Monthly Archives: June 2013

Comfort AND Coziness

So I’ve decided to do Prompts For The Promptless. Not because I have no prompt, but because it fits in with what I was going to tell ya’ll anyway. (I’ll probably do more PRFP later just because they usually look pretty darn fun) Don’t know what that means? Go here- -This will tell you all about it. (Is it me or does the whole “Insert URL and create a link” thing not work? I’ve tried like, a dozen times. You’ll just have to follow the link the old fashioned way.)

This week’s episode features “Gezelligheid” which is is a Dutch noun meaning the comfort and coziness of being at home, with friends, with loved ones or general togetherness. Gezellig is an adjective that the noun is based on. From wiki: A room can be gezellig. (meaning cosy or inviting), A person can be gezellig. (meaning entertaining or pleasant), A party can be gezellig. (meaning fun), A visit to ones grandparents can be gezellig. (meaning togetherness), A set of curtains can be gezellig. (meaning pretty or nice).

One of my gezelligs is my boyfriend. When I think of him I am home, even though we live two hours away from each other. He is everything one could hope for in a romantic relationship. Supportive, cuddly, appreciative, he makes me laugh, he is attractive, he is smart, he is just so gosh darn wonderful. On Monday will be our one year anniversary, and I am super excited.

Backstory time! I worked at my grass cutting job for 8 hours. I drove a very boring drive for 2 hours. Then me and him recreated our first date in that we snuck onto the roof of a building. I was looking over the edge at a small lake, the sky was clear, it was a very nice warm night. He said some nice things, got down on his knee and asked me to be his girlfriend. I’m not sure I ever said yes, but I know there were kisses and hugs and happiness. The past year has been truly awesome and I couldn’t ask for anything better.

So back to the reason for choosing to do this Prompt of Gezelligheid. Monday, like I said, is our anniversary. Starting Thursday we will be traveling to his hometown of St. Louis for various exciting reasons. Our trip ends on June twenty-third with a trip to Six Flags Great America. I won’t be bringing along my laptop, and mobile blogging/story writing seems confusing to me still so that means You’re going to miss out on two potential stories as per my usual posting schedule. But never fear! I’ll figure out something awesome to post when I get back. Maybe I’ll upload some pictures and make a plog. Is that a thing? Can that be a thing? (get it… pictures, log…plog)

So that just leaves me with a question for you… What is your Gezelligheid?

The Pudding Escapades: Chapter One

So I’ve been lazy again. Well, more like the outside world has taken up my time. Normally I would write a story and post it sometime around the weekend. Today I had to get up before the sun, blah blah blah, and now I am too sleepy to write anything worthwhile. So therefore, I present to you the first chapter of my unpublished, unfinished novel. The name “The Pudding Escapades” is just a title I put in so I could find it in my documents. I’m sure when (if ever) I finish it, I’ll find a better name. Enjoy, and as always, constructive criticism is welcome.

