Day #7. Theme: "Fun or Fear"
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Karma Free Writing will be offering 27 Days of Karma Free Writing Prompts starting on the 1st day of Spring. These writing prompts are designed to stimulate the creative process for writing your personal story - and beyond.
27 Day Karma Free Writing Prompts - Honorarium
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March
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- DAY #12. THEME: "REVISIT"
- Day #11 - Theme: "For me? You shouldn't have!"
- Day #10. Theme: "Turning Points"
- Day #9 - Theme: "Body Parts Know"
- Day #8. Theme: "I am HEALED!!"
- Day #7 - Theme: "Fun or Fear"
- Day #6. "Buying a pair of shoes."
- Day #5. "That Part Of My Live Is Over Now."
- Day #4. "That which is no longer."
- Day #3. "My Whole Life Was About To Change - I jus...
- Day #2. "Should of, would of, could of ... IF ONLY"
- "Prompt #1 - Things my parents taught me"
- KFWB - 27 Day Writing prompts - Intro
- Tomorrow We Start !!
- Almost there !! Two More Days !!!
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About Me
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ReplyDeleteSo here I was getting ready for my first real date with him. How many years had it been since we met? Years.
ReplyDelete"15 months," he said as I got into the car. Since we last saw each other?
I was giddy, nervous, and confused. Grasping to the fact like a buoy in the rough ocean water. Really? How do you remember that? He made his trademark awkward hand motion signaling voila. Then just grinned… and went speechless. What was happening to me? But wait. He was nervous too!
I’d never seen him look at me like that before. Full of nostalgia and awe. Maybe the carefully crafted, little black dress and I’m not wearing too much make up so it looks classic trick had worked? It was like I was a sight for sore eyes. What a compliment!
So here we finally were. Just the two of us. The tension was electrifying. It was bizarre—we had known each other for years as friends. Somehow I always had a crush on him. When our eyes first met, he was married. So he’s cute. I’ll just keep my crush to myself. But, our friends all knew. They could tell. I didn’t think I'd see him again. Until a year or so later when I quit my Big City job, we were living in the same town. "She left him," our friends whispered.
As I replayed all the memories in my mind, he cut through the emotional hurricane whistling through the car. “Shall we go?” And then it was like old times. We were kindred spirits on this date. It was 3 years ago and I remember it today in every detail.
I had so many questions. Like how did he really feel about the divorce? How did we get this far, but what took us so long? Where did he get that shirt? Why were his palms so sweaty? What would this mean for our friendship? Would the piggybacks and long talks on the phone disappear? Would the game playing begin?
But when he leaned across the table and kissed me on the mouth for the first time.. And said, “I always wanted to do that” I just didn’t care or say a word…
Romance! What a great way to start the morning!! Thank you
ReplyDeleteJoanna Lovely steam on the shingles..
ReplyDeleteI couldn't catch my breath.
ReplyDeleteI'd heard people cry like this, but I'd never done it.
I could hear them upstairs. There were hundreds of them. It sounded like a convention. They were there for me.
I was in the stall. No one was downstairs but me and my sobs. I wondered about sneaking out the downstairs door. I could do that. If I did that I could never return. I'd be quitting my job. I'd be leaving. I'd commit professional, vocational suicide.
Ora's voice. Her southern drawl in a contralto."Janet, come out."
I opened the door to the stall. "darlin, you gotta come on. Wash your face, blow your nose and come on."
I don't think I can, Ora.
"yes you can, and you got to. Now come on. Mark's up there."
I washed my face, blew my nose and walked upstairs.
Three hundred or so sat in rows the back was full with standing room only.
In the front was a chair on a platform facing them. That's where I was supposed to sit.
I'd asked for a "listening session". Listening projects take a year or more. Listening requires those offended getting to say what they heard and why they were hurt. The offender doesn't talk...she listens. She goes away and ponders and reads and reflects on the notes she took while listening. Then they meet again...the offended and the offender. The offender says what she heard and talks about what she did. The offended hear and decide if they want time to ponder or if they want to make plans for next steps. Next steps are made and re-made and re-made.
Reconciliation is hard work. Reconciliation takes time.
I quoted someone when I officiated at the communion table in chapel. I told of being served by old African American women at the Baptist church in Alabama that was bombed in the 60's. Many of their children died in that blast.
I was served by these women some of my favorite foods...greasy greens, corn bread, ham with jezabell sauce, good potlicker...they worked all day. They were members of this church when people who look like me...white...tried to murder all of them and suceeded in killing some of their offspring.
