The Write on Wednesday Spark: Small expectations
As I am thinking about education and learning, kindergarten and university, I have taken this week's writing exercise from one of my early childhood books. It is an activity I do with small children and one that always inspires so I thought it would be fun to see what the exercise inspires in adults. So, your prompt is: Imagine yourself as tiny as your thumb.Where would you live? What would you do?
I want to apologize for having skipped out on last week's Write on Wednesday, which I actually had time to do but could not find any inspiration for. Writing letters, in my opinion, is the hardest thing to do and instead of kill myself trying to think one up I spent my long weekend with a lovely boy.
I grabbed the thorn anxiously, quickly ripping a piece off of the paper we kept in the supply room and running up the pin ladder to my room. The dog had pushed his head inside the other day and everything was still a mess. I sighed as I jumped up to pull down my bed. I swung in quickly before it shot back up into the air.
I had always loved that my bed was closest to the kitchen. The others didn't want to suspend themselves next to the food. I wondered why we would suspend the kitchen at all if we were still going to worry about the critters. As it was I had an entire grape just in my reach and I plucked it quickly before I turned back to my page. Rubbing the soft end of the thorn against my chin I stared down at the blank paper. I had promised to keep a journal for my mother. It had turned out to be harder than I imagined. Nothing seemed important enough to write down.
I dropped back against my bed, ripping off a piece of my grape. The soft tapestries that hung above, moved as the elders chatted softly.
Closing my eyes I imagined my mother's face as she left. My heart had always been torn about having children. Veturing out on the journey to the birth house wasn't a decision you would take lightly. I turned to look at the world map on the wall. Our city stood proud and tall in the middle of the green forests and the birth house was far out, inside of the forest.
They said the capital city used to be one dwelling. One enormous house for the myths of the past. I had a hard time believing it.
I let myself doze off slightly as I dreamt of them. The giants in our myths. What would it have been like? To be big enough to call the capital a house?
To not have to suspend the beds for fear of the critters? They must have been able to crush them with a mere step. Or not to have to lock up the women when they coul not move as well? All our people's lives depended on their quickness of foot.
The myths took places almost fourteen moons ago, fourteen generations. But I knew it was all just stories. There was no way there could be living creatures that big. I looked at the map again.
The world wasn't big enough to fit giants.
I believed that thought as it rocked me into sleep.
It wasn't until morning that the tremors would start and everything in our world would change forever.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Monday's recommendation
I have no time nowadays to actually read very much in my lovely book, though I am enjoying it thoroughly whenever I can. Due to my work and all that jazz I will endeavour to keep recommendations coming by going back through time to the books from my childhood.
I'm pretty sure this one is for teenagers or something like that but I read it when I just started reading and loved every second of it.
So if you're reading to someone, or enjoy simple writing on a quiet evening after lots of work, the I really recommend this one to you.
Shadow Spinner
by Susan Fletcher
This book tells the story of Sheherazade's crippled maid, a young girl who has many a story in the docks and from the gypsies. It is our young protagonist that keeps the queen's life safe as she provides the stories that keep her husband's wrath at bay.
I'm pretty sure this one is for teenagers or something like that but I read it when I just started reading and loved every second of it.
So if you're reading to someone, or enjoy simple writing on a quiet evening after lots of work, the I really recommend this one to you.
Shadow Spinner
by Susan Fletcher
This book tells the story of Sheherazade's crippled maid, a young girl who has many a story in the docks and from the gypsies. It is our young protagonist that keeps the queen's life safe as she provides the stories that keep her husband's wrath at bay.
Word of the day:
(that sounds nothing like what it means)
Pulchritude
=
Beauty
Saturday, February 25, 2012
I can pass this off as work right?
I have been debating things for a while now. Unsure whether to get a Wii or a Playstation or a NintendoDS or an Xbox. There are way too many choices. So.....
found this on google
I just couldn't resist once I had made up my mind and I have to say. If you are at all interested in getting this baby, then let me recommend it wholheartedly.
Admitedly it is difficult to get around the controls at the beginning. Either because they give you the choice between touch or the actual buttons or because sometimes they don't give you the choice at all. So sometimes I'm scrambling to hold the controls correctly.
However it sounds great, looks fantastic and even if I'm juggling the controls all of them work really well and are incorporated in the gaming experience perfectly.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
The Art of Jacek Yerka
Just found this intersting artist, Jacek Yerka and found all of these pictures on google. There are so many more different arworks of his that are absolutely brilliant.
