Do Not Fear It, Embrace

Here is the second prompt between Crystal and I. This one is by her: Age. You can find her response to the same one here. :) Not my best work but then again it’s my fault because I kept watching the box with people inside that steals souls. ;)
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Age. The process of decaying over time as many see it. The road to death and the end of all things. This is the way many see it, why else would women allow needless to be stuck in their faces full of botox (sp?) and other such chemicals? Why else would Ponce deLeon have gone searching through hell and high water to find that rumored fountain of youth? Why else would we see the grim reaper as a dark skeletal figure?

I do not.

Age. The process of growing and maturing. The universes way of showing we have ‘been’ and walked down many paths, some more than others, some learning from said paths more than others as well. We have started out as young babies, no, not ever that. We started out as cells, dividing and multiplying, ageing in that sense till we became babies and slowly afterward children and adults.

Death is not the evilness in dark cloaks come to take our souls away but rather a beneficent being come to give us rest after all our trials and tribulations. Some say he comes before our time and that may be so in one sense but in another- when we are done learning and growing in this world, we are ‘done’. At least for a time being.

The body ages. The mind ages. The spirit ages. We mature, grow, become, and then become something else to start all over. Age is not to be feared.

Twilight Quilt

This is for the prompt ‘Stars’. I’ve asked my wonderful friend Crystalina to help me with my prompt writing by doing one with me once a day, if we’re able, and so this is the first one we had. She asked me to give her one off the top of me head instead of in the book and that’s what I came up with. :) This is the finale result.

Thank you Crystal. I couldn’t have gotten around to this without your help! You have so much potential as a writer, please never give up and never hold back your spirit. Talent like yours is too precious and rare a gem to go wasted in this world. I do not doubt you will do grand things.

[You can find her awesome and beautiful response to the prompt here.]
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The good mother moon rises slowly in the sky, dancing out from behind the guise of blue as day fades into dark, a quilt of twilight wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

Sagittarius, Gemini, Libra, and all the other great houses spin above us as she turns, embroidered on the edge of that great quilt. It’s woven with the stars and painted with dreams and mystery in hues of black, blue, and indigo. To us it appears little more than little lights in the great pool of dark, bright specks oh so far away.

Little more than her face is shown to us and sometimes not ever that as her crescent gaze falls upon the earth, sometimes a mere sliver and other times her full white glowing smile so bright and radiant it’s hard to make out the details. Other times it seems as though she isn’t there, hiding her face during the darkest of days no wonder little children do the same with blankets of their own. They have learned it from the mother.

Night moves on as she continues to twirl and rise in her quilt of stars. She sings with the voice of crickets and kisses us good day with a soft breeze. Her footsteps following a path older than time her dance slowly comes to a halt as she descends, worn at last.

She will rest once more under the guise of a day sweetened sky, all the while dreaming of the stars wrapped in her quilt of twilight.

Self Inflicted Writing Exercise #1

I say self inflicted because it was a bit more than a bit painful at first. My Hunny and I both work at the same place but in different departments. It’s a resort. I work in the kitchen and he works as security. When we both work on the same day I usually end up there an hour or two early because that’s how our shifts go. On these days I bring my laptop or a book I’m overly engrossed in, usually the former, and I spend my time with headphones on and fingers moving.

I got some wild hair up my bum that it might be a good idea to try writing without the laptop for a day, well, an hour or so. I’ve been reading up on all kinds of writing exercises and usually they talk about all the different things you can do in a notebook, practice writing and such and all the different ways it can help the aspiring writer. For starters it makes me have to rewrite it at least once. Second, if I’m using a pencil I cannot edit. Thirdly… well as it turns out when I don’t have the laptop people won’t leave me alone and I have to practice concentration and relaxation.

Concentration because a kitchen is the worst place to have to write unless you are able to tune everything out which I was not. I had people bugging me even though I had the MP3 headphones on. Tomorrow when I repeat this exercise I’m bringing in my ones I use for the laptop- big, obvious, not bulky, sound can’t get in or out unless I have them pulled off my ears. They’re the kind that fit completely over the ear. I love them. When I wear those people expect me not to look up. I had people talking to me, asking me if I was doing homework, and moving all around me. Bleh.

Relaxation because I don’t do well when I feel like I’m being watched. Even when I’m not I have this paranoia thing. Then there’s the matter of I’m constantly wondering if someone is looking over my shoulder. Writing, as it that’s so obviously what I was doing with my notebook, pen, book of prompts, out in the open like that comes with it’s own stress to top everything off. I was clenching my hand and tensing my jaw like I do in most social situations except this was ten fold.

I’m hoping this will give me more practice at handling what I consider to be social, or people related stress.

I wrote about three pages and tried not to agonize over my penmanship and the odd sensation of having one word in mind but oddly enough writing another, or doing the same with a single letter. I couldn’t close my eyes and watch my thoughts like I enjoy doing when I type but all in all it was an interesting experience. I learned a couple of things I wouldn’t have if I hadn’t tried this. I saw that when I can’t write as fast as I type I tend to think things out a little more and add more detail, also I’m not as wordy. My words still flourish alongside my vocabulary but I don’t use needless words quite so much. On the down side when I can’t type as fast as I think I tend to lose my train of thought or forget what I was doing when the part of my mind the muse is speaking to goes off in multiple directions.