These women stood on their feet all day, served me seconds and did it without irony or gloat. And here I was a woman raised by a man who believed the bombing was a good thing a man who raised me and my sisters with these words..."if you ever meet me at the door with an "n" I'll meet you at the door with a shotgun."
It was over the meal of ham and greens that I learned the true meaning of communion. The table is not mine, not my father's, not these women's...it is god's because only there can the great differences and hatreds be bridged.
But I didn't say "n". I said the whole word.
I used a word that is so full of hatred that the shrapnel from the word flew out and pierced some who were there, and infected those who weren't there but heard tell of the service.
When asked what i wanted to do about it, I wanted a listening session.
I got a stoning.
We never got to reconcile. The shrapnel still rattles around in some people's souls.
Merci beaucoup, inkdinkyparlezvous :)
ReplyDeleteJoanna, "endless emails," boy oh boy can I relate :) Love the mornings, what a blessing from Mother Nature perhaps? Let's hope and pray we don't mess that up too... lovely morning imagery and the listening to the stillness part!
ReplyDeleteinkydinkyparlezvous: that's profound. kudos to facing the fire. listening is brave & a masterful skill...
ReplyDeleteJoanne: would love to hear more about the green bean imagery and morning. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteBloodRedRoses: love the 'so many questions" part of the story, espcially the line 'where did he get that shirt?" Made me laugh out loud; it so shows how your mind was spinning.
inkdydinkyparlezvous: I'm speechless at the naked beauty and bravery of your story. Stunning.
I had a hard time writing today. Maybe the instruction to be EXTREME was intimidating. Maybe it's just I'm beat from work. Here's my fun.
ReplyDelete***************
We all agreed it was best that our husbands and wives had stayed home. They knew how we were likely to get. And we did.
We left the Saturday afternoon football game early and walked through the one block of the town and stopped for ice cream. As we walked we'd fall in with one or two friends, fall back with another. It was so easy.
"You know, today's my birthday," I said, fully expecting that I'd be treated to a hot fudge sundae with the whipped cream fresh from the campus dairy.
We ate and walked, eventually going back and dressing for the big gala, running between each others rooms, sharing beer, gossip and silliness.
Hundreds had shown up. Finally time to sit down, eat and be patient while all the university officials gave their little talks, looking to inspire us to write big or little checks to the alumni association.
But first the governor of New Hampshire had a special announcement.
I looked across our table. Where was Bob and Charlie? Then the governor started speaking with Bob by his side.
"It's my great honor and privilege as governor of New Hampshire and a member of this class to hereby declare today official Lois Kelly Day in the state of New Hampshire." 300 people started shouting and singing, and then we were all dancing like maniacs as the band played the Beatles song, "Heard it was your birthday..."
We twirled, sang, hugged, drank more beer, twirled more. As it got late we sucked the air out of the helium balloons and talked like Donald Duck.
Ah, yes, here we were. Titans of business, government and academia falling back to our true selves.
Joanna, want to know more about the little dog and the garden.
ReplyDeleteBloodRedRoses, don't stop... need more about Mr Sweaty Palms. Hum, why did that image linger?
inkydinkyparlezvous, stunned... I see beauty in the shrapnel.
Lois, love official day!!! LOL and ear to ear grin!
And BTW - Shame Shaman AKA Debra
A Hollywood recording studio – heaven – rock and rollers everywhere and cute ones at that. I was with their manager, not so cute, but he had the blow.
ReplyDeleteThe nights of snow, the days after were hell, but ah, those nights – the chop, chop ritual, the blast that both stung and stripped away any illusions. Was I really a coke whore?
Yes indeed, say the vocal ones inside – the ones I haven't yet evicted – maybe they are meant to stay, maybe these residents are helpful, balanced.
That’s not to say the coke whore wasn't a valuable aspect of my psyche, she just took a toll on my body and my self image. Today I can almost celebrate my brazen youth, today I can almost say fuck it, this is who I was and it's how I got just who I am today, so go fuck yourself.
How unladylike, the voice inside remarks.
Yeah, well, it's fun to shock.
But must you be so crude?
Okay, but crude is in the eyes of the beholder.
Ah yes, the beholders. So long I've modeled myself for the eye and the ear of the beholder. I'm not really sure who I am – even I primp & adjust for that silly looking glass, even I debate – is this how I want to look today – when I’m the only one doing the looking.
How nice it would be to look and see beauty and acceptance from all parts of my psyche. I wonder if I will always have the differing opinions, the debate, this vs that. I guess it keeps things alive, lively. It's certainly who I am – a creative bunch. Some wear pink lipstick, others play in the dirt. Maybe it's time to garden in my lipstick, beads and dirty jeans.