As a fantasy lover I just can't get enough of the subtle hints of fantasy indide of his more homely artworks.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Valentine's Day
There are several kinds of love. One is a selfish, mean, grasping, egotistical thing which uses love for self-importance. This is the ugly and crippling kind. The other is an outpouring of everything good in you - of kindness and consideration and respect - not only social respect of manners, but the greater respect which is recognition of another person as unique and valuable. The first kind can make you sick and small and weak but the second can release you in strength, and courage and goodness and even wisdom you didn't know you had.
-Steinbeck
Although I have never had a Valentine I am a hopeless romantic, and Steinbeck's idea of the second kind of love is something I think all romantics dream about.
What I think is very unfortunate is that, in my mind, things like Valentine's day inspire people to grasp at any kind of connection and that usually becomes a selfish love, inspired by selfish needs.
For that reason I don't think that Valentine's day should be blown up into such proportions. I think that if you are in love, mostly every day will be great if you can spend a moment of it with the one you love. If you aren't in love, don't force it, let it evolve and develop from friendships or meetings that you would never have considered if you weren't looking so hard.
If you have a Valentine today, enjoy it.
If you don't, enjoy it anyways. It is, after all, just another day.
I got this from a friend's blog. Her and her sister are great, just head over here.
-Steinbeck
Although I have never had a Valentine I am a hopeless romantic, and Steinbeck's idea of the second kind of love is something I think all romantics dream about.
What I think is very unfortunate is that, in my mind, things like Valentine's day inspire people to grasp at any kind of connection and that usually becomes a selfish love, inspired by selfish needs.
For that reason I don't think that Valentine's day should be blown up into such proportions. I think that if you are in love, mostly every day will be great if you can spend a moment of it with the one you love. If you aren't in love, don't force it, let it evolve and develop from friendships or meetings that you would never have considered if you weren't looking so hard.
If you have a Valentine today, enjoy it.
If you don't, enjoy it anyways. It is, after all, just another day.
Here's a little something for your entertainment.
I got this from a friend's blog. Her and her sister are great, just head over here.
Monday, February 13, 2012
Write on Wednesday: 19
The Write on Wednesday Spark: The monsters under your bed
Think back to when you were very young. Try to recall one of your first fears. A shadow on the wall, a ghost in the closet, a person, a scene from a movie or book. Write about that fear. Try to remember the feeling it gave you, what that fear would make you do and how you were comforted. Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!
I don't know what all this talk about very young or first fears is. I mean, a scary movie will have me tucking the bed sheets extremely tight around my legs and make me check the locks at least twenty times.
I never had one big first fear. I was actually a lot less scared when I was very young. But I can clearly remember one thing that terrified me just because it terrified my silly bunkmate so much.
So, without further ado, this is a story about an 8 year old me and my 3 year old little brother.
"He's here again." the small voice whispered from below me.
I swung myself over the edge of the bunk bed and looked down at the small shape of my little brother. He had the covers pulled all the way up to his nose and his big blue eyes shone with unspilt tears as he looked up at me.
"The Wee?" I asked. I had always found the name of his monster quite ridiculous. But when the reality of the monster was here in the room. I didn't feel so secure in making fun of his name anymore. The little guy had given me a clear description of the nasty creature that lived under his bed. More than I wanted to know.
The Wee had several rows of teeth. His head was larger than any normal head in comparison with his body. I shuddered to think of such a large head squeezed under my little bro's matress, the pressure pushing his bulging red eyes forward.
What terrified me the most about him, was that he was every color on the palette. I don't know why this scared me more than anything else. It was probably for the same reason that my brother hadn't imagined something dark and spooky. We weren't afraid of the dark or wolves and night creatures. We were afraid of other things. Of unexplained things. Of a unproportioned creature, with way too many teeth, made up of too many colors. Afraid of something that could not be desribed.
He was shivering.
I shuffled over to the end of the bed and moved down the ladder very, very carefuly. As I got to the bottom of the ladder and made sure I was nowhere near the last two steps of the ladder, or the cold floor underneath.
"Come here!" I whispered. Too afraid to speak any louder.
My brother shot up from the protection of his covers. Somewhere deep inside I was kind of proud of the fact that I could instill such trust in him. I only wished I could trust in my own power to protect him.
I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him up the ladder above me, at least he would get to the safety of my bed first. There was the flash of a grin on his face as he dashed up the ladder.
There wasn't a glimpse of the tears I had seen a moment ago.
He was asleep in a second. The sound of the purring cats, that had moved to curl around him, made me smile. I had done my job as a big sister.
