Well blogging, we meet at last. I’ve had mixed feelings about the practice of blogging since I first heard of it and thought “Really? That’s the name you’re sticking with?” But it has finally reached a point where I think, well why not? Now I’ve never kept a blog, and I don’t actually know that much about them despite being part of “that generation” that should apparently have a manual of some sort in their brain for all basic computer programs and functions, in which case I don’t know if there’s some sort of formula to blog posts or some kind of blog management etiquette, but I’m sure I’ll figure things out. I only mention it so that if there are accidentally 20 posts in a row of the same thing or something you’ll be forewarned of the experimentation and learning period in progress.

So, the theoretical point of this blog is to be somewhere for me to post things that I write. And I do mean ‘things’ because I tend to write short snippets of fiction, though sometimes there are short stories and such too. I suspect most of my posts will come from an intriguing book I have which is called ‘642 Things To Write About’. It’s simply a collection of short (anywhere from a couple of sentences to just a word) starter phrases designed to get you thinking and writing. For instance, “The greatness of sandwiches” or, “Go to a café and closely watch two people interact. Then write a scene about to people in a café” or “Create an imaginary friend (human or not)” (I have high hopes for a hedgehog being involved in this one), and so forth. As you can see, they’re diverse, so posts on here could be pretty random. Just the way we like it I say. I imagine there will also be some first-person posts from me, who can say? But when things come from “the book” I’ll use the prompt as the post heading and then my writing about it as the body of the post (I say confidently, like I’ve already mastered my heading/post functions).

I’m not sure yet how often I will post something because I’m not sure yet how this blog and I will feel about one another, but I will try to post with reasonable frequency because, really, it’s just stagnating and taking up space in the ether otherwise. That being said, welcome to my blog invisible people!

Wednesday 30 January 2013

Start a story with the line "When I confronted him, he denied that he'd ever said it"...

When I confronted him, he denied that he'd ever said it. He lied to my face, standing there on the train platform in Thailand, facing each other through the haze of humidity. He stared at me, his expression, genuinely perplexed, or just sheepish and uncomfortable? I couldn't tell. "But that's what you said, I thought this is what you meant... that I should join you, that we'd be together, travel together, forget everything else!" I didn't like the note of desperation in my voice and if I could hear it, so could he.

"Well, hey it was great, we spent a great couple of weeks together but we knew this was coming, right? I'm going on to Laos and you're...going home". He let it linger there between us, this divide in our lives which as soon as he got on that train would grow wider and wider, spanning whole continents and years ahead of different, separate experiences. But we didn't know this was coming; I didn't.

We had met just over two weeks ago, me at the beginning of a short holiday seeking sand and sun, him in the midst of his long term travels, his world wandering he had called it. We had felt an instant connection, but I had resisted because it wasn't practical to get involved with someone on such a short holiday and because I still had a slightly complicated situation to sort out with someone back home... but he had been so charming and attentive... we had a whirlwind affair, two weeks spent under the sheets and at the beach, having deep conversations about our lives, our hopes and plans for the future. They were lazy days of sex and swimming, eating and talking. It had been wonderful, and he'd said how much he would miss me, how he wished I could stay longer, how much fun we would have travelling together... could I have misinterpreted what he meant? What else was I to think?    

I had believed him, and on our last day, after an emotional and fond farewell, when he had left for the train station, and I was meant to be headed to the airport, I changed my mind. I chose him, I chose adventure, I chose to take a risk. And now here we stood, him looking surprised and not pleased to see me, telling me I had misunderstood, thanks but no thanks.

"Look the trains about to leave... I've really got to get going... I'm sorry, it was wonderful, it really was but.....take care of yourself and have a safe trip home!" He touched me lightly on the arm before hopping on the train just before the doors started to close. I could feel the tears on my cheeks mingling with the sweat. I held my arms across my middle like I'd been punched in the stomach and tried to breath, gasping breaths of warm, thick air.    

When the train started to pull out of the station, it felt like someone had attached my heart to it with a rope, because as it rolled away, I could feel it rip it out of my chest.

I watched the train get smaller and smaller in the distance, and eventually my breathing slowed and came back to normal. I felt a flash of anger, in the midst of my ache, and I looked around at the other platforms.

"Screw it" I said, and started to make my way to the nearest train, going wherever. I'll make my own adventure. 

Thursday 24 January 2013

What you ate for breakfast...

Why have one cereal when you can have three, am I right? You know when you get to the end of a box of cereal and you don't have enough for a whole bowl of cereal, just an awkward, garden-gnome serving size worth? What do you do? It's too much to throw away without feeling guilty, so the usual course of action is to leave it in the pantry indefinitely, just in case you suddenly have a need to feed a tiny person, until one day you think "why do I have so much stuff in my pantry?? I can't find anything!!" and you throw it out in the cleaning rage which ensues. Well, I have found a way around this breakfast food paradox and its associated pantry complications.

