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 |   Second blog -- answers to an ocean of prompts |
 "Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself." CHARLIE CHAPLIN  Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet confinement of your aloneness to learn anything or anyone that does not bring you alive is too small for you. David Whyte        This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts. |
| Prompt: Use these words in your entry: yeast, time, stars, music, violin, and diamond. Have fun! ------------ Elsa's Violin Elsa loved to play the violin. Yet, she couldn't give her somewhat dented instrument enough attention, since she had to work in her family's bakery, where the air was always filled with the scent of rising yeast and freshly baked bread. One evening, when it was Elsa's turn to close the bakery, she noticed an old man with an antique violin standing outside under the stars. As Elsa locked the doors to the bakery, she struck up a conversation with the old man. The old man told her about a diamond hidden in the fabric of time, waiting to be uncovered by a skilled musician. Then, the old man offered Elsa to play his violin. Excited and intrigued, Elsa took the instrument in her hands, and while her fingers danced across the strings, a melody emerged, echoing through the quiet town. Plus, as if magic, the stars seemed to respond, too, twinkling in rhythm with the music. As Elsa played this magical violin, a brilliant diamond appeared in the night sky. Only then, under the diamond's radiance, Elsa, saw the crowd surrounding her in awe. She had been so engrossed with playing the violin that, she hadn't noticed the townspeople gathering around her to listen to her music. Since that night, Elsa's town has been known for its night-time concerts where the melodies of the old man's magical violin intertwined with the twinkling of the stars at night. As to the old man, he was nowhere to be found, but Elsa would never forget him for giving her his violin so she could go on creating a harmony that became woven in the fabric of time. . |
| Prompt: Thanksgiving Parade Do you like Thanksgiving Parades, and/or what do you think of parades in general and have you had any experiences with watching or being in a parade? ---------- I like the sense of community and togetherness that events, such as parades, create in our lives. Parades also serve as bridges between generations when families get together and enjoy the spectacle and create lasting memories, whether a family member is a part of the parade or not. Especially children can be captivated by the giant balloons and floats bringing their favorite cartoon characters to view. I have been in several parades during my school years while we marched behind a float or a person carrying the flag. Getting ready for that was not easy, I have to say. You had to march with steps in tandem like Disney's wooden soldiers, and this took long practice sessions as a group. As to Thanksgiving parades, especially the one Macy's puts up every year, we used to watch them on TV, after or while having a late breakfast. Since my children are so grown up and have their own lives now, if I turn on the TV for the Macy's parade on Thanksgiving day, I don't feel the same wonder as when I was watching it with them. Still, I sit down and take in the scene on the screen for a while, in appreciation of tradition, gratitude, memories, and the Thanksgiving Day. . |
| Prompt: "Good mashed potato is one of the great luxuries of life."~ Lindsey Bareham “Vegetables are a must on a diet. I suggest carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie.” ~ Jim Davis “Thanksgiving: Brings out the best in family dysfunction since 1863.”~ Unknown Have fun with these quotes in your entry today! -------------- Oh, the joy of food! And on the Thanksgiving table, too. What can be better than that? Thanksgiving itself is a time for families and people to come together and reflect on the things they are grateful for. It's a time to appreciate the bonds that tie family members and friends, creating a sense of unity and warmth. As to Thanksgiving bringing out the best in family dysfunction, I think, humans are better than that. With function or dysfunction, families are our backbones. I grew up in a family that, no matter what the dysfunction or the disagreement, it was taboo to discuss it at the dinner table at any time, whether it was Thankgiving on the fourth Thursday of each November or not. In fact, my grandmother considered someone leaving the table in anger as an equal sin to murder or probably worse. Thus, when the conversation took an unfriendly turn, it was everyone else's job to change the subject. This tradition held true through time when I had my own family and I am very happy to say that neither my sons nor my husband nor anyone else who would be at our table broke it. Food represents gifts from God or from whichever deity a person believes in, be it Nature or Creation. Food at dinner table is sacrosanct. Also, it is delicious. Just imagine all those food items mentioned in the quotes and tasting them at your Thanksgiving table: Mashed potatoes, vegetables, carrot cake, zucchini bread, and pumpkin pie. And especially that pumpkin pie topped with a dollop of whipped cream, as the perfect ending to a Thanksgiving meal! Yummmm! Now, whoever can mention dysfunction in this delicious togetherness and inclusivity that we all share, plus the joy of food and our divinely enriched lives? . |
