freewrite. romance

is it really meant only for books?
for women to fill it in their head through fairy tales and movies?
this one thing thought of from someone's head.
romance

maybe i'm just overcome with emotion.
seeing other people's feelings - how easily it gets to me.
why do i share what they experience.
empathy.

just fiddling around with some verses... think i'm too tired to write. have to start practicing that muscle again.

freewrite - first of 2010

this is my writing exercise for the night. let's see what i can dig up from my head.

she closes her eyes and notices her fingers start to fly. she's no longer sitting on a bed, but on a toadstool. it's large, similar to the one from Alice and Wonderland, but it's colored in the bright orange and red most known from Super Mario Brothers. She can almost hear each item around her being pixellated. First the toadstool goes to 256 colors, the orange turning more into a yellow and it feels a bit rigid under her bottom. the pillows that are next to her turn into two goombas, silently pacing back and forth between two green pipes. the dolls that were on her bed become the vine plants coming up from the pipes. she's turning her room into a video game.

HA... the ceiling is made up of flashing gold boxes, their question marks teasing and calling her to knock them over to see what's inside. she does to find a growing vine that leads up to the clouds. now she feels blocky as she stands in one motion and looks down at the plumber pants she's wearing. She deftly climbs the vine to find a world full of coins and clouds. They look so high but as she reaches up her legs can't help but jump to grab them. Now she's flying through the air and wait... there's a tail behind her. She can wiggle a bit and get ever so higher. More coins, she laughs.

her eyes open and suddenly she's back in her bedroom. the pillows are neatly at the top of her bed and the dolls lay where they have been next to her. she looks around and is happy she's not in a video game. where would she sleep? were there any bathrooms in the level? what would happen if she really fell down the well - could she just start again at the beginning? things she never really thought of, it's just a game after all.

how would she feel if she stepped on the goombas and they disappeared. would she feel remorse for killing something, even if it was an enemy. all good questions and none she'd care to think about while playing the game. why would someone purposefully make you think about reality in a simple game as that. the whole point is the take your mind off the drama of every day, right? she's very happy she has video games to escape to, but it's also nice to know there's a soft bed waiting for her at the end of the day.

and to totally switch topics, she wants a nice garden that will hold all the veggies she'd cook with. if it were up to her it would be nice to have a farm - work hard, have real troubles. she's starting to feel like the troubles she has are made up or could be prevented. it's not like she's fighting Bowser to save the life of the Princess. she's fighting off bill collectors and rent responsibilities. but one thing is for sure... hahahaa.

that last line might be omitted for the sake of my job. ha... to think that i can't speak my mind because the internet has made the world a much smaller place. yes, i think i will remove that last line - maybe i'll make it my facebook status. no one would understand if it was out of context. sometimes i do wish i could be in a video game - but not really. just have the chance to go someplace different. to see new things and not have to worry about the money that must be spent doing it. i want to learn for the sake of learning. guess i'll have to stick to books and the library. that's the only real way to do anything for free anymore.

guess i just, i don't know- i'm very lucky. i'm able to have my own place and have enough money to help my family when the need is there and to still enjoy life a bit. it's not that i really want more for me... i just want more so i can help the people around me. guess my time is almost up and now i can watch the time tick by. if i were writing an essay, i'd say there was no way i could pound out 800 words in about 15 minutes. But look at me know. There's 800 with 45 seconds to go. seems it's all a state of mind. i could probably get to 1000 if i wanted to. seems there are so many things we're all capable of but we just don't have the want to do it. the Will is there if you cultivate it. you just have to want it.

why the hate?

she paces back and forth with her fingers tangled in her hair. one moment she wants to pull as hard as she can because she doesn't know what else to do. the next moment her palms are cradling her throbbing head. the feeling of hate just won't go away.

it all started when he came into work. his "i'm always mellow" façade fooled even her, until she disagreed with him.

"We can easily do it this way..." she started to suggest.

"NO. We're doing it my way," he grumbled on the phone.

Not used to hearing such tone from her managers, she agreed for that moment. But why was he so mean all of a sudden?

'That was the beginning' she thought. Now she had to sit down. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she didn't feel well. Before she lost her footing, she made it to the couch and lied down.

"Deep breaths.... just breathe and let it go."

