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 |   The simplicity of my day to day. |
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This is where I write my thoughts, feelings and my daily trials, tribulations and happy things
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| Written for Journalistic Intentions. Prompt:Trauma does not make you stronger. Trauma makes you traumatised. The end." That statement is so matter of fact. It’s as if it’s set in stone. Everyone will be forever traumatised who experiences trauma? Surely not. Each and everyone of us is different according to some quirk of nature. Or is it nurture? We all know ourselves on a level that is actually perfectly fine on an every day level. We know, most of us anyway, that we can or must roll with the punches of everyday life. No one has sailed through without some days which are s***. However no one can tell how we’d handle being paralysed after an accident or if we lost a child or our house burned down. I’m sure we think we’d know. Hope that we’d be brave, philosophical and cope with it in an adult fashion. And yet in truth who actually knows? Personally, I know I could face losing my home to a fire, I know this because possessions aren’t that important to me. I’ve moved countries, left family behind and beautiful homes. What I wouldn’t react well to was losing any of my family to a tragedy. Would I fall in a heap? Possibly, but forever? I hope not. But who knows? Not I. Yet I think that in some cases trauma could make someone stronger. It might elicit strengths they never knew they had. There are so many examples of trauma bringing out the best in people, making them angry or determined enough to not let the trauma destroy their lives but to make it even better. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions Prompt: Alive at both ends but dead in the middle. Alive at both ends but a little dead in the middle Sounds to me like some sort of riddle Could it be meant as a joke? Or how someone is after a stroke? Alive at both ends but dead in the middle Brain still working but heart’s a jiggle He’s still walking And can’t stop talking Alive at both ends but dead in the middle Sounds like some people I know They pretend to be human But in conclusion They’re just doing the motions Not showing emotions Living a life of pretence But in their defence They’re alive at both ends but dead in the middle |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions Prompt: “It’s clear now we live in precedented times.” It’s said, “We live in unprecedented times.” The fact is that’s untrue. Let’s read between the lines, Look over our shoulders at history’s view. There’s little occurring now that’s new. But be sure of this truth. Though it might not have happened to you, You don’t have to be much of a sleuth. Somewhere, sometime, someone like you Has suffered the same sort of trial And wondered how he’d get through. He walked in your shoes the same mile. So whenever you think the world is to end, Just remember that nothing is new. It’s happened before and will happen again, And again and again. It’s all Ballyhoo. |
| Written for Journalistic Intentions Prompt: That’s what a man would say. What’s the difference between the sexes When it comes to points of view? Where shall I start? The answer? Complex. That’s the reply I give to you Consider a journey in the car To a place you’ve never been. Suddenly you’ve gone too far, And tempers begin to wear thin. Will he stop and ask A person for directions? No! He wouldn’t bother with that task. He’ll make his own selections. Don’t tell a man about your worries, He won’t listen to your voice He’ll pat your hand, “Don’t worry, honey,” And inundate you with advice. Men! They can drive you almost crazy, With their weird and different traits. But, when you see the ways he Looks at you with love. A smile he generates. |
| Entry one for journalistic Intentions. Prompt “Oh would you just shut up? You're rats with wings!" .Rats with wings you’ve been heard to call The ubiquitous little pigeon. I think that makes no sense at all. I’d like to stand for the opposition. Pigeons have existed for ten thousand years, Long before cities and towns. They covered the world, there were no frontiers. They were free, and knew no bounds. These mighty birds have been a boon to man. Flying messengers are they, Delivering missives throughout the lands, Dodging storms and birds of prey. So please don’t call them rats with wings, They simply take an easy feed. But have dined with emperors and kings. So with your premise I’ve disagreed. |