I was walking down the aisles looking at all the products. Going up one aisle and down the other just waiting, I guess. I picked up a box of taquitos to look at them. I know I don’t need them, but they’d be a good snack in case I ever get bored.
Like that feeling of boredom when you think you’re hungry so you walk to the fridge, just to find out there isn’t anything good in there to eat. Maybe peanut butter and jelly, maybe left over pizza; naw that’s no good. So you walk back to the living room, find something to watch on TV. After sitting there for a few minutes, which seems like hours, you go back to the kitchen. Look over your options again. Then you remember you weren’t really hungry in the first place, and head to your room. Maybe to start organizing or maybe even to pick up a book to read. Not that I was really ever into reading, but I did pick up a few books along the years. This boredom is how I have been for the past week.
I got sick of walking around my house finding things to do. Cleaning the bathroom, rearranging lawn furniture, staring at my unpacked boxes, cleaning the bathroom again. Maybe that’s how I ended up at the superstore. I was done with my finals super early this year, so I came home before anybody else did. To me it’s such a small town, there isn’t anything to do unless you have a couple of good friends to goof off with. It is my favorite thing to do, hang out with friends. Go on adventures. Make up crazy stories. Just anything to get my mind off of the real world. That is a big reason I hate going to school where I do. Well, hate is a strong word. I guess I more or less dislike going there. Sure, it’s got great academics. Some of the people are pretty cool. And the campus is beautiful in the fall. But it just doesn’t have the same feel that home does. Maybe I will never find somewhere like home. Or maybe home is just a convenience.
I chose this school because it fit my needs, and just everything drew me into it. It wasn’t what everybody else was choosing, and it helped me feel different from the crowds of kids from high school picking a college that all their friends had gone to. I wanted somewhere far enough from the mundane life I thought I had but at the same time I wanted close enough where I could still come back for visits if I wanted. After being away for a year I had realized my mistake. Well, I wouldn’t call it a mistake I guess. It will give me a good education and a different culture from my own, which is what I wanted. I had come to realize though, that it wasn’t really what I wanted. I still don’t, going into the summer before my senior year. Maybe this summer is what will help me figure it out; that is why I am so anxious for everyone to come home. I’ll be able to get ideas of who I am now, and who I want to be later on.
I put the box of taquitos down. I don’t really need them. I move on to the meat products. Then to the cheeses and other dairy. There are so many choices, who comes up with all of these ideas? I start to wonder what they’ll come up with next. Technology plus imagination will go along way. Maybe in the future we’ll have just shakes that we will have to eat three times a day to get all of our nutrition. Like the way you see all the old films showing about the future. Those movies are hilarious. I start walking towards the clothing section because the cold from the freezers is giving me goosebumps and I notice her. I knew she worked here, why did I even bother coming here? I duck off into the aisle where they have all the sports wear and high school themed shirts, hoping she didn’t see me. I look down at one of them and notice it spelled High School wrong. The person who let that slide either is very humorous or never went to school. Maybe she saw me already? Oh God. I hope she doesn’t try and talk to me.
It’s been a few months since I’ve seen or even talked to Rachel. Maybe even longer, since I don’t really keep track of those things. Have you ever just not liked someone? For no particular reason. Just. Something unexplainable about them throws you off. That is Rachel. Could be the way she flips her hair, or the way her eyes get squinty in the sun. She also has a horrible attitude towards life. That’s probably why she works here. Doesn’t think she has a great future so she settles for something less than a great future. And there isn’t any changing her mind. Which doesn’t make any sense. Her family has the opportunity to help her and she has the option to do great things. She also used to make up stories about her life, I guess looking for attention. I used to feel sorry for her until I tried to help her and she decided not to listen. Well, I guess it wasn’t that she wouldn’t listen. She heard fine, she just didn’t take any of my advice or compliments or anything in a positive way. In one ear and out the other. Someday I hope she looks back on the things I’ve said and regrets not listening. But then again, everyone needs to learn things on their own. Maybe that’s why I don’t like her, but then again, maybe it’s just the way she squints her eyes.
I think she didn’t see me. Knowing her, if she had seen me she’d be standing next to me, pretending to fold shirts, but really just using the excuse to ask me how I am, how’s life, and yadda yadda. No doubt, trying to strike up a conversation about our past together. Not that there really was one because as soon as I figured her out I tried to distance myself from her as far as possible.
I move on to electronics. Looking at all the CD’s I wish I had. Even though the CD is dying out. Everyone is downloading or pirating. I don’t get it. With my luck as soon as I start doing that my computer will crash and I will have lost everything. I like having the CD in my hand. I own this music. I have also helped the artist that created this art. I’m not really into music, of course I listen to it daily and have a few favorite bands and favorite songs. But ask me crazy facts about the band, even the member’s names, I couldn’t tell you. During low points in homework throughout this past year I would look things like that up so I could be more informed, but I still have a long way to go.
“Hey Jack!” I hear from behind my shoulder. Oh God, she found me. Should I pretend not to hear? No that would just make me look stupid. I turn around.
“Hi Rach.” I say trying with a nod the way thug guys do.
“I can’t believe you’re home already! My goodness, it’s been so long! How is school going?” She talks as if nothing had happened between us. Just as if I didn’t just stop communicating with her. I wonder if she’s noticed that.
“Oh, it’s alright I guess. Still working here I see?” Maybe she’ll have to go stock diapers or something and I wont have to talk much longer.
“Yeah. Just until the summer ends,” She giggles the way girls do “have any exciting plans?”
“Naw, You know me. I fly by the seat of my pants.” Which is true. Plans make things monotonous. Plans also almost never go as planned.
“Ohmygosh, how could I forget!! You were so crazy! Well hey, I gotta get back to work before ‘the man’ sees me goofing off. Maybe I’ll see you sometime this summer?” She tries to be cool when she says ‘the man’ probably just trying to impress me. I see right through it.
“Maybe…” I just shrug my shoulders. For the next four months I will avoid running into her again. I’m almost curious as to what she’ll be doing at the end of summer, but I won’t let that bother me. I can’t see her moving away. Maybe she got a better job at another branch. Oh, who cares? I look down at the iPods. I wish I had the money to buy a new one. My old one works just fine, but that’s just it. It is old. I know there isn’t anything here that I want, why did I come here in the first place? I start to walk out to the parking lot when I hear it again. That cutesy voice.
“Jack! I’m so glad I found you again before you left, my phone broke and lost all my contacts. Here’s my new number. Call me and we’ll hang out sometime, yeah?” I look down at her hand with the piece of paper. She’s obviously clueless, but I take the paper anyway, make some sort of nodding motion with my head, smile and walk out the store.
I didn’t drive today. It’s such a small town I just walked the three miles. It’s a beautiful day so I decided to take the opportunity to be out in the sunshine. As I walk across the street I look back at the store. I really wish I hadn’t run into her.

