Random Writings

I like to write. Obviously. Here’s a collection of short pieces of rambling thoughts.

***

The opening of my flash fiction piece, “Lily and Todd.”

Eight years ago, I stopped being the perpetually single girl. The end of an era. It’s a shame my introduction to the dating world was a man named Todd.

I’m not sure why I ever agreed to go out with Todd. It wasn’t his charisma, movie star bone structure, or personality.

Because he had none of those.

I met Todd when I was twenty, an age when standards are low and hormones are high. A time when your biological clock doesn’t tick as loud and you don’t picture every guy you date squeezing your hand in the delivery room.

Except I didn’t have that mindset at twenty. I was focused on school, not guys. At least, that’s what I’d tell myself to bandage another lonely Friday night. When Todd first approached me, as I sat reading Austen under a tree, he asked to go out for a cup of coffee sometime. I said, “Sure” and figured I’d never see this guy, dressed all in brown like a UPS employee, again. I smiled at the thought of being chosen out of all the other under-tree-readers scattered about, and had such trouble focusing, I read the same page three times. I certainly didn’t think “sure” would turn into a three year relationship.

2/10/17

***

“Glass is not a Window”

You know that saying, “When God closes a door, he opens a window”?

Well, if that’s true, I’m living underground. And if a window were to open, my dwelling would fill with dirt, and I’d die.

A door was closed in my life. A big door. One of those doors that take multiple people to close because it’s so heavy. Perhaps I helped it latch. I turned the deadbolt and slid the chain.

I’ve been searching for windows, anything that even resembles a window. Something clear that lets in sunlight. I’ve looked for five months and I have yet to find a single window, or window-like structure. What does this mean?

I’ve found glass, what could become a window if it had more pieces. I’ve discovered several shards of glass.

This glass is shiny, captivating. It draws you in with its appeal, its promise that it could be a window in the future. But glass is not a window. Glass is glass. Clear, smooth, beautiful, but not a window.

So, glass. Let me just say, don’t pretend to be a window if you aren’t one. Don’t make promises only windows can make. You offer nothing. You build hope and then slash it.

In the end, these shards of glass do nothing but cut me. And as I bleed, I laugh at how stupid I was to be fooled. Glass is not a window. And I am nothing but scarred.

2/1/17

***

What is was like teaching middle school:

Let’s say you have a puppy that you’re trying to potty train. House break? I don’t know; I’m a cat person.

Anyhow, your puppy pees on your couch. Your puppy knows not to do this. He’s been told over and over again. He has the audacity to look at you and smile while he pees. Meanwhile, you yell, you put him in time out. Now imagine this puppy peeing on your couch several times a day. Now add a second puppy who chews your favorite shoes. Add a third puppy taking a crap on some priceless family heirloom. Add five more puppies who bark constantly for no reason at all. Add seven more puppies clawing your arms and legs. Add twelve more puppies running around in circles. And you are trying to explain to these puppies why the sky is blue. Puppies don’t care why the sky is blue.

This is my life.

1/2/16

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