writing

Prompt #1: Strangers

Great stories often begin with the arrival of a a stranger. Have the stranger make a grand entrance and then take it from there.

The party started and there was already some disastrous little details that were not taken care of. The women were all wearing the wrong color. They were told to wear black and these particular women instead rebelled and wore every other shade of the spectrum. The men were all told to do the same, but they wore shiny suits of blue, green and gray. The music was a singer who was told to sing Sinatra and instead sang heavy metal lyrics in a 20s style. The food was all a worldwide disasterly array of over-the-top crackers and bland cheeses. The banquet hall was unswept, poorly lit and every chandalier was missing lightbulbs and glass pieces. The people were confused and giggling either over the poor planning or over their own wardrobe rebellion.

As everyone drank the over-iced punch and laughed, the double doors opened with a loud BANG. Everyone looked anxiously to toward the door and there stood an handsome man in a tuxedo and a woman in a long black dress. They stood there a second with a stare that pierced everyone in the room. The people gasped and made way as the couple walked towards the center of the hall. Their shoes made the only sound and it seemed like minutes were hours as they passed all the guilty faces of the guests. The woman was holding a baby which did not move. There in the center of the room, stood a pedestal, covered with red solo cups of the poor red drink. The man in black throws each cup onto the ground and wipes the surface clean of any dirt or dust. The woman in black places the baby onto cold marble delicately. The couple then walk out the doors and lock it shut behind them.

A party goer with a loud yellow dress examines the strange baby. “It’s dead!” She yells. Everyone looks at one another and cheer.

The last babe has died.

How Do You Know?

I still type at 38WPM but I tell people that it’s 45.

I am at work and I hate it. Is it because I am in an office and goofing off all day? Does the internet and a computer do that to me? Yes. I like goofing off because I don’t like work.

I think that I have to face the facts. I don’t know who I am and that my second job is making me a bitter person. I am much much more rude now. I dunno how it is possible to be this rude, but I found it. I am pretend nice and I think people now know that about me. I can see it in their body language. My co-workers just don’t like me. I think it may be because I don’t like them. Probably. They are good people, but it wan’t all my fault.

I need to leave. I am getting that same feeling that I had when I left and moved to Colorado. I need to go somewhere else.

My brain cannot work under this heated pressure. It never has been able to. The summer is hard. Although I am indoors, I always feel outdoors. Overheated, irritated, unable to concentrate…

If this 110 degree weather is not bad enough, my jobs are making me hate life. I am starting to just hate people. I even take it out on my boyfriend sometimes… I wonder if he knows… I hate people because they are either at a sucky job but have a great social life OR they have a bad social life but have a good job. I REALLY hate people who have it all.

I cannot think straight.

I just know that everything I am doing is wrong and I need to start feeling right.

This heat is unbearable.

A One-Sided Conversation With Myself

Every day is a struggle to find meaning and happiness in my life. A STRUGGLE. It does not mean that I actually do something about it, but just the opposite. I sometimes wonder why I am an idiot, TV addict. I was told by a stranger whom I respect that I just have to meditate on me. That’s dumb. I have psychoanalyzed the shit out out my mind and body as well as the people I know. Why should I just sit around and think some more? My main problem is just DOING. I don’t know how to DO. I don’t know if I ever did.

What incites my passion?

I like writing. But I am not as good at it as I would like to believe. Hell, I just taught myself to type properly only recently.

Get better.

What is this voice in my head that just said that? Oh yeah, THAT voice. That voice is dumb.

Psychology was never your passion. 

There is that voice again… Damn voice. You harsh. If you don’t already know, I have a B.A. in Psychology.

You love food to the point of an unhealthy obsession.

I know I know. Pick on the person who sleeps right after eating. I person willing to eat until she becomes broke.

Technology is interesting, but you are not logical enough nor willing to put in the hours to pursue it. 

This voice is saying things that make me upset. I have been seriously considering to learn to code. Why are you saying that? What happened to “Get better.”

You basically live in front of a screen watching your life away. To you, it is your happiness. 

No argument there.

What does food, TV and writing have in common?

Ugh. I am not gonna be an Anthony Bourdain, okay? I don’t give a shit about being a travel/food blogger. I don’t even like reviewing things on Yelp. How are these things supposed to set me on a path to a future? This voice does not know that I am an artsy person who thinks that getting into the arts will be horrible.

Will it? Or can you find another way other than the black and white way that you just described?

Uh… I am not sure…

You can still pursue anything other than modeling or sports, which you don’t want to do. Neuroplasticity is alive and well in your mind. You can easily go and pursue anything you have started but haven’t finished. I am just trying to guide your mind and passions. 

