Oh, "consistency!" How I loathe thee (much like the word "budget" don't get me started)!
I guess if I were consistent in anything it would be just how damn inconsistent I am! *insert cymbal crash HERE* I have not been officially diagnosed, but the signs are there that would say I have some sort of attention deficit. It has become much worse as I've gotten older. So no one project is EVER going to hold my attention for long, minus writing perhaps (with the giant hiatus' thrown in there every now and again) because with writing I can jump from poetry to short-stories, to blogging, to novels, and back again. Everything else? Not so much. Some examples and their proceeding excuses:
It is what it is. I am flighty but fun *smiles*.
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through the pores of my skin,
your emotions wormed in, slipping into every crevice, crack, and cell of me-- my responsibility. yes, my responsibility to carry YOU inside of me - your happiness, your sadness, your success, your failures -- all mine -- ready or not. taught young, I do it still, absorbing everyone I meet, so eager to please. the chaos inside me, making it difficult to distinguish me from YOU, from him, from her, from them. rip me apart, limb from limb, I give it all away, losing myself in the process. take an eye, a lung, rip out my gut, invade my brain which organ of mine do YOU require now? my heart? reach in, grip it, and shake it free from my ribs, because if YOU hadn't realized yet I'd given it to YOU long ago with every other part of me, then what's the point? I've been neglecting it for myself anyway.
Just Jot It January hosted by Linda G. Hill. Come join in! It's not too late.
Today's prompt " Organ" was brought to us by Kaye. Her blog and posts are so cute! Check it out!
(Pictures of pup provided below...you'll want to see them. Who doesn't like puppies?)
-------- To be fair, I wouldn't say this is my FAVORITE saying due to it's origin, which came about after the 9/11 attacks. The campaign, "If you see something, say something," was launched to raise awareness to get citizens and communities playing an important part in helping to prevent further terrorism. It was not a good time in the country, but it provided a way for the public and the regular Joe to feel as those they were helping to prevent any further tragedies, such as that day, from happening again. So, no. That is definitely not what has caused it to become a mumbled and spoken saying in my home, or anywhere for that matter, when I describe our sweet Penelope. Penelope is a one-year-old, 12-pound Shih-tzu/Bichon mix. She is pure delight, pure princess, spoiled by all, given everything, and full of kisses and playtime. But she is also very much a, "See Something, Say Something," kinda pup. And boy, does she take it to the extreme! Nobody, and I mean NOBODY and NOTHING, better come up in her space within at least ten miles, because she will know and she will say something about it. I will know about it. You will know about. The neighbors will know about it. Bark, bark, bark - "There's a dog on the lawn! I know we live in a townhouse and this is a communal grassy area for all! But get 'em out of here! That's my poop and pee place!" 
Oh, the things we are willing to do to be thin!
Do whatever it takes. A pill, a shot, a powder. This is what the media feeds us. This is what is acceptable. A quick fix. So, why not swallow a capsule or two filled with tiny eggs and larvae, guaranteeing surefire results! A symbiotic relationship of sorts where thinness is the reward for being eaten from the inside out. _______ Just Jot It January hosted by Linda G. Hill. Prompt, SYMBIOTIC, brought to us by Sally. ----------- This prompt reminded me of The Ugly Stepsister movie (clip/review) below . The movie gives the side from that of the ugly stepsister and everything she tries to do to become beautiful. It's a different perspective of the whole Cinderella story we know about. WARNING: SOME GRAPHIC SCENES watch at own curiosity.
reedsy.com writing prompt: Write about a character who can rewind, pause, or fast-forward time.
Six customers waited in line before him. If each ordered just one specialty coffee, no food, nothing else, it would take approximately one and a half minutes to order. It would take another two minutes, if Henry was generous, for the single barista to then make the drink. That simply wouldn't do.
He needed to be to work at seven thirty and according to his watch, it was already seven fifteen. It would take twenty-one minutes by his calculation and that didn't even include his own order. It could be argued that he should've planned better, but he hadn't. To be fair, his favorite cafe was unusually busy that morning, and six people in line before him were unheard of. Good business for the non-franchised coffee shop but awful for him. He placed two fingers to the pulse of his neck and released an aggravated breath. And just like that, everything stood still. Frozen in place like a printed photograph. No more obnoxious honking taxi cabs. No loud bustling of crowds of people passing one another on the streets. No flashing advertising billboards. No sounds of the espresso machine - though its steam hung like a cotton balloon in the air. It was always an impressive sight, if he timed the pause just so. Henry passed the waiting customers and proceeded around the counter. He continued by the barista, frozen in time in mid-pour, and walked straight up to the cahier’s iPad. He deleted the partial order already partially entered, typed in his own, a Red Eye and a ham croissant. He added his name and swiped his card to pay, including a thirty percent tip. He might be a jerk for circumventing time, but at least he wasn’t a complete one. Finished and pleased with his order, he stepped back around the counter and took his place with the other customers, but to the side where customers waited for their orders to be completed. Again, he pressed two fingers to the side of his neck and before sighing to release the spell, he prepared himself for the onslaught of noises heading his way. It was always rather jarring to the senses, like a deaf child having their ocular implant turned on for the first time. No matter how many times he’d experienced it, it was always still the same. He never liked to put things on pause for too long. 
