*****Please Excuse The Interruption*****
Due to a brief one day hiatus in the writing project (there’s nothing on the books for day 11), there will be no post today; tune in tomorrow for Day 12! As a consolation, I present an Arthur Prysock classic, “Your Body Makes Eyes At Me”, from the album, ‘This is My Beloved’. Fantastic Friday night listening…grab a drink, kick back, and enjoy.
Booyah! 10 days into this challenge, and still going strong.
Day 10 – What do you want to be remembered for?
Who you are and how you choose to live your life will ultimately dictate your legacy, if indeed you earn one. What will people remember about ol’ Gary, if anything? I earnestly hope that I am remembered for having some sort of positive impact on at least one person’s life; to have aided, assisted, or helped to improve someone in some small way. I think that’s all we can hope for, in terms of being remembered. Creating an atmosphere of happiness, a sphere of goodwill that others can feed off of; it’s as simple as a smile here, a kind gesture there, or words of encouragement for those in need. As the cliche goes, the smallest, most meaningless things to you may have an enormous impact on others; it’s all about sharing the wealth, creating a culture of balance, and solidifying an uplifting foundation. If I’m to be remembered, I want to be remembered as the guy that always had a genuine smile for everyone that I met. In my eyes, there is no greater lasting legacy.
Moving right along! Today’s topic deals with a personal favorite of mine, and tugs at my heart strings like a drunken open heart surgeon.
Day 9 – What was your favorite childhood toy?
I LOVE TOYS. That’s the only appropriate way to begin this piece. Toys were an incredibly important element of my childhood; I was that kid that loved toys so much, that I meticulously laid the blueprint for my December 25th by plotting my Christmas list in June. I eagerly awaited the arrival of the gigantic Spiegel catalog that would arrive fresh and new during the end of summer, and I’d spend the next few months with my nose wedged between those pages searching for the shiny new goods that I’d ask Santa for. If it was a toy, I wanted it. My imagination was never ending, and toys were somewhat of an escape into a world of action; a realm where heroes ruled, and where the muzzle flash of machine gun fire lit up the night sky.
There were He-Man toys; mid sized, non poseable, and only fun for about 15 minutes. There were Star Wars toys; stiff legged mini statues that were essentially only fun to look at. My sister had her fair share of Barbie dolls, and I took great pleasure in loading them up into her giant red convertible and crashing it into a wall. Oddly enough, my mother thought that it was a good idea to buy me a Cabbage Patch doll named Denny Cody; that bad boy came decked out in a KC Royals outfit, and that gift was quite the surprise. I even had a Michael Jackson doll (the Beat It version) as well as an MC Hammer doll, complete with battery powered silver boom box and glittery gold Hammer pants.
The king of all toys though, was the G.I. Joe. This fully poseable, fully playable lord of colored plastics littered our house like flotsam after the storm of the century. My brother and I would spend our time setting up entire G.I. Joe worlds, only to realize that once we took all day to set them up, we really didn’t feel like playing with them anymore. The real fun was being transported to that zone; that fantasy world where action ruled, and where guys named Buzzer and Ripper terrorized the world as members of the evil organization Cobra. Boys thrive on action, and G.I. Joe was able to rescue me from the real world, and transplant me into a land of gut wrenching glory, larger than life patriotism, and endless playability. G.I. Joe – a real American hero.
Check out www.concreteorchid.com to see what toys my sister obsessed over as a kid!
I’ve surpassed the 1 week mark on the challenge; take a look at today’s offerings!
Day 8 – Tell your life story from someone else’s point of view.
I can accurately be described as a semi closed, multiple volume set of encyclopedias, but in all honesty, who isn’t? Most individuals are not altogether transparent. There are very few people that walk around with life stories printed on their foreheads for all to see. Information is essentially given when required, and if not, it’s kept within those dusty volumes that we store inside of our brains. Here’s how a conversation about me would typically transpire:
Person 1 – “So who’s that Gary guy”?
Person 2 – “Well, um, he’s that one guy, right? The black one”?
Person 1 – “Yeah, that’s him. What’s his story”?
Person 2 – “Um, I dunno. Beats me, dude”.
The end.
Or perhaps it would go like this:
Dude 1 – “From what I know about Gary, uh, he’s a pretty legit dude, man. He speaks very highly of his family, friends, and acquaintances, and is a pretty mild mannered and righteous mother. Like, he’s definitely, like, pretty chill. I think his experiences in life have shaped him in like a way that allows him to like see the world in a whole different light, bro. You know what I mean. He’s like a thinker, man…he’s pretty philosophical. I don’t know too much about his life, you know, but what I do know is pretty cool. Booyah, bro. Peace out”.
That’s probably how it would go. I can be very vague, so Dude 1 would have to surmise based on a general lack of solid facts.