| Prompt: On this day in1865 Mark Twain publishes the short story "The Celebrated Jumping Frog of Calaveras County" in The New York Saturday Press. Here's your opportunity to write a short story about a frog. If you're not feeling creative share with us what you know about frogs. ---------- The Prince of the Rainforest Freddie the frog lived in the heart of the Amazon Rainforest. Freddie was not your average frog. Unlike other green frogs, Freddie was purple with eyes as golden as the sun. Plus, he had a small bump on his head like a crown. Yet, what set apart Freddie from all other frogs was not his looks but his unusual ability. Freddie did not only croak like other frogs, but Freddie could sing, and he sang almost like Plácido Domingo. His songs were so operatic and so captivating that they drew the attention of all the creatures in the rainforest who would pause their routines to listen to Freddie's mesmerizing melodies. One day, a renowned music producer--who was piranha fishing on the Amazon river--heard Freddie's singing. Intrigued, he ventured further into the rainforest to witness and maybe discover this new singer who could switch from a tenor to a baritone, just like Placido Domingo. As Freddie continued with his daily performance, the music producer was astounded. Freddie had such a unique and beautiful voice with such a range! The producer knew immediately that the world needed to hear Freddie's songs. With the help of the local tribes, the music producer set up a live stream from the rainforest directly to the internet. Freddie's singing was broadcasted across the globe, touching the hearts of millions. He became a sensation overnight as his music united people in a way no one could have imagined...ever! Thus, almost immediately, Freddie was given the title of "The Prince of the Rainforest." Despite all this name and fame, Freddie remained where he was, as himself, and he continued to sing for his friends in the rainforest, his music spreading love and joy, and proving again and again that an unusual ability can bring the world closer, and that beauty and talent can be found in the most unexpected places. . |
| Prompt: Let's have fun with these eight random words: miserable, wording, romantic, study, disk, debated, steak, consensus. ----- Some people study hard just to turn a simple conversation into a heated discussion, as in the linguistics professor Dr. Jim Wording's case, who always debated the most trivial matters, especially on syntax and word origins. One day, while Dr. Wording was engrossed in his examination of an antique word's origins, he received an unexpected visit from his eccentric neighbor, Prudence. Prudence, who was an absurdly romantic person and had eyes for Dr. Jim Wording, brandished an old floppy disk in front of his face, saying, "Jim, dear, I found this in my attic and, believe me, you will be interested!" Jim Wording, although feeling miserable for being interrupted from his studies, nodded in agreement. What Prudence dangled in front of his eyes could be a relic containing unheard mysteries of linguistics. Then, wasn't Prudence herself someone good to look at! As the two wondered whether the disk held secrets of a bygone era or if it was just a relic of obsolete storage, they realized they needed a consensus. And for that consensus, they decided to invite their knowledgeable friends to a steak dinner and ask for their input on the subject. Yet, during the preparation of the steak, the group's discussion led to the idea whether a perfectly cooked steak could bring about a world peace. On that note, they raised their glasses to the power of steak diplomacy and only then, decided that the floppy disk was a relic and possibly a technological mystery, and unlike a good steak, it should be left alone, like this tall tale. So much for those floppy disks in our attics, wouldn't you say! . |
| Prompt: What is something you are struggling with and how are you dealing with it? Write about this in your Blog entry today. -------------- Now that I am re-discovering the stoics, I look at most struggles as challenges to learn from. Yet, someone's passing away is very difficult to handle, if it's someone too close for any philosophy to take away the pain. That, I'm learning, takes time. I have been struggling for the last three years with the passing of my husband of 54 years, as we were very close in life and, I believe, we still are in death. I am, however, learning the acceptance of it along the way. It is not perfect, yet, but at least, I'm functioning much better than, say, a year ago. Yes, it is a struggle. But I had no choice, from the beginning, to accept that struggle. Denial was never my forte and I knew it only would prolong the pain. Then, to me, acceptance is understanding that death is a part of life and its acceptance doesn't really mean resignation. It means I stop against the struggle and start working with it, despite the pain. If this were some other kind of struggle, I would probably try to identify its cause, external circumstances, my personal weaknesses on the subject, and things like that. But it was not. Nothing can be done or smoothed over against death. I'm not the kind of person who seeks outside support or creates plans to take action on anything. In this case, I could only force to be patient with myself and to stay positive as much as I could, at least on the side issues. I have to say, of all things I did and still do, keeping my mind busy helps my mood. Along the way, I came up with a couple of exercises. Although it sounds silly, they help with the way I feel. One of them is a to-do list for each day. I make long lists for each day from the night before, and if I cannot finish the list at the end of the day, it is okay. That list is a road-map which helps my mind not to wonder and get lost along the way. And the second must-list I write down, before noon each day, has 10 things on it that made me smile or feel good so far in the day. The items on the list can be as simple as a kind word or action from someone, the sight of a butterfly on a bush, my cat's meow, or the leaves dancing in the breeze. In fact, the smallest the joy, the better it is for the list. As for stoicism, about two years ago, I began reading Marcus Aurelius's Meditations. Although I had read it during my teen years, this time it rang a bell. From it, I ventured on to read the works of other stoics. Seneca had always been my favorite, but I discovered, through my reading of all stoics, many ways of handling life and what it throws on a person's way. I guess, for some people, religion can do something similar, also. Although I am a big believer in God and religion, in addition to such beliefs, I found out and I am still finding out that stoicism comes up with very practical, do-able life advice. In fact, YouTube has many videos of do-this or don't-do-that kind of advice from the stoics. I don't have to apply all of it to my life, but mostly, they do help, for they are usually offered in a nutshell. I know everyone faces challenges and we need to find and get support from wherever we can. I hope, for people with any kind of struggle, time and effort will help greatly if they are patient with themselves and can remember that progress is often very slow and small things should be celebrated along the way. . |
