A Tiny Story

This is a small piece for submission to a pretty cool writing experience.

Paper

He always wrote his own life, or what he dreamed it to be.

As a kid he loved the fantasies.

He grew up and continued to explore the infinite of the imagination.

Then one day he was gifted the future.

He didn't know the power of the paper, but he tested its gift.

He could've written that he was an astronaut, that dinosaurs ruled, or that he was the wealthiest man.

But he wrote of a knight, a man who risked his life to save a woman; the one of his dreams.

He wrote of love.

He always wrote his own life, or what he dreamed it to be.

#1 Ask

Definition

Verb

1. To put a question to: inquire of
   
2. To request information about
   
3. To try to get by using words; request
   
4. To solicit from; request of
   
5. To demand; expect
   

Story

"Okay, what do we do next?"

"We adventure!"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Hawaii? Paris?"

"I love Spam Sushi and Wine, where else?"

"Disneyworld!?"

"YES!"

"What is your adventure?"

"A life time of adventures with you."

#14 Glints

Definition

Noun

1. A momentary flash of light; a sparkle
   
2. A faint or fleeting indication; a trace
   

Story

Young boys dreamed of stars. Halden was no exception. He looked at the sparkles in the sky everyday and knew that something was alive beyond what he could see. He just knew it. It never made sense to him that the people on this planet are the only ones in existence. That of all the stars and all the planets that he learned about in school that only one had the right combination of elements to create intelligent life.

Halden asked his mother one day what she knew about the stars and the worlds that had to exist.

"Well Halden we used to travel beyond the stars. Hundreds of years ago we used to send citizens in ships into space. They investigated some of the closest planets to us they even tried to settle there. We even found evidence of life on one, but it was long gone. There are rumors of a planet that still possessed life, but we never got there. Many people went on the journey to it. None ever came back. The researchers never could perfect their ships so they could go far enough without people dying of old age. No one wanted to send children young enough to survive. Our people decided to spend their resources on bettering our own planet instead of seeking one to escape to. There have been rumors that the new resources to harvest the power of the stars and energy could be used to get someone far enough, but because of the wars there is no money."

"But why? Has anyone tried to go without the support of the people's resources? Can I go?"

"Of course son. You can do whatever you set your heart to. But for now it's bed time."

That was what did it. Every parent says it, but Halden never grew out of his dream to find life elsewhere in the universe. He had a pet guinea pig that he talked to everyday about how he and Simon would put on their little space suits and build their own ship to find new life beyond what they could see in the night's sky.

Simon, and Halden's family, didn't live to see him fulfill his dream. He was the only one who escaped. He was the only one who believed that his world wasn't peaceful. He was the one who continued the research that his people did not have the resources for. He was the only one who got out alive.

Halden was still young when his planet crumbled beneath him. But he believed in the stars, so he took to them to save himself. He flew and flew. He was 60 years older when he landed on a strange planet that he was destined to find. Halden knew when he was greeted by the residents of this planet and knew that the planet that his mother said his people never traveled to was a lie. He recognized these people as ones of his own kind. He knew then that this planet came long before the one he flew 60 years to escape. His people were still alive. He lived for 10 years on this planet. Meeting the people and sharing the story of his home planet and the destruction of his people. The story of how he traveled so far to find a planet that was supposed to only be a myth.

Halden died at 104 years old, on Earth.

#2 Alumnus

Definition

1. a person who has attended or has graduated from a particular school, college, or university
   
2. a person who is a former member, employee, contributor, or inmate
   

   
    

Story

 

So for the word this week, I pose a question:

What would you say to students of your alma mater?

I was asked to do this about a month ago. I had a plan. I went in to that room of, somewhat impressionable, students. They were honors students. They were seeking an education that they could use to make our world a better place. Whether being educated in history, biology or environmental studies, they wanted to change the world. That is what a liberal arts education can be good for.

Since these were honors students I went in with a way to get them to think about their honors thesis that they would have to write to complete their Minor in Rhetoric. The prompt was as follows:

• What do you love?
  
• What do you want to learn more about?
  
• What is your primary field of study?
  

My answers to these questions are how I formed my thesis when I completed a similar program. Movies, The Holocaust and English…were my answers. Well that turned in to The Messenger's Messengers: The Study of the Portrayal of Nazi Soldiers in Turn of the Twenty First Century Popular Movies. This paper was quite an undertaking and turned into a pretty cool analysis. I wanted to use my experience as a way to get them to understand what the whole program was about to me: Learning how to communicate and learn more effectively.

