Prompt: If you could describe your life in only 3 words, what would you say?
Melody Joy wrote:
Fear, brokenness, restoration.
Dana Lee wrote:
Unique. Fun. Loving.
Prompt: Write a short story about the invasion of undead insects.
Chuck C. wrote:
It was a cool, breezing night in the small villa outside of St. Petersburg, as were most fall nights in Western Russia. It was a quiet, unassuming village. Nobody ever really thought much of it. That would all change though.
Roman, the local spice merchant and town bard, was just getting home from his work of the day when the ground beneath him began to shake. He looked around to find the source, but could not find a thing. Roman, a former Soviet tank commander, decorated war hero, and former KGB agent, felt like he was suddenly back in Afghanistan as the entire area around him erupted in explosions. He dropped his wares and began running towards his small house on the outside of the city. As he ran the ground burst open in front of him. He barely had time to dodge as a huge beetle emerged from the gaping hole, along with a swarm of insects. They had a gray pallor and bright red eyes. They began to swarm the town, wreaking havoc.
The most shocking thing to Roman was not the fact that what seemed like undead bugs seemed to be invading his little hamlet, but who rode the largest of them. None other than former Russian President Vladimir Putin. Nobody had seen him in years. It was rumored he was holed up on an island somewhere in the south china sea.
As what seemed like an infinite sprawl of bugs made their home in his town, the beetle with Putin atop strode towards him.
“Roman, as I live and breath” Putin shouted. “Never thought I would see you again after that scrap in Kandahar.”. Roman stood in disbelief. Nothing in his well travelled and seasoned life ever prepared him for the sight of Vladmir Putin riding a giant undead beetle. His voice was casual, but assertive and powerful as he remembered. “Its time to bring Russia to its former glory.” He said, his beetle firing a burst of plasma from its mouth into the air. This only perplexed Roman more.
“I chose this village for a reason, you are hear to witness the beginning of history. The only question, comrade, is what side of history you will be on, the winning or the losing.” Putin shoutted. The beetle lurched forward, bowing to bring Putin down to Roman's level. “Come with me, comrade, let us restore Russia to glory!” He said, extending his hand. Roman paused for moment, but made his decision quickly. He grabbed his hand and swung up onto the beetle.
They rode forward, to glory and to restoration. Thus began the great Necro-Bug war of the 21st century, and we all know how that turned out.
Dan Christmann wrote:
The army of undead insects were a force to be reckoned with. They were created years ago in a trailer by Doktor Ulrich Applegänger Von Strange, in a laboratory somewhere south of Kalamazoo. Right next to the meth labs and the strung out WMU students, the Doktor had worked for many months on a ‘cure’ for what he called the “sickness that is the death.” It may be important to note here that Von Strange was born in Mecosta county and has never been out of the state, despite his admirable attempts at a Swabian dialect.
However, despite the fact that he had little formal education, and, as I have noted before, couldn’t put on an accent for anything, the Doktor was actually a brilliant chemist, with a strange penchant for understanding the neurocircuitry of certain small invertebrate. And so, one night during a conveniently placed thunderstorm, Doktor Von Strange placed a bit of liquid from a small eye dropper on the corpse of a small stag beetle and watched it for signs of life. Lightning flashed. The beetle’s leg twitched.
“Heureka!” cried the linguistically confused Applegänger.
Over the course of the next few nights, more beetles were found, more of the mixture formulated, and more leg twitches were made to opportunely timed lightning strikes. After several more months of formulating, and finding the most deadly specimens of insect available, the Doctor was ready to begin. One quiet night in October, just as the leaves were beginning to fall in incredible oranges and reds outside the trailer, Von Strange created his first army. His army of Undead Insects.
As per usual with a supervillain who has not quite found his legs yet, Von Strange sent his undead insects on several ill-conceived bank robberies and assassinations before realizing that, while vastly more intelligent and even tempered than your normal group of undead insects, his had no particular ability to rob banks or to kill anything larger than a very small, very sick squirrel, and even he was unsure of this, as it was difficult to tell if the squirrel had died before or after they got there. In any case, Doktor Applegänger had a conundrum on his hands.
One day, while pondering his woes, Von Ulrich was pacing up and down the street, his tiny insect minions shambling sluggishly behind him, when he noticed a music store. Having found Bach to be soothing on his mental processes, and especially sonatas and partitas, he decided to venture in, just in case he could catch a listen to one or more of those melodious notes.
But what he found inside shocked him beyond belief. Rows and rows of brilliantly colored guitars and basses. Guys in black with multiple piercings shredding, or at least pretending to shred, on the stacks of amps on the right. To the back there was even a skinny girl with blue hair beating out a machine gun tempo on the double bass pedal. But what he found even more amazing was that the insects, upon entering the store, immediately perked up their antennae and joined in. The Hercules beetle picked up a six string bass in his twiglike arms and began to pluck out a riff on the lowest of strings. The Amazonian army ants hopped along the keyboard, banging out a solo worthy of Keith Emerson. And the stag beetle, that first one whose leg had twitched all those weeks ago in Von Strange’s motor home, sidled up to a Gibson les paul, with custom finish and absolutely destroyed all of the other guys in the store with his mad lixx. Not missing an opportunity to jam along with such talented musicians, the girl with the blue hair began to play along with the three, and soon they were playing a redition of Rick Wakemann’s Journey To the center of the Earth.
Doktor Von strange stood, dumbfounded. Soon, he realized that someone else was standing next to him, a man that also did not belong in this hall of music and metal. A man with a dark, grey suit, Armani maybe, and sunglasses that looked like they cost about a years worth of rent at the motorhome. The man had taken off these glasses, and was now rubbing them with a dark cloth, embroidered with the letters GH. He was nodding subtly to the beat.
“They’re pretty good,” said the man, his head nodding subtly to the pure mercury that was flowing out of the amps onstage, “but without a vocalist, they aren’t commercially viable.”
The Doktor considered this for a moment. He looked down. He looked up again. He cleared his throat.
“I could give it a try. I happen to be somewhat of a vocalist,” Doktor Von Strange said, modestly.
“Oh? Classically trained?”
“Of course,” he lied. “But I have always had a raw edge to my voice that lends itself extraordinarily well to this exact kind of music…”
The man in the suit nodded, satisfied with the strange old man’s guarantee, and signed them to his record label on the spot. Ever since that day, Doktor Ulrich and the undead insect army have been touring a nonstop circuit around the nation. They’ve even put out a single that has done quite well on the metal charts, “It’s alive, it’s alive, my god, it’s alive!” It is also packaged with the tiny carapace of a seemingly dead bombardier beetle. But the issuers promise that, once taken home, the buyer is sure to be in for a truly necrotic surprise…
Prompt: What is your favorite multi-player card game? Describe a game as though it was an extreme sport.
Dana Lee wrote:
The cards are on the table. The players are teamed up. The first card is dealt. WHOA! It is a Jack. I did NOT see that one coming. All the players look tense. This HAS to be one of the hardest decisions they have made all day. With the score being 9-9, this could be a deal breaker. The first player passes. The second player commands a pass as well as the third. The deal picks up the card and declares he is going solo. This got really exciting.
First cards are dealt. The dealer wins with the trump, Jack of hearts. Second round. Cards are dealt. Yet again the dealer wins with the Jack of diamonds. Third round. And the fearless dealer wins again! This is unbelievable! Fourth round. Dealer places the King of hearts. Defeats his opponents yet again. Am I dreaming? Last round. Is the Dealer going to swipe his opponents clean? Queen of hearts!
And the victory goes to the Dealer and his partner! That was the most incredible game I have ever seen. Talk about a truly phenomenal ending. This game will go down in history.
Melody Joy wrote:
I have a lot of favorite card games, but Monopoly Deal is probably my current favorite. It’s great. For best results, please read the rest of this in a sports announcer’s voice.
Welcome back, folks. For those of you just joining us, you’ll see that Dana Lee is off to a great start with two full monopolies and several other properties on the table. Her opponent Dennis is doing much better in the financial category with a whole stack of money cards there, and just one monopoly keeping his dream alive.
It’s Dennis’s turn, and he’s drawing his two cards to begin. He’s thinking, and he’s playing a “Debt Collector” card. Oh, man! That’s a huge blow to Dana Lee as she has to hand over the last of her cash. He’s looking a little too excited, if you know what I mean, and now he’s playing two action cards at once, which could only mean one thing. Yes, it’s a double the rent on his green monopoly!
Dana Lee’s in trouble, folks, and she’s thinking hard. You know, last turn Dennis played that house card on his monopoly and she didn’t look too worried then, but now that she owes him 20, she’s not looking too happy. Although, I will say that she is not looking as worried as I would think someone in her situation should be. Without any money on the table, she’s going to have to hand over almost all of her properties at this point, and this might end the game right here.
What’s this? She’s thrown out a “Just Say No” card! Dennis is mad, but what’s this?!? He’s just thrown out his own “Just Say No” card to combat hers! This match is getting intense folks, but Dana Lee is totally fine here because the officials have just ruled his card not valid since he has already played three cards in this turn. They have also issued a penalty and forced him to leave his “Just Say No” there in the discard pile which means he cannot use it now.