| Prompt: "To succeed in life, you need three things: a wish bone, a back bone and a funny bone." Reba McIntire Write about this in your Blog entry today. ------------------ The definition of success can be different for each person. I am guessing, in the quote by Reba McIntire, she was referring to what she herself considers as success, possibly in the music business. Of all the so-called bones she talks about, I like the funny bone the most because the funny bone or a sense of humor allows one to remain flexible and adaptable, and not to take oneself too seriously. This is because success, however you define it, could be-- not about achieving any one goal or many goals--but enjoying the journey of life in its entirety and as a human being. Then, a backbone, regardless of how one views success, is essential to stand the difficulties in life because that backbone is our inner strength and it represents determination, resilience, and courage. It is this backbone that allows human beings to stand firm in the face of adversity and to keep pushing forward. A wish bone, however, is only a symbol as it symbolizes dreams, aspirations, and ambitions. It is only useful for giving a person a target to aim at. I'm not too keen on this wish bone thing since a wish alone means nothing. Yes, it could be a starting point, a spark that ignites ambition and hard work. In itself alone, a wish is only a wish. "If wishes were horses, beggars would ride!" Why focus on wishing alone when life is only transitory, although we don't feel its fleeting quality while we live it! As far as our lives are concerned, even our accomplishments and so-called successes mean nothing on their own at the end, unless we live as human beings respectful of one another and wanting the best not only for ourselves but everyone else. To me, that is the true success. . |
| Prompt: Laundry “I've buried a lot of my laundry in the back yard,” said Phyllis Diller Does doing the laundry annoy you? What is it about laundry that scares so many people in this day and age when appliances do the job? Or Write a story or a poem on the subject, if you wish. ------ Dirt, stain, and odors. Ugh! Try removing them! Yet, why complain? In our day, human ingenuity, advances in technology, and societal change has taken care of the tedious, mundane nature of this somewhat disgusting task. Historically, laundry was a process done by hand by a group of people, and mostly women (no surprise there!) Then, in ancient Rome, no one did the laundry at home for they had large public facilities where the wash was soaked in water and cleansed in urine (a natural ammonia, eek!), and rinsed and wrung out to be spread out over clean surfaces to dry. If you wish you can search using the name fullonica, as those facilities were called. Then, what I wrote so far is only a very short version of this info on the web. Here are a couple of URLs. https://eaglesanddragonspublishing.com/ancient-everyday-pee-and-laundry-in-the-r... https://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/secondary/SMIGRA/*Fullo.html Then, during the Middle Ages, women took over the chore, totally. This time they used animal by-products and sticks to beat out the dirt. But the fun part was that it was a communal activity, a party really, with women exchanging news and gossip as they worked by a river or any other water source. Well, so much for the origins of laundry. If I read more about it, I think I might get sick, so I'm very glad and thankful to those who came up with today's machines and made our lives so much the better. in a room of suds and spins clothes twirl, a dance begins water whispers, fabrics play laundry rules my busy day detergents dream, bubbles rise colors mingle, my rainbow prize hum of machines, some rhythmic song laundry's symphony all along folding the warmth in my embrace scents and softness with fresh trace from a chaos to a neat array to laundry's theme I can sway . |
| Prompt: Change “And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees and changing leaves…”- Virginia Woolf How good are you in dealing with change? What would be the steps to take in dealing with change? Or write a poem or a story about a "change". -------- I am not much good when it comes to change, and that's why I stick to the old as long as I can and to those things I can't stand being changed. Yet, there is life, action, and renewal in change, and as the idea about this earth goes, if there is one thing here that we can be sure of is change. I don't know if anyone has the inkling or the will to plan ahead for change. If anyone did, their lives would be full of planning instead of living. Change, however, is inevitable and comes mostly unexpectedly and different from our planning for it. Still, just in case, those who know insist that change can be less stressful when we have a contingency plan in place. With what we consider a negative change, we may have to look at the bright side of things that show up with a change and take time to reflect before diving into any action. Creating some normalcy and comfort for ourselves in the process and counting our blessings for what we have, no matter how small, can be of great help to find some semblance of sanity during and after any change. So here goes something... A symphony of change, a fleeting chance in the quiet woods where time does dance to my wave of farewell, a gentle release of nature's offering moments of peace the palette of hues a vibrant array nature's masterpiece in grand display autumn whispers secrets to trees as leaves are carried by the breeze those leaves, once firm in summer's hold now flutter down in crimson bold emerald greens give way to gold story of my life, furtively told with an air crisp, chill in the wind, a shift begins, a cycle thinned in seasons of change, majestic shows, trees shed clothes as daring heroes their rustling hints at a changing tide leaves cover bare earth in false pride through amber days, a twilight's gleam autumn's embrace, a passing dream nature's canvas painted with care a tapestry of change beyond compare those leaves remind me as if a satire that this life is a constant shellfire yet in its stance, promises are made for rebirth and renewal to cascade as a timeless ode to loyalty of change in seasons' plays, out of my range Well, I tried!  . |
