& that's the way life goes

Writing Exercise 17: No bull

You are a matador visiting LA from Spain

Where I come from, women…

love the fact that I’m a matador, it is supposed to give me a sense of pride and family heritage. But tonight, oh tonight I locked eyes with a pretty woman sitting next to me at the bar. She is wearing white tennis shoes with her black skirt and tight knit pink top. Her curly brown hairs is pulled into a loose pony tail with tendrils falling around her face. He has to restrain himself from reaching a hand out to touch them and tuck them behind her ear. He tried to start a conversation with her, but all he got out of it was that she was a waitress at the restaurant down the street and she had just finished her shift. She shunned him after he boldly told her he was a matador. He hadn’t been expecting this kind of response, back in his country she would have been swooning at his feet. What was with these American women? She spoke to the bar tender in Spanish, asking for another drink. When he brought it I held out my hand so I could pay for it. She thanked me in Spanish and kept her eyes trained on the television above the many rows of liquor bottles. I tried once again to make conversation, but she cut me off telling me she didn’t date animal killers. I was shocked, I had never had that reaction before. I tapped her on the shoulder asking for further explanation and something must have snapped. She went into a tirade about how I was proud to have murder in my title. She alternated between English and Spanish, but so fast that I couldn’t catch all the insults. Out of breath she stopped, finished her drink and left. I sat there alone, with the bartender sending me sympathy glances, and I couldn’t wait to get back on a plane to Spain, where the women made sense.

(I haven’t been on here much at all this weekend.)

Writing Exercise 16: Can you believe it?

Finish these four short shorts:

I can’t believe I was afraid of…

trying out for the school play.  I never imagined being cast as the lead role!  I thought, at best, I’d be given the role of evil stepsister, but Cinderella?! Never in my wildest dreams.  At tryouts behind the curtain I was a nervous wreck, bitting my nails and hands shaking.  As soon as I walked on stage and the light hit my face, all eyes on me, I thrived on the attention.  I nailed every one of my lines and even remembered all the staging I had practiced.  I worked it and I earned the Cinderella part.  Rehearsals start today, I can’t wait to get up on stage and feel alive again.  It’s exhilarating!

I can’t believe I was intimidated by…

the playful barking of the massive black dog.  At first I wasn’t sure if it was giving me a warning or was inviting initiation.  I approached the cage cautiously, walking sideways as the shelter employee advised, not wanting to threaten the dog.  I also never made direct eye contact.  All of this was in vain though, as the dog was playing bowing and wagging his tail furiously, drool escaping from his mouth as he picked up a ball and dropped it repetitiously.  “Take him out please,” I instructed the employee.  He did as I asked and quickly opened the kennel door and slipping a leash expertly around the dog’s neck.  “you can take him out that door,” he said gesturing to the exit, “I’ll be right behind you.”  Before I could take a step the big dog sat at my feet and lifted his paw, his mouth open in a sloppy grin.  “You are a ham,” I teased as we walked through the door.  There was no way I was leaving without this dog.  It definitely paid to keep an open mind when choosing a dog from a shelter.

I can’t believe she never told me…

that it was her that called my house looking for me when she knew I was staying somewhere I wasn’t allowed.  Why would someone who is your friend do that?  She purposely got me in trouble for staying out all night, just so she could feel good about herself.  Well you know what? It’s pay back time.  I pretended that I didn’t know who it was that called, and that my mom wouldn’t tell me.  At first my mom wouldn’t, said it wasn’t any of my business.  But after awhile and after some heavy prying, she broke down and gave me the name.  At first I was shocked, I didn’t want to believe her, I couldn’t.   Then it sunk in and it made sense.  The girl was jealous of me and she pretended to be my friend so she would have access to the perfect opportunity to sabotage me.   But that’s ok, because tonight she goes down…

I can’t believe how many years it’s been since…

I’ve climbed a tree.  I used to love the feeling of the rough bark against the pads of my feet.  I wanted to be a monkey so I could swing from branch to branch, but logic told me  I couldn’t.  I’d sit in the branches and watch the world go on below me, it was peaceful and quiet up in my own sanctuary.  Occasionally, a squirrel or bird would settle down in the tree, not noticing me, but I was never scared.  One day though, as I was coming down from my perch, I my foot faltered and I slid.  I caught a branch  but not before that rough bark got a hold of my cheek.  After that I grew wary of trees.  I wonder now, years later, if I could still find that peace in the branches of a tree.