Her passion for living was so great it intensified feelings toward others. In love, this was incredible for her partners but for her enemies, it was a burden you wouldn't wish on anyone. Once someone showed a sign of irrationality due to power given, it was hard for her to take that person seriously and her rebellious nature to prove she is right comes out.

Which is what got her in trouble the week before. Some unusual activity started up at work that kept her busy for quite some time. As always happens when she's bombarded with requests, he comes over to ask generic questions expecting very specific answers. She let him know she'd look into the issue as soon as she can.

When she didn't get back to him in a reasonable matter of time, he began to slam her with emails asking for status updates and other requests. On a dare of her own conscience, she shoot back an email telling him she'd email him when she was ready. Then she prepared for the tone of voice, the disapproval and the condescending attitude. She could take yelling and insults, but having some idiot with a high ranking title talk down to her was unacceptable. She'd have an attitude all her own.

She was wrong, perhaps sinking to his level, but what right did he have to treat her this way? It wasn't as if he didn't treat others this way. She's heard people in his office disagree and the tone would come out. If only she had the wisdom to fight him with intelligence and not emotion. This was just too close to her pride and she couldn't let it go.

"i want..." the tears are streaming down her face now, her head buried in one arm. "i want to let it go. i don't want to let this get the best of me. I know i'm the stronger one, but i have to learn to let this go... i have to let the hate go before it destroys me."

freewrite - letter found in a bottle on the east coast

feelings are like waves. they make you sway back and forth, choosing one side of a decision in happiness and another in anger. Sadness breaks your heart as you discover yet another path... maybe that's another reason Buddhists suggest making yourself into an island. no matter how hard the waves pound back and forth, you're still an island.

i'm stuck on a boogie board in those waves. they are taking me in one direction one day while i try my best to paddle away from the current. am i foolish to go against the grain? it's always taken me to my goals before. why is it so difficult to do it at this time? perhaps because the feelings are so much stronger now. so much more...

there's never a time for a clear head or a safe assumption. everything must be weighed and counted. i won't let the waves drag me under. i'm still afloat. i can be that island and that is where i intend to stay.

free write - realization

blah... don't like my writing tonight. i just want to paint a picture of someone in the shower. the walls are dripping with condensation as the hot water runs. drop after steamy drop splashes against her forehead and cools as it runs down her cheeks. this time is her time. she turns around to let the water hit her back - the heat and constant pattering massage her tense shoulder and neck muscles. without thinking, she smiles.

how easy it is for her now to look back to see how foolish she was. he couldn't use her anymore. his flowery words told her she was the only one to help him. she could see now he only meant to use her up until she had nothing left. it almost happened, but she got away.

the water burst a bit more as she turned the knob. somehow tonight the water couldn't get hot enough. she thought about the call he made earlier that day. she didn't pick up, she didn't dare. he never cared what she might have been doing, so long as he could get in touch with her. not leaving a voicemail also made it easy to bear. this was one chapter she wanted to close and never revisit.

it was amazing how she could see it all now. especially how she could put it beyond and not cater to his needs... even if he really did need her, it wasn't her job any longer.

write or die - the past

1000

32

lab.drwicked.com

okay well here we go. i can't believe how much i've wanted to write recently. i was so afraid i'd lost my ambition, but i thought if i wrote every day, that would get the juices flowing again.

yesterday i wrote about a red door. today, who knows what i'll write about. hopefully it won't just be blogging... right, here we go.

eyes closed, she listened to the whisper of the drapes. a warm breeze swayed them back and forth over the radiator. it was hot in the room, how she hated the stuffy room. flowers surrounded her bed like a funeral parlor. well didn't they want her dead soon anyway? it didn't matter. it wasn't their consistent bothering that made her worry.

all her life she struggled to make sure everyone around her was comfortable. if money was low or bills had to be paid, she gave up her own bills to make sure everything worked out. she didn't want to see others suffer. she knew that beyond all else, she could take on the burden of their suffering - she was strong enough.

what worried her now was her leaving this world. her brothers and sisters were all grown up and her parents moved on with their lives too. but what would happen if someone needed money or emotional guidance, or just a shoulder to lean on. had she been too concerned to let them live on their own? were they capable of taking care of themselves, or did she always give them an easy way out.

"why do you worry about such things..." the question hung in the air for a moment. Suddenly, she realized it was spoken aloud.

"who are you? how did you get here?" she was neither scared or shocked, but amused that someone was standing before her reading her mind.

