It wasn’t me!

There is nothing worse than being forced by your best friend to go to the gym with her when you already had your mind set on pigging out on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s cinnabon ice cream while sobbing over the latest episode of This Is Us.  There is absolutely nothing worse than being in the middle of a very compromising yoga position and having this propeller-sounding gust of air blow through the silent room.

All eyes on me.

So, what’s a girl to do?

Right, deny, deny,deny and deny some more.

It wasn’t me! It was probably the Air conditioner that was grinding overhead; perhaps something got stuck, or maybe it was a shootout happening outside, or maybe it was the seventy-year-old woman next to me–which would probably explain the smell, right? P-U, lady.

“You should probably take a laxative when you get home to clean yourself out, dear, and forget drinking soda and all of that sugary stuff you kids eat and drink these days, drink water and only water, because gee, kid, even I don’t smell that bad, and I’m older than God”, the old lady said.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t her. But it still wasn’t me!

 

via Daily Prompt: Deny

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Straight ahead

It’s not that she didn’t want to finish her novel, she was just having a difficult time staying focused.  There was always some paper clip nearby that looked so lonely and needed to be fidgeted with, or a questionable stain on the carpet by her foot that she wondered about? How did that get there? Was it a pee stain from the pet of the previous renter? She wondered what the previous renter was like, was it a he or a she? were they old? What did they like to do?

What was that odd smell that kept wafting through the window? She snickered at the thought that the smell came from her grumpy old downstairs neighbor, perhaps the woman dropped a load in her depends–not that the thought really deserved to be dignified with a laugh, but she was out of her mind with exhaustion! She couldn’t think of what to write next.

Shaking herself free of her presumed writers block she placed her hands on the keyboard, her pinkies on the ‘A’ and Semi-colon keys, ringer fingers on the ‘S’ and ‘L’ keys, middle fingers on the ‘D’ and ‘K’ keys, and forefingers on the ‘F’ and ‘J’ keys, she was seriously going to get it together, she was going blow this first chapter out of the water.  It was going to be the best first chapter ever written by anyone in the world! Mark Twain was going to be calling her for tips on how to write such a eye grabbing best selling novel.

Wait, who is Mark Twain? She didn’t know the first thing about the man saved for the deep quotes she’d come across on when she scrolled through facebook and the fact that she knew he was probably old or…deceased…which would make things awkward; to have a dead man come from the grave asking questions.

Which reminded her she forgot to reply to her best friend’s message last night before she fell asleep.

Hey, sorry for the late reply Hon! Ugh, all of this writing is keeping me busy! But to answer your question, no, I will not be available for drinks tomorrow night, I’m trying to make my November deadline, I’m going to publish my first novel even if it kills me! Ha! love you! Talk soon!

A whole month was more than enough time to knock out a novel, right?

In a robotic, zombie-like trance she opened a new tab and typed in “Google.Com” and promptly sat there staring at the screen.  What did she come here for?

She giggled which somehow turned in a full blown fit of laughter.  Her cackles bounced off the walls, she bent over in her seat smacking her leg.

You know how you think of something funny then laugh at the fact that you found that thing funny then laugh at the fact that you actually thought about the fact that you found that thing funny and so on and so forth?

It wasn’t until she found herself on the floor gasping for air that she realized she probably had a problem that could be medically treated.  Was she going crazy? Has she officially lost her marbles? Is this what animals in the zoo felt like; being locked in a cage all day? Was that why the monkey’s often threw their feces at onlookers? Those poor animals.

She liked monkeys they were her favorite animals of all time and she didn’t believe the theory that humans evolved from monkeys.

Getting up off of the floor she glanced at the clock above her desk.  In big rectangular numbers, her digital clock read 11:59, she’d literally been sitting at her desk since 7 O’clock and the only thing she’d gotten down was the title which now didn’t feel so fitting for the story she had in mind.

Googling “how to write a novel” in search for ways she could regain her focus and get down to business, she was hit with an article detailing the importance of writing an outline when writing a novel.

Oh, right.  She was supposed to work on that yesterday.  Easy peasy! One outline coming up!

Psych!  Writing an outline was easier suggested than done! She struggled with finding a fitting name for her main character, her premise was clear, but she couldn’t get past figuring out a name! And that title, it has to go, no one would ever pick this book up and deem it interesting enough to read.  However, they shouldn’t judge a book by its cover–or title in this case, right?

Growl.  

When did she get a dog?

Growl.

What the heck was that?

Growl.

Looking down she found the culprit, her belly needed to refilled, obviously two cups of coffee wasn’t good enough for Mr. Tummy.