Wow. Folks, it’s things like this that remind us how quickly these games really can turn around. In fact, if Dana Lee had not had that “Just Say No” card, the only way she could have survived was to hand over everything but one of her railroads, which would have ensured Dennis the victory. Instead, she kept her properties, and is still in a good position to win the game.
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Saturday, July 11, 2015
Friday, July 10, 2015
Friday Favorites - Extreme Card Games
Today's prompt: What is your favorite multi-player card game? Describe a game as though it was an extreme sport.
Dan Christmann wrote:
This should be pretty easy for me, because Egyptian Ratscrew already is an extreme sport. The dudes and/ or dudettes divide up a deck of standard playing cards equally and then, one at a time, place the top card of their deck face up in the center. Their bodies are tense, their hands trembling in anticipation. Once a face card is played, the player after the dude/ dudette who played that card is totally in trouble, man. They have to play a certain number of cards down in the center equal to the corresponding face card. If it’s a king, say, you place three, a queen is two, a jack, which, brah, is like the worst thing to get ratscrewed on, is one. An ace is a measly four flips. If you get a face card in that time, then the flipping and the flopping transfers to the next dude and/or dudette. Once one doesn’t bring up a face card, the person before them gets all of the cards that everyone has previously put down. It’s like total card annihilation. But the best part is that if two people play the same card in a row, someone, and I mean anyone, can slap those cards, usually bodychecking all of the other dudes/ dudettes in the process, to get them an all of the others underneath it. Totally bogus, man! But totally awesome if it happens to you.
Basically, you win when you have the whole deck in your hand. A truly impressive feat, my friends.
Chuck C. wrote:
The cut throat world of Cards Against Humanity is a little known subculture that has been known to kill. Entering it puts you in the line of the arrows of sarcasm, extreme callousness, and brutal inappropriateness. Navigate it with caution, as it has been known to bring even the most kind and caring person to deep levels of depravity. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Pope Jon wrote:
Magic: The Gathering.
"Tonight we have a unique match for everybody!" Harry Harrison announced excitedly, "It's a family feud! For the championship! That's right, we have the two final Planeswalkers in the tournament remaining: Pope Jon, and Glomdi!"
The Planeswalkers approach the battlefield, with their decks strapped to their legs. The battlefield lights up, with a massive, globally sized colosseum as the setting for the final battle.
"Pope Jon is using is old-time favorite deck, a deck of burning, life gain, and aggression, The Corruption of the Burning Legion!" Images of the Pope's previous battles start to play, filled with fire and blood at the hands of angels, knights, and some darker creatures.
"Glomdi is also using her most classic deck, filled with Vampires, kill-spells, and the unexpected, Sorin Markov, Master of Vampires!" Glomdi's past battles of are displayed now. Savage kills, crafty turnabouts, and overwhelming power are all present in her highlights.
"Looks like Glomdi won the opening RPS game, and she has declined the first turn of the first game to the Pope!" Harry shouted.
After Pope Jon was forced to mulligan, both players were off to a slow start. By turn 4, both players only had land in play, but when Glomdi finally produced a creature, the Pope immediately wiped it out with a Lightning bolt, not wanting to wait around for the Bloodline Keeper's effects to come into play.
"OH! Looks like the Pope doesn't like how this match has gone so far! With all his land now untapped, the fifth turn begins! And Pope Jon got just what he needed to make a move! With black mana now at his disposal, he can put Ankle Shanker out onto the field and use haste to draw first blood!" Right on cue, the Pope attacks, not letting haste go to waste.
Now at 18 life, Glomdi begins her next turn.
The battle rages for quite some time, until the Pope manages to pull off a simple combination of a Crackling Doom with a Balefire Liege, dealing five damage and crippling Glomdi's forces. Within a few turns, Glomdi is burned for good and the Pope is the victor. But it was only the first game of a three part match, and Glomdi's eyes are burning with rage, a promise for vengeance.
Dan Christmann wrote:
This should be pretty easy for me, because Egyptian Ratscrew already is an extreme sport. The dudes and/ or dudettes divide up a deck of standard playing cards equally and then, one at a time, place the top card of their deck face up in the center. Their bodies are tense, their hands trembling in anticipation. Once a face card is played, the player after the dude/ dudette who played that card is totally in trouble, man. They have to play a certain number of cards down in the center equal to the corresponding face card. If it’s a king, say, you place three, a queen is two, a jack, which, brah, is like the worst thing to get ratscrewed on, is one. An ace is a measly four flips. If you get a face card in that time, then the flipping and the flopping transfers to the next dude and/or dudette. Once one doesn’t bring up a face card, the person before them gets all of the cards that everyone has previously put down. It’s like total card annihilation. But the best part is that if two people play the same card in a row, someone, and I mean anyone, can slap those cards, usually bodychecking all of the other dudes/ dudettes in the process, to get them an all of the others underneath it. Totally bogus, man! But totally awesome if it happens to you.
Basically, you win when you have the whole deck in your hand. A truly impressive feat, my friends.
Chuck C. wrote:
The cut throat world of Cards Against Humanity is a little known subculture that has been known to kill. Entering it puts you in the line of the arrows of sarcasm, extreme callousness, and brutal inappropriateness. Navigate it with caution, as it has been known to bring even the most kind and caring person to deep levels of depravity. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Pope Jon wrote:
Magic: The Gathering.
"Tonight we have a unique match for everybody!" Harry Harrison announced excitedly, "It's a family feud! For the championship! That's right, we have the two final Planeswalkers in the tournament remaining: Pope Jon, and Glomdi!"
The Planeswalkers approach the battlefield, with their decks strapped to their legs. The battlefield lights up, with a massive, globally sized colosseum as the setting for the final battle.
"Pope Jon is using is old-time favorite deck, a deck of burning, life gain, and aggression, The Corruption of the Burning Legion!" Images of the Pope's previous battles start to play, filled with fire and blood at the hands of angels, knights, and some darker creatures.
"Glomdi is also using her most classic deck, filled with Vampires, kill-spells, and the unexpected, Sorin Markov, Master of Vampires!" Glomdi's past battles of are displayed now. Savage kills, crafty turnabouts, and overwhelming power are all present in her highlights.
"Looks like Glomdi won the opening RPS game, and she has declined the first turn of the first game to the Pope!" Harry shouted.
After Pope Jon was forced to mulligan, both players were off to a slow start. By turn 4, both players only had land in play, but when Glomdi finally produced a creature, the Pope immediately wiped it out with a Lightning bolt, not wanting to wait around for the Bloodline Keeper's effects to come into play.
"OH! Looks like the Pope doesn't like how this match has gone so far! With all his land now untapped, the fifth turn begins! And Pope Jon got just what he needed to make a move! With black mana now at his disposal, he can put Ankle Shanker out onto the field and use haste to draw first blood!" Right on cue, the Pope attacks, not letting haste go to waste.
Now at 18 life, Glomdi begins her next turn.
The battle rages for quite some time, until the Pope manages to pull off a simple combination of a Crackling Doom with a Balefire Liege, dealing five damage and crippling Glomdi's forces. Within a few turns, Glomdi is burned for good and the Pope is the victor. But it was only the first game of a three part match, and Glomdi's eyes are burning with rage, a promise for vengeance.
Thursday, July 9, 2015
Wacky Wednesday - Invasion!
Today's prompt: Write a short story about the invasion of undead insects.
Melody Joy wrote:
Everybody always talked about the zombie apocalypse like it was a joke, and maybe it was to most people, and maybe most people didn’t expect it to come like it did, but it came, and now we have to deal with it.
It started in a science lab, like these things usually do. Some scientists got the idea to test the theory of cockroaches being able to survive a nuclear bomb, so they started exposing them to radiation. Thing is, it killed most of them.
They got disposed of properly, in biohazard bags tossed into the dumpster behind the lab. It wasn’t long before they started appearing back in the lab, and the nearby hospital. They were fearless of the light, but faster and more aware of falling feet than ever, making them nearly impossible to kill. They also didn’t stay down on the ground for long, no matter how stomped they got.
No amount of Raid could kill them, either, and their numbers grew daily as they infected more and more of their kind and other insects with the radiation poisoning they had received. Soon, nearly every insect people encountered was one of the undead.
Some of the scientists got smart and tried to say it wasn’t them, but the bugs that started the whole thing were labeled, and somebody leaked pictures from the experiments before long, so everything got traced back to them.
We tried to contain them. We really did. But when your enemies are so small and fast and can hide in nearly any space, it’s impossible to keep them contained. So now they’re spreading throughout the country and beyond. You can’t stop them, so do your best to slow them down and survive.
Oh, and don’t let them touch you.
Dana Lee wrote:
There I was. Laying in my bed. Minding my own business. Next thing I knew there was a cockroach sitting next to me. We was inching his was toward my hand. I knew from previous experience that it was best to remain calm. If I overreacted I would not successfully kill him. I grabbed my Bible as it was the closest hard item to me. As I killed him, I turned and I saw more. There were about 100 cockroaches pouring out of the closet space where I store all my clothes.
"Keep calm," I reminded myself. I knew I would be able to defeat all these bugs. I had to. There was no way I would be able to sleep if I didn't.