Get your butt on over to www.concreteorchid.com for my sister’s take on the Day 8 challenge!
Things are moving right along with this writing project, and I’m steaming full blast into Day 7. Thanks so much to those that are taking the time to check it out! It’s very much appreciated.
Day 7 – What sets you apart from the crowd?
What sets me apart from the crowd? Not being afraid to be separated from the crowd. In my opinion, that’s the major determining factor that sets me apart; a willingness to sail my own ship, rather than be a passenger on someone else’s. It’s entirely too easy to allow other people or factors to determine the course of your life; the true challenge lurks in the concept of paving your own unique path. Detaching from the norm may feel a bit odd at first, but that separation is what defines us; it’s remarkable to think about how much we can learn about ourselves simply by separating from the herd and finding our own road. We are all so full of fascinating intricacies and little microscopic details, and it’s hard to fully discern them when we’re lumped about in a homogenous mass. So many people are so concerned with the notion of individuality that they become like every other person that’s trying to be an individual. At the end of they day, it’s not about trying to be different, it’s simply about being who you are and living the way you feel. Be the shepherd, not the sheep!
For eons, I was apprehensive to do my thing; it was much easier to blend in and emulate the flock. Only in later years did I learn to accept my differences, and wear them as a badge of honor. Most kids were gravitating toward the usual crop of sports (I do love the typical sports), while I was feeding an addiction to rugby. Most kids enrolled in Spanish, while I gravitated toward French and German (although looking back, I totally should have taken Spanish). While everyone was listening to top 40 tunes on the radio, I was rocking out to Richard Wagner, Beethoven, and film scores. I did my own thing, and I eventually learned to embrace it. I was simply interested in trying new things, learning about different cultures, and using that knowledge to grow as an individual. The world is indeed a fascinating place. Not being afraid to separate myself from the crowd in order to find my own happiness is one of the major factors that make me who I am.
Head over to www.concreteorchid.com to see what makes Andrea unique!
Yes, I doubled up on my days; today is just a double header kind of day. I crammed days 5 and 6 into one day, I sure did. Check it out if you so desire, and then take a test drive to www.concreteorchid.com for a double dose.
Day 6 – Write about a person who would buy all of those items in Day 5.
This is an easy question – me. All of the items that I listed were top shelf items, and if you know me, you know that I love my brownies, I’m addicted to coffee, I love a whole host of buns (I do admire a good set of buns), and I bleed tea. So boom, the answer is a quick and easy me.
*****Random Personal Fact Alert*****
Oddly enough, I grew up hating coffee. I loved the smell, but despised the taste. I’d take a few sporadic sips of my mother’s coffee here and there (all souped up with cream and sugar), but that’s where it ended. Hot chocolate was my steaming elixir of choice, and I’d always imagined growing up to be a hot shot executive and instructing my secretary to brew up a fresh pot of Swiss Miss every morning instead of coffee. Only upon entering the drab world of corporate cubicles did I unearth a true need for a good coffee jolt.
This topic is a very unique idea; take a look at what I came up with, and scope out www.concreteorchid.com for my sister’s grocery inspired goodness.
Day 5 – Pick a letter of the alphabet. Now imagine two aisles of your local supermarket. List everything found in those two aisles that begin with that letter of the alphabet.
My randomly chosen letter is….drum roll….B.
Random items found within two aisles at my friendly neighborhood Walmart (where I get most, if not all, of my essentials):
Bread
Brownies
Buns
Blended Coffee (it still begins with the letter B!)
Black Tea
I obviously chose two of the lamest aisles at Walmart, hence the lack of B branded items. But in my defense, these are some pretty damned good items if you ask me. What’s a morning without coffee or tea (a tense one, depending on who you ask), or a lunch without bread, or a burger/dog without a bun?
Booyah! The writing challenge continues! Today’s topic was (for me) particularly brain boggling, and I will admit that it took a mighty minute to conjure up a quick, satisfying tale. The story below is the fruit of my efforts. Enjoy! Check out www.concreteorchid.com to get a taste of what my sister has on the menu for today.
Day 4 – Write a story/excerpt to include the line, “Sorry, we can’t insure you for a journey like that”.
Two middle aged women giggled and laughed as they entered a small travel agency. The agent gave the two women a quick glance as they approached his desk, and he noticed the bubbling excitement in their voices and their movements. They chatted to themselves as they sat down comfortably in the seats in front of the agent’s desk. “How may I help you today”, the agent asked with a smile. The two women explained to the agent that for years, they’d planned to take a cross country trip, but due to finances and daily struggles, it never materialized. They told him that the time was ripe to throw caution to the wind, rent a car, and set out on an adventure to see the country firsthand. The agent responded, “Well, you ladies have come to the right place. With our knowledge and expertise, we’ll have you in a car and on the trip of your dreams in no time”.
