Week 9: Prompt 1

A list of random things about me:

1. I am easily angered
2. I would rather have a gun in my hand then money in the bank
3. I have a hard time loving people
4. I have trust issues
5. Before falling asleep I try to control my dreams by thinking about something I want to dream about
6. I am petrified of the dark
7. I always feel second best
8. Sometimes I feel unloveable
9. I am happiest when I am in a relationship
10. I hate girly girls, but whenever I go shopping I tend to buy clothes girly girls wear
11. All my best friends move away, I am beginning to think it's my fault
12. I think that college pre req's are pointless and a waste of time, I wish apprenticeships still exsisted
13. I am good with money, when I have it, I hide it, so it can't get spent
14. I am good at making my friends laugh
15. If I dish it, I can take it
16. I have many regrets with past relationships
17. I am obsessed as Ted Mosby about finding "the One"
18. I lie often, about menial things
19. I have a boring life
20. I've been bitten by the travel bug and want to go to all 50 states, Ireland, Paris, England, OK, most of Europe
21. I never thought I could love something so much until I got my dog
22. I have fears that I will be a terrible mother, it keeps me up at night (I'm not even preggars!)
23. I hate just as hard as I love
24. My sister is selfish, even though I have given her anything I can within my means
25. I hate relationship head games
26. My parents taught me to be independent and never let someone see you cry

Week 8: Prompt 3

When I walk along a city street, I feel almost claustrophobic and unable to fathom what little space people have between their houses and for front/back lawns. I could never live in a house where I could stick my head out the window and lick my neighbor's siding. Even when I was fresh out of high school and doing the apartment thing, I always found an obscure apartment that suited my country needs. When I walk along my street, or on the streets where I was raised, I see nothing but trees, birds, gravel, flowers, and the wind as my partner. When I walk out at night I can see the night sky, count the stars, and revel at the way you can see Venus unaided on a cloudless night.

Week 8: Prompt 2

As a young child, I was raised in a very small town. My mother had been pregnant out of marriage and decided to move back home with her parents, to recollect her thoughts and plan for our future. The road that my grandparents lived on was my grampa's last name, and that city street was the best street around. It was a winding, old, dirt road with plenty of tall deciduous trees, framing it in on either side. The street was about a mile long and was a sloping down hill, perfect for sledding. You never went so fast that you were out of control, but you never had to stick your arms out and give yourself a shove either. This road was where I drove for the first time, as I bumped along in the truck, following grampa's tractor as I picked up the hay bales he was dropping into the field. I reconnected with cousins as we played hide and seek and made mud pies. Many memories were made. Since my grammy's death a few years back, I have not revisited that road.

Week 8: Prompt 1

Just a passing face on the street. Oh lord, just a passing face, I feel like every look shot my way shoots straight to my sensitive heart. I cower away and try to quickly reach my destination. My hate for strangers grows. I am not fearful or inflicted with anthropophobia, but I have stopped seeing good in all people, and I simply see them for who they are. Call it a gift, or call it a curse, but I don't see a girl's pretty face, I feel like I see who she is, deep down inside-a hateful, jealous, and insecure person who glowers at every beautiful passerby.

Week 8: Vignette

She jumps up on the couch and lays down in her usual spot. The cushion at the end of the couch is where she always lays, and it is easy to spot because it is the only cushion bent down and twisted, when compared to the rest. She lays her head on the window sill and stares into the outdoors. I glance outside and see the wind knocking off the brown colored leaves and blowing them into the driveway. The orange leaves still wave freely from the trees and their brilliant colors seem to mock at the leaves on the ground, not knowing that they will meet the same brown fate. I turn back to my dog. Her brown eyes flicker over the activity outdoors, and briefly a whine escapes her lips. I know she wants to go outside, but this time of day is too dangerous with all the vehicles driving up the road, to and from work.

Suddenly, as if to drive my point home, a car speeds up the driveway. She is suddenly up and her paws mash into the couch cushion, deforming it a bit more. Her hair on her spine spikes and her jaw goes tight as she alerts me to the intruder who dares to pass our home. I gently pet her and utter soothing words in hopes of calming the rage. She quietly succumbs and sinks back into the cushion. As she does, I cringe and lament my sad looking couch.

Week 7: Prompt 2

Who's the first person you remember?

First memories are hard. It's difficult to discern between an actual memory and people telling the same story over and over about you that you feel like you do remember it. The first real memory that I have is my mom. I was watching Barney and a commercial came on. I think it was a mayonnaise commercial. After watching the commercial, I became inspired by the little boy that made his mother a sandwich, and the mother was so happy to receive that sandwich. I promptly went to the kitchen and selected a knife and a tomato. I attempted to slice the tomato, but instead I knicked my finger. Man did I scream. My mother of course came running, and after glancing at my non-life threatening wound, she chided me for trying to cut the tomato. After I explained myself and blamed the TV (2 points to me for not taking credit!), I could see her expression soften a bit and she held me close. I am sure that I probably could think of an earlier memory if I tried, but this is one of my favorites.

Week 7: Prompt 1

Take a look at a photo of a person. What do you see?

When I look at a early photo of my mother, I see happiness and carefree-ness. Very unlike her expression now. Not to say that my mother is not happy, she has many laugh lines and crinkles at her eyes, but true mirth rarely escapes her lips, her laughs are usually not genuine. In her photos she has blonde hair, which we are a family of dark skin and hair, and the glinting of the blonde seems to capture every good feature she has. She often talks longingly of her blonde locks, but my dad shoots it down with his sarcasm and all around grumpy behavior. The best part of old photos of my mother is the fashion. Jean jackets, bell bottoms and her humongous glasses test the limits of my laugh meter.