I do not know what came over me. It was like pure adrenaline. Next thing I knew I was going pure ninja on the cockroaches. There would not be a single one left to live if I had anything to do with it. It was almost as if I turned into a she-hulk.
The next thing I remember was my roomie waking me up. She said I was yelling and hitting her in my sleep. It seems as though I was having a terrible nightmare. There was not a cockroach to be seen in the whole room.
Pope Jon wrote:
Jimmy Buffet was no fool.
Jimmy knew that every stomp, swat, and spray of insecticide only served to slow them down.
But what else could he do? The Swarm would never relent, and until someone, somewhere, found a way to put them down permanently, Jimmy could only stall for time.
He'd been sealed inside the walk-in refrigerator for several hours now. He was just hoping that the Swarm had lost his scent, and therefore lost interest. The darkest, most selfish parts of his mind prayed that some hapless survivor had shown up and distracted the swarm so that he could escape.
He sighed, knowing that he couldn't live for long inside here in nothing but a T-shirt and khakis. It was time to venture forth, to live or to die. Either way, his death was guaranteed, he knew.
So with a grunt, he shoved the door open to see what awaited him on the otherside. Before he could even attempt to close the door again, the Swarm was upon him. Outside was a solid wall of insects, all pouring in to devour their prey. Jimmy didn't even have the strength to cry out as the first of them began to bite him. He feebly smashed a few with his hand, but he knew it was in vain.
But the worst was yet to come. As the insects poured through, Jimmy realized that the cold was slowing them. Normally a revelation like this would be welcome, but Jimmy was paralyzed and couldn't escape. He was forced to watch as the bugs devoured him slowly, painfully. The last thing he heard was the refrigerator kick into high gear to attempt to keep its contents cold, much to Jimmy's terror.
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Melody Joy wrote:
Everybody always talked about the zombie apocalypse like it was a joke, and maybe it was to most people, and maybe most people didn’t expect it to come like it did, but it came, and now we have to deal with it.
It started in a science lab, like these things usually do. Some scientists got the idea to test the theory of cockroaches being able to survive a nuclear bomb, so they started exposing them to radiation. Thing is, it killed most of them.
They got disposed of properly, in biohazard bags tossed into the dumpster behind the lab. It wasn’t long before they started appearing back in the lab, and the nearby hospital. They were fearless of the light, but faster and more aware of falling feet than ever, making them nearly impossible to kill. They also didn’t stay down on the ground for long, no matter how stomped they got.
No amount of Raid could kill them, either, and their numbers grew daily as they infected more and more of their kind and other insects with the radiation poisoning they had received. Soon, nearly every insect people encountered was one of the undead.
Some of the scientists got smart and tried to say it wasn’t them, but the bugs that started the whole thing were labeled, and somebody leaked pictures from the experiments before long, so everything got traced back to them.
We tried to contain them. We really did. But when your enemies are so small and fast and can hide in nearly any space, it’s impossible to keep them contained. So now they’re spreading throughout the country and beyond. You can’t stop them, so do your best to slow them down and survive.
Oh, and don’t let them touch you.
Dana Lee wrote:
There I was. Laying in my bed. Minding my own business. Next thing I knew there was a cockroach sitting next to me. We was inching his was toward my hand. I knew from previous experience that it was best to remain calm. If I overreacted I would not successfully kill him. I grabbed my Bible as it was the closest hard item to me. As I killed him, I turned and I saw more. There were about 100 cockroaches pouring out of the closet space where I store all my clothes.
"Keep calm," I reminded myself. I knew I would be able to defeat all these bugs. I had to. There was no way I would be able to sleep if I didn't.
I do not know what came over me. It was like pure adrenaline. Next thing I knew I was going pure ninja on the cockroaches. There would not be a single one left to live if I had anything to do with it. It was almost as if I turned into a she-hulk.
The next thing I remember was my roomie waking me up. She said I was yelling and hitting her in my sleep. It seems as though I was having a terrible nightmare. There was not a cockroach to be seen in the whole room.
Pope Jon wrote:
Jimmy Buffet was no fool.
Jimmy knew that every stomp, swat, and spray of insecticide only served to slow them down.
But what else could he do? The Swarm would never relent, and until someone, somewhere, found a way to put them down permanently, Jimmy could only stall for time.
He'd been sealed inside the walk-in refrigerator for several hours now. He was just hoping that the Swarm had lost his scent, and therefore lost interest. The darkest, most selfish parts of his mind prayed that some hapless survivor had shown up and distracted the swarm so that he could escape.
He sighed, knowing that he couldn't live for long inside here in nothing but a T-shirt and khakis. It was time to venture forth, to live or to die. Either way, his death was guaranteed, he knew.
So with a grunt, he shoved the door open to see what awaited him on the otherside. Before he could even attempt to close the door again, the Swarm was upon him. Outside was a solid wall of insects, all pouring in to devour their prey. Jimmy didn't even have the strength to cry out as the first of them began to bite him. He feebly smashed a few with his hand, but he knew it was in vain.
But the worst was yet to come. As the insects poured through, Jimmy realized that the cold was slowing them. Normally a revelation like this would be welcome, but Jimmy was paralyzed and couldn't escape. He was forced to watch as the bugs devoured him slowly, painfully. The last thing he heard was the refrigerator kick into high gear to attempt to keep its contents cold, much to Jimmy's terror.
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Monday, July 6, 2015
All About Me Monday - Your Life in 3 (or more) Words
Today's Prompt: Describe your life in 3 words.
Pope Jon wrote:
Life is pain.
I'm kinda assuming I'm supposed to also say why, and since I don't want a flood of messages asking me if I'm okay, I'll explain a little more.
Sure, sometimes the pain in life holds you back and hurts you. Most of the time, it's unpleasant and makes you dread being alive. It's rarely a good thing, and it's rarely something you want to experience again.
But I've that sometimes pain is so important, and can be a good thing.
Physical pain means you're still alive. It means your body hasn't given up yet, and you shouldn't either. Your body goes through pain so that you kind find a way to survive. So that you can learn from a mistake you made, or so that you can deal with that pain better in the future.
Emotional pain means you still care. When you heart is broken, or your mind scarred, you have the choice to let it destroy you. The pain is there for the same reasons it's there physically: to encourage you to survive and show you the error of your ways. Sadly, many people don't understand when to try something different or to move on, and so the pain keeps coming back.
There are times when I actually pursue pain. The only time I see pain as truly good is when the pain is brought on for someone else. Every once in a while, pain is a consequence of the greatest sign of love: sacrifice.
So when I say that life is pain, it's not because I'm suffering and need help, it's because I've identified the reality that is set before me, and I'm not afraid of it.
Chuck C. wrote:
Organized, beautiful Chaos.
Dan Christmann wrote:
Well, I would probably say something about the unbearable paradoxes of life, its joys and its sorrows sometimes wrapped together in the same moment, its fleetingness, its length, the incredible intoxication and lightness that comes with the climax of a single idea and the dullness, the sedation incarnate in the limbs when you realized the relative impossibility of actualizing it. It would be a chronicle of angst, a lifelong struggle of the mind and body to break free of their inner constraints and go sailing across the void of greatness and also possibly of space as I, the first professional playwright to travel to mars, chronicles the journey of the species as it reaches ever and ever forward into the unknown. It would be a story of love, and of appetites, of food and joy on the dusty sands of the red frontier. It would be a story of tragedy, losing your only children to oxygen sickness, of endless wastes and solitude. Gasping upward through the thin atmosphere, my story would touch planets as it died, frozen, gas giants all, as its soul traveled ever outward past the reaches of our knowledge, finally fading as it finds a cold embrace in the arms of the universe.
But three words aren’t very many, so instead, I’ll settle with “Baby got back” and leave it at that.
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Pope Jon wrote:
Life is pain.
I'm kinda assuming I'm supposed to also say why, and since I don't want a flood of messages asking me if I'm okay, I'll explain a little more.
Sure, sometimes the pain in life holds you back and hurts you. Most of the time, it's unpleasant and makes you dread being alive. It's rarely a good thing, and it's rarely something you want to experience again.
But I've that sometimes pain is so important, and can be a good thing.
Physical pain means you're still alive. It means your body hasn't given up yet, and you shouldn't either. Your body goes through pain so that you kind find a way to survive. So that you can learn from a mistake you made, or so that you can deal with that pain better in the future.
Emotional pain means you still care. When you heart is broken, or your mind scarred, you have the choice to let it destroy you. The pain is there for the same reasons it's there physically: to encourage you to survive and show you the error of your ways. Sadly, many people don't understand when to try something different or to move on, and so the pain keeps coming back.
There are times when I actually pursue pain. The only time I see pain as truly good is when the pain is brought on for someone else. Every once in a while, pain is a consequence of the greatest sign of love: sacrifice.
So when I say that life is pain, it's not because I'm suffering and need help, it's because I've identified the reality that is set before me, and I'm not afraid of it.
Chuck C. wrote:
Organized, beautiful Chaos.
