writing prompt

I Done Fucked Up Na

Did you think you were going to get away without some mindless blather from me today? Well think again! And mostly it’s because I wanted to scream a tagline to get you here on Facebook. Yes, I’m just that strange. But I’m pretty sure you also already knew that. I mean, it isn’t likely that you just stumbled upon this blog. You probably got here because I pointed you here. And thanks. Thanks for popping over here and stroking my ego. You’re the best.

I didn’t really have anything I wanted to get off my mind today, so I fell back to my old friend 365 days of writing prompts. When I read through some of them, I know that there’s no way that a post is coming out of them. Some have potential if I want to really think them out. Sometimes, one really just has to be in the mood to write or all the topics in the world could be available, but nothing will happen between the brain and the hands.

This prompt is something I think about a bit and wonder how to actually make it work. Here is my letter to my least favorite personality trait:

Hey Fear,

You know what? You aren’t welcome here any fucking more. I’m pretty fucking tired of you holding me back. You want to stick your grubby little fingers in every thing I think about doing. Everything!

You don’t just stick to fear of injury, because that one is actually mostly rational. I can accept that, even though I try through diet and exercise, I am not aging in reverse. I’ve tamed you down to a healthy and acceptable level of caution so that I can continue to do the physical silly things that I like to do. So you got restless and decided to sink your mitts into other things and you went whole fucking hog.

Hey, this will be fun. Let’s not just have a fear of failure, but let’s throw in a fear of success too! Yeah! There’s nothing better than being “stuck” because I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I am certain that I have passed up opportunities (and still do) because I’m afraid to fail or I’m afraid of being successful and leaving my comfort zone. And how ridiculous is that? I don’t want to leave my comfort zone because there might be….MORE COMFORT?!?! FFS what is wrong with me? Fear, you really gotta go.

And what’s even more fucked up is that I can see this. I fully recognize it and I continue to fail to do anything about it. You’re one strong asshole, fear, but I’ve been in the gym. I lost 20 of your fear pounds. I have 10 more to go but I’m not waiting for them to start kicking you in your fucking ass. Get gone you lazy dick! I got shit to do.

With the most sincere fuck you,

Me

There. Now to put that in an envelope, stamp it, and, I don’t know, eat it? I guess recognizing this is step one. Is there a 12 step for this? Should I create one? 12 steps to Fuck Fear. I don’t know all the steps yet. Step one has to be acknowledging that this asshole exists though. Maybe step two is realizing how fear is affecting you. Perhaps there don’t need to be 12 steps. I guess I’ll make them up as I go. Isn’t that what self-help is? (Oh no, did I eye roll right there? Oops!)

Ok, I really have to go do something about putting my foot in the ass of some fear. Oddly enough, that’s gonna happen right at this keyboard. Let me go take some of this random shit I know and put it together. Deuces!

Building A House

From previous posts, you may remember that I have a PDF of writing prompts, one for each day of the year. I didn’t really care for today’s prompt, but when I’ve skipped about 4 months of them, I could go back until I found something I wanted to write about. Since I’ve been in the habit of looking at houses recently, the prompt about describing your dream house sounded like fun.

Back in high school, I took an architectural drafting class where we had to do floor plans and a front elevation of a house of our own creation. I really enjoyed that although I later realized that architecture wasn’t really a strong point for me. Anywho, in this house that I created, there was a sunken living room, and the focal point of said sunken living room were the floor to ceiling windows. It was an entire wall of glass with the exception of the fireplace column that ran right up the center. Yeah, let’s keep that concept. I love high ceilings. Now, speaking of those high ceilings, they aren’t only in the living room. Over on the other side of the house, let’s say, is my room. My lady cave. (Hmm, perhaps phrasing on that one.) But it’s my office, my library, my pole/circus/yoga room. This room is special. It’s the only room in the house that both encompasses and utilizes two floors.

Of course, with that much height, I have a pole in my pole room. Additionally, I’m hanging my yoga trapeze, a single trap, and fabric. (It’s my dream, therefore I have unlimited fundage thank you very much.) Absosmurfly gorgeous dark hardwood floors grace the room and I’ll work out later how to protect them should I pic up a Cyr wheel. On the uninterrupted floor to ceiling wall are my books. And yes, I have one of those library ladder jobbies. The bottom floor has my office with the usual stuff – desk, chair, Sonos, oooh papasan chair, I miss that thing, and mirrors. I mean, it IS doubling as my pole studio. The upper section houses the yoga studio, complete with beautiful tapestries and a bay window for meditation that can double as a reading nook. This place will be my sanctuary.

