Chronicle

Chronicle--the apparently factual reporting of events--historical or legendary--which have taken place, delivered objectively and in chronological order.

This one probably holds the unique place of being the MOST challenging of these prompts that I have forced myself to keep trying to tackle.


Chronicles of Lost Sleep
She craned her neck toward the head of the bed. The digital clock read 3:28. She rolled back over and willed herself to go back to sleep. "Our Father..." she murmured inaudibly. Often prayers---calming, familiar, routine---would lull her back to sleep. She lost the thread. Bemused, her mind wandered; non-specific thoughts meandered past, til suddenly, for no reason she could identify, she was alert again: 3:54. Damn! She needed to sleep! 5:20 came all too early; and tomorrow was certainly NOT going to be an easy day. Stupid! Stupid! Why didn't she get into bed before midnight?!!
Once more, she rolled over, trying to find the right position or mind frame that would let her slip back into the oblivion that rests the body and the mind----awhile on her back, stretching in classic yoga relaxation; no; how about with a leg tucked up under the other knee? No good! She turned on her right and snuggled up to his sleeping shoulder. He stirred briefly, then settled again, breathing directly into her face. That's not gonna work. She rolled onto her stomach, knowing that wouldn't last long before her back began to hurt. 4:10. Damn it!! Damn it!! Damn it!!
Finally back to the left side, her best sleeping position, and she actively fought against the wakefulness, commanding herself to go back to sleep. After a few minutes, she threw back the top comforter, thinking if she were cooler, she would sleep better, but it wasn't long til she felt too cool, lots too cool. "That was dumb," she thought, "you always do better too warm than too cool." So she pulled the comforter back up, all the way up to her neck and concentrated on warming up. She almost, almost made it, almost slipped away. Almost, but not close enough. What in the hell did I eat that I shouldn't have?? Did I drink something with caffine too late in the day? Why is my body doing this too me?!!!! 4:45!!
Oh, this is hopeless!!!! Just get up, get out the damn health / headache journal and see if you can remember enough of what you ate or drank or did that may have created or exascerbated the anxiety or stress or whatever that caused this wakefulness. If you chronicle it all, in explicit detail, maybe, just maybe, you can figure out what NOT to do again.
Then you can write lesson plans or grade papers and put the time to some use. And tomorrow---I don't care what favorite show is coming on----tomorrow you WILL put yourself in bed by 10---well, absolutely 10:30, at the latest!!!!!

fantasy

Fiction is my genre of choice. I love historical fiction and science fiction and, yes, I must admit, romance novels. But I delight in Fantasy!

Fantasy allows us more freedom than life. Fantasy allows us to be children again, to think like children and believe like children. Fantasy expands our freedom and our minds; it allows us to think unbounded by the limitations of reality. It also permits us to whisk away evil and ugliness, except as we wish to acknowledge it and deal with it. It allows us almost unlimited possibilities.

Even the favorite books from my childhood are fantasies that I never forgot; and in adulthood I was able to find my favorite two in used bookstores and own my own copies. Many of the ones that I love are somewhat obscure. One of these is Half Magic by Edward Eager, in which a coin that looks enough like a dime to be regularly confused with one, granted half of any wish made by the one holding it; in the other, Dangerous Island by Helen Mather, an island which periodically arose from the ocean then shortly sank back into it, was the island upon which two pre-teens, adrift in a row boat, found themselves stranded as it began to sink back into the sea. These two novels fascinate me still today. My favorite fairy tale book, a bed time treat read often to us by our dad, until we were able to read it to ourselves, was entitled Tales from the Enchanted Isles, copyright by Yale University Press in 1926 (much much closer to my parents' childhood than mine, so where they got the book for us is lost information to me); it contained 7 magnificent, magical short tales of fantasy by one Ethel May Gate. Those stories contain such wisdom that I occasionally still quote from them to this day, and use one in particular as a standard of what is the right thing to do. Fantasy can teach and it certainly challenges the mind and the imagination and, I believe, helps to develop both, along with sharpening problem-solving skills.

Even though movies have made the most popular fantasies (Tolkein's Lord of the Ring trilogy, Lewis's Adventures of Narnia series, and Rowling's Harry Potter series)of our time more accessible, I still think one can get more from them and love them more deeply if s/he actually reads them. However, the movies have led many new viewers, readers and thinkers back to the threshold of fantasy, and through the back of the wardrobe,as it were. I think that is a very good thing.

Hope your presentation went well, Laini.

Ideas---I have an idea!

Ideas make the world go around.
Ideas are responsible for every one of our daily activities,
even if they aren't our own ideas.
Great ideas are responsible for all
the scientific and technological improvements
we have made in this world.
Ideas are the seed pods that become the magnificent art
and music of our lives.
Ideas blossom and grow into the many conveniences of our life
from light bulbs and flush toilets and automobiles
to the keyboards, monitors and personal computers
upon which we share these thoughts and make new friends,
upon which we share pleasant email messages and urgent news
with multiple friends, at the same time, in seconds!!
I have an idea:
We are really quite fortunate people
Living in a truly magnificient world
At a spectacularly awesome epoch in the history of this world.

Kisses

Kisses are among the most special, most magical entities of our human world!

A kiss is a magic snowflake.
It touches you and melts.
Sometimes, except for a special, gentle tingle or spark,
you can wonder if it actually happened.
Sometimes it is simply a friendly greeting;
Sometimes it melts in and sustains you,
Gives you support and strength.
Frequently it melts your heart;
Sometimes it makes your knees weak, and
Makes you feel all liquid inside, and dreamy.

A kiss can also be a down mattress or a down comforter
in a silky douvet;
Something that entirely envelopes you
in welcome and welcoming softness.
It swallows you, cuddles you, makes you feel drowned--in a good way;
draws you in, almost rocks you,
in supportive, surrounding softness, like a warm bath.


Of course, there are some kisses you really don't want to remember.
Some of these are the ones that are really wet.
When the kisser draws back, your face feels cold and yucky,
like you need a hand towel to dry your face,
and perhaps the opportunity to try again
(with water and a washcloth)
to get it washed properly.
Unless that kisser was a beloved dog,
and sometimes even if it was,
You pretty much want to put an end
to this particular intimate session
and find something friendly
but less damp to do next.
At least I do.