rubbish
garbage pure nonsense on a page not worth an edit let alone the wasted effort already spent at the keyboard. imposter delusional full of wishful thinking what makes you think things will change - this time, silly girl? you've done this before again, and again. you'll let them down, the waiters, the hopefuls, the vanishing fans. because the words are rubbish the ideas are rubbish characters, plots, story lines - rubbish therefore you are rubbish, too. ------- (free-write poem about a writers world and fighting the demons of doubt) Just Jot It January hosted by Linda G. Hill. The prompt, rubbish, provided by Di at pensitivity101.  Honeybud
Chewy, gooey, heavenly delight! I had never tasted anything finer than the combination of lavender and honeycomb ice cream on my tongue. How Blacksmith Ice Cream Co. on main street in Bountiful, Utah had concocted this combination, I'll never know, but bless them for it. Bless them well.
I lifted each tiny spoonful to my lips, savoring each bite with a full held breath, closing my eyes as not to be distracted. That was where I was at this point on this date. Because my ice cream had far more taste and was far more deserving of my attention than my date did. That Honeybud ice cream was the only saving factor of a date that would go no farther than this. We had been sitting outside at a table and chairs in the very late evening, cars driving up and down main street, and that was where the date had taken its ugly turn. A car had whizzed by, a little faster than it should, and my date commented something to the effect, "And they wonder why they get targeted and shot like they do." A racist remark. 
Here's the thing about opinions: just like buttholes, we've all got one. We do. Me. You. We have opinions for everything. For every topic. For every subject. For every person. We have them aplenty. These opinions range from which NFL team is the best (the 49ers, of course), which political side is evil, whether God exists, all the way down to who in the family knows the best way to load the dishwasher (definitely not me).
Now, there is nothing inherently wrong about having an opinion. Opinions are neither good or bad, per se. I have hundreds upon thousands of opinions pop into my head on the daily! Living in my brain is quite the crazy experience, I tell ya. But here's the thing: I don't express the great majority of these opinions verbally. They stay in my head - thank god for everyone around me, right?  We own property out in the Nevada desert, roughly an hour outside of Montello. There is very little to anything out there. Even Montello, as a town, is barely a town at all with its population of less than 100 people. They do have two bars, though, so they have that going for them. That's why we like it. No, not the bars. The quiet serene feel of the area. As my children call the night skies, "It's like our own planetarium!" Out in the middle of this desert oasis, we can look up at the stars and see it all. It's amazing! So, that's why when our security cameras (motion activated) produced a video of what appeared to be a little black dog on the property, we were confused. Where in the world did he come from? How did he get to our property which is located a good mile or more up a dirt valley road?  The first video we received came in late on a Monday night. The video was slightly fuzzy and we weren't exactly sure what we were looking at. Eventually, we figured out it was a small dog. (See pic to the left. This is a still shot from one of the videos).
Because our property is nearly four hours away, and as sad as it sounds, we figured the little guy wouldn't make it through the night (sooo many coyotes in the area). If he did survive the night, he could be long gone before we got there. The desert is huge. Tuesday afternoon, we received another motion activated video. The little dog was still there! He was sticking close by our cabin. Now, we were quite concerned. There wasn't water there. We didn't leave food outside. We tried reaching out to some acquaintances in Montello, to see if we might be able to get some help. Unfortunately, we had no luck getting a hold of anyone. My husband was out of town (he was actually sending me the security videos from New Jersey) and due to life being life, I couldn't go out there to check on the dog . We kept trying to get a hold of someone.  A writing partner, you say? Why in the world would you want one?
Well, let me tell you...if you find the right match, a person who "gets you" and your writing style, then you will have hit writer's gold. In all honesty, I'm not sure that I would be the writer that I am today without my perfect writing partner at my side. She's been there from the beginning, and boy, does she GET ME. Not only can I bounce ideas off her and get her input, but on the rare occasion that we get together in person, I can sit in my pjs on my laptop, knowing that she too, will be sitting in her pjs writing on her laptop. Perfection. Our relationship is the ultimate balance of push and pull. Enough push to get me to put my butt in the chair and my fingers on the laptop. Enough pull that when either of us make a suggestion we don't like, we feel safe to say, "Nope. You can't make me. You're not my real dad." |
Angela ScottMy Face...Enjoy! 
Ahh, the fruits of my labors...
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