I was asked by the professor/advisor, sitting in on this little get together, what I got from the program. This led me off on a tangent…

College is about learning how to live in the real world. Your professors are your managers and supervisors. They hold you accountable to tasks and reward or penalize you accordingly. They help you when you ask for it and are happy to see that what they teach impacts their students. But if you don't love it and don't want to be there, they can see that and wonder why?

What I learned from this program and going to college? They asked.

I learned that:

• If you don't love what you do. Don't do it. If you have to do it to survive, find a way to learn from it and incorporate something that you love.
  
• A career is very different from a job. You should work jobs to learn what your career should be.
  
• You should always try to learn from your experiences.
  
• Life doesn't fall into your lap once you have a college degree…you still have to be driven to live your life to the fullest!
  
• Most importantly…finishing college is one of the most important things you will ever accomplish in your professional life. It shows that you can start something and finish it. A valuable skill in any working environment.
  

What did you learn from it?

#42 Uncompromising

Adjective

Unwilling to grant concessions or negotiate; inflexible

I can't decide if this is my life or not. Or at least what it is supposed to be.

I live in a small village. There are 301 residents in our small community. I know some of them, but my mom and dad know everybody. As I get older they will let me meet more people. We have to be 16 years old before our parents let us meet people who are older than us. They say it is for our safety. I don't believe it, unlike my friend Minnie who is on the side of the adults.

We live in a place where we don't work outside the lines and we follow the rules. Everyone understands that the rules are there for a reason, even if they aren't explained to us. There is a border around the town. From the stories that our parents tell us the original settlers got here by crossing over that line, but they could never cross back. They were stuck. The story goes that they found a door and through the door there was food. The town was built around the door and it has been that way ever since.

I live with my parents, 2 older twin brothers and younger sister. My brothers are training to be scouts. My sister is learning from our mother how to cook the food that the boys bring home. My mother is a nurse in the infirmary. My father is the leader of the scouts. He no longer goes out on missions, but he trains the younger boys with his teammate, William. I hope when I am 18 I can start training. Not many girls have gone on to do it successfully. Only once has a woman not disappeared on their first mission; Jean, she is a legend among us young girls who want to train. As far as the records go back we have only lost 5 men on their first mission. It is a job that requires strength and bravery. It isn't a safe job, the teams usually spend a week in the in the infirmary after each trip. There are 28 scouts. A few of them only last their first year, so they train 4-6 new ones every year. It is expected that my brothers will be the best of the best. I want to be the best of the best. I want to know what is beyond that door.

Everyone speculates what happens through it. The scouts are forbidden to talk about it. Only they know what happen through the door and they are not shy about sharing the horrifying legends of those who have barely come back. It is a rule that no one breaks except the stories of scouts past. We believe in the system. We would starve if we didn't. We are taught to have faith in what lies beyond the door and not question it.

I question it…

#29 Overwritten

Verb

•         Write on top of (other writing).
•         Destroy (data) or the data in (a file) by entering new data in its place.

It was midnight and Jack knew that his story was ready. He had worked on it for five years to get to this point. It was his “great American novel,” he knew he was ready. His work was ready. His publisher had criticized and rejected all of his other attempts, but even he knew, deep down, that they weren't good enough. I mean who was he kidding those were feeble attempts at middle of the road paperbacks. First there was a man who goes to the grocery store one day and discovers an underground cannibalism ring; it was the butcher, duh. Second was a woman whose sister was murdered and she gets too close to the murder and gets killed; it was their little sister. Third, he tried something outside the box and had a crazy boat man be responsible for mysterious drowning victims in Scotland; it turned out to be the Loch Ness monster. His publisher didn't like any of them. No matter how many times he wrote them over, he knew they weren't worth his time. He had even given up on writing entirely. Until now.

Jack had a plan. This was going to be more than a novel. It was going to be an experience for the reader. He even made plans to have a mix CD to accompany the book with tracks that matched t mood while offering a slight tone to each chapter that only a delicate orchestra could offer. His publisher was asking for unique ideas and this was his!