As I drifted into sleep as well. My eyes never once strayed from the top of the ladder.
Did I mention that the Wee had long black fingernails?
Think back to when you were very young. Try to recall one of your first fears. A shadow on the wall, a ghost in the closet, a person, a scene from a movie or book. Write about that fear. Try to remember the feeling it gave you, what that fear would make you do and how you were comforted. Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you. Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!
I don't know what all this talk about very young or first fears is. I mean, a scary movie will have me tucking the bed sheets extremely tight around my legs and make me check the locks at least twenty times.
I never had one big first fear. I was actually a lot less scared when I was very young. But I can clearly remember one thing that terrified me just because it terrified my silly bunkmate so much.
So, without further ado, this is a story about an 8 year old me and my 3 year old little brother.
"He's here again." the small voice whispered from below me.
I swung myself over the edge of the bunk bed and looked down at the small shape of my little brother. He had the covers pulled all the way up to his nose and his big blue eyes shone with unspilt tears as he looked up at me.
"The Wee?" I asked. I had always found the name of his monster quite ridiculous. But when the reality of the monster was here in the room. I didn't feel so secure in making fun of his name anymore. The little guy had given me a clear description of the nasty creature that lived under his bed. More than I wanted to know.
The Wee had several rows of teeth. His head was larger than any normal head in comparison with his body. I shuddered to think of such a large head squeezed under my little bro's matress, the pressure pushing his bulging red eyes forward.
What terrified me the most about him, was that he was every color on the palette. I don't know why this scared me more than anything else. It was probably for the same reason that my brother hadn't imagined something dark and spooky. We weren't afraid of the dark or wolves and night creatures. We were afraid of other things. Of unexplained things. Of a unproportioned creature, with way too many teeth, made up of too many colors. Afraid of something that could not be desribed.
He was shivering.
I shuffled over to the end of the bed and moved down the ladder very, very carefuly. As I got to the bottom of the ladder and made sure I was nowhere near the last two steps of the ladder, or the cold floor underneath.
"Come here!" I whispered. Too afraid to speak any louder.
My brother shot up from the protection of his covers. Somewhere deep inside I was kind of proud of the fact that I could instill such trust in him. I only wished I could trust in my own power to protect him.
I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted him up the ladder above me, at least he would get to the safety of my bed first. There was the flash of a grin on his face as he dashed up the ladder.
There wasn't a glimpse of the tears I had seen a moment ago.
He was asleep in a second. The sound of the purring cats, that had moved to curl around him, made me smile. I had done my job as a big sister.
As I drifted into sleep as well. My eyes never once strayed from the top of the ladder.
Did I mention that the Wee had long black fingernails?
Sunday, February 12, 2012
Furnished or unfurnished?
As someone who moves around a lot I have been confronted with the question of an unfurnished or a furnished home quite a few times. It was once considered a no-brainer for me.
When you are only staying somewhere for a short amount of time then you would rather take something furnished so you don't have to buy furniture that, at the end of your stay, you will not know what to do with or have to pay exhorbitant amounts of money to move it around.
When you are staying somewhere for good, you want to build your own home.
See no problem right?
The problem, for me, is in the situation I find myself now.
I am in Vancouver to study, but I want to stay here after school. This all depends on if I can get a job and a visa. The thing is I am, in a certain light preparing to settle down here.
Now comes the problem of the furnished apartment.
No matter what, in every furnished apartment I've lived in, I can never really feel like I'm at home...
This wouldn't bother me so much if it didn't accentuate certain unpleasant things like home sickness and loneliness and such.
It is a difficult question.
When you are only staying somewhere for a short amount of time then you would rather take something furnished so you don't have to buy furniture that, at the end of your stay, you will not know what to do with or have to pay exhorbitant amounts of money to move it around.
When you are staying somewhere for good, you want to build your own home.
See no problem right?
The problem, for me, is in the situation I find myself now.
I am in Vancouver to study, but I want to stay here after school. This all depends on if I can get a job and a visa. The thing is I am, in a certain light preparing to settle down here.
Now comes the problem of the furnished apartment.
No matter what, in every furnished apartment I've lived in, I can never really feel like I'm at home...
This wouldn't bother me so much if it didn't accentuate certain unpleasant things like home sickness and loneliness and such.
It is a difficult question.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Write on Wednesday: 18
The Write on Wednesday Spark: Possessing Beauty
Write about a collection. Write about something you or ,someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you...Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!
This is about my Mom. It's pretty obvious why she collects her teddy bears.