Blog June Five

Writing and reading tend to go hand in hand. I write, so I suppose I should talk about reading every now and then. When I was a child I liked reading. Specifically, in third grade I remember that I could read at a fifth grade reading level. I don’t quite remember when I stopped reading, but I know that I became overwhelmed with other school work and extracurricular activities that reading got pushed to the side. I don’t read as much as I would like, and since I’ve graduated I have time for reading books that interest me. You know, instead of those boring text books and novels that professors say “Hey read this and tell me in depth everything about it.” Which really translates to “vaguely skip over this text and write me a five page paper.” I mean… I read most of what I needed to but when I had projects thrown at me from five different directions reading was hard to keep up with.

The book I am currently reading is called A Working Theory Of Love by Scott Hutchins. I found it while browsing Barnes and Noble, I believe it was one of the featured something or others. (I should hang out at book stores more often so I know the proper term for that) The book so far is an interesting read. I over half way through. I’ll have to read more of it to form a better opinion. Next on my book list is to re-read some of the books I was told to read while in school. Like I said, I most likely skipped over certain parts. I hate to admit since I was assigned this book both in high school and college, but I don’t think I’ve ever read The Great Gatsby all the way through. I want to see the movie, but not until I go back to the novel.

There was one book that I was assigned twice in college and I never read the entirety. As I lay Dying by William Faulkner. I read what I needed to, and got the rest of the information from discussions in class. From that, I fell in love with the idea of the book. I just need to go back and fall in love with the book itself. Especially since there is a movie coming out about that too.

When thinking about interviews in careers in my field I think that one of the questions they’ll ask me is What is your favorite book? Who is your favorite author? And I’ve thought about these questions a lot. And quite frankly, I have no idea. Sure, there are plenty of books that I liked, but I don’t really think I’ve read enough to have favorites. Not even a top ten list.

Do you have any suggestions to add to my “to read” list? What is your favorite book? Who is your favorite author?

