Gourds

It's that time of year again.

I am absolutely enamored with gourds. They are fabulous. 

Just think about it. Is there any other creation on this earth so diverse? So beautiful and ugly and colorful and bendy? Gourds represent the utopian mindset of tolerance that we have been striving to reach in the world ever since racism and stereotyping and segregation first spewed forth from the first caveman's developing cognitive ability to hate. 

You can put ten thousand gourds in a giant basket and not a single one will find its identical twin. Can you say the same about humans? No. The statistic for identical twins is 3.5 out of every 1000 people (twinstwice.com). 

You can put ten thousand gourds in a giant basket and not a single one will complain about his neighbor's warts touching him. He will not complain about his neighbor's bumps or bruises or unusual rotundness. The gourds embrace these anomalies. They understand the beauty behind each other's textures. 

I love gourds. 

My goal this Fall is to collect one hundred gourds and pumpkins and there is nothing that will stop me from completing this goal aside from maybe running out of space, in which case I will juggle indefinitely. 

Gourd Count: 2/100

Gourd donations welcome.

The South

I was in Chattanooga. On a fish. Excitement.

There were glasses of sweet tea and friendly truck drivers and southern accents and I have nothing else to say.

Q&A Video

Here's a nice little present to those of you who are still lurking. Basically the premise behind this video is that I got bored and decided to make a video diary one day. It ended up being half an hour long, so I took bits and pieces out of context and added questions that may or may not make any sense. This may be taken down soon as I slowly realize how awful it is and no longer want to embarrass myself on the internet. 

*When I say "you smell," I am referring to myself... not the Chinese. Just to clear that up.
**There was no music playing for the dance sequences. They just kind of happened.

FFM HIghlights 2

I did it!! Despite my horrible promise-keeping track record, I somehow managed to complete every single day of flash fiction month. It was rewarding, but also tiring. Here are a few other stories that I think were alright.

Business
“I won’t go higher than two. Final offer.”

“I’ve gotten four for much lower quality.”

“Four?! You’ve got to be kidding. You have any idea how long these take to make?”

Chris peered at the man over his glasses.

“Yes. It’s common knowledge.”

Joseph huffed, crossing his arms.

“Three. I won’t go higher than three.”

Sighing, Chris picked up his clipboard.

“Fine. Leave them on the counter. We’ll have the couch delivered by the end of the week.”

Somewhat satisfied, Joseph bent down and picked up a small child, placing him on the counter. He repeated the action twice more, placing in front of him a little girl and a baby, hardly a month old.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

A Thoughtful Girl

She was a thoughtful girl. Quiet and small, she barely took up a corner. Sitting silently in the park? Well, she was just another leaf. Insignificant. Harmless. The dogs paid her no mind and the people saw only the trees. But there was a boy. Standing, staring, his x-ray vision out of focus. Who was she, he asked her. What an odd boy, she thought. To corrupt a silence so pure. A thought so solitary. Was she waiting for somebody, he wondered aloud. For a moment she was still. Yes, she answered. She was waiting. Well have a nice day. He left. She was waiting. A man was meant to meet her. The quiet, quiet girl. She could see him coming from far away when she wanted to. When she thought about it. Through the creek, he dragged his soggy boots. You afraid of a little water, he asked. So she stood, but then sat back down. A thoughtful girl. She willed him forward. How’ve you been, dad, she asked as he sat beside her. He had her waiting a long time, but that was her own fault. She was a thoughtful girl, but sometimes it was easier to forget him.

The World of the Extraordinary

If you can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist. If you can’t hear it, then it’s not real. There are those who can see, whose ears are tuned beyond normal human measure. They see a grinning demon in the curtains, a vast desert in the carpet, a thriving underwater ecosystem in the vase. The coma patient speaks, the baby reads minds, the cat watches through the eyes of a deceased grandfather.

The world of the extraordinary exists… it just hides from those who do not wish it to.

FFM Highlights

Well, I have somehow magically stayed true to the flash fiction month challenge to write a story per day. Yes, I may have missed the midnight deadline once or twice, and okaaayy some of my stories are shorter than your average index finger... but I've been keeping up. So there's that.

I wouldn't exactly call these two stories highlights because that would imply that they're actually good... but here are some short stories that I particularly enjoyed writing.

Story 1:
Work Hazards 

“Honestly, I’m a bit insulted that you didn’t even consider me for the position.”

Oh Jesus, Frank was being a pouty little fart face again. And what was Jon supposed to do? Console him over a decision he had very little part in making?

“Sorry, bud. Maybe next time, yeh?”

“Yeh, yeh. You told me that last year, jackass.”

So… he was going to be hostile about it, then? This wasn’t going to end well. Jon gave Frank a cautious look.

“Don’t do anythin’ stupid, now.”