The key is to buy multiple, compatible cereal types at once. Personally, I like to get a health food one which is made from 'exotic' grains such a millet and sorghum and two different types of sweetened cheerios, a multi-grain variety and a honey and oats one. Armed with this cereal selection, when I go to have breakfast of a morning I get out the health food flakes and one of the varieties of cheerios and pour equal parts of each into my bowl and mix them up with my hands, I figure this way I'm getting my healthy grainy stuff without the signature, bland health food taste (I find the general rule is, if it tastes good, it's bad for you, if it tastes bad, it's good for you. Not to say there aren't exceptions, and of course being an 'adult' now I eat the healthy stuff anyway, but I still stand by this statement) because its got the sweet stuff in there too, but I'm also minimizing the amount of pre-sweetened cereal I consume in a sitting, so win-win situation!

Anyway, the way this solves the tiny, left over cereal serving issue, is that when you end up with this amount left of one of your cereals, you simply mix the tiny bit of cereal in with the other cereal and then a bit of the newly opened third box of cereal and it all evens out! And because this is a perpetual cycle of getting low on cereal and buying more cereal, this method can go on indefinitely, thus, no tiny servings of cereal hanging around; and if that tiny person/garden gnome ever does come to breakfast, well...you'll be more worried about your sanity and where you're going to find a tiny bowl and spoon than whether you have just the perfect amount of cereal to offer them.

Wednesday 16 January 2013

Anita Le Fleur-The Christmas Forest

 *The idea for this story came to me around Christmas, and that's when it was supposed to be posted but...see the post directly below this...so it's a bit out of date now but oh well...*


Anita Le Fleur is on an exploration...

                                           ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There is a wood, dark and deep, where creatures lurk, which never sleep. They crouch and hide, they wait and watch, they look for people, who through the forest walk, and these people, they do stalk. Then suddenly, swift and mean, they attack, and these people are nevermore seen.

Or so the story goes. Mia has heard this cautionary tale more times than she can count. Mia's family lives in a cottage, at the edge of this wood, and from the time she was small, to the 15 years old she is now, her parents have told her that she must never, ever, go into the woods, else vague but sinister consequences befall her.

When Mia was little, she took the matter of the forest very seriously, she wouldn't even go near the edge of it for fear that something especially hungry might reach out and snatch her away. But as the years went by, a doubt crept in. "Why don't we go in the forest?", "What exactly is in the forest that's so dangerous?" These are the questions she asked her parents, and in return she got the same old answers, "No one goes into the forest", "THINGS lurk in the forest, it's dangerous"; and with each unsatisfactory answer her doubts grew, and every year she ventured closer to the forests edge.

Which is how, in this, her 15th year, she came to be standing right at the edge of the forest one morning, mere steps from its shady and silent depths, and right at the edge of her curiosity and doubt.

"This is the day" she murmured to herself, "This is it!". And with that, she stepped into the woods.     

Nothing happened. Mia waited, braced for the worst, shaking with fear, ready to flee at the first sign of danger, to run home to safety, to her parents.

After a few uneventful minutes of this, Mia decided that perhaps the danger lay further within. With a deep breath, she carried on.  

It would be beautiful and pleasant walk...if nothing were going to kill and/or eat you... is what Mia found herself thinking as she moved though the forest, with its impossibly tall trees with great, reaching branches filled with magnificent green foliage...letting streams of sunlight through here and there to illuminate the cool under story with logs green with moss and festooned with streamers of lichen laying across the clear waters of creek winding between the trees... with every step further into the forest Mia marvelled at the beauty around her, and in her increasing enjoyment, forgot to be scared and prepared for the worst.

A terrible mistake, and that's where it all went wrong...

Is how the story was supposed to go, according to what Mia had been told. But instead, as she progressed through the forest Mia came across something altogether different... A strange thing began to happen, at first Mia thought she was imagining it, after all, trees don't have tiny doors and windows in them, and no one builds tiny wind mills in the middle of a forest...and animals certainly don't have tea parties, especially with a formal dress code...

"Ok....what exactly is going on here?...."

Though Mia said this to herself, barely above a whisper, as she stood perfectly still in the midst of all this...oddness, a voice replied very near to her ear "harvest season". 

There were two options really. Pretend a voice had not just spoken to her and try to back away slowly, or turn and find out who the voice belonged to. Mia chose the latter, and would always be glad that she did. Just by her right shoulder, on the back of a tiny bird, hovered a tiny man, no larger than her smallest finger....'well, why not?' she thought. "Harvest season you say? What crops do you um... farm around here? 