| Prompt: Andre the Blog Monkey's Final Mystery Challenge 5 Day Mini Challenge day 5 Take a good look at this painting, is there something mysterious about it? A painting of a writer, who's having a drink, possibly wine, but more likely whiskey, maybe beer, whatever is in that glass you know it's going to get the guy drunk, that's all I'm saying, and there's nothing mysterious about that. So... What is the mystery behind the painting? . The enigmatic man who sat nightly in the corner of the bar, scribbling away, wouldn’t interact with any of the other patrons. This had gone on for months and people had stopped asking the same old questions. “Where are you from?” most of the locals wanted to know. “Nowhere,” he’d reply. It was unusual to have secret visitors to the island of Writing.Com, and yet this man had managed to get here by himself on a small rowing boat. He’d checked in to the only accommodation, and since then done nothing but sit and write and drink. He simply raises a finger in my direction when he needs a refill. Whiskey sour with a dash of coconut juice is his tipple. Of course he is only human, well I believe he is, or maybe not. When he goes to relieve himself he always gathers up his writing materials and takes them with him, but this time he’s forgotten. I creep up to the table and drag out my mobile phone and prepare to take a photo of what he’s been writing these many weeks. I quickly press the camera button. “What do you think you’re doing?” Oh no, I’ve been sprung! I spin around. I mutter that I’m just cleaning the table, but I can tell he doesn’t believe me. I apologise and walk behind the bar to check the photograph of his work. The pages were covered in tiny writing. My eyes aren’t what they used to be so I enlarge the screen. Oh my God, he’s a spy. He’s been busy checking up on all the members as they log in to the place. It seems as if he’s working his way up from the black cases, then the yellow, blue and so on! I’d better warn the StoryMaster. |
1. Orange creamsickle Write about something people do that isn't necessarily a huge deal, but if everyone did it, it would be total chaos. If everyone drove motorbikes without mufflers on their bikes, we wouldn’t be able to hear ourselves think! There are a certain group of bikers around here who insist on roaring around the streets with engines so loud you have to stop speaking. Can you imagine what life would be like if all vehicles had no silencers on their exhausts? Intolerable and certainly chaotic. 3. TABOO When should books be banned? Share thoughts but do answer as personally as possible. Have you had this experience? Would your life-experience or who-you-are be banned? Why is this happening now? The answer to the question is simply, never. I can’t think of one reason to ban a book. The only experience I’ve had during my life was when Lady Chatterly’s lover was banned in England. It would have been early seventies or maybe late sixties. There was a court case and endless newspaper columns dedicated to the publication of the book. All this succeeded to do was make people seek the book out, underground. There actually by today’s standards nothing much offensive in the book. The reasons that have been given for banning books have been many. ‘13 reasons Why’ was banned because it was thought by many to incite or encourage suicide by teenagers. There have been a few such as To Kill a Mockingbird’ because of perceived racial slurs. But the fact remains banning anything doesn’t work.  |
| The Curious and Mysterious Disappearance of Lord Lucan Lord Lucan, who vanished in 1974 following the murder of his children's nanny. Will we ever know what happened to him? I remember this story very well. It made international headlines at the time and has been the but of jokes ever since. Anytime since then if anyone went missing it was always suggested they were hanging out with Lord Lucan. My theory is because he had powerful friends at the time he was assisted to leave England. I think that much is definitely true. But where did he go? There were rumours he fell overboard from a boat whilst fleeing to France. But these were just rumours bandied about to put the police off his scent. When he arrived in France he became a snail handler. Some of his snails, although destined for the table, became his pets. He trained them to climb walls on demand and even began a team of racing snails. They became so adept at covering a metre in rapid time he started to take bets on the winner. Each snail would sport a painted number on its shell. He lived out the remainder of his years as a breeder of snails, retiring when he reached old age. He died peacefully at the great age of 99 years and nine months. |