“Somethin’ stupid? You think I’m stupid enough to do something stupid? Is that what you think of me? Is it?!”

“Now, now, calm down-“

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” 

Frank’s pout had morphed into a grotesque mask of rashness and anger. Jon lifted up the walkie-talkie, taking a few steps away from Frank.

“We got ourselves a fried egg. Gon’ need some security on floor three right away.”

Crackle.

Hunched over, Frank pulled at his hair with both hands, perspiration rolling down the back of his neck. Fallen pray to a work hazard. That’s what the papers would say when they got wind of Frank’s death. Nothin’ more. It was all in the contract of course. A risk associated with their particular… profession. Frank knew this could happen.

“Hey Frank… just take a few breaths, okay? Just a few deep-“

“NO.” Spit flew from his snarling, red face. 

Without warning, Frank pounced. Nails out, he pinned Jon to the ground and sank his teeth deep into his neck. Blood spurted on to the floor. Jon knew the risks too. 

A work hazard.

Story 2:

Savages

“Hush little darling, don’t say a word…”

Twenty-nine seconds.

“Momma’s gonna buy you a mock-ing bird.”

Twenty-five. It wasn’t enough. Not even close.

“And if that mock-ing bird don’t sing…”

The door burst open. Jasmine dropped the baby. Crying, crying, crying. Hush now, hush. Ten seconds.

“Momma’s gonna buy you a diamond ring.”

Her vocals trembled. The baby whimpered.

“I’ll pray for you.”

Time. The men stepped forward. They took the boy and placed him in the arena. Oh, the arena. Kept in the shade by a sea of screaming fanatics, it was the perfect place for such a spectacle.

Jasmine’s fingers coiled around the bars by her window.

“Hush little darling, don’t say a word…”

Then came the savages, so starved of meat they’d begun to tear into their own flesh. Stones, they were armed with. Mere stones.

“Momma’s gonna buy you-“

The hushed melody suffocated in a steady stream of desperation. Not her baby. She could not look away.

Savages.

88th Post!

As I started this post I believed it to be number 100. I got excited. Under further examination it turns out that I have written 100 posts including all of the horrendous and uncompleted drafts. Soooo this is the 88th post. I say we celebrate anyway.

Exclamation points are in order.

Good, good.

Uhm, let's see. A few life updates are in order, I guess. Why not.

First off, it's summer.

I'm so good at listing what season it currently is.

I'd like to say that summer has been a roller coaster of events, but it's been more like a merry-go-round. For some reason I'm stuck on the stupid chariot that doesn't even move up and down.

It's mildly enjoyable, relaxing, thrill-inducing in a "who the hell is driving this thing??" sort of way, seemingly never ending, and every second just blurs together into a giant spinning mess of memory. 

 Here's a list of stuff that happened at some point this summer. You know how much I love lists:

-Watched ALL the seasons of Arrested Development

-Went to Israel

-Watched a season of American Horror Story and cried myself to sleep

-Watched three seasons of the Walking Dead and cried myself to sleep

-Went to Boston/Montreal

-Visited a museum because I'm cultural and shit

-Bought way too many black lights and came to terms with my purchasing decision

-Tried to quit Facebook and failed within the hour, then cried myself to sleep 

-Watched the first season of Mad Men

-Beat Sonic Adventure Battle 2, realized it was actually called Sonic Adventure 2: Battle and that my entire life has been a lie, and then cried myself to sleep

-Hid from fourth of July fireworks because I'm afraid of the outside and actually hate fireworks

Another thing that I am currently in the midst of is participating in Flash Fiction Month, curtesy of my friend Matt. It's basically a month of writing a short fiction piece every day and completing a challenge every so often. Knowing my stellar track record of keeping up with writing promises... it should go swimmingly. In any case I'm going strong at 4 for 4, even if I'm not totally in love with any of them.

Here is my flash fiction page if you're interested. Some of the writing is ghastly, buuut I tried.

But yeah, I'll post things from there every so often if I like what I wrote. Everything else may rest peacefully in deviantart land.

In any case, cheers to number 88. For those of you who actually read these posts, I love you. In all seriousness, your comments and support mean the world to me and I'd have long abandoned a passion most definitely worth fighting for without you.

Happy Fourth of July <3

I Will Fail This Goal But I'll Try

I've made an executive decision to give up Facebook for the week. This will probably last about as long as my promises to write consistant blog posts.

Facebook is making me upset. It's not the layout or the features or anything, but the people. I miss my friends from college, and I'm way too lazy to reconnect with all of my buds from high school. Well, too lazy to reconnect with the ones who forget to invite me to reunion-y activities. So where does this leave me? At home. On Facebook. Living vicariously through the social gatherings of other people.