Dan Christmann wrote:
Well, I would probably say something about the unbearable paradoxes of life, its joys and its sorrows sometimes wrapped together in the same moment, its fleetingness, its length, the incredible intoxication and lightness that comes with the climax of a single idea and the dullness, the sedation incarnate in the limbs when you realized the relative impossibility of actualizing it. It would be a chronicle of angst, a lifelong struggle of the mind and body to break free of their inner constraints and go sailing across the void of greatness and also possibly of space as I, the first professional playwright to travel to mars, chronicles the journey of the species as it reaches ever and ever forward into the unknown. It would be a story of love, and of appetites, of food and joy on the dusty sands of the red frontier. It would be a story of tragedy, losing your only children to oxygen sickness, of endless wastes and solitude. Gasping upward through the thin atmosphere, my story would touch planets as it died, frozen, gas giants all, as its soul traveled ever outward past the reaches of our knowledge, finally fading as it finds a cold embrace in the arms of the universe.
But three words aren’t very many, so instead, I’ll settle with “Baby got back” and leave it at that.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Friday, July 3, 2015
Friday Favorites - Land of the Free
Today's prompt: What is your favorite part about America? Write a motivational speech promoting it.
Melody Joy wrote:
I guess I sort of covered this on Monday.... My favorite part about America is that it’s easy to leave.
Don’t like the way America is headed? Get out! Don’t like the new health care laws? Get out! Don’t like what the president is up to now? Get out! Don’t like the racism and hatred? Get out! With your American passport, you can easily make it into a total of 174 different countries without needing to get a visa in advance! That means if you don’t like America and want to escape, you can! And, it’s easy! Just book a flight, pack your bag, and you’re on your way! Go, Americans! Be free!
Pope Jon wrote:
Art.
I'm not fool enough to say that America has the best art in the world. That's for each individual mind to decide on its own. It wouldn't be art otherwise.
But none can deny the abundance of art that flows from America via cinema, media, and music. Sure, the quality of much of this overflow is widely considered to be low. But American art is unique in the way that it adapts to other cultures. Many say that America has lost its way and isn't the country it once was, and I'm not in a position to argue.
But one thing America still has going strong is diversity. Rap mixes with rock, comedy mixes with romance, and hate mixes with beauty. Sure, all that diversity sometimes gets ugly, but art isn't always attractive. Sometimes art just needs to prove a point.
Many of the greatest musicians, writers, and actors have come from the land of the free, the home of the brave, and the thing about Americans is that we rarely know when to quit, good or bad.
So pick your genres. Be it romance, RTS, and heavy metal, or comedy, RPG, and techno. Whatever your tastes, America has something in store for you.
'Murica.
Dana Lee wrote:
We should fight for our right to express ourselves! We should fight for our right to write whatever we want in the press. This is something that you know we all take for granted. We need to fight to defend our rights. Let's tell the nation and everyone how we feel about them! Let's spread the the awesomeness of the freedom of speech. Let's tell everyone how awesome it is that we have freedom of the press. Let's assemble together! Let's practice our own religions. Let's worship how we want to worship.
Melody Joy wrote:
I guess I sort of covered this on Monday.... My favorite part about America is that it’s easy to leave.
Don’t like the way America is headed? Get out! Don’t like the new health care laws? Get out! Don’t like what the president is up to now? Get out! Don’t like the racism and hatred? Get out! With your American passport, you can easily make it into a total of 174 different countries without needing to get a visa in advance! That means if you don’t like America and want to escape, you can! And, it’s easy! Just book a flight, pack your bag, and you’re on your way! Go, Americans! Be free!
Pope Jon wrote:
Art.
I'm not fool enough to say that America has the best art in the world. That's for each individual mind to decide on its own. It wouldn't be art otherwise.
But none can deny the abundance of art that flows from America via cinema, media, and music. Sure, the quality of much of this overflow is widely considered to be low. But American art is unique in the way that it adapts to other cultures. Many say that America has lost its way and isn't the country it once was, and I'm not in a position to argue.
But one thing America still has going strong is diversity. Rap mixes with rock, comedy mixes with romance, and hate mixes with beauty. Sure, all that diversity sometimes gets ugly, but art isn't always attractive. Sometimes art just needs to prove a point.
Many of the greatest musicians, writers, and actors have come from the land of the free, the home of the brave, and the thing about Americans is that we rarely know when to quit, good or bad.
So pick your genres. Be it romance, RTS, and heavy metal, or comedy, RPG, and techno. Whatever your tastes, America has something in store for you.
'Murica.
Dana Lee wrote:
We should fight for our right to express ourselves! We should fight for our right to write whatever we want in the press. This is something that you know we all take for granted. We need to fight to defend our rights. Let's tell the nation and everyone how we feel about them! Let's spread the the awesomeness of the freedom of speech. Let's tell everyone how awesome it is that we have freedom of the press. Let's assemble together! Let's practice our own religions. Let's worship how we want to worship.
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
Wacky Wednesday - Bird Confessions
Today's Prompt: Write a the final confessions of an American Bald Eagle.
Dana Lee wrote:
I never wanted to be the National Bird. There was so much pressure on me. I had to look the best every second of the day. I had to make sure to sit a certain way to show my regality. I had to make sure I was not seen as vicious for the sake of the children. People look up to me. They hold me on a pedestal.
But now, as I take my last breath, I know that I will be going to a good place. I know that I have served my country well.
Melody Joy wrote:
I know my time is drawing near, and so here I write my last confession: I never understood why they called me “bald,” nor do I understand why my kind has been chosen as the symbol of America. I mean, we’re pretty cool birds, I guess, but so are all the other eagles.
Pope Jon wrote:
I've been doing it my entire life. Or at least, as soon as I realized that I'm a national mascot. It was just so fitting, that I couldn't think of anything better to do with my unique circumstances.
The Lincoln Memorial, The White House, the Mall of America, the Golden Gate Bridge, even Disney Land. I've been to them all, and I've left my mark.
Each and every visit resulted in nearly identical reactions from the folks around. Some foreign tourists would be around, to be sure, but it was always mostly Americans. They felt that sense of pride in their country, and reverence for the history of the country they loved.
So while I perched, posed as tall, scenic, and American as I could manage to look, they would take pictures. But I would always wait. When they got closer, and attempted to get their friends or family in the picture with me, that's when I'd strike.
I couldn't ever get everyone with one shot, but I could always get a few at a time, just as the cameras flashed.
That's the American dream: pooping on strangers and getting away with it.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Dana Lee wrote:
I never wanted to be the National Bird. There was so much pressure on me. I had to look the best every second of the day. I had to make sure to sit a certain way to show my regality. I had to make sure I was not seen as vicious for the sake of the children. People look up to me. They hold me on a pedestal.
But now, as I take my last breath, I know that I will be going to a good place. I know that I have served my country well.
Melody Joy wrote:
I know my time is drawing near, and so here I write my last confession: I never understood why they called me “bald,” nor do I understand why my kind has been chosen as the symbol of America. I mean, we’re pretty cool birds, I guess, but so are all the other eagles.
Pope Jon wrote:
I've been doing it my entire life. Or at least, as soon as I realized that I'm a national mascot. It was just so fitting, that I couldn't think of anything better to do with my unique circumstances.
The Lincoln Memorial, The White House, the Mall of America, the Golden Gate Bridge, even Disney Land. I've been to them all, and I've left my mark.
Each and every visit resulted in nearly identical reactions from the folks around. Some foreign tourists would be around, to be sure, but it was always mostly Americans. They felt that sense of pride in their country, and reverence for the history of the country they loved.
So while I perched, posed as tall, scenic, and American as I could manage to look, they would take pictures. But I would always wait. When they got closer, and attempted to get their friends or family in the picture with me, that's when I'd strike.
I couldn't ever get everyone with one shot, but I could always get a few at a time, just as the cameras flashed.
That's the American dream: pooping on strangers and getting away with it.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Monday, June 29, 2015
All About Me Monday - Proud to Be an American?
Today's prompt: Why are you proud to be an American?
Pope Jon wrote:
Honestly, I've come to realize that it's a bit ridiculous to be proud of the country were born into. I mean, I didn't declare independence or abolish slavery. Sure, my "forefathers" did, but why should I take credit for what they accomplished?
Shouldn't pride be based on what I accomplish as an individual, or at the very least what my country accomplishes of which I am proud?
Without getting specific and therefore political, there are things America does that I like, and there are things America does that I don't like.
The bottom line is this: I'm not proud to be an American, but I'm also not ashamed of it in any way. It's a part of who I am, and I like that. But I think taking pride is something that I did nothing to attain is a little silly.
Dana Lee wrote:
Admit it. America is one of the easily mocked countries in the world. We have a dirty history and we repeatedly make terrible decisions. Well, our leaders continually make terrible decisions. But you know what, I am proud to be an American. I am not ashamed to admit it. I love that our country is incredibly diverse. I love that there is freedom to practice the religion of your choosing. There are a lot of freedoms that we, as Americans, take for granted. America is by no means a perfect country. But what country is?
Melody Joy wrote:
To be honest, I’m not really proud to be an American right now. I’m proud of some things that America has accomplished in the past, but I’m not proud of what America has become. The government is corrupt, and people do a lot of horrible things in the name of America and the whole country is going down the toilet because there aren’t enough people thinking for themselves and standing up for what is right.