Let’s go to the kitchen! I’ve always wanted an island in my kitchen, so obviously, I’m having one in my dream house. Currently, we don’t have nearly enough friggin freezer space, so that will be addressed for sure. Have you seen that crazy expensive oven that has different settings for like cake and bread and shit? Yeah, that. The Samsung see through the door fridge? Of course. I like the hanging pots and pans concept too. Window over the sink because, duh. I can’t describe much more than that because what I like changes pretty frequently.

Theatre room? Yes. Need somewhere to watch sports. And who knows, maybe I’d start watching movies.

And now, the bedroom. The haven of sleep. And nookie. King size bed. And the fluffiest pillowtop mattress available. I know it’s bad for my back but I still want it. Let’s make that bed a four poster bed. Maybe something gauzy about it. A chaise lounge…and a designated grape peeler. Certainly a fireplace, because even if it isn’t cold, it’s still pretty. Dual sinks in the master bath, travertine tile in there too. A huge jetted soaking tub separate from the shower that has multiple heads including ones spraying from the wall. Yes, I’m spoiled and it’s my dream house, remember.

Just because I have a jetted tub doesn’t mean that I don’t want a hot tub outside. And just because I don’t swim doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a really cool pool. Put a pool house out there, and a full outdoor kitchen too. And you know what, since the yard’s big enough, I’m putting a rig back there too. (Flying trapeze, that is.) Oh, and a trampoline with an Olympic bed. Maybe I’d have the bed level with the ground, but I’d have to research what safe on that one.

I have a Pinterest account. I never use it. I guess this might be a good reason to start although the very last thing I need in my life right now is some more social media. Oh, the decisions to be made. I should be back tomorrow…unless I get lost in Pinterest.

Nightmare. On My Street

This morning, I was at a loss for what to write about outside of why in the world is my body rejecting itself (stupid chick parts). I knew what I was going to write about tomorrow and I didn’t want to double up, so off I went to my handy dandy writing prompts. I’m actually surprised that I’m this far into the year (I know, all 40 days) and have had to use them so infrequently.

Today’s prompt was about nightmares, obviously. Fortunately, I haven’t had any nightmares lately that I recall, nor any dreams for that matter, but when I was just a lass, boy I tell ya, my horror story mind was constantly in overdrive. I had a few recurring nightmares (therapists, get out your notebooks!) and some that only happened once, but I still remember them.

  1. (recurring) The toilet – I had some fairly irrational fears as a child. One of them was the horror of an overflowing toilet. Not as irrational was my fear of water a little bit since I couldn’t swim, or at least not strongly. Put two and two together and I used to have nightmares about drowning in an overflowing toilet. Gross, huh? Never actually died in the dreams which is why I’m still here today, right?
  2. (recurring) The Laser Loop – Riders, hold on to the bar. 3, 2, 1, Gooooooo! We shot out of the gate like a kid caught in his girlfriend’s bedroom. Through the loop and on our way up to the peak to return backwards through the loop. Except, we don’t stop. The entire coaster train shoots up into the sky and we’re all terrified because we know this can’t end well. Never landed. Every time woke up with a screaming headache.
  3. (one time) House fire – Another of my childhood fears that holds on to this day is my house burning down. Fortunately, I’ve never experienced this tragedy first-hand, but my great grandmother died in a house fire when I was young (or at least that’s how I remember it) and the seeds were planted. Long dream short, I came home from school all slo-mo to find out that our house had burned to the ground. I woke up screaming.
  4. (recurring) Pirate ship/haunted house – This one is a little fuzzy and probably for good reason. I don’t recall everything, but I know that I was stuck in either a haunted house or a pirate ship (they alternated) and the only way out was to kill yourself. I know. I’m strange. I never did it though and the nightmare just continued until I woke.

Inside the psyche of your favorite blogger. Yeah, I’m putting words in your mouth. I’m your favorite. Go tell a friend! Make me their favorite too! Maybe? If I promise to focus? Maybe write a cohesive story? Ok, I’ll try, but you gotta hold up your end of the deal. See you back here tomorrow. Bring a friend.