There is a constant tsunami of cutesy summer-esc photos swallowing my newsfeed and pulling it into the depths of Poseidon's domain. Sure, I'm posting pictures of my own adventures. I'm hanging with my best friends from home and enjoying the break. That doesn't make me any less upset.

Why should I be forced to page through someone else's summer vacation photos and see all the cool stuff I've never done? Half these photos don't even belong to people I care about. Yeah, so my friend from a summer program I went to two years ago had a blast in Hawaii. Good for her. Oh, and then I get to the photos of my good friends. These photos are more interesting, but upset me even more because I'm not with them for the photos and I miss their faces. Well... I see their faces... but I miss being included in the fun times.

So I'm not going to go on Facebook this week. I'm going to concentrate on having fun with the people who I'm with, rather than sulking over missing adventures with those who I'm not with. This will also probably free up a considerable amount of time that I could use doing other things, like crafts and biking.

Haha, the outside.

How to Effectively Destroy Your Ambitions

Step 1: Apply adhesive to body and face. Lay on bed. Stay.

Step 2: Do not change clothing. Ever.

Step 3: When your body requires the release of fluid and the intake of sustenance, remain hunched and squinty-eyed as you venture from your room.

Step 4: Keep all electrical necessities (aka computer, ipod, phone, etc.) plugged in and near said bed.

Step 5: Never open the curtains. Just don't. Sunlight is toxic and unfriendly and gross.

Step 6: Avoid talking to friends, acquaintances, and family members if possible. They will only remind you that ambitions exist and that you do not have them.

Never Forget

Never Forget

An original poem by Gfish

Based on a true story

I went to the bathroom

To take a dump,

My phone in my pocket,

A sturdy lump.

But it was not secure,

And it fell with a plop.

My heart skipped a beat,

My stomach did a drop.

I thought it’d be okay,

That I could get it out,

When the automatic flush

Sent it whirling about.

Down the pipe

It did disappear.

The empty bowl

Confirming my fear.

Gone

Right before my eyes

Now down in the sewer,

It cries.

Never Forget. 

Care Packages

My mom sent me a pegasus. And a unicorn. She is officially the coolest. 

Getting a package in college can transform a crappy day it into a good day; it can take an average day and turn it into an excellent day; it can turn a good day into the grandest hula-pa-wowza fiesta of days that you will think back to three days from then just to remember how great it was. I'm not sure what kind of day would birth from an already excellent day. My guess is that the universe would collapse in on itself, leaving only a giant gas-based mass of jubilation. You would also probably lose all feeling in your toes. Speculation, of course.

In my time at college, I've gotten a decent amount of care packages. Most come from my mom, but I've also gotten one from my aunt and sister. I'm not going to lie, my favorite part about getting a care package is the food. Sure, I am fully capable of buying my own food from the grocery store. Food just tends to be less special when you have to go out and buy it yourself. Food from a package, however, is like a magical apparition of everything you were just craving, without knowing you were craving it. You don't feel bad about eating everything that day because hey, it's not like you bought that food to eat for later. It's yours for right now. Or whenever you want. All yours, and nobody else's. Mwa haha.

Getting a care package grants you instant bragging rights. You can walk through the common room with your neat little box and everyone's curious and openly hoping it's something you're going to share. Odds are you will share some, but it's still yours. You have someone elsewhere who is sending you things and not sending your friends things and that makes you better than them for the moment. You have the power now, and if those vultures want your precious, delicious food (because we all know it's mostly candy), they're going to have to accept that. Cue the additional mwa ha has.

I have sent a few care packages in my day, mostly to my sister, and it's pretty exciting. You can add cute little notes and colorful fillers and decorate it however you want. Then you wait for a while and forget you sent it before you finally get an excited phone call or text a few days later. The phone call is always the best because it's usually right after they've opened the package and so they're at their happiest.

Anyway, I guess this post doesn't really have a point. I just get really excited by care packages.

If you know someone who lives really far away or who you haven't seen in a while, why not send them a package? It'll make their day and when they let you know they got it you'll be able to reconnect.

Some package tips from the gfish:

-Add a note. Food is wonderful and all, but a note makes it a bit more personal.
-Food can be personal too. Find out what makes their mouth water and just shove as much of it as physically possible into that box. Like seriously. As much as you can without pulling your back out.
-Guilty pleasure foods are nice. Food they'd feel bad buying at the grocery store because it's unhealthy or unnecessary for their daily diet.
-I usually add a poem or drawing.
-Inside jokes. I don't know you. I don't know your jokes. But I'm sure someone does.
-Filler candy for munching on while looking at the other things.
-Anything nostalgia-based.

You don't have to spend a lot of money to send a heartfelt package. The excitement of getting that notification that you have something is often enough all on it's own. Just don't go around sending empty packages... because that's not what I meant. People could get upset. Now stop twisting my words, damnit!