However, I am glad to be an American citizen because there are a number of advantages that that gives me. For example, I’m able to freely travel to nearly any country I wish without having to get express permission from the government of that country to be there. That’s what allowed me to move to Honduras with only a month’s notice and a plane ticket. However, for a Honduran citizen to travel to America, there’s a two month waiting period to even get an appointment to see if you’re allowed to travel. The appointment costs you whether you get permission or not.
There are other advantages of being in America, too, such as the ease of ordering whatever you want online and having it delivered right to your doorstep. Plus, in the land of plenty, it’s easy to get cheap or free food and clothing when you’re down on your luck. Say what you want about public education, but any child that wants public education can go without having to pay for uniforms and books and other school supplies like most other countries.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Pope Jon wrote:
Honestly, I've come to realize that it's a bit ridiculous to be proud of the country were born into. I mean, I didn't declare independence or abolish slavery. Sure, my "forefathers" did, but why should I take credit for what they accomplished?
Shouldn't pride be based on what I accomplish as an individual, or at the very least what my country accomplishes of which I am proud?
Without getting specific and therefore political, there are things America does that I like, and there are things America does that I don't like.
The bottom line is this: I'm not proud to be an American, but I'm also not ashamed of it in any way. It's a part of who I am, and I like that. But I think taking pride is something that I did nothing to attain is a little silly.
Dana Lee wrote:
Admit it. America is one of the easily mocked countries in the world. We have a dirty history and we repeatedly make terrible decisions. Well, our leaders continually make terrible decisions. But you know what, I am proud to be an American. I am not ashamed to admit it. I love that our country is incredibly diverse. I love that there is freedom to practice the religion of your choosing. There are a lot of freedoms that we, as Americans, take for granted. America is by no means a perfect country. But what country is?
Melody Joy wrote:
To be honest, I’m not really proud to be an American right now. I’m proud of some things that America has accomplished in the past, but I’m not proud of what America has become. The government is corrupt, and people do a lot of horrible things in the name of America and the whole country is going down the toilet because there aren’t enough people thinking for themselves and standing up for what is right.
However, I am glad to be an American citizen because there are a number of advantages that that gives me. For example, I’m able to freely travel to nearly any country I wish without having to get express permission from the government of that country to be there. That’s what allowed me to move to Honduras with only a month’s notice and a plane ticket. However, for a Honduran citizen to travel to America, there’s a two month waiting period to even get an appointment to see if you’re allowed to travel. The appointment costs you whether you get permission or not.
There are other advantages of being in America, too, such as the ease of ordering whatever you want online and having it delivered right to your doorstep. Plus, in the land of plenty, it’s easy to get cheap or free food and clothing when you’re down on your luck. Say what you want about public education, but any child that wants public education can go without having to pay for uniforms and books and other school supplies like most other countries.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Saturday, June 27, 2015
Saturday Extras!
Prompt: What is the best advice you have ever received?
Pope Jon wrote:
This is advice that has become legendary among my family, and I am delighted to share it with the rest of the world now.
The source is none other than my dear mother.
"When you leave from somewhere, always check to see if someone is trying to flag you down."
Basically, my dad and I were leaving our church to get a stereo system from our house because the one at the church wasn't working. This was before cell phones were common, so as soon as we left, it was too late. Without us knowing, the church's stereo started working just as we got in the car, but we failed to notice my mother attempting to flag us down as we were leaving.
I am admittedly terrible at following this advice. On one occasion, my cousins reminded me to check for flagging as I left their house. Despite just hearing the advice a few moments past, I completely forgot. One of my cousins tested me by attempting to flag me down, but I ignorantly drove off without a glance.
This is one of the most unexpectedly accurate pictures I've ever been able to find for one of my posts.
Dan Christmann wrote:
Everyone always seems to want to give me advice, but I am terrible at taking it. Like many young men of my social strata, I’m individualistic to a fault. Back when I was younger, I would even deliberately ignore advice, or do precisely the opposite of that advice, just to show how much of an independent thinker I was. Which always worked out well. A good example of this is when I started my master’s degree and my friend, Jane, told me that I should read Whitman’s Song of Myself.
“Now that you’re entering into the world of American literature,” she said.
But I, as always afraid of what might profoundly change me, brushed her aside. I preferred my Europeans, anyway, my Poles and my Romanians to the great authors of the American canon. Moths passed in Glasgow, and as I began my studies, my anxiety disorder flared up again. It became difficult for me to write, poetry especially, because I was published once as a Junior and had overinflated expectations of myself. I made new friends, but even there was more solitary than I’d ever been anywhere else, because I threw myself into my studies. I read Ianesco, Walcott, devoured Jovanović, Różewicz, along with Kierkegaard, Adorno, Brecht and Whitehead. My hair grew long. My beard, full and scraggly. I wrote, but it was a pained sort of writing. The kind of writing that tries to make blood from ink, squeeze something out of pure possibility, when nothing was there.
When I finally did get around to reading Whitmann, It was raining outside. Of course. I trudged through the streets to my favorite tea house and set up shop in a small corner, where I always sat, and had made a comfortable burrow for myself in and between the pillows and rugs scattered haphazardly about the place. I opened the book, and began to read. I read, and read, and I read. It was a very strange thing. As if my friend were speaking to me, giving me advice through a long dead poets masterpiece.
There’s not a single portion of Song of Myself that I could say is the best advice I’ve ever received. And maybe the advice I realized in it is not even written. But it made me realize that, to actually live, I needed to take advice. To hold it and its giver tight to me. Because to deny them is to deny myself, and myself to them.
Prompt: Write about this picture.
Chuck C. wrote:
The falling woman. She doesn’t know where she is falling to, doesn’t know why, or really if she will ever stop. It’s not really about the terminus, it’s about the fall. The rest is just details.
Melody Joy wrote:
It had been too long since Emilee had exercised her powers. After all, use of powers - genetic and experimental - had been banned for several years, and she had strictly adhered to the law after her brother had been arrested and imprisoned when he used his ability to save a little girl from drowning at the beach. The police had shown up with the ambulance. The little girl was taken to the hospital for observation and Emilee’s brother had been shoved onto the ground, handcuffed and collared, and shoved into the back of a van.
So when Emilee found herself hurling through the air toward the water, she had only a few seconds to consider her options. Her now soon-to-be ex-boyfriend had thrown her off of the side of the mountain during a hike with some of his friends. She had made the mistake of mentioning her powers, and he had instantly hated her for it. They fought, but he had mysteriously dropped it and not brought it up again. This had been just days ago, and now Emilee realized he had been quiet because he despised her and was planning this. She drew closer to the water which was certain to kill her falling from this height, and had to decide if she was going to die or risk arrest. Death didn’t seem too bad, but right before she hit the water, she thought of her brother’s sacrifice for another human. Could she really sacrifice her life to avoid something as trivial as prison?
She curled up and forced the transformation she had spent so long avoiding. Her clothes splatted against the water as her body shot back upwards, a swirling pillar of dark red smoke.
Prompt: What is your favorite type of weather? List the advantages of having that type of weather every day, year-round.
Pope Jon wrote:
Overcast and temperatures ranging from 55 to 70. Celsius. Jk, Fahrenheit. Totes fahrenheit, because I'm an American.
No sunburn. (Or darkening for those with Radiant Resistance/Immunity.)
No guessing what you need to wear. (All you need is a light jacket.)
No snow. (Snow knows nothing anyway.)
No one commenting on how crazy the weather is. (Seriously, worst small talk ever.)
No news station telling you the weather, or people telling you what the news told them about the weather. (Please never tell me what the meteorologists have said about weather. I care more about Kim Kardashian's love life than that. I care more about learning the name of the person who invented dry wall.)
Plus overcast skies can be beautiful too. Let's stop unrealistic beauty standards for skies.
Author's note: It is rarely more apparent than this how much of a pessimist I am. All of my listed advantages start with "no."
Dana Lee wrote:
My perfect weather would be the typical Michigan weather that we all love to make fun of. I love the unpredictability of the weather in Michigan. Here are some advantages:
-It keeps you on your toes. As Forrest Gump says, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." We all know the same holds true.
-The plants are able to get all their nutrients. Whether they need rain, sun, or cooler temperatures. All will be available within a day at times.
-It keeps the conversation going. We always have something to talk about where the weather is concerned. Let's be honest, it's one of the best conversation starters.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Pope Jon wrote:
This is advice that has become legendary among my family, and I am delighted to share it with the rest of the world now.
The source is none other than my dear mother.
"When you leave from somewhere, always check to see if someone is trying to flag you down."
Basically, my dad and I were leaving our church to get a stereo system from our house because the one at the church wasn't working. This was before cell phones were common, so as soon as we left, it was too late. Without us knowing, the church's stereo started working just as we got in the car, but we failed to notice my mother attempting to flag us down as we were leaving.
I am admittedly terrible at following this advice. On one occasion, my cousins reminded me to check for flagging as I left their house. Despite just hearing the advice a few moments past, I completely forgot. One of my cousins tested me by attempting to flag me down, but I ignorantly drove off without a glance.
This is one of the most unexpectedly accurate pictures I've ever been able to find for one of my posts.
