Tag: postaday

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First Love

You know, I almost married the girl. It was a whirlwind romance, born in summer, gestated in fall, and tested in a harsh winter, followed by an even harsher spring. We met, we wooed, we made exchange of vows (of the future marriage kind, not of the marriage itself kind), and I even spent the … Continue reading First Love

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“Messy” is the new “Blue”

Shades_Of_Blue_Wallpaper_1ad0gI’ve always wondered where the idea of blue being used to describe a sad emotion came from. Blue can be an incredibly vibrant color when at its best. I remember when I was a kid my “uncle” had this bright blue shirt that he would always wear on Sundays. It was something we could count on whenever we saw him on a Sunday, that bright blue shirt and a smile on his unshaven face. I never asked him about that blue shirt but I always thought about it, and what it might have meant to him. As I got older I realized there actually must have been a number of different shirts all in the same color because just one would have worn out or faded with time. He was always happy in that shirt, so I equated that color with happiness. Back then when anyone would tell me they were feeling blue, I would smile and say, “Great!” never minding their confused expressions.

There are so many different shades of blue, too, something else that didn’t truly resonate as a child. The sky was blue, and I knew it wasn’t the same blue as my uncle’s shirt, but my brain didn’t really process. My uniform for private school was a yellow shirt with navy blue pants. They were so dark they were hard to distinguish from black. I couldn’t reconcile the bright blue of the shirt with the light blue of the sky with the dark blue of the navy pants. That every single one of those things could be blue and yet be so distinguishable from each other was mind boggling. Blue seemed to me to be in just about everything around me, and I looked for it everywhere. Continue reading ““Messy” is the new “Blue””

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Reading Material

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Our Books, Ourselves.

I have been reading for so long I honestly haven’t thought about what it is about the things I routinely read that draws me in and makes me want to read it in the first place. People ask me all the time what I’ve read that was good, and I scan my brain to think about what that person might find interesting from the myriad of things I’ve read recently, but I hardly ever think about what it was that I myself found intriguing about the book that kept me reading it. So, when I read the daily prompt yesterday I stopped and thought about it. The prompt said, “How do you pick what blogs or books to read? What’s the one thing that will get you to pick up a book or click on a link every single time?” It made me really think, which is the common denominator with daily prompts that I actually participate in, so I decided to dig deep and figure it out.

#1 – There needs to be some connection to my own life, no matter how fragile. Continue reading “Reading Material”

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All That Junk

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Um, yeah.

I admit it; I’m a pack rat. Eek. I’m that guy who would be classified as a hoarder if he had a little less space and a little more junk. I have just enough junk that I can hide it away when company comes, but too much junk to keep it hidden for long, and that’s because it keeps growing. Don’t get me wrong, I am not one of those people who buys a ton of junk just because it’s on sale and then it sits around collecting dust. I have no idea where those people came from or how to get rid of them. I’m one of those people who collects things that are worth the time and energy.

For example, I collect:

** Concert ticket stubs

** Stickers from the Disney DVD Club

** Books

** Letters people have sent me from way back Continue reading “All That Junk”

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2100

The barbed wire kept them separated, animals in cages that could see and speak with each other, but that had no physical interactions. Too much had passed between them to sever their mental connection, and yet they fought against their bonds in an attempt to find a way out. Or a way in, whichever one accomplished their goals for them most expediently. It had been a long, hard year living in the camps, with the green and gold lights turning on and off in synchronous rhythm, and with the dogs howling nonstop until all hours of the night. And that’s when she came.

They were staring at the large clock on the main retention building at midnight, together, yet apart, as they often were at the dawning of a new day, the man and the boy. Illuminated by giant fog lamps, the building took on a ghastly yellow glow not unlike sickly skin. They weren’t staring because of the view, however. They stood in those exact two spots, facing East, every night because it was when the second moon traded places with the first and could be seen with the naked eye. Even though the retention building only offered a partial view of the moon juxtaposition, it was the best they could aspire to, and they treasured it as if it were iron.

The woman emerged from the shadows to the North, which is why they didn’t register her presence initially, when she stepped out of the shade into the full light of a glow much brighter than their world had known before or since. Continue reading “2100”