Fictional. This is not a story about me or anyone I know, I made it up. Although I do love crossword puzzles. :)
Anyway, it's not too long, just click on the link, read, and please, leave me a comment and let me know what you think!
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Fitting in the Squares
I was in a writing class for four weeks this summer, and this is writing project #1. It's a fictional short story I wrote about teenage girls and crossword puzzles.
Fictional. This is not a story about me or anyone I know, I made it up. Although I do love crossword puzzles. :)
Anyway, it's not too long, just click on the link, read, and please, leave me a comment and let me know what you think!
Fictional. This is not a story about me or anyone I know, I made it up. Although I do love crossword puzzles. :)
Anyway, it's not too long, just click on the link, read, and please, leave me a comment and let me know what you think!
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
In Honor
It's been a year since the trading of my favorite Brave of all time. Jeff Francoeur's 4-year career with the Braves amplified my love for the team like never before.
And while now, the Braves are actually winning--they're in first place in the NL East, and Jason Heyward is holding his own in right field--earning an all-star spot after only being in the majors for 3 1/2 months, and part of the time out with a thumb injury, I still miss "Frenchy".
So in honor of the trade anniversary, I thought it would only be appropriate to re-post what I wrote a year ago. Enjoy!
And while now, the Braves are actually winning--they're in first place in the NL East, and Jason Heyward is holding his own in right field--earning an all-star spot after only being in the majors for 3 1/2 months, and part of the time out with a thumb injury, I still miss "Frenchy".
So in honor of the trade anniversary, I thought it would only be appropriate to re-post what I wrote a year ago. Enjoy!
Thursday, July 1, 2010
My Worst Nemesis
I hate the dentist.
I say this as my teeth are clenched and my stomach nauseates automatically.
It started with the orthodontist. Before my evil orthodontist I had never had any problems with my teeth. No cavities, nothing. Then echoed the rotten news: I needed braces. And when I finally trudged in to get metal glued to my teeth, it started with this awful goo I had to put in my mouth for an entire minute. This goo looks like bubble gum, but, by golly, it certainly didn’t taste like it. It was terrible. Especially if they mess up because the bouncy dentist girl didn’t put enough goo in the teeth tray, so she marches back to have you do it again. This time with the tray so full that part of it starts to ooze down the back of your throat, but you can’t say anything, because 1, you have goo in your mouth, and 2, if you do remove it there’s a wasted 30 seconds of tasting the despicable stuff. I don’t actually remember them putting the braces on my teeth, but I am sure it has only been blocked out because of the agony of it all, not because it went along smoothly.
Since the years of braces, the dentist has just gotten worse. I don’t know what happened to such stable teeth. I brush regularly, and get my flossing in occasionally too. Yet, somehow—I suspect the tooth fairy may have cursed me—I end up with quite the dentist visits. And through the hours spent in a dentist chair through multiple cavity fillings, root canals, and crowns, I have not become friends with my dentist. (Yet the hours I’ve spent at my mechanics, have made us seem like the best of friends.) Not the dentist.
I hate the dentist.
I say this as my teeth are clenched and my stomach nauseates automatically.
It started with the orthodontist. Before my evil orthodontist I had never had any problems with my teeth. No cavities, nothing. Then echoed the rotten news: I needed braces. And when I finally trudged in to get metal glued to my teeth, it started with this awful goo I had to put in my mouth for an entire minute. This goo looks like bubble gum, but, by golly, it certainly didn’t taste like it. It was terrible. Especially if they mess up because the bouncy dentist girl didn’t put enough goo in the teeth tray, so she marches back to have you do it again. This time with the tray so full that part of it starts to ooze down the back of your throat, but you can’t say anything, because 1, you have goo in your mouth, and 2, if you do remove it there’s a wasted 30 seconds of tasting the despicable stuff. I don’t actually remember them putting the braces on my teeth, but I am sure it has only been blocked out because of the agony of it all, not because it went along smoothly.
Since the years of braces, the dentist has just gotten worse. I don’t know what happened to such stable teeth. I brush regularly, and get my flossing in occasionally too. Yet, somehow—I suspect the tooth fairy may have cursed me—I end up with quite the dentist visits. And through the hours spent in a dentist chair through multiple cavity fillings, root canals, and crowns, I have not become friends with my dentist. (Yet the hours I’ve spent at my mechanics, have made us seem like the best of friends.) Not the dentist.
I hate the dentist.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ursula
I once had a teacher like Ursula. I'm surprised to look back years later and relate with this moment more than I ever thought I would. Teaching adds a whole new dimension to school.
I am a snake ready to strike.
Don't look at me the wrong way.
Don't say anything to set me off.
Today I've hit my limit,
Like a thermometer ready to burst,
My face red hot and steaming.
Too many things gone wrong,
In my perfect teaching world,
Piled papers even slithered to the floor.
It's your fault, your bad karma,
Which started this whole mess.
And now homework will be my venom to sink into your skin.
hahaha (creepy witch cackle)
I am a snake ready to strike.
Don't look at me the wrong way.
Don't say anything to set me off.
Today I've hit my limit,
Like a thermometer ready to burst,
My face red hot and steaming.
Too many things gone wrong,
In my perfect teaching world,
Piled papers even slithered to the floor.
It's your fault, your bad karma,
Which started this whole mess.
And now homework will be my venom to sink into your skin.
hahaha (creepy witch cackle)
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Holy Ground
My brother would be disappointed about the basketball hoop that sits knee-high on a table. The basketball lays strewn in the sand beside it.
When Russell walks across a basketball court the sky gets brighter and Hallelujah tunes chime loudly. Really. He makes sure people realize what holy ground they are walking on.
To him, a home basketball court means carefully sweeping all the rocks off the carport before play begins. Making sure he is using the outdoor ball. Marking the free throw line with chalk. Shooting from all over the court. Trying trick shots from behind the picnic table. But making sure Little Red, our teenage beater car, is parked behind the basket so the ball bounces off of it and he has less running to do chasing the rebound.
Then, he lowers the basket to practice his trick dunks. He pulls a 360, a one-handed, and who knows what else before my dad yells out the window to raise the basket and try dunking for real.
Brother’s always been a basketball man, never going anywhere without his girlfriend, “Spaulding” and basketball shoes. You never know when you’ll find a pick-up game.
When Russell walks across a basketball court the sky gets brighter and Hallelujah tunes chime loudly. Really. He makes sure people realize what holy ground they are walking on.
To him, a home basketball court means carefully sweeping all the rocks off the carport before play begins. Making sure he is using the outdoor ball. Marking the free throw line with chalk. Shooting from all over the court. Trying trick shots from behind the picnic table. But making sure Little Red, our teenage beater car, is parked behind the basket so the ball bounces off of it and he has less running to do chasing the rebound.
Then, he lowers the basket to practice his trick dunks. He pulls a 360, a one-handed, and who knows what else before my dad yells out the window to raise the basket and try dunking for real.
Brother’s always been a basketball man, never going anywhere without his girlfriend, “Spaulding” and basketball shoes. You never know when you’ll find a pick-up game.
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