As the agent prepared his documents in order to get negotiations started, the two women began discussing scenes from the movie ‘Thelma and Louise’. They laughed as they spoke of the crimes that the two friends in the film committed, the adventures that they had, and their climactic drive off of a cliff at the end of the movie. The agent listened curiously as they spoke of the film, brushed it off, and began to ask them the usual questions pertaining to their destination. The first woman said “We essentially want to pull a Thelma and Louise”. The agent looked up, quite stunned at their frank statement. He’d seen the movie, knew all about the misadventures of the title characters, and was well aware of their plunge down into the belly of the Grand Canyon. He calmly stated, “Sorry, we can’t insure you for a journey like that”.
We are kicking this challenge into high gear! Today’s topic is a fun one, and I had a good laugh writing it. An informative tale awaits you. Head on over to www.concreteorchid.com and get a whiff of what my sister has to say.
I will begin today’s post by admitting that I can be a verbal court jester from time to time, and have been known to insert more than a few feet squarely into my sound hole. Often enough that I should, by now, have athletes foot of the tongue. It’s too easy to jumble and fumble the verbiage and have items that were meant to sound one way, come out as something entirely different. I’ll admit it. I’m guilty of that. Or, you can just defy your mother like a stubborn little twit, and get dealt with the punishment of legend. This tale is about to get real personal, so heed my warnings.
It all began back when I was a stubborn little twit (around 8 years old perhaps), and my young mouth was chock full of dirty little 8 year old boy vulgarities. I remember very clearly parading around the house chanting of (exact words here) dookie and pee pee. Yes, this is a true story, and yes, I’m not ashamed to admit that these were my words of choice. I got a huge kick out of those words; they rolled off of my tongue with vigor, and I quite recall exploding into fits of laughter after saying them. I could make entire stories out of them, and masterfully inserted them into my sentences like a dirty wordsmith. What can I say, I liked dookie and pee pee. My mother rightfully became annoyed by my choice of verbal entertainment, and instructed me repeatedly to cease the dookie at once, or else she’d wash my mouth out with soap. Eight year old kids generally tend to push the envelope, and push the envelope I did. I continued on with my fecal fetish, full steam ahead, with no fear of the soapy consequences. In short, I refused to flush the dookie from my young vocabulary.
One bright and sunny day, my brothers thought it would be a grand idea to hurl these obscenities to passers-by through our open bedroom window, and I gleefully accepted the challenge. One by one, I’d yell my dookie fueled words at the innocent walkers, and we’d burst into delightfully devious chuckles. One by one we did this, until I heard my name being called from my mother’s bathroom. I’ll never forget the ominous tone in that “Gary….”. The room got quiet, and my heart sank like a torpedoed cargo ship. There was only one reason why she’d be calling me into that bathroom. She heard the poop fest word for word, and my Irish Spring gum scrub was about to begin with the quickness. I tepidly approached the bedroom, wondering (and hoping) if she had the gall to carry out her execution of my mouth. Indeed she did. She was unwrapping a minty fresh bar of soap as I slowly walked toward the bathroom. Blam! She was on me like Hulk Hogan as soon as I hit the bathroom door, and I can truthfully say that I more than likely had the cleanest mouth on earth that day. If I close my eyes, I can still taste that soap.
Moral of the story – when your mother compels you to stop saying dookie, just buck up and stop saying dookie. Listen to your parents; they rule the show, and they mean business. Putting my foot in my mouth got me a mouth full of Dial. Mom, I know you’re reading this, and I hope you’re laughing. I don’t say dookie anymore (at least not when you’re around).
I had a blast writing yesterday’s prompt, and am really looking forward to the coming weeks. My sister blew me away with her story (I would totally read the crap out of it if it were a book), and if you haven’t checked it out yet, it’s at www.concreteorchid.com.
Writing Prompt Project – Day 2 – Tell about a character who lost something important to him/her.
This is a very broad question. In almost every story, in nearly every genre, somebody, somewhere, has lost something. That’s what makes a good story. The “great loss”, and the inevitable quest to recover that which is lost. What’s a timeless love story without loss? What’s a sports story without a big loss? Or an action/adventure story without a bit of loss? That key element gives a tale a profound meaning, and draws a story together like Elmer’s glue. Life itself is full of losses and gains, ups, and downs. It’s everywhere. W. Somerset Maugham wrote one of my all time favorite books, ‘The Razor’s Edge’, and in it, the main character, Larry Darrell, loses touch with the life that he knew before going off to war. He was a soldier in WWI, and returned home polarized by his experiences. He was no longer interested in the glitz and glamour of the social scene, but was rather dead set on discovering the true meaning of life. His loss was also his gain, as he turned the trauma of his wartime struggles into a journey of self discovery. He teaches us that in life, there’s much to be gained from loss; it’s one of the all time great lessons that we can experience.
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