Writing Promt: Describe your mood today

WRITING PROMPT: Describe your mood today. Are you happy? Sad? Meloncholy? Angry? Think about a word that really describes you today and write about it. Once you begin, do NOT edit or fix. Just write.

exhausted

When I really thought about what word I would use to describe
myself today my first thoughts were dark, moody, stressed,
overwhelmed...... but I think that exhausted covers all of it.
I feel like I could check into a motel, fall into bed and sleep
for a month or more. I hate being home because it reminds me
of all the things I need to do: the floors need washed, the toilet
is disgusting, there are always dishes and laundry, the puppies
need attention, the kids' rooms are a crazy mess.....and I have a
hard time relaxing when I am here.
I want to go somewhere by myself. I want a nice hard bed to
sleep on with lots of pillows. I want to be able to close the curtains,
turn on the air conditioner, take off my constricting clothes and crawl
naked under soft sheets and blankets that smell vaguely of bleach. I
would love to have the TV and remote all to myself. I would love have
my writing journal laying open on the table and not worry about
others seeing it. I would love to have hour upon hour to write,
unabashed, unabridged, unfettered. I would love room service to
bring me MY food and then take away the dishes when I am
finished. I would love for my phone NOT to ring. I would love to take
a nap in the afternoon without feeling guilty. The thought of
"checking out" of my life for 48 hours outside of my home sounds
like a dream. I don't want a spa or a massage. I don't want to see
or talk to anybody. I don't want to smile at strangers. I don't want
to put make up on or do my hair. I'd come home happy, relaxed,
refreshed, renewed, ready to take on the floors! It sounds like I do
not appreciate my life but I do; I could not ask for a better one.
Although it's easy to get lost in your own life and not be able to find
your way back to YOU. I think spending a weekend in a hotel alone
would help me find ME again.

Yes, I am exhausted.

Writing Prompt: IS THERE SOMETHING ABOUT YOU

WRITING PROMPT: IS THERE SOMETHING ABOUT YOU THAT NOBODY IN THE ENTIRE WORLD KNOWS ABOUT? WRITE ABOUT IT. IF NOT IS THERE ANYTHING ABOUT YOU OR SOMETHING YOU'VE DONE THAT WOULD SHOCK YOUR FRIENDS IF THEY FOUND OUT? WRITE ABOUT IT.

Actually there IS something that I don't think I've told anybody about. Nothing important to anybody but me. The year I lived in the D.C. area I spent many hours wandering through the museums, the monuments, the "mall" area; the places that are notorious for visitors and tourists.

I loved being there because I was a nobody which meant I could be anybody I wanted to be.

I could (and did) sit in front of a Monet painting for three hours and imagine I lived in his world. The streets and sidewalks were full of interesting people, vendors, musicians and I would meander through the crowds and hubbub looking at things, touching things and learning about things that I would never have thought to pay attention to in another life. I REALLY NOTICED and made myself aware of what was going on around me and it constantly moved me. I was young.

Then there were the monuments. In pictures they seem like big boring statues. In reality they take your breath away. My favorite was the Lincoln Memorial. I don't think a week went by the entire year I was there that I did not visit him. It made me feel important just to be in his presence.

One day I had spent seven or eight maybe even nine hours on the mall listening to music and watching people and I knew it was time to go home. But I had yet to walk up the stark and humbling stairs of the Lincoln Memorial so I knew I'd better visit. Getting to where he sits is no small chore. If my memory serves me correctly there are between 90 or 100 stairs. With each step you feel as though you are getting closer and closer to something special. It's very overwhelming. I loved every minute of it. On this day I had decided that when I reached the top I would sit and rest for a bit after such a long day. However when I arrived, there were too many people lolling about so I decided to walk to the back of the memorial which looks out on a major bridge and highway structure. Cars, taxis and busses were busy coming and going. Life was pressing on in front of me while another life was ominous and memorialized behind me.