My Arm

It took them about a week after my death before they found my arm hidden in the rocks by the levee. A group of teenagers found it around midnight on a Friday night when one of the girls had lost her earring. That was about two weeks after I was supposed to leave for my trip, or so my family had thought. The last time I saw them I was getting onto a bus with all my photography gear. My plan was to travel around the country taking pictures of anything and everything. I told my family there would be little contact for the whole month; I just wanted my creative vision to flow. I saved money for a year so on my journey there would be nothing to worry about. I intended to stay in cheap motels, travel using only public forms of transportation, with a goal of arriving in California. Once I arrived in California I would take the money I set aside for a plane ticket and fly home.
The teenagers waited until the morning to call the police at the risk of being caught after curfew. The police blocked off the entire levee and bike path leading up to it to search the area for the rest of my body. They didn’t know what I did, that it was several parts scattered around the quint city area. I was places in all of my favorite places to visit or hang out. If the police had figured that out they would have known it was someone close to me that killed me and they would have found the person. However, they were clueless. They weren’t even sure whom the arm belonged to since there weren’t many identifying marks. That was until one of the coroners found the scar on my thumb.
It was about six years ago that I attended an event at an outdoor ropes course. There was one obstacle about fifteen feet in the air called a pirates walk. A line ran from one telephone pole to the other with two lines overlapping in the middle. The object was to get from pole to pole, the obstacle being that one had to successfully step over the cross without using hands. I had mastered the task and ready to come down to the ground to let someone else in my group try. Sitting in my harness, the facilitator motioned for me to come down and shouted out to not touch the ropes. Unfortunately, I was skittish being that high in the air and I touched the ropes for more support. Once I was on the ground, one of my group members noticed the blood streaming down my hand. I had a big gash in my thumb from touching the rope.
The picture of my hand with the scar on my thumb was posted all over the news and in papers. It was a week after they found my arm, that my little brother finally noticed the scar. Suddenly police were constantly around my house. They questioned everyone in the immediate family but never got any suspects.
A month after they found my arm, my mother was reviewing the reports she begged the police for. Sipping the lemonade on the front porch she came across the word Levee.
“Oh my…” She ran to the phone and called the police. “The levee, she hung out at the levee.”
“Ma’am we searched the area, there was nothing else to be found. Not a single clue.”
“Because you only searched one place.”
“No ma’am, like I said…we searched that entire area.”
“I have a list of all the places she liked to go.”
Within the hour the police had search teams in all my favorite places. My other arm was hidden under a balcony concealed in the side of a cliff in the state forest park. Both of my legs were found in some bushes near the local skate park.
Eventually all the pieces were put together. The investigators finally realized it must have been someone I was close to and went over all the reports in the people I knew. After not finding any leads they went to all of the people and interviewed them again. The investigators put together some facts. I had left on the bus ride to whatever destination I decided to stop at, which was unknown. My parents had gone about their lives going to work and tending to the garden. My brother who had his summers free sat around the house playing video games. My boyfriend had seen me off at the bus stop and then started his new job the next day. My best friend had left a few days before me to a backpacking trip around Europe. The body parts were pieced together and it was determined that the cause of death was strangulation. The time of death was only an hour after I had left the bus stop.
The investigators broadened their search to an hour radius. That is when they found my back pack in the lost and found at a truck stop about half an hour outside the city. The news was shocking. The city, my friends, and my family were all heartbroken that I had never really begun my journey.
It was two months after they found my arm that they held my funeral services. My boyfriend stood up to give a eulogy.
“I loved her. Given the chance, we would have been together forever. She was my best friend and I would have done everything for her.” He was nervous and his eye twitched. That is when my mother stood up, sobbing. She had realized something. He didn’t leave when she and my father left the bus stop. He said he had something else to do. He was stunned when she called about my arm, but not upset. He hadn’t come over to the house after the news for comfort.
“Why? Why did you…” My mother’s words broke into more sobs. My father held her arms. The investigators who were standing near the back of the funeral home perked up. They were there to hopefully find someone who looked suspicious. My boyfriend chuckled and stepped around the podium next to my closed casket.
“I wanted to.”