She snickered, “Mr. Tummy” She could write a children’s book called The Adventures of Mr. Tummy…or to make it interesting she could call it The Misadventures of Mr. Tummy, she could make her story about a tummy ache and the inevitable trip to the toilet that follows. Kids like gross things like that.  She’ll have to get down to writing that book ASAP! It shouldn’t be hard, it shouldn’t even take long, she just needed to find an illustrator.  Where does one find an illustrator?

She sat back staring at the screen again until her stomach growled to attention.  Right, time to eat!

While she prepared her lunch she turned on her blue-tooth speaker, connected her phone and put on the Spice Girls Pandora Radio.  She jammed and cooked and Jammed and cooked. She jammed while she ate, she jammed while she cleaned up the kitchen.  N’Sync’s Bye, Bye, Bye came on just as she was done putting the last of the crumbs she swept into her hand from her table into the garbage.

Oh, it was on now.  She tried her best to remember the routine she and her friends came up with for this song when they were carefree pre-teens, once upon a time.  For the most part she just improvised while she huffed for breath, sweat draining down her face as if she’d ran two blocks to get away from an army of mutant sized Rats she remembered seeing when she was growing up in New York City.  She needed to get in shape and entertained the thought of getting a gym membership, but when she sat down at her computer getting ready to look up some good deals for gym memberships she felt nothing but exhaustion.  A nap was necessary.  She’ll get back to her writing later on.

You all know how the story goes, she ended up putting her writing off for one more day…again.

via Daily Prompt: Focused

Yet so far away…

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder but sometimes that isn’t always the case.  Sometimes absence can drive a bigger wedge between two people especially if the reason behind said absence is in bad taste.

Both people are left with that distant feeling where suddenly all of their good memories are ancient history and all of their bad memories seem like the only memories worth remembering.

How do you get back what you once had? Is there even a way to get it back? Or should both parties just accept the fact that it’s over?

via Daily Prompt: Distant

Help me understand…

I am always hearing how women tend to create imaginary situations in their heads and then one thought leads to another and so on and so forth.  But I don’t actually see the problem with that!

The way I see it, the more imaginary scenerios and situations we can come up with, the more prepared we will be in life!

“Hmm…if so and so said this and that to me, this is how I will smoothly respond and still have all of my self esteem in tact” and  “If Michael B. Jordan comes up to me and tells me I have a booger smeared on my cheek, this is how I will smoothly play it off” sounds a whole hella’va lot better than having so and so say this and that to me and then me standing there stuck on stupid or having Michael B. Jordan come up to me and tell me I have a booger smeared on my cheek and then me dying of embarrassment right in his face!

What’s wrong with being prepared?!

I mean the saying goes “expect the best but prepare for the worst” doesn’t it? I think that’s why a lot of dudes out there, when faced with “tricky situations” they resort to saying “I don’t know.” Well, you would know if you thought about the possibility of this situation happening, before!

You: Max, why did you cheat on me?

Max: I don’t know

Well, I know! It’s because Max, first off, is an idiot who couldn’t appreciate what he had and secondly, he didn’t think of the possibility of getting caught! Granted he shouldn’t have done it and if he thought of the possibility of cheating and all of the consequences that comes with cheating he wouldn’t have done it, now would he?

My point is, imaginary situations that are created in our heads aren’t all that bad, so keep on creating them!

 

via Daily Prompt: Imaginary

His Eyes

As she entered the room after tucking the children in, she asked her husband how his day was as she usually did.  He threw her a nonchalant “it was good” and she immediately felt a sense of panic travel up her spine and wrap her body like a cloak. Her husband was usually very talkative so she immediately knew that something was wrong.

“What’s wrong, honey” she asked reaching out to touch his hand.

He snatched it out of her reach and with eyes so empty responded “nothing”

After pleading and begging him to come out with what was wrong he finally did and her world rocked, tilted, turned then shattered.

“I’m not happy anymore, for the longest I felt like this marriage was a mistake”

She searched his eyes and found absolutely no trace of the man she once knew and fell in love with. What had she done wrong? Who was this cold man before her? What was she going to do? She’d given him ten years of her life, sacrificed so much to keep him and their family afloat and this was what she deserved in return?

She fell to her knees gasping for air, feeling as if the wind was sucked out of her. “Baby, please tell me what I can do to fix this; to make you happy”

“There’s nothing you can do, I haven’t been happy for a while”

He said all of this with too much ease, as if her pain had no effect on him.

Suddenly a quote she’d heard in a movie some years ago materialized in her mind, “A man never abandons ship unless he knows he has a lifeboat waiting for him nearby”

“Is there someone else?” she asked weakly, knowing the truth before he confirmed it by looking off to his right.

She stood on her knees shaking violently, tears gushing out of her eyes, “what am I supposed to do now?”

 

via Daily Prompt: Trace

The strength to let go

 

He was a big guy with a tough outer appearance who obviously had a rough childhood.  His rugged looks had been the only thing that kept bad company away but on the inside he longed for someone to call his own.