Dan Christmann wrote:
Everyone always seems to want to give me advice, but I am terrible at taking it. Like many young men of my social strata, I’m individualistic to a fault. Back when I was younger, I would even deliberately ignore advice, or do precisely the opposite of that advice, just to show how much of an independent thinker I was. Which always worked out well. A good example of this is when I started my master’s degree and my friend, Jane, told me that I should read Whitman’s Song of Myself.
“Now that you’re entering into the world of American literature,” she said.
But I, as always afraid of what might profoundly change me, brushed her aside. I preferred my Europeans, anyway, my Poles and my Romanians to the great authors of the American canon. Moths passed in Glasgow, and as I began my studies, my anxiety disorder flared up again. It became difficult for me to write, poetry especially, because I was published once as a Junior and had overinflated expectations of myself. I made new friends, but even there was more solitary than I’d ever been anywhere else, because I threw myself into my studies. I read Ianesco, Walcott, devoured Jovanović, Różewicz, along with Kierkegaard, Adorno, Brecht and Whitehead. My hair grew long. My beard, full and scraggly. I wrote, but it was a pained sort of writing. The kind of writing that tries to make blood from ink, squeeze something out of pure possibility, when nothing was there.
When I finally did get around to reading Whitmann, It was raining outside. Of course. I trudged through the streets to my favorite tea house and set up shop in a small corner, where I always sat, and had made a comfortable burrow for myself in and between the pillows and rugs scattered haphazardly about the place. I opened the book, and began to read. I read, and read, and I read. It was a very strange thing. As if my friend were speaking to me, giving me advice through a long dead poets masterpiece.
There’s not a single portion of Song of Myself that I could say is the best advice I’ve ever received. And maybe the advice I realized in it is not even written. But it made me realize that, to actually live, I needed to take advice. To hold it and its giver tight to me. Because to deny them is to deny myself, and myself to them.
Prompt: Write about this picture.
Chuck C. wrote:
The falling woman. She doesn’t know where she is falling to, doesn’t know why, or really if she will ever stop. It’s not really about the terminus, it’s about the fall. The rest is just details.
Melody Joy wrote:
It had been too long since Emilee had exercised her powers. After all, use of powers - genetic and experimental - had been banned for several years, and she had strictly adhered to the law after her brother had been arrested and imprisoned when he used his ability to save a little girl from drowning at the beach. The police had shown up with the ambulance. The little girl was taken to the hospital for observation and Emilee’s brother had been shoved onto the ground, handcuffed and collared, and shoved into the back of a van.
So when Emilee found herself hurling through the air toward the water, she had only a few seconds to consider her options. Her now soon-to-be ex-boyfriend had thrown her off of the side of the mountain during a hike with some of his friends. She had made the mistake of mentioning her powers, and he had instantly hated her for it. They fought, but he had mysteriously dropped it and not brought it up again. This had been just days ago, and now Emilee realized he had been quiet because he despised her and was planning this. She drew closer to the water which was certain to kill her falling from this height, and had to decide if she was going to die or risk arrest. Death didn’t seem too bad, but right before she hit the water, she thought of her brother’s sacrifice for another human. Could she really sacrifice her life to avoid something as trivial as prison?
She curled up and forced the transformation she had spent so long avoiding. Her clothes splatted against the water as her body shot back upwards, a swirling pillar of dark red smoke.
Prompt: What is your favorite type of weather? List the advantages of having that type of weather every day, year-round.
Pope Jon wrote:
Overcast and temperatures ranging from 55 to 70. Celsius. Jk, Fahrenheit. Totes fahrenheit, because I'm an American.
No sunburn. (Or darkening for those with Radiant Resistance/Immunity.)
No guessing what you need to wear. (All you need is a light jacket.)
No snow. (Snow knows nothing anyway.)
No one commenting on how crazy the weather is. (Seriously, worst small talk ever.)
No news station telling you the weather, or people telling you what the news told them about the weather. (Please never tell me what the meteorologists have said about weather. I care more about Kim Kardashian's love life than that. I care more about learning the name of the person who invented dry wall.)
Plus overcast skies can be beautiful too. Let's stop unrealistic beauty standards for skies.
Author's note: It is rarely more apparent than this how much of a pessimist I am. All of my listed advantages start with "no."
Dana Lee wrote:
My perfect weather would be the typical Michigan weather that we all love to make fun of. I love the unpredictability of the weather in Michigan. Here are some advantages:
-It keeps you on your toes. As Forrest Gump says, "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you're gonna get." We all know the same holds true.
-The plants are able to get all their nutrients. Whether they need rain, sun, or cooler temperatures. All will be available within a day at times.
-It keeps the conversation going. We always have something to talk about where the weather is concerned. Let's be honest, it's one of the best conversation starters.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Friday Favorites - The Weather Girls (and guys....)
Today's prompt: What is your favorite type of weather? List the advantages of having that type of weather every day, year-round.
Chuck C. wrote:
For me, the best weather has to be a good 65 degrees, breezy, and clear skies. As a perpetually awkward summer dresser, the year round ability to where slightly heavier clothing is, objectively, the best. Also, it is far easier to stay warm than it is to cool down. Layers can be added as needed. Layers can only be removed so far before the moms at the playground start calling the police about the naked bearded ginger.
Melody Joy wrote:
My favorite weather are those days when it’s sunny out, but it’s also raining a little, and nice and warm. There are a number of advantages to having this type of weather:
- The rain will make the flowers grow.
- Sun helps plants grow.
- Warmth is good for everybody. - Variety is the spice of life.
- It’s super trippy when it’s raining and sunny at the same time.
- You can still go out and do things because it’s not always rainy.
- It’s not too hot.
- It’s not too cold.
- All you need is a light jacket.
Dan Christmann wrote:
I’d say I like things sunny and cool, with highs of maybe 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Actually, the sun doesn’t matter so much, just as long as it stays about 45-60 year round. Why? Because this is prime jacket wearing weather. Yep, I’m choosing the type of weather I like by the kind of clothing that I would wear during it. But you have to understand, I am not a man with any form of fashion sense. I’m very good at hiding this, for two reasons. The first is because if you have a decent t-shirt and some nice, tight fitting jeans, and are in decent shape, no one is going to tell you, at least to your face, that you’re a bloody slob. The second reason is jackets. Jackets are the key to everything that you ever wanted to be. They make you look tall, dark, and mysterious, even if you are short, extraordinarily Caucasian, and tend to spout exposition out of your mouth at the slightest jostling. Jackets can also hold your things. A tiny notebook tucked in your voluminous pockets, pens, keys, wrappers, old receipts from who knows how long ago, bottle caps, an oddly shaped stone, your change; in short, your life. In a jacket, you cut a calm, imposing figure, a bit like a cape, or a robe, without the added baggage. It flows behind you endearingly as you navigate the winding streets and cobblestones near some famous cathedral. A jacket keeps the drizzle off your back. It is your solace. It is your best friend.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Chuck C. wrote:
For me, the best weather has to be a good 65 degrees, breezy, and clear skies. As a perpetually awkward summer dresser, the year round ability to where slightly heavier clothing is, objectively, the best. Also, it is far easier to stay warm than it is to cool down. Layers can be added as needed. Layers can only be removed so far before the moms at the playground start calling the police about the naked bearded ginger.
Melody Joy wrote:
My favorite weather are those days when it’s sunny out, but it’s also raining a little, and nice and warm. There are a number of advantages to having this type of weather:
- The rain will make the flowers grow.
- Sun helps plants grow.
- Warmth is good for everybody. - Variety is the spice of life.
- It’s super trippy when it’s raining and sunny at the same time.
- You can still go out and do things because it’s not always rainy.
- It’s not too hot.
- It’s not too cold.
- All you need is a light jacket.
Dan Christmann wrote:
I’d say I like things sunny and cool, with highs of maybe 60 degrees Fahrenheit. Actually, the sun doesn’t matter so much, just as long as it stays about 45-60 year round. Why? Because this is prime jacket wearing weather. Yep, I’m choosing the type of weather I like by the kind of clothing that I would wear during it. But you have to understand, I am not a man with any form of fashion sense. I’m very good at hiding this, for two reasons. The first is because if you have a decent t-shirt and some nice, tight fitting jeans, and are in decent shape, no one is going to tell you, at least to your face, that you’re a bloody slob. The second reason is jackets. Jackets are the key to everything that you ever wanted to be. They make you look tall, dark, and mysterious, even if you are short, extraordinarily Caucasian, and tend to spout exposition out of your mouth at the slightest jostling. Jackets can also hold your things. A tiny notebook tucked in your voluminous pockets, pens, keys, wrappers, old receipts from who knows how long ago, bottle caps, an oddly shaped stone, your change; in short, your life. In a jacket, you cut a calm, imposing figure, a bit like a cape, or a robe, without the added baggage. It flows behind you endearingly as you navigate the winding streets and cobblestones near some famous cathedral. A jacket keeps the drizzle off your back. It is your solace. It is your best friend.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Wednesday, June 24, 2015
Wacky Wednesday - Falling Girl ***PICTURE PROMPT***
Today's prompt: Write about this picture.