He went into her office the next morning to submit his new novel. It had already gotten past her assistant who was tasked with reading everything she didn't feel was worth her time. But this one had gotten Patrick’s seal of approval so she had to at least consider it. As he waited for Patrick to take him in he became more and more confident by the minute.

She welcomed him in with words of false reassurance and a tinge of impatience. He sat in the armless chair opposite her inlaid desk and Versailles domed She looked so small in it, he never realized how petite she was. A Napoleon complex was his gut excuse for her extravagance and intolerance.

She briefly discussed with him Patrick’s review of the first few chapters.

“He seems more optimistic than usual about the projects that I send him to read. That’s something, but I need to read the whole thing if we are going to give it any kind of consideration. You know as well as anyone else that we have cut our spending on ‘independent’ and ‘requested’ projects. I can’t promise you anything at this point.”

“I understand. But I think-”

“You know that I’m not a fan of your work. The ideas you had in the beginning were good, but you could never put them on paper as well as I would have anticipated.”

“Yes, this is not the first time you have spoken your mind about my work.”

He can’t get past the annoyed scowl on her face.

“Well hand it over then I have many more projects to focus on this week.”

“You can only have the first two chapters; once you finish with those I will send you the link to the rest.”

“That isn’t protocol Jack.”

“I know, but I’ve been working on this one for years.”

“I need the whole thing now.”

“I can’t do that. This is what you get. I am more than confident that you will want me to send you the rest.”

He now gets to revel in making her uncomfortable, an unusual feeling for her.

“Okay I guess that will have to do. But as soon as I call for the other chapters you must send them right away. I don’t have time to wait around for you to decide if she discovers the murderer at the history museum or the art museum.”

“There is no ‘Shirley’ in this one. I would appreciate you not bringing her up again. This is different.”

“Fine. I will call you when I finish this first part.”

“Perfect. I look forward to it.”

Jack wasn’t quite sure now what he had gotten himself into, but there was no turning back now. He returned home to await her call.

***

Rebecca finally reached the end of the second chapter. She knew that she needed the rest. Jack had written a story of a lonely writer crippled by his failed attempts at a “great American novel”. Jack was writing his own story. The last page of what was on the pages he had given her today was an exact account of what happened in her office today, word for word.

Rebecca was confused and worried. The Jack in this novel was seeking revenge.

There were similarities between the woman he wrote and the one reading about her. She didn’t remember growing to be so cruel. She was kinder once.

She knew what could happen next and she had to stop it.

She called him. “Jack, I need the other pages.”

“Do you know what that means?”

“I think so.”

“The story can go two ways, which do you choose?”

“I don’t want to die.”

“Okay. Are you ready for that? It won’t be easy.”

“Yes.”

“Excellent.”

***

Rebecca was never the same. Jack was kind, he loved her. They got their happy ending.

How Do You Fill Your Cup?

I've recently been asked one of the most stressful questions that I've been asked in a while…again. What satisfies you as a person? What is your passion in life? Now the first time I was really asked this question it was: What fills your cup at the end of the day?

It has been explained to me that this is not supposed to be a stressful question or thing to figure out. Both Michael and my health coach, I’m sure, were not expecting me to burst into tears when asked these questions. But I thought I was happy before. I thought that things were going well and my day-to-day was working for me, apparently not. In both situations it became this moment in life when I had to face the fact that maybe I’m not actually happy just getting up and going to work every day, in spite of the fact that my jobs make me happy. I have two jobs where I help people and I feel good about what I do at the end of every day and they provide a bit of freedom to let me do other things with my life.

So how am I supposed to figure out what my passion in life is? Am I just going through the motions? Once again, I was told that this isn’t supposed to be stressful, it is supposed to fun to go and explore new things. I’ve never been an explorer or really someone to try new things. I’m not sure how this is supposed to work.

Yes, I do currently feel like I’m in a rut and I want to change something, like I’m waiting, but there are important decisions coming up and I’m excited about how those are going to change my life. Michael brought up a good point, while we were having this unintentionally intense conversation, that our vacation was something that filled my cup, moments in life were we could explore and find new things that made us feel great at the end of the day. Now I have been tasked with figuring out what that does for me every day and it feels like every day that I leave with this passion undiscovered I’m going to feel less satisfied and glass half empty.

Now I pose the question, how did you find your passion in life? How do you fill your cup at the end of every day?