I was craving…

a quiet evening. Putting my daughter to bed with one quick story and then settling in on the couch with a good mystery fiction, with maybe a little romance mixed in. God I love Nora Roberts. But that was not in the cards. I was tucking my five-year-old daughter in, making sure she was nice and snuggled with her blankets when she asked me, “Pwease read the story about the lion.”

Trying to discourage this story, as it’s not one of my favorites, “Isn’t the one about the mermaid much more exciting?”

She rolled her eyes, literally rolled her eyes. My daughter was as stubborn as I had been at that age, or at least that’s what my Father tells me. Sighing I made myself comfortable next to her and opened the god awful yellow book. Whoever bought her this book was going to pay. I quickly flipped to the front page to see if they had signed it, unfortunately they did now. I would have to do my own research. Turning pages until I reached the the start,

On the plains of Africa, which is acres upon acres, lived a lion named Craven. Craven had almost no friends because instead of having yellow paws his were raven black. It looked like he had socks on and he was too embarrassed to let the other animals see him. He stalked around, he was good at hiding himself except from the crane that had also left his crane community. The crane, who’s name was Calvin was different from the other birds of his species. He liked to carve things out of wood with his beak. His family thought he was a disgrace because this was not was his beak was supposed to be used for. Together Craven and Calvin spent their time talking about the sense of belonging they craved.

Their favorite place to hang out was the cave that was located near a patch of trees that held the obnoxious monkeys. They would rave, and rave, and rave about all the gossip of the monkey community. Craven and Calvin found this quite annoying since they knew that it wasn’t nice to talk about other people and they found the monkeys very vane. Trying to escape the awful chatting of the monkeys Craven and Calvin explored deeper inside the cave and came across a cavern. This cavern became their favorite hang out and Calvin sculpted a beautiful cane with his beak. He was very proud of it, but he kept it hidden because he was afraid his family would destroy it. Craven saw the hurt every time they left the cavern. He knew that Calvin wanted to be able to share his talent with the ones he cared about, even if they didn’t understand him.

One day Craven brought the cane out into the daylight and told Calvin he would have to earn the respect of his community. Calvin finally realized he would have to take action and with great averment (ed. note: spell check says this isn’t a word but dictionary.com says differently) he took the cane to his mother. The next day Calvin raced to meet Craven at the cave.

I looked down at my sleeping daughter and let out a breath of relief. Thank goodness I wouldn’t have to continue on about how Calvin got Craven to confront his fears about his stupid black feet. Slowly I unwound my arm from my sleeping girl’s head and headed to the couch for some time with Nora Roberts.

I don’t usually hit the ground running…

I like to take advantage of the snooze button on my alarm.  I factor in at least three nine minute sessions.  Unfortunately, when I shut my alarm off completely, when I finally do crack open an eye wondering what time it is I realize I’m freaking late.  There is no leisurely rolling over onto my stomach and doing that lovely cat yoga position where I arch my back and breath deeply.  No time to cuddle with my munchkin dog, that was so comfortable curled up next to me.  Instead I practically throw him off the bed in an effort to get the sheet off.   My heart is pounding and as my mind tries to gather thoughts about a morning meeting.  I race to the kitchen and clumsily put coffee in the coffee pot, not bothering to measure.  Fleeing the kitchen I escape to the bathroom with the said munchkin dog nipping at my heels thinking that this is a game.  I literally jump in and out of the shower and scramble over to the closet in my bedroom, pulling out the first thing I see.  Checking the alarm clock I see that I’m 30 minutes behind schedule.  “Shit!”

The coffee pot is beeping, at it’s final percolation and the intensity to get the hell out of the house intensifies.  The hair is thrown into a wet bun, the water bowl is checked for water.  I grab my work bag and sling it over my shoulder as I fill the travel coffee mug.  Blowing quick kisses at the munchkin dog, I let myself out of the house and take a deep calming breath.  Walking to my car I notice, it has a flat tire.

“And that’s the way the cookie crumbles.”

Writing Exercise 6: Testing 1-2-3

word, setting and starting phrase I choose to use: banana, on a beach, If I could stop

If I could stop time, now would be the perfect opportunity.  The sea air is blowing my hair gently away from my face as the sun warms me.  It hangs low in the sky, threatening to be a hot menace this afternoon.  The seagull calls interrupt my thoughts periodically but it only makes me appreciate this time I have even more.  It’s my last day here.  I intend to enjoy all the time I can get on the beach.  I find a sandy spot and plop down.  I’m not worried about the sand, because I know in mere hours I’ll be miles away from it.  I take my banana out of my pocket and sit down to enjoy my breakfast taking everything in.