Dan Christmann wrote:
No one is really falling in this painting. The girl is not really flying at all, either. It looks like she’s reaching for the star, the big one to the left, but actually she’s lying on a very cleverly designed carpet. I don’t know how they got her hair that way, probably some very expensive gel. I am writing this at eleven forty and am trying to think of something wacky to say about this picture, but am pretty sure that I am shooting blanks at this point. I’m not really a fan of the color purple. Maybe, if I really wanted to be clever, I could do some research on the color purple and what the linkage between dreams, reality, stars, and the feminine self are in classical mythology. That would be a laugh riot. I’m sure there’s a woman somewhere in the Greek consciousness that fell in love with a star. Probably, the star was also Zeus. Zeus had this weird thing about inanimate objects that would take an entire team of highly trained psychoanalysts to piece out. The only problem is, the woman will probably also die in some horrific way, or be changed into some other inanimate object. That Zeus problem again. But maybe that is what is happening in that painting. A woman falling, becoming a star, because she overreached herself. Because she became too great to live in the mortal world. Never again to have its pleasures or its pains.
This was not a very funny piece, overall. The Greeks were not very funny people. At least, not in any way we can understand. Kind of like the painting.
Dana Lee wrote:
Floating through the sky
Capturing the stars
How have I
Come this far?
Girl in red
is what they call me
What they don't know
is how it bothers me
Catching my dreams
as the whirl on by
Watching my desires
pass me by
Wanting to badly
To Hold on
To never let go
To let my dreams
become my reality
This is my life
This is my world
Why should I
Change for them?
Pope Jon wrote:
As Courtney neared the water, she knew she only had two choices.
She could either accept her fated belly-flop, or she could try to look majestic again.
So in those fractions of seconds, having already failed to leap from the diving board properly, Courtney channeled the most majestic image she possible could. What image, you didn't ask out loud most likely but still wanted to know?
The form. The confidence. The determination. This artist is committed to his craft, and he is a absolute master.
LOOK AT HIM AGAIN!
So anyway, Courtney was imagining that guy. But not in a weird way.
In the instant right before her greatest failure, she decided to find a triumph instead. Camera flashes were going off rapidly, and Courtney locked eyes with one, and reached delicately for it. One of the other cameras caught the image above, and the rest was something. Or whatever.
Then she went and married this guy.
Because happy endings. And because majesty belongs with majesty.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Dan Christmann wrote:
No one is really falling in this painting. The girl is not really flying at all, either. It looks like she’s reaching for the star, the big one to the left, but actually she’s lying on a very cleverly designed carpet. I don’t know how they got her hair that way, probably some very expensive gel. I am writing this at eleven forty and am trying to think of something wacky to say about this picture, but am pretty sure that I am shooting blanks at this point. I’m not really a fan of the color purple. Maybe, if I really wanted to be clever, I could do some research on the color purple and what the linkage between dreams, reality, stars, and the feminine self are in classical mythology. That would be a laugh riot. I’m sure there’s a woman somewhere in the Greek consciousness that fell in love with a star. Probably, the star was also Zeus. Zeus had this weird thing about inanimate objects that would take an entire team of highly trained psychoanalysts to piece out. The only problem is, the woman will probably also die in some horrific way, or be changed into some other inanimate object. That Zeus problem again. But maybe that is what is happening in that painting. A woman falling, becoming a star, because she overreached herself. Because she became too great to live in the mortal world. Never again to have its pleasures or its pains.
This was not a very funny piece, overall. The Greeks were not very funny people. At least, not in any way we can understand. Kind of like the painting.
Dana Lee wrote:
Floating through the sky
Capturing the stars
How have I
Come this far?
Girl in red
is what they call me
What they don't know
is how it bothers me
Catching my dreams
as the whirl on by
Watching my desires
pass me by
Wanting to badly
To Hold on
To never let go
To let my dreams
become my reality
This is my life
This is my world
Why should I
Change for them?
Pope Jon wrote:
As Courtney neared the water, she knew she only had two choices.
She could either accept her fated belly-flop, or she could try to look majestic again.
So in those fractions of seconds, having already failed to leap from the diving board properly, Courtney channeled the most majestic image she possible could. What image, you didn't ask out loud most likely but still wanted to know?
The form. The confidence. The determination. This artist is committed to his craft, and he is a absolute master.
LOOK AT HIM AGAIN!
So anyway, Courtney was imagining that guy. But not in a weird way.
In the instant right before her greatest failure, she decided to find a triumph instead. Camera flashes were going off rapidly, and Courtney locked eyes with one, and reached delicately for it. One of the other cameras caught the image above, and the rest was something. Or whatever.
Then she went and married this guy.
Because happy endings. And because majesty belongs with majesty.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Monday, June 22, 2015
All About Me Monday - Good Advice
Today's Prompt: What is the best advice you have ever received?
Chuck C. wrote:
The best advice I ever receive was from my father. Whenever I would go through a difficult time, whenever storms would come across my life, he would say four simple words. “This, too, shall pass.” This mantra is something I not only repeat to myself when facing trials, but something I say to friends and family facing difficulty. Sometimes circumstances are out of our control, and all we can do is weather the storm and remember: This, too, shall pass.
Dana Lee wrote:
My mother is a very wise woman. I once dated this guy who I thought I loved. I gave him the part of me that I could never give to anyone else. When we broke up I was devastated. I thought that that God would never forgive me for making, what I considered, the ultimate bad choice. How could he forgive me if I could not forgive myself. We had a long discussion about this and she told me that it would be okay. God gave me the gift of grace and he forgives our sins. He knows that we are not perfect and that is okay.
Melody Joy wrote:
I’m resisting the urge to write about Shia Lebouff’s “Just do it” TED talk. I haven’t seen the actual talk, but I have seen the many parodies that have popped up since then... Part of the problem I’m having is that I’ve received a lot of great advice over the years, and now I can’t think of a single one that I would consider the best.
The advice that most changed my life was more of a prophesy, but it works: Do it afraid.
The thing I struggle most with is fear, and it was an overwhelming fear that kept me from returning to Honduras after spending a year there teaching and a summer back in Michigan. Giving in to the fear, I elected to stay in Michigan rather than go back to where God had called me. After hiding from my calling for a year and a half, I received that word from the pastor’s wife of the church I was attending.
She didn’t know what it meant when she told it to me, but I did. It meant I had to do the thing that I was most afraid of doing, which at the time was returning to Honduras. When I look back now, I have a hard time identifying exactly what it was I was even afraid of. Now Honduras is my home and I fear returning to Michigan for any period of time longer than 2 weeks.... Ironically I’m flying to Michigan today, and facing fears of being there for an undetermined amount of time.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Chuck C. wrote:
The best advice I ever receive was from my father. Whenever I would go through a difficult time, whenever storms would come across my life, he would say four simple words. “This, too, shall pass.” This mantra is something I not only repeat to myself when facing trials, but something I say to friends and family facing difficulty. Sometimes circumstances are out of our control, and all we can do is weather the storm and remember: This, too, shall pass.
Dana Lee wrote:
My mother is a very wise woman. I once dated this guy who I thought I loved. I gave him the part of me that I could never give to anyone else. When we broke up I was devastated. I thought that that God would never forgive me for making, what I considered, the ultimate bad choice. How could he forgive me if I could not forgive myself. We had a long discussion about this and she told me that it would be okay. God gave me the gift of grace and he forgives our sins. He knows that we are not perfect and that is okay.
Melody Joy wrote:
I’m resisting the urge to write about Shia Lebouff’s “Just do it” TED talk. I haven’t seen the actual talk, but I have seen the many parodies that have popped up since then... Part of the problem I’m having is that I’ve received a lot of great advice over the years, and now I can’t think of a single one that I would consider the best.
The advice that most changed my life was more of a prophesy, but it works: Do it afraid.
The thing I struggle most with is fear, and it was an overwhelming fear that kept me from returning to Honduras after spending a year there teaching and a summer back in Michigan. Giving in to the fear, I elected to stay in Michigan rather than go back to where God had called me. After hiding from my calling for a year and a half, I received that word from the pastor’s wife of the church I was attending.
She didn’t know what it meant when she told it to me, but I did. It meant I had to do the thing that I was most afraid of doing, which at the time was returning to Honduras. When I look back now, I have a hard time identifying exactly what it was I was even afraid of. Now Honduras is my home and I fear returning to Michigan for any period of time longer than 2 weeks.... Ironically I’m flying to Michigan today, and facing fears of being there for an undetermined amount of time.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Saturday Extras!
Prompt: What is something you had to learn the hard way?
Dana Lee wrote:
I had to learn that I cannot always be in control of my life. God has the ultimate control because he knows what is best for my life. I have free will and am able to make my own decisions. However, these decisions need to be made according to what God wants for my life. My life plan does not always necessarily match with what God's plan for my life.
Prompt: Write a postcard from a mythical creature who travels by hot air balloon.
Pope Jon wrote:
First of all, I'm the realist.
Second, this Pokemon is not from the original 151, so it's not important that you recognize it in the least bit.
Drifloon.
What's sad, is that Drifloon is the not dumbest idea for a Pokemon. I can say with comfort that Klefki is the dumbest.
No, I didn't make either one up.
TO THE POSTCARD!