I wonder how I'd feel if I let each aspect pick a part of the ensemble – or how would I look?
Fuck it, have fun!
Running naked all over my neighborhood in my dreams laughing like a madwoman because I am stark raving mad and don't care who knows it
ReplyDeleteDearest Shame Shaman....we gals in Texas know one MUST be crude to be a REAL lady!! Butch Caffee, the ladiest lady I ever knew, ALWAYS gardened in her diamonds. So can you!
ReplyDeleteLois..it does my heart good to hear of Titans playing with helium!!
ReplyDeleteinkydinkyparlezvous - gotta love those Texas ladies! Just flashed on a bumber sticker...
ReplyDeleteOnly REAL women say FUCK
Shame Shaman: Pearls and jeans... my favorite "casual Friday" whatever- should be everyday outfit. Saying Fuck it especially to anything standing in one's way is hardly crude!
ReplyDeleteLois: Hooray! What an amazing Birthday celebration. Thanks for sharing your story. I wanted to run around in circles for joy when I read it.
ReplyDeleteI'll buy the bumper sticker!!!!BTW...Lilly IS inkydinkyparlezvous
ReplyDelete"How much fun"
ReplyDeleteone thinks
Then - my defence - my swords - my stones
The "BIG ONES"
I'll have them in all the "RIGHT", places
Just, "in case"
Incase - "Hello", been ages
Fangs?? - No!! - "yellowed bellies"
"Same thing"
Thank god, i brought my pearly whites
Do i love you?? Or is that Hate???
I'll dance it off
we'll blend the two
My younger brother, Michael, and I had been off seeking separate adventures when we decided to embark on one together. Still asserting our independence, we chose the 4th of July. We were going skydiving. Our course at the Perris Valley Skydiving School was an all day venture, preparing us for our static line jumps. (This was before tandem jumping attached to an instructor became popular.) The class involved a full day of training where we learned how to toggle right and left, pull the shoot open, pull the reserve shoot open if we had to, jump out of the plane properly and land safely. We had to read a statement to a video camera that said we were releasing the school from any liability should anything go wrong and that we would not sue them. That part was the scariest part of the whole day in my opinion. Luckily we had an attorney in our class who told us not to worry because it wouldn’t hold up in court. So we all read the “I won’t sue you if I’m mangled or dead” statement and moved on to the next stage which was getting geared up for the jump. I wore a red one-piece jumpsuit that zipped up the front and fit perfectly, a white helmet and high heels. Just kidding about the heels, I had my tennis shoes on, with rubber tread that I hoped would adhere me securely to the ground upon landing.
ReplyDeleteLa Coliseum circa 1986. I am a member of the San Francisco 49ers -- for now. I am on the field of the L-A C-o-l-i-s-e-u-m. Across the field are the Los Angeles Raiders. Soon I will be in this game. Playing in this game. I have white sweatbands on -– I never wear sweatbands but this is the NFL after all. Joe Montana is wearing sweatbands so why not me? Even Matt Cavanaugh and Dwight Clark and Roger Craig and Wendell Tyler and Freddie Solomon… who smokes. In the locker room. I thought that was against the rules. While walking onto the field before the game I crossed paths with Al Davis. The infamous Al Davis owner of the Raiders. He looked at me like I was the waterboy. I’m on the sidelines having the singular most electrifying/terrifying out of body experience I have ever had. I’m that nervous. My limbs do not belong to me. My hands are literally numb. Running feels funny. I pick up a ball and start tossing it to…. Hmmm, what was his name? I can see his face. A DB…. Anyway I start throwing and realize that I have forgotten how to throw. Help! I don’t know where the ball is going as it leaves my hand. The ball feels funny, light, not made of leather but plastic. I look up into the stands, deep into the stands and don’t see people but dots, no faces, sound roaring sound at the slightest play. Would I hear those sounds when I finally get in the game? Will I get in the game? I was told I would but when? My god, how can I play now, now that I don’t know who I am? "You’re in," Bill Walsh, the Bill Walsh, genius of the game of football, Einstein’s cousin in a leather helmet, turns to me and says. “In?” like in the game I think but don’t dare say. Fuck, I’m going in. I see Howie Long that gigantic defensive lineman for the Raiders and think I’m fucked. Everybody is so big and fast and fast and big and what the hell am I doing here? “56 Slant” Bill says when it’s my turn. My turn! RIP ZIP 56 SLANT. That means Right I Pro, Zip is the motion for the flanker, 5 is the tailback position, 6 is the gap on the line where the tailback will run, and Slant tells the lineman how to block. Simple enough. I enter the huddle…
ReplyDelete