| What's Written On Dighton Rock? In the 1950s, workers uncovered a huge 40-ton rock near Berkeley, Massachusetts with strange marks and symbols carved on it. It had first been described around 1680 and was studied many times by scholars in the centuries after, as per New England. Because it appears to have both pictorial inscriptions as well as some letter-like carvings, not everyone thinks it is the work of Native tribes in the area, but possibly the work of sailors from Portugal or even proof of Viking or Phoenician visitation. Andre says, "If anyone can decipher this message, it would have to be a writer." Share your theory, and solve the message in the marks and symbols. Convince your readers that your theory is the only factual solution. ****** So many great minds have spent centuries trying to decipher the markings on Dighten Rock. How the inhabitants and authors of the area would laugh about the time and energy expended when there is such a simple answer. It was around this time the Puritans had settled there. They were trying to fit in peacefully with the local Mohawks. The Dighten rock became a meeting place. Long discussions took place, each side trying to put their point of view across without causing offence. They would sit around the rock for hours and doodle as the new laws were made. One of the carvings has been interpreted as saying: KILROY WAS HERE. and another says: MUST REMEMBER TO FEED THE DOG. Yet another sweet one was: I LOVE POCAHONTAS. This one has an arrow and a heart. Underneath these is a shopping list.: DON’T FORGET TO ORDER TWO BAGS OF SALT. It’s simple really, they were just ordinary folks going about their business. |
| You have 3 options. Choose one or mix and match. 1. Cotton candy — land or sea, beach or mountains, prairie or city, hot or cold or ___. Where would be best for (you) growing up, making a living, growing old?" 2. IMAGINATION Use the genres gay-lesbian/computer/crime-gangster to weave a tale but no romance For this post 200-500 words is great. But can you give it a hook? If so consider FORUM Chapter One (18+) Write the first chapter of a book, inspired by the prompt. #2251577 by Cubby (1358) The prompt is an image of a tail (a whale?). No genre restrictions and up to 18+ rating allowed. 3. TABOO (ADDICTIONS) Don't answer these questions directly but use them to prompt a response. Are you an addict? Broadly defined that can include anything; but, WDC taboos aren't fussy about weight or how many books you have in your abode. xxxxx however... whistle the WDC rating-police. In real life people have addictions of all sorts, from acceptable to criminal. Possible approaches: 1. Speak from personal experience if you dare (Rate entry appropriately. I don't care but others do.) 2. Speak from the experience of those near and dear. 3. How does your community (church/neighborhood/city/culture) deal with addictions. 4. Support can be key ... or so 'they' ****** Prompt one: Re the best climate, country, environment for me personally to have grown up in. I count myself very lucky because my first 27 years were spent in England. In an England that no longer exists. The years after the war, although poverty ridden they were also peaceful, safe and happy ones. The war was over and all people wanted was peace. My Dad came home after six years away and although there was a lot of settling in, we were happy to be a family again. All I remember of those early years are Summer days. I don’t know why, but those are what I recall. Other times are Christmas and icy pavements. Then Autumn days, kicking the leaves on our way to school. Horse Chestnut fights ( conkers) and Bonfire night. So all in all they were days of fond memories. In 1972 we left to come to another country. One of sunshine, fresh fruit and a great place to raise our family. I have no regrets of not being in Australia throughout my life, we had the best years in both places. England is not the place it was and neither is Australia. Too many people and traffic now. As to the question of addiction. There were no addictions in my family when growing up. But close family members have made up for our lack of experience. The first time addiction entered my ignorant zone was when our son was eighteen. On the face of it he was the least likely person to get involved in drugs. He and his father had been heavily involved in motor-cross. Each weekend was taken up with the sport until our son reached fifteen. It was then he began to drift away from us. To cut a long story short I told him to leave home. He left the state with little funds but kept in constant contact with us. He had a very hard journey and I was castigated by many for turning him away. But he is now a mature, happy, successful man and I’m convinced I did the best for him by refusing to accept his addiction. His father wasn’t so sure and told me I was risking our son’s life. His sister still battles alcoholism. This didn’t start until she was in her late thirties. She was a wife and mother. Her addiction has led to a divorce and estranged children. It was and is heartbreaking to witness. There is not a good side to addiction no matter what the substance is. |
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