Drifloon,
Drifloon drifloon drifloon. Drif drif drifloon, loon drif loon loon drifloon. Drif loon, loon drif drifloon drifloon drifloon drif drif drif. Drifloon loon drif loon loon drifloon DRIFloon!
Drifloon drif,
Drifloon.
Prompt: What is your favorite natural sound? Describe it as if hearing it for the first time.
Chuck C. wrote:
Birds chirping? Beautiful. The frogs croaking in a pond? Haunting. My favorite natural sound? The thunderous, echoing, reverberating sound of human flatulence, especially when it is I that generate it. Nothing is more satisfying than shaking the windows with your butt wind. Nothing.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Dana Lee wrote:
I had to learn that I cannot always be in control of my life. God has the ultimate control because he knows what is best for my life. I have free will and am able to make my own decisions. However, these decisions need to be made according to what God wants for my life. My life plan does not always necessarily match with what God's plan for my life.
Prompt: Write a postcard from a mythical creature who travels by hot air balloon.
Pope Jon wrote:
First of all, I'm the realist.
Second, this Pokemon is not from the original 151, so it's not important that you recognize it in the least bit.
Drifloon.
What's sad, is that Drifloon is the not dumbest idea for a Pokemon. I can say with comfort that Klefki is the dumbest.
No, I didn't make either one up.
TO THE POSTCARD!
Drifloon,
Drifloon drifloon drifloon. Drif drif drifloon, loon drif loon loon drifloon. Drif loon, loon drif drifloon drifloon drifloon drif drif drif. Drifloon loon drif loon loon drifloon DRIFloon!
Drifloon drif,
Drifloon.
Prompt: What is your favorite natural sound? Describe it as if hearing it for the first time.
Chuck C. wrote:
Birds chirping? Beautiful. The frogs croaking in a pond? Haunting. My favorite natural sound? The thunderous, echoing, reverberating sound of human flatulence, especially when it is I that generate it. Nothing is more satisfying than shaking the windows with your butt wind. Nothing.
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Friday, June 19, 2015
Friday Favorites - Sound Off
Today's prompt: What is your favorite natural sound? Describe it as if hearing it for the first time.
Melody Joy wrote:
I love so many sounds from nature, which makes it difficult to just choose one, but I’m going to have to go with the sound of a cat purring. My favorite way to hear said sound is by laying my head on a happy cat.... Here goes the description....
She laid there in the sunlight, a satisfied smile curling up the side of her little kitty lips in a way I didn’t think was possible. Touching the warmth of her sun-bathed fur, I lowered myself and gently placed my head on her side. For a moment, it was joyful. Then, it became pure bliss as a deep rumbling sound started up from deep in her chest. At first, it sounded like a stick being bumped over a rugged surface, and then it evened out to a steady rolling of marbles together, changing slightly in pitch on the inhale and the exhale. It was the sound of contentment and love, and it brought unimaginable happiness to my heart as it continued while we shared a long moment on a lazy summer afternoon.
Pope Jon wrote:
I was sitting in my room at home, watching Spike T.V., and had just fallen asleep.
Suddenly, a something erupted beneath me!
I jumped up, shocked by the sudden pressure that had vanished. I scanned for a source, but I couldn't find one. It seemed like the couch had suddenly croaked, and sent air strait up my... non-face cheeks.
"What was that?!" I demanded to no one in particular, hoping desperately for an answer.
Then, the pressure returned! Since I was wide awake by this point, I could feel it welling up before it happened. This only made the sensation stranger, however, as concern and anticipation built together like Bob and Manny.
It wasn't pretty. The air pushed its way out, forcing me to allow passage. Then, a rather queer sound accompanied the gas leak, like a courier of mixed feelings.
I quickly realized that this feeling wasn't so bad, and despite the smell that also show up shortly later, it all ended rather quickly.
With a devious grin, I welcomed the next fart, and get to fully enjoy the jubilant announcement of the passing of my wind.
In case you weren't following along. I was talking about a fart.
Funky Aroma Readiness Trigger.
Dana Lee wrote:
I imagine laying in bed and hearing a thunderous roar outside my window.
I imagine being scared and delighted at the same time.
However could such a noise give me such delight?
I imagine driving in my car.
Hearing the roar and feeling it as it shakes my car.
I imagine being amazed.
I would wait outside to feel it.
I would wait outside to experience it first hand
The sound would embody my entire being.
Oh Thunder
How your sound I love to hear
You are so loud
You boom from the Heavens
Yet you are comforting
Melody Joy wrote:
I love so many sounds from nature, which makes it difficult to just choose one, but I’m going to have to go with the sound of a cat purring. My favorite way to hear said sound is by laying my head on a happy cat.... Here goes the description....
She laid there in the sunlight, a satisfied smile curling up the side of her little kitty lips in a way I didn’t think was possible. Touching the warmth of her sun-bathed fur, I lowered myself and gently placed my head on her side. For a moment, it was joyful. Then, it became pure bliss as a deep rumbling sound started up from deep in her chest. At first, it sounded like a stick being bumped over a rugged surface, and then it evened out to a steady rolling of marbles together, changing slightly in pitch on the inhale and the exhale. It was the sound of contentment and love, and it brought unimaginable happiness to my heart as it continued while we shared a long moment on a lazy summer afternoon.
Pope Jon wrote:
I was sitting in my room at home, watching Spike T.V., and had just fallen asleep.
Suddenly, a something erupted beneath me!
I jumped up, shocked by the sudden pressure that had vanished. I scanned for a source, but I couldn't find one. It seemed like the couch had suddenly croaked, and sent air strait up my... non-face cheeks.
"What was that?!" I demanded to no one in particular, hoping desperately for an answer.
Then, the pressure returned! Since I was wide awake by this point, I could feel it welling up before it happened. This only made the sensation stranger, however, as concern and anticipation built together like Bob and Manny.
It wasn't pretty. The air pushed its way out, forcing me to allow passage. Then, a rather queer sound accompanied the gas leak, like a courier of mixed feelings.
I quickly realized that this feeling wasn't so bad, and despite the smell that also show up shortly later, it all ended rather quickly.
With a devious grin, I welcomed the next fart, and get to fully enjoy the jubilant announcement of the passing of my wind.
In case you weren't following along. I was talking about a fart.
Funky Aroma Readiness Trigger.
Dana Lee wrote:
I imagine laying in bed and hearing a thunderous roar outside my window.
I imagine being scared and delighted at the same time.
However could such a noise give me such delight?
I imagine driving in my car.
Hearing the roar and feeling it as it shakes my car.
I imagine being amazed.
I would wait outside to feel it.
I would wait outside to experience it first hand
The sound would embody my entire being.
Oh Thunder
How your sound I love to hear
You are so loud
You boom from the Heavens
Yet you are comforting
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Wacky Wednesday - Mythical Postcards
Today's prompt: Write a postcard from a mythical creature who travels by hot air balloon.
Dana Lee wrote:
Dear mum and pop,
I am here traveling into Always Always Land. As you know I have been traveling by hot air balloon for the past week. I should be arriving shortly. I have high hopes that my class reunion will go swimmingly. Herman the Unicorn already promised to save me a dance. You know I have always had a crush on him. But I also know that Unicorns and Hippogriffs should never mate. You told me before that that is a dangerous combination. I never understood the true meaning of your warning until I met Thaddeus the Unigriff. He reeked of bad news.
Anyways, we are about to land so I will make sure to write you soon. Love,
Hermina
Chuck C. wrote:
Hey, this is Barish the Gnome again, coming at you from the spectacular Austrian country side. The hills are truly alive with the sound of awesome. I'm stuck here for a few days, as my balloon requires repairs from bird attacks. Hope I can get going soon; the beaches of Greece are calling me.
Melody Joy wrote:
Dearest Hubert:
I miss you! I’ve just passed the border and made it into the Netherlands! The balloon continues to fare well, as do I. I am so grateful for you and the rest of the fairies for supporting my travels. I look forward to returning to you with the many treasures I have picked up along my travels.
From: Jelina
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
Dana Lee wrote:
Dear mum and pop,
I am here traveling into Always Always Land. As you know I have been traveling by hot air balloon for the past week. I should be arriving shortly. I have high hopes that my class reunion will go swimmingly. Herman the Unicorn already promised to save me a dance. You know I have always had a crush on him. But I also know that Unicorns and Hippogriffs should never mate. You told me before that that is a dangerous combination. I never understood the true meaning of your warning until I met Thaddeus the Unigriff. He reeked of bad news.
Anyways, we are about to land so I will make sure to write you soon. Love,
Hermina
Chuck C. wrote:
Hey, this is Barish the Gnome again, coming at you from the spectacular Austrian country side. The hills are truly alive with the sound of awesome. I'm stuck here for a few days, as my balloon requires repairs from bird attacks. Hope I can get going soon; the beaches of Greece are calling me.
Melody Joy wrote:
Dearest Hubert:
I miss you! I’ve just passed the border and made it into the Netherlands! The balloon continues to fare well, as do I. I am so grateful for you and the rest of the fairies for supporting my travels. I look forward to returning to you with the many treasures I have picked up along my travels.
From: Jelina
For more information on our blog, please read our welcome page by clicking here.
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