Friday, January 22, 2010

My sincerest apologies and one ridiculously long story.

It occurs to me that I have not put up a creative writing prompt in a frighteningly long time.
I could say that this is because my creative writing teacher was arrested for sexual assault, but that is not really an excuse, considering that we’ve already a replacement.
So, really, my lack of posting is entirely my fault.
Please feel free to grumble angrily amongst yourselves for a moment, perhaps stick a few pins into a voodoo doll that you’ve created to my likeness and then continue reading.
I’ll wait.
Are we good?
Now, without further ado, I present to you a story of sunburn, lobsters and floral beach umbrellas.
The waves roared thunderously as they crashed up against the cliff walls of the annoyingly touristy Hawaiian island. (Or maybe it’s in the Bahamas. At the risk of sounding prejudice against various land masses, they really look all the same to me.) At the very top of the bluffs, there was a rather fair-skinned boy, maybe 15 or 16, huddled up on a folding chair underneath his mother’s monstrously-sized, embarrassingly effeminate floral-printed beach umbrella. (He is deeply regretting having left his own umbrella at home.)
Such a lovely sunset, the boy mused to himself. What a shame that every second I sit here, more and more UV rays are being soaked into my skin. The boy's expression turned sour as he recalled his last family vacation to the beach, when he got such terrible sunburn that he couldn’t move for a week. A few moments later, his face expression morphed into one of unimaginable rage as he remembered his family’s complete and utter lack of sympathy, slapping his sunburn as hard as they could and then feigning innocence with a coy smile and a “whoops, I forgot.”
While the boy not-so-fondly reminisced about sunburns passed, a somewhat strange girl (of course, I cannot say that I know her personally, but, based on her zebra-striped swimming wear and comically over-sized sunglass, I think it is safe to assume she is perhaps a mite off-kilter) hiked up the bluffs and joined our pasty hero staring at the sunset. After a few moments, the girl directed her gaze at the boy, grinned, and attempted to strike up a conversation, completely ignoring the fact that he was entirely too engrossed in thinking up an assortment of ways to get back at his family to listen to her.
"Hiya," the girl said pleasantly. "I quite enjoy your umbrella, it's really pretty. My aunt has one just like it." Silence from the boy. "She tried again, "are you staying underneath it because you get really bad sunburns?" The boy continued to be silent. "Because um," she attempted again, somewhat less confident this time, "you seem like the type who starts to look like a lobster after you've spent 15 minutes out in the sun."
Half-way through the sentence, the boy glanced over at the girl. He thought he managed to catch something about a lobster. Where did this girl come from, and why is she talking to me about lobsters? He wondered. The girl continued to stare at him, waiting for a response with a somewhat desperate look on her face. The look was probably due to the fact that the boy had not answered any of her questions in the past 5 minutes, but he didn't know that and he assumed, not incorrectly, that the girl was a bit of a weird-o. Determined not to upset the strange girl any further, the boy uncertainly said, "Oh, um, yeah. Lobsters. They are quite delicious, escpecially with butter."
The girl stared at him as if he had grown a second, equally pale head. Oh god, what did I do? The boy groaned internally, somewhat worried if he had offended the odd girl. Is she a lobster enthusiast, perhaps? Did I hurt her feelings by saying I like to eat lobsters? Am I coming off as a jerk now?
The two continued to stare awkwardly for a bit, until the peculiar girl smiled and said not disagreeably, "You don't listen well, huh?" the pale boy grinned sheepishly in response, resolved not to say anything else that would embarass himself further. The girl shrugged, saying "that's okay, half the time I talk so much that people don't even bother to respond." She beamed brightly and asked, "mind if I join you?"
The boy patted a shady spot underneath the uncomfortably girly umbrella and the both of them sat staring at the sunset (much to the boy's happiness) in silence.
Hmm, that's a long entry.
I believe I am done for the evening, then.
Adieu to all!

Sunday, January 3, 2010

It occurs to me I never really put a whole lot of thought into my titles.

Why is it that I always feel the need to try and post something new whenever I have nothing to say?
Is my subconscious attempting to give me eye cancer by forcing me to stare at a blank document for an hour whilst thinking of something amusing to write? Is that it?
Because if so, that makes quite a good deal of sense, really. My brain seems to always be out to get me.
Ironically enough, though, my brain never seems to stop and think that, "Hmm. Eye cancer is a pretty unpleasant thing. Maybe I shouldn't force this poor little girl with the unfortunate amount of writer's block to stare at that blank screen for an indefinite period of time because it seems like having retinal tumors would probably be a fairly disagreeable experience for her."
So, here I continue to sit, staring at the screen with very little to say besides various vaguely paranoid statements and stories about my bodily organs that are attempting to passive-aggressively murder me.
Therefore, that'll be all the paranoia for this evening, I should think, unless, of course, my liver decides to try and poison my coffe again. We shall see.