Schedules

All posts tagged Schedules

On supernatural distractions.

Published July 6, 2012 by mandileighbean

Missy and her family are visiting from Virginia.  They came up for a wedding, and will be staying through the weekend so Jimmy can celebrate his fourth birthday with us.  Missy, John and Jack will leave on Sunday, but Jimmy will stay for about a week.  I’m very excited but – as to be expected – I’ve been distracted from writing.  Simultaneously, I’ve been inspired by the film “Fright Night,” starring Anton Yelchin and Colin Farrell. You’ve been given fair warning: the following probably sucks, as I’m trying something new without giving it my best effort.

Good luck.

PROMPT: “You know, they invented a word for guys like him.”

PIECE:

“You know, they invented a word for guys like him.”

Cheyenne sighed and ran her hands along her wearied face.  She was definitely too young to feel so fucking old.  Maybe Marley was right and it was all part of the territory, but Marley being right was the worst thing in the whole entire world – she’d be wildly obnoxious about it.  “I get it, Marley.  We’ve had this conversation a million and one times – you’re not telling me anything new, or anything that I don’t already know.  So essentially, you’re not being helpful and unless you’re going to help, shut up.”

Marley bit the insides of her cheeks to keep quiet and crossed her thin arms over her chest.  Cheyenne had insulted her – best friend or not – so Marley would let Cheyenne turn the whole place upside down on her own.  Why would she help a bitch on a wild goose chase?  She wasn’t dating a monster.  She raised an eyebrow and watched Cheyenne derisively as she wrenched open cabinets and pulled out drawers, letting their contents clatter to the floor.  “What are you even looking for?”

“I’ve already told you,” Cheyenne answered sharply.  “He needs a medallion about the size of an old subway token.  It has a bat on it, and he needs it tonight because the main guy is coming for it.”

Marley’s mouth dropped open.  “Are you saying there are more coming here tonight?”  Cheyenne did not answer, but she did considerably slow her frantic searching.  “Oh, fuck that!” Marley erupted.  “It could be a bloodbath!  He’s putting all of us in some serious danger!  They could kill us all!”

Cheyenne turned slowly to face Marley.  Her clenched fists and deep breathing showed that she was battling a swelling rage.  “James wouldn’t do that, Marley.  He would never –“

“What happened to Sam?” Marley asked, interrupted.  Both young women knew exactly what had happened to Sam – he had been killed – murdered – about a month ago.  There had been a severe misunderstanding about Sam’s intentions towards Cheyenne and how those intentions affected both his attitudes and actions towards James.  In essence, James was convinced that Sam was coming for him, so he struck first and even though Sam had been brave and fought long and hard to defend himself, it had all been for naught.  “Please, Cheyenne, let’s end this!  I know he’s one thing to you, but to everyone he’s not trying to fuck, he’s something else.”

Cheyenne wiped her eyes.  “It’s not just that, Marley.  You know it’s not so vulgar.  We love each other.”

“He can’t love you or anyone, Cheyenne.  He’s a monster, a literal living and breathing monster.”

“Marley –“

“There’s a word for guys like him, Cheyenne.  There’s a word for draining the life from someone and not feeling an ounce of remorse, rationalizing murder because it’s necessary for existence.  If he were human, he’d be a sociopath, but he’s not human, is he?”

“No,” Cheyenne barely whispered.

“So what’s the word I’m thinking of?  You need to hear yourself say it.  You need to come to grips with reality.”

Marley sighed.  “I know – the word is vampire.”

On being thankful.

Published May 11, 2012 by mandileighbean

Today was long day. I taught, stayed after, and did three hours of home instruction. I am definitely exhausted, and am most certainly looking forward to crashing and burning.

I was a little upset I wasn’t able to go for a walk today, but congratulated myself for not overeating. I treated myself to a tablespoon of chocolate syrup in my coffee – an activity which is highly recommended.

🙂

I cannot stop listening to Phillip Phillips. He’s a contestant on American Idol. I think he’s devastatingly handsome and his voice is incredibly alluring and sexy. It makes me long for a romantic relationship moreso than I already do. In working on today’s prompt, I soon realized that absolutely everything I write essentially boils down to that one desire. I do not necessarily think there’s anything wrong in doing so, but I do hope to live a life filled with varied experiences so my writing can vary accordingly. I don’t want to become a broken record, and as much as I enjoy being restless, I do not want to remain unfulfilled in any regard.

PROMPT: Thankful I’m a Writer
  Finish this sentence: I’m thankful I’m a writer because …

I’m thankful I’m a writer because I relish the fact that it is both a blessing and a curse. I love duality and contradiction because I believe that power and universality lies within the abstract. Being a writer allows me to search for such power in my own life, and thereby allows me to feel things more poignantly because I subscribe specific meaning to every blessed detail of my life. If that makes me pretentious or self-righteous, then so be it. Being a writer simultaneously scorches and soothes – every set back is a catastrophe and every joy is a major triumph. I used to worry that such exhilarating highs and devastating lows were evidence of manic behavior and it’s a definite possibility that I am crazy, but so what? Being a writer has freed me; I am unashamed. We are only here once. If we lose a day, we never ever get it back.

I believe that being a writer has completely informed and shaped my philosophy on life – I have been heavily influenced by practically everything I’ve read and thereby firmly believe that my life has a plot and accompanying themes, that I am the protagonist and that my friends, relations, loved ones, acquaintances, and enemies are characters. It all has an important meaning, so I think and think and think. I am constantly analyzing while that may also mean I am constantly anxious and stressed, it also just goes to show that I care, and that I care deeply about everyone who comes into my life. I highly value connections – how can that possibly be a bad thing? Life has a special inherent value that is meant to be indulged and shared. My belief system, which stems from being a writer, allows me to detect, analyze, and ascertain life in an extremely vivid and engaging way. As a writer, it’s almost as if I’m more involved in life; like I have a greater emotional investment because everything matters. Everything means something, and I communicate that through the written word. I report back and hopefully inspire – I offer up my dreams, my heartaches, and my desires so that others may live theirs, even if it is vicariously. Writing is a community – we all share our wildest dreams, worst fears, and grandest desires and from that we dream bigger and learn that everything has value, that symbolism could be lurking anywhere and that we have something worth sharing.

Somebody save me.

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