I sat on the very edge of the monument and dangled my feet over the high edge and looked out on the world. The sun was just beginning to set so the colors were vibrant; bouncing off each other. The warmth of the day was giving way to a refreshing, renewing coolness. Eventually I scooted backwards and leaned up against one of the giant pillars, settling in for the most emotionally powerful nights of my life.

I can't remember what time the monuments were supposed to close; I think midnight. Although for some reason I couldn't leave. I sat there for hours watching the day turn into night. I pondered life. I thought about all the reasons I loved Washington D.C. I thought about my family. I thought about my future, my past, my dreams, my goals. I watched the cars rush by each other in a huff. Their lights all turned into red and yellow bands of moving light snaking around each other, through each other, faster, slower. Nobody in the world knew I was there but me.

I was invisible.
I was invincible.

I believed at that very hour that if I were to have spread my arms out and jumped off that monument that I could have flown. The cool breeze stirred me. It moved me. It pushed me forward. It lifted me to places I'd only read about. I closed my eyes, turned my face into the wind and in my mind I flew away.

It must have been extremely late when I left. To this day I don't know how many hours I spent there and I am sure it was very dangerous for me to be out so late by myself in the city. But it didn't matter. Not that night. I felt more alive than I've ever felt before or since. I often think of the experience and my heart does a little flip. I don't know if it's because I miss the city or I miss the feeling of being both invisible AND invincible. I've often wondered though, had I really jumped, where I would have landed once the winds let me down. I'll never know. But I'll never forget that night.

TAKE THREE: NOW YOU SEE ME, NOW YOU DON'T

For some reason this is my favorite.

I like it for the reason I gave it it's

title. You can sort of see me, but not really. I feel like THAT is how I live my life. I only show the parts of me that I think people need to see. The sweet, smiley, easy-going person when in reality I am not like that at all. I don't want people to know the OTHER me. The girl who is quiet, reclusive, deep thinking. I don't know why. I think it's because I come from a very large Christian family who believes that there really is no reason to be sad, lonely, depressed or broken. Even though I think lots of them are the same way. Often, in society, it's easier to just smile and go about like all is well. But broken is a good word for me.

TAKE TWO: Pretty in Pink

OK, this photo was easy to chose because normally you
would not catch me DEAD in pink and/or purple. I
did a lot of cropping with this one. I was standing with my
favorite grandma because I had knitted her and I matching scarves and hats this past winter.

I just played with the tinting a bit to get this cartoon
like product. I also liked it because it looks like I have
blues eyes and I don't. My eyes are green.

Writing Prompt: FIND THREE EXTREMELY DIFFERENT PICTURES OF YOURSELF

FIND THREE EXTREMELY DIFFERENT PICTURES OF YOURSELF.
Crop and edit them into different styles, looks, colors, text. Paste
them on your website if you can. Write about why you chose each
picture. Do not criticize or critique. Do not edit your writing
although explain why you edited each photo the way you did.
Let your thoughts guide your hand.

Oh my god what could be worse than
looking at pictures of myself! One thing
I discovered during my painful and
lengthy search of suitable photos was
was that there are not a TON of pictures
pictures of just me. That's because I
am always the one behind the camera.
(Note to self: my kids might not like that
someday when I am dead and
gone.)

I am my own worst critic!
But I won't go there this time. I must follow my
guidelines. All I can say is thank GOD few if anybody
will see this post. And to think that I have to do two
more of these.

I chose this picture because I am wearing a version
of a cowboy/girl hat which I have NEVER worn before
or after this particular picture was taken!

One of my sisters and I and a good friend were
messing around one day taking pictures for said
friend's match.com site. So we decided just to goof
around and take a bunch of dorky pictures. I would
NEVER wear this kind of hat in public, that's why it
stood out as something I should use for this exercise.
I also noticed upon further examination that I look
nervous; I loathe pictures. I am not looking at the
camera and I can tell that I am thinking I would
rather be ANYWHERE but right there.