| Prompt: Use these words in your entry today: small, harm, autonomy, wedding, pay, kneel, realize and injection. --------------- In the small town of Autumn Hollow, lived Abby and Hal, a couple who had been in love for a long time, since childhood, to say the least. Their wedding was a grand affair, with joyous laughter and merry toasts echoing through Autumn Hollow. But happiness, as everyone sooner or later realizes, can be as fleeting as a wisp of smoke. Hal, a scientist, was a man of ambition. His latest experiment was a procedure, an injection really, that could grant the recipient eternal life. So, he decided to try the injection on himself first. A few months after the wedding, the day after the injection, Hal woke up feeling stronger, his senses heightened. Abby and the townsfolk marveled at his vigor, but it didn't last. By the seventh day, Harold was unrecognizable. His once bright eyes now held an eerie glow, his once warm smile replaced by a ghoulish grin. The town's doctor could do nothing but watch as Hal started slipping away. Abby, heartbroken, refused to leave her husband's side. Each day, she would kneel by his bed, holding his hand and whispering words of love and courage. But all was in vain and Hal passed away, leaving Abby with her grief. Surprisingly, after Hal's demise, peculiar things began happening around the house. Objects moved on their own, whispers echoed through the hall, and the scent of Hal's cologne lingered in the air. Abby realized that Hal was still in the house, his spirit granted autonomy in death as a reward for the injection he had so bravely tested. Hal's ghost, unable to cause any physical touch or harm, did what it could to communicate with Abigail. He moved objects to spell out messages, played their favorite songs on the piano, and even maintained the garden they both loved. Yet, he could not provide a warm embrace for Abby. Abby, however, found a way to pay tribute to their love. Every year, on the anniversary of their wedding, she would put on her wedding dress, kneel by Harold's grave, and tell him stories of the short life they had shared and the love they still held for each other. And Harold, his spectral form glowing softly in the moonlight, listened. To this day, this love affair in the tiny town of Autumn Hollow still continues, with the tale of the dangerous ambition, that frightful injection, and Hal the ghost who was granted the chilling gift of autonomy, who is now forever bound to Abby, the woman he loved. . |
| Prompt: Did you know Kurt Vonnegut (11/11/1922) and Leo DiCaprio {11/11/1974) shared the same birthdate? Discuss either one of Vonnegut's books or DiCaprio's movies that you either enjoyed or disliked? --------------- Slaughterhouse-Five "If you were to bother to read my books, to behave as educated persons would, you would learn that they are not sexy, and do not argue in favor of wildness of any kind. They beg that people be kinder and more responsible than they often are," is the quote from Kurt Vonnegut, in the beginning of his page: https://www.vonnegutlibrary.org/biography/ For this blog entry, I picked this novel, which was later made into a radio drama then a movie, because with the world events threatening the world peace at this time in our lives, the story and the ideas in it cannot be more relevant. The book also has its origin in Vonnegut's personal experiences. During the World War II, while in Dresden, Vonnegut’s job for weeks after the bombing was to gather up and burn the remains of the dead. His experience at Dresden marked him for life and eventually resulted in this literary masterpiece, Slaughterhouse-Five. Since the book first came out in 1969, at the time, I was busy with my first baby less than a year-old and didn't read it then. A few years later, my husband and I saw the movie but due to the way the story is told in a non-linear form and in flashbacks, I didn't quite get the plot. The ideas in it, however, especially the bitter humor, got to me and knowing how the film industry decapitates good books, I decided to read the book afterwards. In the book's first chapter, the unreliable narrator (I guess Vonnegut himself), describes his own experiences and education and his employment in various places. Then, he starts to tell the story of Billy Pilgrim, from Ilium (fictional city). Billy is made to serve during the World War II's Battle of the Bulge. But he escapes death, but later is captured by the Germans in 1944. The Germans hold Billy and his fellow prisoners in an empty slaughterhouse called Schlachthof-fünf "slaughterhouse five". During the extensive bombing of Dresden by the Allies, German guards hide with the prisoners in the slaughterhouse, which is partially underground and well-protected from the damage on the surface. Billy somehow survives the fire bombing and becomes an optometrist after the war, with a life and somewhat damaged, later. There's a lot more to this story that what I can write here as there are many other characters with great variety, most of them shown with great depth of characterization. The novel is told through simple yet ironical, humorous, and sentimental words and sentences, which makes it all the more powerful. The novel's basic theme is war and death and, in my opinion, the insanity and ridiculousness of life, itself. It may also be that the author was directing his attention to war veterans who may suffer from PTSD and are not fully cognizant of the present realities of living. Unfortunately this book was banned from some schools in the US, due to its being "depraved, immoral, psychotic, vulgar and anti-Christian." Later on, however, it was reinstated. Here are some quotes from the book: “The nicest veterans...the kindest and funniest ones, the ones who hated war the most, were the ones who'd really fought.” “I have told my sons that they are not under any circumstances to take part in massacres, and that the news of massacres of enemies is not to fill them with satisfaction or glee. I have also told them not to work for companies which make massacre machinery, and to express contempt for people who think we need machinery like that.” “How nice -- to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.” “- Why me? - That is a very Earthling question to ask, Mr. Pilgrim. Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is. Have you ever seen bugs trapped in amber?" “It was very exciting for her, taking his dignity away in the name of love.” Then, as I wrote this entry, I decided to read the book, yet another time. Here is the free YouTube's audiobook version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yz6uGkdenEk Also, several PDF versions exist on the web or one can buy the book from a bookseller. . |
| Arrgh! I suck at writing romance. But I used all the songs, I think. ---------------- Prompt: Use at least five of these Soft Rock Ballads titles in your entry: *I Want to Know What Love Is, Always Somewhere, How Can I Tell Her, Everything I Own, Against All Odds, Where Are You Now, Beautiful Day, Honestly, Sacrifice, It's My Life, Have I Told You Lately, or Never Say Goodbye ---------------- Alex stood in front of Emily's house, his heart pounding with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Then, he smiled, thinking of the love songs such as, "I Want to Know What Love Is" and "Have I Told You Lately." Alex and Emily were friends since they were small children but lately, something had changed between them, something beyond friendship. "How can I tell her?" he wondered, but he knew he had to try. Against all odds, with the weather turning into a beautiful day, the sun broke through the clouds as he knocked on Emily's door. What if she wasn't home as Emily was always somewhere? Where are you now, Alex thought as he waited. Emily, however, opened the door with a huge grin on her face and asked him to step inside the house. Alex stumbled a little with his foot catching the edge of the rug as he entered into the living room, but seeing her smile and feeling encouraged, he began to speak. Emily listened intently, her expression a mix of surprise and curiosity, and Alex thought, "Everything I own, honestly, I'd sacrifice it all up for a chance, now." After a moment of gazing into Alex's eyes, Emily smiled. "*It's my life, too" she said, "and I've been feeling the same way." Alex took a deep breath, and suddenly, he felt an overwhelming sense of joy as if he could fly. Right there and then, while in a lovers' embrace, Alex and Emily made a pact to never say goodbye, with both looking forward to their life together which would surely turn into a harmonious melody, echoing some timeless tunes. . |
| Prompt: Cold November Rain. Write about your experience with the cold November rain or the song by Guns and Roses or both for your Blog entry today. ---------- As to the song, it sounds as if it's whimpering around the love-gone-cold idea. True love, in my opinion, never goes cold. Having said that, I think I'll concentrate on the idea of rain in November. Where I live, we don't have cold November rains. If anything they are lukewarm but still very helpful to ease the heat. According to the weathercasters, we'll get a cold front during the coming days when the temps at night will dip to 60s. But I lived in the up-north climate for many years and I can well relate to a northern USA's November rain. As a symbol, "Cold November Rain" evokes a sense of nostalgia and melancholy, as it may be the go-between from the vibrant hues of autumn to the stark white of winter with its chill in the air, marking the end of the year in view and serving as a reminder for the passage of time. Raindrops like icy whispers tapping against the window pane, the gray clouds and the reflections of a mosaic of muted colors on the ground, and the mostly bare tree branches against the overcast sky, with silhouettes stark and haunting, try to wash away the remnants of the passing year. Then, there is that certain quietude that comes with a cold November rain. It reminds us it's time for introspection, for cozying up with a good book, for sipping on hot tea, and for reflecting on the year that has passed, hopefully to find peace within ourselves, no matter what this mixed-up world presents to us. . |
| Prompt: Happily ever after is just the start of a new adventure in a story. Write about this in your Blog entry today. --------------- We humans cannot help but return to our ape origins, no matter what any religion says about our composition. One of those "aping" incidents is the "happily every after" phrase. In the Google search I'm going to paste after my two-cents on the phrase is: "By the 1880s, we can already find authors calling 'happily ever after' out as BS." And BS it is as how I see it, since there is no "ever after" guaranteed to us people who are born to die. I had thought, once, I had the happily ever after, but my husband passed away. So there was an end and no ever after. On the plus side though, be it very temporarily, the phrase makes people happy, like the foolishness of "the tooth fairy" and "the stork bringing babies" do to children. I guess even us so-called adults succumb to believing in magical happinesses, while true happiness comes from reality and how we face and adapt to that reality with logic, hard work, and understanding. In all honesty, I tried to think of a story that started with "happily ever after"; however, the phrase at this point in my life turns me off so much that I was unable to write anything, let alone a plausible story that started with it. On second thought, however, here is something that popped up into my mind just before I saved this entry. The prince said, kneeling in front of the princess, "Happily ever