Mia spent a wonderful afternoon in the company of the tiny fairy people of the wood, accepting invitations to tour their homes by pressing her eye up to minute windows to peer in, eating a feast of honey and blueberries, blackberries and huckleberries (washed down with a cup of tea from a certain nearby gathering, her informal attire was overlooked in light of her guest status) laying in the moss by the stream, discussing farming methods with the locals, and listening to music from the smallest instruments you could ever hope to see.

"So, there are no THINGS in the forest then?"

"Things? There are many things in the forest I suppose..."

"But not...bad things...the attack you and possibly eat you kind of things..."

"Well I suppose that depends where you fall on the food chain really, but, given your size...nothing much to worry about... there must be ENORMOUS creatures where you come from, to stalk prey as large as yourself and-"

"No, no, there are no creatures like that where I come from..."

"Well that's a relief to hear, you wouldn't want to go to such a place I shouldn't think... and certainly not live there..."

"Oh I don't know, I think I would recommend you look into a place, rather than just trust the stories, you just never know..." 

Suddenly, Mia realized how dim the light was becoming in the forest... "Oh no! I've been here all day! And no one knows where I've gone, I've got to go home!" A flurry of activity ensued, making arrangements for her departure. Meanwhile, small flowers with glowing centres opened near the tiny doors and windows in the surrounding trees, illuminating the trunks and branches and creating a pool of light around the central area where Mia stood, and spreading out in little paths into the forest.

"Um, what is...that?" Mia ventured, as a black bird almost as tall as her, with a blue face and a ridge across the top of its head appeared out of the dark. "This is a cassowary, he will take you where you need to go, he'll deliver you swiftly home". Mia thanked her gracious hosts and climbed aboard the cassowary's back, as she started off quickly into the night she called back, "Wait! I don't know the way!" to which the fairies called back "Yes you do, you will find it!"

Sure enough, as they sped through the forest, Mia remembered, and guided the cassowary towards the edge of the forest and the lights of her home. At the edge of the forest, the cassowary stopped. Mia climbed down and thanked the giant bird, who then disappeared back into the forest. Then she ran down to the cottage, coming across her parents on the way who were out looking for her.

"Where have you been?? We've been so worried! You didn't go into the forest did you?? Are you alright?? You're lucky to be alive! Why would you do that??" When they had calmed a bit Mia explained about the forest, and the amazing things she had seen, and the wonderful day she had had, and the entire lack of anything trying to attack or eat her.

"Mum and Dad, I know you're scared and worried, but I think maybe, sometimes we need to be bold, and take a chance and loose our way to have the very best adventures..." Mia said.

"Oh, and Dad, have you ever considered wind mills by the way?..." 

                                            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Anita? Anita?? Anita where are you? It's time for bed!"

"Um...dear, I think I may have just seen...yes, the Christmas tree just moved...There it goes again".

"Anita! Are you...in the...? What are you doing in there?? Could you help me dear, she's right in there by the trunk, sitting in the lower branches. Honestly Anita, what were you doing in there?..."

Another year, another new years resolution or two to shortly fall by the wayside...

Like updating your blog on a more regular basis, for example.

As anyone who looks at this blog can attest (although if there were any to begin with, I'd be amazed if there still are now, what with the tumble weeds and mothballs which no doubt appear on the screen when you visit), I've been on a bit of an unpredicted posting hiatus. A combination of factors have contributed to this stagnation; namely a lack of time, a common affliction of, well, the entire human population (so no real excuse there), and good, old-fashioned writers block. Empty brain equals empty pages. Well, creatively empty anyway...There's a lot of other bits and pieces drifting about up there...basic arithmetic, my home address, random facts about alpacas, etc.

Anyway, the point is, I return to my blog with a hopeful, but more cautious, commitment to updating it. But seeing as I've just pondered the "empty brain, empty page" quandary, what this really means is that in future when I try to write and think, "Damn, the well is dry! Dry as a parrots tongue!" (parrots and most other birds don't salivate, thus, dry tongues--behold, ladies and gentlemen, one of the aforementioned random facts, though not about alpacas in this particular instance), I will endeavour to post something explaining that this is what's going on, and that I haven't just woken up one morning and thought "I'm running away to Mongolia! My blog? Screw it! Leave them guessing!" That's the plan anyway. The explanatory post, that is, not the Mongolia bit. Not that that plan is without merit...

So after much ado and rambling (hey, it's in the title of the blog, you can't say you weren't forewarned), I shall post a new story directly after this; dust off the cobwebs and, hopefully, enjoy!