Today's 100 words:
Does growing older mean growing wiser? I heard that on the radio this morning as I was driving home from the preschool. I know that I've lived through enough in my nearly four decades to have at least some knowledge to pass on to my children. I've certainly made mistakes that I hope my children never repeat. And my four-year-old son: he learns so quickly, and he shares what he knows with his little sister. I think the level of our wisdom changes with growing age, but everyone, no matter how old, has something to teach.
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
Wanting what I couldn't have
Today's 100 words:
When I was a kid, I sometimes felt resentful that my family and I lived seven miles out of town. I was never much of a joiner, especially when I was in elementary school, but there were instances when I wished I could be in Brownies or dance or just go to a friend's house after school. My dad was always working to support us all, though, and my mom didn't drive, so those kinds of things weren't possible for me and my sister. Instead we rode home on the school bus each day--noisy and crowded, that acrid smell of exhaust...
When I was a kid, I sometimes felt resentful that my family and I lived seven miles out of town. I was never much of a joiner, especially when I was in elementary school, but there were instances when I wished I could be in Brownies or dance or just go to a friend's house after school. My dad was always working to support us all, though, and my mom didn't drive, so those kinds of things weren't possible for me and my sister. Instead we rode home on the school bus each day--noisy and crowded, that acrid smell of exhaust...
Sunday, January 29, 2012
On sleep
Today's 100 words:
Last night I opened the window to allow the chill air to ease me to sleep. I don't like the stuffy indoor air that fills the house each winter--it's too warm, almost suffocating in its heaviness--and I much prefer cooler temperatures at night, with blankets pulled up cozily to my chin. And unless the central air is running, summer sleep is horrible for me as well: the fitful flinging of sheets during endless nights; the tossing and turning and tangling; the stickiness that doubles when someone else is asleep in the same bed. Give me cool temperatures anytime.
Last night I opened the window to allow the chill air to ease me to sleep. I don't like the stuffy indoor air that fills the house each winter--it's too warm, almost suffocating in its heaviness--and I much prefer cooler temperatures at night, with blankets pulled up cozily to my chin. And unless the central air is running, summer sleep is horrible for me as well: the fitful flinging of sheets during endless nights; the tossing and turning and tangling; the stickiness that doubles when someone else is asleep in the same bed. Give me cool temperatures anytime.
Saturday, January 28, 2012
On getting older
Today's 100 words:
I woke up with a tingling left hand and a crick in my neck, and although I know that both are merely the result of a fitful night's sleep, I can't help but also think of them as harbingers of age. I'll turn forty in August, and sometimes I have "I can't believe it" moments when I think of that milestone. It's not that I consider forty old, but it seems unreal that the eighteen-year-old I used to be--the one starting college and beginning her life--could already have had that many birthdays. Time passes so fast.
I woke up with a tingling left hand and a crick in my neck, and although I know that both are merely the result of a fitful night's sleep, I can't help but also think of them as harbingers of age. I'll turn forty in August, and sometimes I have "I can't believe it" moments when I think of that milestone. It's not that I consider forty old, but it seems unreal that the eighteen-year-old I used to be--the one starting college and beginning her life--could already have had that many birthdays. Time passes so fast.
Friday, January 27, 2012
An exercise...
Today's 100 words deviate a bit from my usual. They are unpolished--a part of a stream of consciousness exercise I did this morning to try to gather more ideas for a character-based poem I've been working on.
I don't know now why I cared so much, why I felt I had to have you--or anyone--with me (next to, around, inside), except for maybe that fear I have of being alone, unwanted, unloved: yes, I can see that little idiosyncrasy being a problem (more so then than now) that made me cling to anybody--any body--no matter how screwed up, messed up, toked up that person may or may not have been: hair dyed purple or black and slicked back with Ross Geller gel--whatever; I needed you to survive. What an idiot I was.
I don't know now why I cared so much, why I felt I had to have you--or anyone--with me (next to, around, inside), except for maybe that fear I have of being alone, unwanted, unloved: yes, I can see that little idiosyncrasy being a problem (more so then than now) that made me cling to anybody--any body--no matter how screwed up, messed up, toked up that person may or may not have been: hair dyed purple or black and slicked back with Ross Geller gel--whatever; I needed you to survive. What an idiot I was.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Surprised by the Muse
Today's 100 words:
For most of this week, I've struggled with writing. Although I've been sitting at the computer each night, wanting to create, my spirit hasn't been willing. Nearly everything I've done is probably best suited for the recycle bin, but I'll keep it anyway because one just doesn't know.
Last night, however, was different: the muse graced me with an idea, and I took that idea and worked to shape it into something worthwhile. While the result is not the best poem I've ever written, one thing is true: it's a wonderful thing to be surprised by the muse.
For most of this week, I've struggled with writing. Although I've been sitting at the computer each night, wanting to create, my spirit hasn't been willing. Nearly everything I've done is probably best suited for the recycle bin, but I'll keep it anyway because one just doesn't know.
Last night, however, was different: the muse graced me with an idea, and I took that idea and worked to shape it into something worthwhile. While the result is not the best poem I've ever written, one thing is true: it's a wonderful thing to be surprised by the muse.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Lost!
Today's 100 words:
I have a tendency to get lost when I'm driving. A couple of years ago, I wanted to take my son to the children's museum downtown. I'm not from here, and I rarely venture out of the suburbs and into the downtown labyrinth of one-way streets and traffic, so I Googled the directions and set off, hopeful that we would get to our destination. I missed a left, however, and couldn't see a way to turn around in the traffic. Somehow I ended up miles away, near the lake, and only a frantic call to my husband got us home again.
I have a tendency to get lost when I'm driving. A couple of years ago, I wanted to take my son to the children's museum downtown. I'm not from here, and I rarely venture out of the suburbs and into the downtown labyrinth of one-way streets and traffic, so I Googled the directions and set off, hopeful that we would get to our destination. I missed a left, however, and couldn't see a way to turn around in the traffic. Somehow I ended up miles away, near the lake, and only a frantic call to my husband got us home again.
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