I have zero editing skills, so I just messed around
with the lighting and color until I thought it looked
cool.

writing prompt: think about a certain piece of art...

THINK ABOUT A CERTAIN PIECE OF ART THAT HAS ALWAYS ATTRACTED YOUR ATTENTION. If you can, post this piece on your website and study it again. Ask yourself questions. Why do you like it? How does it make you feel? Are you happy or sad when you look at it; study your emotions. Write about it. Don't fix your writing as you go...just write.

Girl with a Pearl Earring by Vermeer is one of my all-time favorite pieces of art. I have been drawn to this piece as long as I can ever remember and when the book came out I bought and read it in a half day. Then of course when the movie came out I was there the night it opened and eventually added it to my movie collection as soon as I could. A friend of mine borrowed it once and I have never gotten it back so I usually rent it a few times a year just for fun.

Why do I love this piece? I think it's because you can't really tell if she is happy, sad, scared, nervous, turned on.... of course the movie sort of draws those images for you because you know that she's completely enamored with Vermeer and it's like watching them have sex without touching each other. Unfortunately as I write this my mind keeps getting drawn back to the movie.

When I was 17 I moved from Montana to the D.C. area to be nanny for a year. Some of my fondest memories were of the hours upon hours I spent walking around in the museums but I spent the most time in the Museum of Art. I have never seen this piece in person, although there were hundreds and hundreds of pictures by Van Gogh, Rembrandt, Monet and all the artists you study in art 101 your first year of college. One day in the gift shop there was a poster though of Girl With a Pearl Earring and I snatched it right up. I didn't even open it for months, until I moved back home after fulfilling my nannying committment. I have a vivid memory of pulling the plastic off the long tube and carefully opening it, still in awe at her face, her lips, her eyes. I think the draw to her is that I can relate to ALL of the things she might be feeling.

I have been happy at many times in my life.

I have been sad just as many times.

Being scared every once in awhile is a normal emotion but I tend to go through each day afraid of everything. Fear is something that lives inside of me constantly. It holds me back from adventure. It steals what little joy I might find in something. It makes me second guess every decision I make. It strangles me. And it has stripped me of my potential.

That has made me nervous. Through the years I have developed severe panic and

anxiety issues which is, in my opinion, a direct result of being fearful. I think I have such fond memories of my year in Washington D.C. because that was the last time in my life that I have ever LIVED LIFE WITHOUT FEAR. I boarded a plane when I was only 17. I left my parents, everything I knew and I went out on my own. I really was full of life. Full of energy. Full of questions, answers and opinions. My heart and mind were open, ready to be filled with insight. To quote Thoreau....I sucked the marrow out of life.

And finally, who could look, REALLY look at this picture and not find it haunting, sensual, almost erotic? The movie does a good job at creating a very sexually intense scene as Master Vermeer pierces her virgin ears so she can wear his wife's pearls. He tells her to lick her lips. She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and wets it. He tells her to do it again. She does. He tells her to do it one more time. She does. And then she looks at him with her "fuck me" eyes. The only thing he can do is grasp his brush and make love to his canvas. Stroking her, vicariously, in desperation. Is there a part of me that is sensual and erotic? Of course. Is there a part of me who has not wanted to do something naughty and/or forbidden? Of course. We are all human and I am sure anyone who lives and breathes has thought about and possibly acted on things that are better left unsaid. Of course we know how the movie ends. But we'll never know how things TRULY ended for Vermeer and his young doe-eyed muse. And when it all boils down to the raw, inbridled emotions we all feel...who would NOT like to be somebody's doe-eyed muse?

Writing prompt: Now add another sentence using vivid detail

The sun was brutal, almost incestuous; touching places and things he should not have. Heat penetrated and then betrayed the cracks and crevices that should have been left undisturbed.

writing prompt: use the word brutal in a sentence

The sun was brutal, almost incestuous; touching places and things he should not have.