after? What do you say?" The princess, who was Scrooge's daughter, answered: "Bah! Humbug!" Here is what my Google Search came up with the information about the phrase: This particular phrase is recorded by the early 1700s, but by the 1860s it had become commonly associated with fairy tale and children’s stories. It especially appears in they lived happily ever after—making sure all the princes married their princesses in their castles and enjoyed the rest of their days. By the 1880s, we can already find authors calling happily after ever out as BS. What, exactly, cemented this connection isn’t clear, as the historic sources of fairy tales don’t feature happily ever after. Nevertheless, the connection was sealed by the 20th century. Not only have countless stories closed with (happily) ever after, but the phrase itself has come to represent fairy tales and happy endings—and marriages, where happily ever after is the storybook ending we’re told to dream of. Finishing actual stories with living happily ever after became cliché by the 1990–2000s, but popular media, writing, and speech widely use ever after in titles in everything from collections of fairy tales to self-help books on retirement. Disney even has a wedding blog called Ever After. And, remember that Drew Barrymore movie Ever After, a 1998 fantasy romance? Ever after has become so common that we can use it like a noun (e.g., we’re all searching for our happily ever after or he finally found his ever after). How … nauseating. . |
| Prompt: Pets "Pets devour the loneliness." Nick Trout Do you have pets? Which kinds of pets are the best for lonely people? And if you could, which wild animal would you choose as your companion-pet if it were legally possible? ---------- Which kinds of pets for lonely people? For people who live alone, the right pet for companionship can make a world of difference. Their choices could be dogs who act like they are almost human, or cats who are independent but affectionate, or birds, fish, and other small mammals like turtles, rabbits, hamsters etc. Some people also like big snakes, but I don't see how a huge phyton could make a good companion for a lonely old person, as it is important to consider one's lifestyle, living situation, and personal preferences when choosing a pet. As for me, I have the honor of living with a black cat, Noche, who graces my home and heart with her presence. Noche was not always my cat, however. Noche was first adopted, when she was only a few weeks old, by my son and her then wife. Noche also came to stay with us together with their other cat several times when my son's family went on a vacation. I always felt a liking for Noche. She was aloof, didn't take to anyone at the drop of a hat, and she had her ways. Once I even saw her hiss at the other cat. I have to say that has been the only time I saw her hiss. Then, they got the dog. A Chesapeake Retriever mix who turned into a giant dog and ruled over the cats without mercy. Although we all loved this dog, Noche didn't. The other cat sometimes let the dog win and sometimes she held her ground. Not Noche! Noche started being naughty instead. She peed and pooped all over their house and tore the furniture down. To the point that my son and his then-wife began truly hating Noche. So much so that, they decided to take her to a kill-less shelter. That was three-years ago. At the time, I was thinking of getting a dog to walk around with. Yet, I had read in the news that shelters gave the cats to labs that did medical experiments on them. That news did it for me Thus, one day, when my son brought Noche to me, he said, "This is only an experiment, Mom, only because you wanted her. If it doesn't work, I'm really taking her to the shelter." Hehehe! An experiment! That's what he thought! Well, it wasn't easy to make Noche behave much better, but I understood her and dealt with her occasional setbacks in behavior and my son never knew of those setbacks, well, not fully. So now, the fifteen year-old Noche is my best friend and possibly therapist, too. She sleeps with me and is around me all the time and has given me a sense of purpose. If I am busy with doing something too long on the computer or any other thing, she comes and demands my attention. Also, Noche is very vocal. It is hard to believe but at times, we have a two-way conversation going on. Then, she also knows when my arthritis flares up and comes and puts her paws on me and purrs. Before I was married, which is a lot more than five decades ago, I lived in a house that was full of cats as my aunt who lived with us was a cat lady, and I, too, always had cats. Then, later, because we were traveling so much, we had no pets, except for a dog for the children. Still, I've always had a soft spot for cats, and at this time, Noche has become the queen of that soft spot. Her highness now rules, not with nastiness like she did in my son's house but with the full softness of behavior and understanding. And I'm truly blessed to have her with me in this alone time in my life and no other pet can rival Noche's purring and meows for me. I am a big animal lover, and I love the large cats. I bet they would take to me in no time. I say so because even snakes and lizards that are around the yard are friendly to me. Many decades ago in NY., LI., when I was into gardening, a certain ribbon snake used to sit curled up with her head in the air, close to me, and watch me work. Nowadays the few salamanders who live around my potted plants on the porch do the same thing when I'm sitting inside the covered part of the porch; however, these creatures are not pets. Pets require care and attention, so one needs to make sure to choose a pet that they can provide a good home for. It's also recommended to consider adopting a pet from a shelter, where many loving animals are in need of a home. .  |