Yeah yeah. Save me the story, voice in my head. Dude I am just screwed up. I washed out Millennial with a semi-respectable job who refuses to believe that Human Resources is a college major. (I just thought that shit was learned on the job) I refuse to believe that there are jobs that required a college education in the past that are entry-level anyway. Hell, even the job I have now seems like any person eager for a job can do it. ANYONE. But I needed a degree for this shit. Colleges just seem like half of the on-the-job-training that I receive anyway. NO ONE knows what they really need to do and yet, the person with the flair, connections, extroverted personality and “relevant” degrees are the most valuable/most desirable people to hire.

We seem to have gotten off topic. What does TheHumanGirl want? 

I want a job that I can live off of that I can also be happy with doing. I want to be happy and not worry about money all that much. But here YOU ARE telling me to pursue an artsy fartsy passion that I KNOW will just make me a Millennial loser cliche. The jobs I have now at least pay my bills.

You need to be happy first. 

I know…

 

A Letter To Someone With A Name That Haunts Me

To be an incompetent person is a very unnatural thing. Are we born to be a Homer Simpson or a Lisa Simpson? Should we be as ignorant as we can or should we just know the heavy truths about the realities of this world? The phrase, “ignorance is bliss” has been true to me on many occasions. Not knowing what mean things people say about you in another language saves you from hating them. Less hate is bliss. Not knowing how to help an angry person or child and just pawning them off to someone else saves you the trouble of stress. Less stress is bliss. Not knowing the horrible things the world shows every night on the news saves you the terrors of senseless inhumanity and sadness for others. Less sadness is bliss. Not knowing how to correctly do a task – any task- saves you the mental anguish of panic and self-hate. Less self-hate is bliss. So why ever do anything if there is someone who can perform it better than you? Why should they teach your feeble, television-rotted brain anything if you are just going to make a mistake anyway? How important is your job, your family, your social status and the world you live in if they are all disappointing and demanding to your mental health and emotional well-being and they will all just disappoint you anyway? — These are all questions that can’t be answered directly. Ignorance is bliss until you start to harm the lives of those around you. You slack and then suddenly the world falls apart. The pursuit of perfection is non-existent. Should you be allowed to slip up? Is there room to fail? I say that there should be room to be a dumbass. I don’t believe in excuses, but I do believe in informing someone what went wrong with you. Don’t live your life like a Korean drama and just stand there and take abuse. You should stand up and argue- be strong and show others that you are learning, being better at something. Don’t expect me to be perfect. Don’t expect me to worship the ground you walk on when you made plenty of mistakes yourself. Just be with me… listen to my opinions and smile at me every so often. Just let me know that your presence is a human one so that I can do away with the bliss of ignorance and throw myself out there and be a risk taker. If I have to write a manual about my duties and exceptions, then tell me to don’t just go on about how I should just remember. Or better yet, hand me one that you made yourself- if you even did. Pretending to be better than me will not help. Pretending that I do not exist after a while just hurts me. It will make me ignore myself, my work and, ultimately, those around me. I am here. I will not sit idly by while you make me feel like the lesser. I try but at my own pace. You can’t expect me to treat strangers like family so easily when I barely know my own family. I am new to this place. Your easy-going world of work and play. I am sensitive and quiet. I am introverted and mysterious. But if you take my smile away, I will become a robot.

And I don’t know if I can do that…

Last NaBloPoMo Post & Pap Smear!

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Happy to eat you November Blogging.

 

Today I could have wrote about possibly the worst pap smear I have ever received. I could have written about how just her finger going in felt really wrong. I could have written about how the speculum felt like a piece of old plastic that did not go in without force or unwelcome friction. I don’t even want to write about how just the doctor getting the sample made my hands push my body up and away from the table, which my back struggled to lay on naturally. I don’t even want to write about the apologies that she kept giving me during and after the procedure. I don’t want to record her opinion on my sensitivity and the white chunks I saw on her latex gloves. Was that conversation I had with the overly nice male nurse even worth mentioning when he handed me my prescription? (Especially when he said that it was for my “lady parts.”)

You always feel violated afterwards…

… And a feeling to need to pee.


 

Yay!

I have finished THIRTY blogs this month! It was not easy. (Even though I sometimes cheated) I have a lot of things to work on when it comes to my writing. I’m not the best writer, but I don’t think that I am the worst!

I went through a lot in the beginning of this month. A lot of self-doubt and confusion. I do feel like I am in a better place but not without some damage to my creativity. (Which had happened during the middle of this month)

Thanks National Blog Posting Month (NaBloPoMo) for existing. I would like to say that my goal is to do NaNoWriMo at least once, but I am glad I am taking baby steps. This was a good exercise in self-discipline and creativity and I am glad that I did it.

Proud moment.

Uninspired: Part 3

What inspires me?

Nothing at the moment.

I wonder if this is because of the new drugs I’m on. I really hope it passes. I don’t feel like writing. I don’t feel inspired at all. To do anything.

This empty shell that I have created. I am upset over you. I move my fingers around. I can’t feel the fingerprints. I feel a light brush.

I don’t like this. I can’t write the same things that I am used to writing. I don’t know what to do.