But when he finally found someone who looked beyond his surface and deep into his heart, someone who would finally be his own, he didn’t know how to fully let himself trust her.  He couldn’t let her in.

It is true when they say that hurt people, hurt people because that’s exactly what he did. He threw daggers into her heart over and over and each time she would simply pull it out and smile through her tears and pain just to let him know that she wasn’t going to go anywhere.  Still, his childhood had him hardwired into believing that true love didn’t really exist and people would only stick with you until they found something new.

After years of being broken down and burned by this man she finally picked up the shattered pieces of her heart that lay in his wake and walked out the door and made a vow to never look back.

her strength was infused with anger and exhaustion, she could no longer take the uncertainty that came with trying to build a future with a man who seemingly did not want to.  She could no longer find it within herself to believe his words when he would tell her he loved her because his actions showed otherwise.

Through the years she’d lost herself trying to love a man who was incapable of loving and accepting love.  She took in her surroundings and swallowed against the bile that was building up within the pit of her stomach.  She was angry that her efforts were unappreciated, afraid that she was too damaged to love again.  Will she now be the one to hurt another?

This would be her first time facing the world alone and she didn’t think she could.  She wrestled with the option of turning back around and going back to something more familiar even if that meant she would have to endure more pain and heartache but the small resilient voice in the back of her mind persuaded her to put one foot before the other and keep going forward.

She didn’t know where she was going to go, didn’t know what she was going to do but she did know she deserved to be happy so she made happiness her destination.  She was determined to heal and when the time was right she would love again.

via Daily Prompt: Infuse

At the End of The Tunnel

Survive

Isn’t it amazing how much you can learn and come up with when you’re forced to enter survival mode? New-never-before-thought of inventions are born, new lifestyles come to life.  You learn what you can live without and realize what you can cut back on, you take something that is meant for one thing and use it for an entirely different thing.  Then even when you emerge from survival mode and enter comfort mode, those life hacks you learned during your low moment can still be applied.

Let me use myself as an example.

About a month or two after my youngest was born things got a little tight financially.  When faced with the decision to either buy sanitary napkins or something cheap to make for dinner, of course I chose to feed my family, but what was I going to do about the impending dreaded visit from my….”Aunt”? I knew that I would bleed through tissue so I wouldn’t even allow myself to go there.  I also knew that my youngest had outgrown her Newborn diapers and was now a size 1 so here I had all of these Newborn diapers just sitting around.  Let’s just say, they absorb much better than regular pads! I call this finding the “Struggle pad”

Not long after running into financial problems we unfortunately lost our apartment and had to live in a hotel (luckily, for only one week!) The hotel had a kitchenette area so we were able to cook our own food which was great! One morning I decided to make pancakes (from scratch. Haven’t made pancakes from the box in years–and yes I’m showing off!) I made a whole stack of pancakes just for my four-year old to ask me to pass her the syrup. Crap.  I didn’t have any and forgot to buy some! (I’ll have you know the hotel was basically in the middle of nowhere and there was no store within walking distance and I didn’t have a car) But I did have milk, brown sugar and cinnamon! The perfect blend of the three (preferably heated up) had my daughter and I like “Syrup? what’s syrup?” We call this concoction “The special stuff”

When I find myself in situations that are meant to break me, sure I go through a moment where it’s like “oh, my God, this is the end, there’s no light at the end of the tunnel” but then a little voice in my head yells above all of the negative thoughts and tells me, “use it.” For the longest I never understood what that meant until I was forced into survival mode when I moved to North Carolina from New York City and didn’t know the lay of the land at all.  I couldn’t find a job or affordable daycare and therefore was pretty desperate and feeling worthless.  There was that voice saying “use it” and It finally clicked.  Though I haven’t made any money from it, I thereafter started using my life experiences and putting them on paper in a story-form. I notice that my writing skills grow with each story I write and I therefore feel myself grow.  It’s like I write my way out of a dark circle.  I call these creations “Potential-books-that-need-to-be-published.”

Granted it’s not a good feeling to have to be put through rough spots but at least I can create a story from it, right?  (I promise I will finish at least one….some time soon so you guys can read it! I have a really bad habit of starting one story then having another idea–A.K.A another life obstacle–pop into my head–and life–then dropping the first story then continue with the second and so on and so forth but I will get my shit together I promise!)

Did that make sense?

At last, the final thing that being in survival mode teaches you is who is really there for you and who isn’t.  Through all of my trials and tribulations, I’ve learned that not everybody around you wants the best for you.  They tend to usually keep you around for their own benefit and would have nothing to offer you when you are in need.  I call this discovery, “Growing up”

Yep, surviving caused me to grow up.

via Daily Prompt: Survive