| Prompt: Time and Thoughts "In one hour, A person thinks about 3000 thoughts." --Tad James I'm guessing some of those thoughts are the ones that pop up on their own into our minds. What do you think about Tad James's claim and which kinds of thoughts pop up in your mind? Also, is your mind so active that it tires you? ----------- In our fast-paced, modern society, it can be challenging to fully deal with and understand the multitude of thoughts that pass through our minds each day, but then, who knew how many thoughts the cavemen had per hour while trying to stay alive in the earlier harsh environment of this planet? As of our time, in our fast-paced, modern society, it can be challenging to fully engage with and understand the multitude of thoughts that pass through our minds each day. Was it always like this since the dawn of civilization or is this thought activity a reflection of our complex inner worlds? Then, I don't know how they could measure the 3000 thoughts per hour bit, but probably, it had something to do with the brain scans. It may just be that the sheer volume of thoughts that go through the human mind each hour is a testament to our incredible cognitive capabilities. Frankly before I read about this finding, I never knew the amount of stuff (sometimes garbage) that flows through our minds. My belief is at least some of those 3000 thoughts keep happening subconsciously because I'm no genius to handle 3000 thoughts per hour, in reality. As to the kind of thoughts that pop up in my mind, everything is a reminder for something else that may have to do even minutely with me. Case in point, all the photos and artwork on the walls of the house; as soon as my eye catches one of them, they immediately remind me of a person or event or whatever else is related to that picture. Plus, everything else around may act as a reminder, too. Someone's vintage car may remind of my first car, for example, and usually, such a thought comes in a flash. Sometimes, no reminders are needed. Thoughts just appear without any invitation. The stuff I don't want to recall may show up also, and I have no control over them. Luckily, I learned about a valuable tool. When something sad or disturbing pops up, I consciously and forcefully replace it with a happy idea or memory. This isn't easy and it takes a lot of practice, but it has been working for me. Does my mind tire me? I don't think so. If I had only the negatives and worries in it, it would tire me, for sure. But I learned (and am still learning) about dealing with hurtful and tiresome negatives, and I even like most of my thoughts that pop up unannounced. This is because, in the long run, our thoughts allow us to make the most of our inner world and the countless ideas our minds produce. . |
| Prompt: Here's your opportunity to get up on the podium for your good friend Tom. He's a turkey and he's asked you to save his life by speaking up for him at the town meeting. What do you want to say on his behalf? And what would you offer as a replacement for Tom Turkey at Thanksgiving dinner. Have fun! ------------  Dear Friends and Fellow Humans, I stand before you today to represent Tom, a humble Thanksgiving turkey, and I am pleading for his life. I implore you to consider the ethical and compassionate choice of sparing Tom from your Thanksgiving dinner table. Tom is just one individual in a world filled with countless creatures, each with a life, feelings, and a desire to live. He too has a family and friends who care for him. He has experienced moments of joy and curiosity, and like all living beings, he possesses an innate instinct to survive. Thanksgiving is a time when we the people gather to express gratitude for the blessings in our lives. It's a celebration of abundance, family, and friendship. In the spirit of this holiday, I urge you to reflect upon the values of compassion, empathy, and kindness, and spare Tom from his untimely death. I understand that tradition can be a powerful force, and it's not easy to break free from established customs. However, traditions can evolve and adapt to our growing understanding of the world. This Thanksgiving, I beseech you to set a new tradition, one that values the sanctity of life and chooses to celebrate with compassion. Please, consider sparing Tom's life and making a difference this Thanksgiving. Choose a meal that embodies the spirit of gratitude, empathy, and kindness. Together, we can create a brighter and more compassionate world for all. With heartfelt hope and gratitude, I thank you for listening to me. Before I go, I'm offering you a list of other food options for Thanksgiving:  Tofurkey or Vegetarian/Vegan Roast: These products are designed to mimic the taste and texture of turkey without using any animal products Butternut squash, portobello mushrooms, or lentils. Stuffed Peppers And if you have to have meat: Seafood or other meat alternatives such as the meat taken from an already slaughtered larger animal like pork and beef.Thank you again for considering to save a beautiful life, the life of our friend, Tom. . |
| Write about your first job and what it taught you. ----- My first job, so to speak, was tutoring a ten year-old neighbor's child who was attending a very strict private school. It seemed she was doomed to fail and the parents didn't know what to do. At the time, I was in jr. high and her mother asked my mother if she'd let me go over her child's work and tutor her, so at least she wouldn't fail everything. Also, that kid really liked me and was delighted at the idea, and I had the reputation of a good student. So, I did tutor her in everything, which started my at-home tutoring career that lasted until I finished the Uni., only because the girl not only passed that year, she also got very good marks on her report card at the end. This incident became the talk of the neighborhood and people began bringing their kids to me. As to the first girl I tutored, I later realized she needed a one-on-one type of teaching because she had a serious attention deficit, which the schools at the time had no inkling of. I learned a lot from tutoring her, more than what she learned from me. Then, I used that experience as information in my later work, and I also got a teaching license which I used for only a short time in a high-school sr. class, in which the kids were deemed to be disturbed or low-functioning. At the end of the year, my students got very high grades in my subject. After that, however, I'd had it with