They all sat there in waiting. Some had been sitting for a long time. Others had just joined the rest. And although the wait was never the long the anticipation had them all staring at the door non-stop, too afraid to waste the chance of a glimpse on a moment of inatention.
Her smile was what always captured them. What made them feel treasured whenever she would walk among them. And they couldn't help but feel a flutter in their fluffy hearts when she remembered their names to others. Because she always remembered. That's why they could wait and why they would always wait.
She couldn't help herself when she saw that one, perfect one, looking staight up at her from the display table. No matter where, a shop or an event. When that exceptional one looked up at her, with its eyes that shone like the beads they were made from. She couldn't help but buy it and bring it straight home with her. She loved all of them, without exception.
All I can do is smile when I see her face light up.
The glass boxes were filled with the faces of dozens of teddy bears, from the smallest thumb sized cub, to the enormours grizzly that sits on a chair outside of the cases.
There is never any dust on the display cases, and the hinges always give way without a single moan of protest.
Write about a collection. Write about something you or ,someone you know, collects. Think about the "why" behind the collection - why is it important to collect this particular thing? How does it make the person feel to add another piece to their collection? Is the group of objects there to be seen, to be studied or simply kept together? Write a real life story or a piece of fiction. Wherever the prompt takes you...Keep your post on the short side: up to 500 words OR a 5 minute stream of consciousness exercise. Link your finished piece to the list and begin popping by the other links. Oh, and enjoy!
This is about my Mom. It's pretty obvious why she collects her teddy bears.
They all sat there in waiting. Some had been sitting for a long time. Others had just joined the rest. And although the wait was never the long the anticipation had them all staring at the door non-stop, too afraid to waste the chance of a glimpse on a moment of inatention.
Her smile was what always captured them. What made them feel treasured whenever she would walk among them. And they couldn't help but feel a flutter in their fluffy hearts when she remembered their names to others. Because she always remembered. That's why they could wait and why they would always wait.
She couldn't help herself when she saw that one, perfect one, looking staight up at her from the display table. No matter where, a shop or an event. When that exceptional one looked up at her, with its eyes that shone like the beads they were made from. She couldn't help but buy it and bring it straight home with her. She loved all of them, without exception.
All I can do is smile when I see her face light up.
The glass boxes were filled with the faces of dozens of teddy bears, from the smallest thumb sized cub, to the enormours grizzly that sits on a chair outside of the cases.
There is never any dust on the display cases, and the hinges always give way without a single moan of protest.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Monday's recommendation?
It's Charles Dickens 200th birthday!
I don't think I need to remind anyone of my obsession for A Christmas Carol so I will just mention it and move on to my general question.
Is it just me? Or is Charles Dickens (apart from a Christmas Carol) extremely depressing?
His stories do generally finish well but I feel like starting a Dickens book is investing yourself into a series of unfortunate events that will happen to a perfectly nice character for no other reason than that the world is bad and full of bad people. Personally I don't read to be reminded of these facts and I end up getting very angry at all the characters being mean and periodically grumbling something angrily at a character on my pages and snapping my book shut before opening it again reluctantly.
It's a very vexing experience all in all.
I don't think I need to remind anyone of my obsession for A Christmas Carol so I will just mention it and move on to my general question.
Is it just me? Or is Charles Dickens (apart from a Christmas Carol) extremely depressing?
His stories do generally finish well but I feel like starting a Dickens book is investing yourself into a series of unfortunate events that will happen to a perfectly nice character for no other reason than that the world is bad and full of bad people. Personally I don't read to be reminded of these facts and I end up getting very angry at all the characters being mean and periodically grumbling something angrily at a character on my pages and snapping my book shut before opening it again reluctantly.
It's a very vexing experience all in all.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Happy Birthday Mother!!!
Although this day has been one of not so great news and my own lack of talent. I was inspired by the talent of another, got a gift and of course, spoke with one of the most amazing women in the world. A woman who was born this very day, those few decades ago.
There are few people as lovely and friendly as my mother, and I know that she is the primary reason that our family is nothing like any other family in the world. There are no fights and no grudges when you are raised and loved by the loveliest of ladies.
So on the day she came into the world, I can't help but feel ever so grateful that she did.
There are few people as lovely and friendly as my mother, and I know that she is the primary reason that our family is nothing like any other family in the world. There are no fights and no grudges when you are raised and loved by the loveliest of ladies.
So on the day she came into the world, I can't help but feel ever so grateful that she did.
Happy Birthday!
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