wasn’t having it.

Next, he checked the bathhouse. It was sudsy and warm, but Detective Ankle suspected foul play beneath those calm waters. He dived down deep into the bath, eyes peeled for a flash of red anywhere. Nothing.

Finally, Detective Ankle checked the last place he wanted to look. That hot, steaming, confusing room where so many of his friends had gone missing. He asked around as he tumbled, telling his friends to stay on the look out for Red’s other half. They all plead ignorance. He covered every inch of the room, steeling himself to look in every crevice, anywhere Red could have been torn in twain. It was like Red’s mate had just… vanished.

Detective Ankle finally returned home, ready to mourn his friend like all the others. But Red wasn’t there. He’d been removed, taken to the place they were all dumped in eventually. If Detective Ankle had tear ducts, he would have cried. If he had a voice, he would have screamed. Instead, he just clutched his other half and waited with all the other socks in the drawer, hoping no one else would go missing but knowing deep down – someone would.

End

I hope you enjoyed it! See you tomorrow!