tutoring and teaching and branched into other areas. Plus, I also got married then, and my husband who was in mental health, warned me of the toll this type of a job (i.e. teaching) would take on me, especially in the long run. I sometimes wonder if I would still have stayed in teaching, if I hadn't met him at that time. All these tutoring experiences helped me a lot in my life especially when raising my own kids. I could see why they did not succeed up to par or why they did so well. In most their cases, their relationships with the classroom teachers became the key, but luckily neither had to repeat a grade or get too low a mark in any one subject. I think teaching/tutoring is an underrated profession and, to this day, no one takes into account the drainage in a teacher's health; physical or mental. Thus, some school districts just employ anyone who knows something about any subject as teachers for the lack of quality teachers. Teaching is much more than the bland information on any one subject. It has to do with relating to the students, and not just some but all of them. . |
| Prompt: On November 3rd Black Bart makes his last stagecoach robbery. I've included the link if you're needing some inspiration. If you lived in the 1800's and wanted to commit a robbery, what kind of robbery would you commit and where do you think it would be ideal to commit your crime? Or maybe you'd rather be like Stagecoach Mary the daring black woman who protected stagecoaches instead of choosing a life of crime. Have fun and remember the minimum is five lines to be counted. Maybe you'll be inspired to write more. --------------- You know, it's challenging enough to be living in the first part of the 21st century after having gone through all that in the second half of the 20th century. Why would I want to go to the eighteen hundreds, then? Why because the prompt asks me to. So here it goes:I, Sammy, (actually Samantha Wright) have been known for my sharp eyes, quick reflexes and unwavering resolve to safeguard the travelers and, in my case, the mail carriage of the stagecoach Company Concord, owned by my father. On this miserable late autumn day, however, with the protector-guard of a travelers' coach suddenly falling ill, I had to take over for him and guard that coach without even my father knowing about this situation. This particular stagecoach would be carrying a wealthy heiress, from San Francisco to some place called Eureka in Nevada, to be betrothed to a rich miner who had struck gold. Although, Miss Abigail, the heiress, shivered when she saw me with my Winchester rifle, I whispered to her that she shouldn't be scared because although in a man's attire, I was a woman. She gave me a wry smile and said in a thin voice, "Heavens, I do not know whether to relax or be more worried." Why some women think they are so helpless, passes me by. Anyway, at least, she wouldn't be afraid of me or my intentions concerning her you know what. Somewhere along the way, when we had just entered the vast plains of the Nevada, a pack of notorious outlaws descended on us. I yelled at Abigail to kneel down inside the coach and take cover, although I felt for her since she was probably wearing a tight corset and several petticoats. Then, I started shooting. The bandits were fierce fighters. Their bullets whizzed past me, Thank the Lord, but they splintered the wooden coach and the hoofs of their horses picked up a cloud of dust. Yet, I remained untouched for a good while as my trusty rifle, echoed through the valley. With each outlaw that fell, the remaining ones grew wilder and their attacks became more desperate. Then a stray bullet found its mark on my shoulder. Luckily, for us, a Sheriff with his posse arrived and took care of the situation. I was wounded but the stagecoach driver was in a worse shape. He wasn't too badly hurt but both his hands were shot, and he had wet himself with fear. Thus, the job of driving the stagecoach to Eureka fell on me, with two of the Sheriff's men riding near us as guards. "Take care of that shoulder, Will ya?" said the Sheriff to me as he and his men took the remaining two outlaws with them. My worst worry, however, wasn't my shoulder. It was my father. What if he'd take me away from my job and marry me off? I took a look at Miss Abigail. She was all white still and shivering with fear. I'd hate to wear corsets and petticoats and be scared of my own shadow, like her. Please Lord, help me with my father! . |
| Prompt: Cookie Monster Day is today Write about your favorite Muppets or write about cookies or both for your Blog entry today. ------------------ I missed all the fun! I was too old for Sesame Street! When Sesame Street came about, I was already married and had a child. In fact, my older son became a Sesame Street afficionado even before he could speak. He had an indoor baby swing for babies we had placed across from the TV. He sat inside that swing, wearing a diaper with his legs dangling from the seat's holes, and watched Sesame Street. He was less than a year old then, and in a few months, that Cookie Monster became his favorite muppet friend. The way the Cookie Monster crushed and crumbled cookies as he ate them made him laugh a lot. I don't know what made Cookie Monster his favorite. Was it this muppet's distinctive voice, his way of speaking or his declaration of "Me want cookie" or his googly eyes or was it his voracious appetite for cookies, who knew! My son used to sing that song, "C is for Cookie" together with the muppet and he could say the alphabet before he even talked in three word sentences. Then, who can ever blame the Cookie Monster, when cookies in our popular culture and in our culinary world continue to be a source of joy and comfort! As baked goods, they come in a wide variety of shapes, flavors, and textures. From the classic chocolate chip cookie to intricately decorated sugar cookies and delicate macaroons, cookies hold a special place in the hearts of many of us. Now that I talked about cookies and made myself want some, maybe its time for me to head to the kitchen and make some apple-cinnamon cookies.  . |
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