"i'm here to guide you to your next life. You cannot make it on your own because of attachments you refuse to give up."

she stared at him curiously now. it was young man in a loose white shirt and black slacks. his hair reached just below his ears and he had beautifully trimmed sideburns.

"what attachments," she smirked. "i cannot leave until i know they are okay."

"That's not why i'm here. That's not your true worry." he picked a flower from one of the bouquets.

"of course it is, why else would you be here?" this time, she was surprised.

"because you are still linked to your husband." he dropped the flower.

her body stiffened and she looked up to the ceiling. blinking quickly, she tried to get rid of the tears that were forming, but at this stage in her life, she couldn't blink them away any more.

"i want nothing to do with him. nothing, do you hear me? i've had enough of worry and what-if's that i can't run my mind through any more scenarios. please leave me al..." her last word faded into a sob and she covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"you don't have a choice. this is your last unresolved attachment that must be faced and resolved. if you refuse, your life will be spent attempting to fix it..."

"no, yo-you can't ma-make me." she wiped the tears away but they wouldn't stop.

"you have no choice. i will try make it as painless as possible, but it won't be easy. come, take my hand..."

his hand didn't seem the least bit comforting. the thumbs were nibbled on, cuticles split and raw skin showing, and the veins popped out of the back of it, as if he didn't eat enough. still, she didn't want an eternity of trying to fix the relationship she let fail. she weakly reached out her hand and touched his...

she was back in the year 2002. before her stood a judge, her ex-husband and his brother. she gasped and started to shake, this was her wedding ceremony. she shouldn't be here, this happened already. she tried to speak but noticed she could only see what was happening through her own eyes. she couldn't control her body or voice.

"why am i back here?" was all she could think.

"this is where it started. the guilt, the joy, the feeling of belonging to someone and being stuck with them for the rest of your life: the regret of not having a real wedding with the excitement of not doing things traditionally. sure you were with him far before that, but the attachment started here.

you see, having a boyfriend was a bit of another babysitting job for you. it was another person to take care of. he didn't compromise to take care of your needs, so you felt he was incapable of doing so. you put it out of your mind and just took it one day at a time. then you got married. deep in the back of your mind, something told you that this person that was incapable of taking care of you would need to be cared for on a 24 hour 365 day schedule. you let parts of yourself go at that moment to make sure he had what he wanted. you forgot the most important thing..."

"what is that...?"

"what you wanted." he tightly gripped her hand and they moved onto the next memory.

~~~~

not too bad for half an hour. i almost made it to 1000 words. perhaps in these 39 seconds i can make it all the way up. don't know. think i should write down my life story, someone's bound to read it. even if i'm pictured as the enemy, the person to hate, wouldn't it be interesting to see how many people like my life?

dr. wicked's write or die - freewrite

397

16

lab.drwicked.com

a true freewrite. i have nothing to say at the moment. though, that brings to mind a certain red door i once came across while walking to work one day. the color drew my attention since it was against the boring greys and blacks of the city. this door stood out. i suppose i'll tell you what happened when i entered.

the handle was warm, a shock compared to the chilled air around me. my hands didn't grip, but caressed the tarnished brass doorknob. for some reason, i really didn't want to let go, except the mood on the other side of the door called me in.

my body rocked back and forth, as if it was fighting with my head not to go in. i thought of the warmth coming from the inside and i couldn't help but step in. the moment my foot touched the soft hallway carpet i couldn't think for myself anymore. my hands closed the door, locking the 5 locks from top to bottom.

gotta stop telling and describe what's going on. let's try this again.

i reached out to touch the doorknob as my heart raced. so cold was the air it must have looked like i was smoking. but that didn't matter. the tarnished brass was warm on my fingers. caressing the curves i turned the handle more as if someone asked me.

no don't like that either. i'm sure other writers have this sense of not liking what they write. but it does get frustrating. i worry about how i want something to look to someone, even if i know full and well they will read whatever they want to read. it's just important that i keep on writing. i just can't sstop. my life depends on it.

we'll see what happens next time. love this dr. wicked's write or die. helps to get a sense of purpose in writing.. and jogs my memory to do it properly.

as i approached the door, my body swayed. the heart pushed me to open the door while the start of a headache cautioned me to stop and run away. i couldn't resist the heat coming from the other side. i needed to get in.