Back to work…er…writing

After much waffling, I pulled out one of my books and got back to work. It didn’t last long, however, as life once again intruded into my intentions and I had to take care of business. No matter. I got started, and I’m back to do a little more work before I head off to bed.

I had to do a little catching up on what I had written, namely what I have changed prior to the beginning of NaNoWriMo back in November. I like what’s there, but I have a few more tweaks to go. The change is fairly major, but I’m hoping it doesn’t get out of control. I just hated what was there to begin with.

So, now I’m back to work, reading and rewriting. I should get someone else to do it. I’m way too neurotic to do anything constructive. Oh well, it’s already begun.

Short Story: The girl on Highway 287

287There was a girl who flitted in the periphery of my vision last Friday, as I drove down Highway 287 though Childress. I saw her only for an instant, mere seconds in my lifetime, but the image burned itself in my memory. Odd that is should happen, but why?

Let me tell you what I saw. She was young, maybe in her early twenties, with fair skin and light brown hair. I saw her walking down the highway, busy looking at her phone as she did so. She appeared to be with child, and I couldn’t help wonder who she was.

Why was she walking down 287? Where was she going? Where was the baby’s daddy? Was he in the picture? I began to invent a back story for her, the pregnant woman on Highway 287:

She was walking to the store, having no other way to get there. The child’s father is not in the picture, he being too busy chasing skirts to take responsibility for the baby about to be born. Alone, and with no one to help her, she walked, needing to buy groceries with her meager wages.

I imagined her manager, a guy named Rudy, giving her flack for being pregnant. Her doctor hinted that she may need to be put on bed rest soon, and Ruby is resisting, hinting that her job would not be waiting for her should she return. He knows the mother-to-be has no way to fight him, and he’s the kind of jerk that enjoys ruining people’s lives.

She’s worried about her job, and in turn where she will live. Without a job, she could be thrown out, in the dead of winter, with a baby in her womb, or worse a newborn in her arms. Then she worries about how she will eat, and how she will provide for her unborn child.

But there’s a guy, a guy who likes her. He cares for her in spite of the fact that she carries another man’s child. He loves her for no other reason than because he does. He offers her a place to stay, with no expectations of payment, financial or otherwise, but she hesitates. “Why are you doing this?” She asks. “Don’t you know?” He answers.

“You’re the only one who stood up for me, back in 6th grade, when the bullies picked on me for being so small. You’re the only one who cared enough not to laugh at my tears. Instead you dried them with your sleeves and helped me up. You’re the only one who dared to be my friend. Let me be your friend now.”

So she accepts, until the baby’s daddy finds out. Jealous, he comes back into the picture to take her back, which she falls for. She moves in with him, forsaking the friendship for a man who dumped her so callously when she told him about the baby. In no time she finds out that he may be taking care of her, but he has others on the side to play with.

“Why can’t I find a good man?” She complains to the friend she forsook. “Why are all guys such jerks?”

“Because you don’t see me,” her friend says quietly. “I’m a good guy, or so I’m told, but no one sees me, no one wants me. I’m tired of being the good guy no one wants.”

“I’m sure you’ll find someone. Any girl would be lucky to have you.”

“What about you? Could you like a guy like me?”

“What?” She asks in astonishment. “You’re a great guy, but you’re too good for me. You deserve better.”

“And because I deserve better,” he says bitterly, “I never get anything. So be it. I’m done.”

“Wait, what do you mean you’re done?”

“I can’t keep holding on, hoping you, or anyone else will notice me. I’m done with women.”

“You can’t! You’ll find someone, I promise”

“You promise? When will this mysterious woman appear? I can’t wait forever. No, I’m done. And you? You complain you can’t find someone good, but when some one good want you, you reject him. Don’t complain about the men in your life because you decided you deserve them. It’s the road you chose.”

In the end, she’s left to raise a child on her own, after the baby’s daddy decides he doesn’t want to play the father, when no one else threatens to take his place. She’s left to subsist on welfare, living in a slum with no job and buying food on food stamps. 

She’s alone, trudging down the highway, until another loser picks her up, and she accepts because she has no other choice. 

I imagine this of her, the girl on Highway 287 after only catching a glimpse of her as I drove by. I felt sorry for her, and I don’t know why. She sounds like a bitch.


Short Stories

Feeling better

It’s now the ninth of December, and whatever ailment that has kept me from doing anything meaningful is finally starting to wane. Thank you antibiotics! I was trying my best no to have to visit the physician, but come Sunday – a week after I started to become sick – and I could feel the junk building up in my chest. I knew that I had no choice but to go in and get myself checked out.

So my congestion is starting to clear up, I’m no longer coughing like a smoker hacking up a lung, and my voice is almost back to normal. It just sucks that I have to keep up the course of antibiotics until I’m done. Seven more days. Whoop-whoop! Now I can get back to what’s important and do nothing about writing until next week.

Well, not nothing. I’ve opened up my word file on Jasmine and I’ve started reading. I almost feel ready to tackle the second half of the book, rewriting what doesn’t work, and making the story a little stronger. I’m trying to make as few changes as possible because I quickly discovered what a fragile tapestry a story is. You pull one string and suddenly the whole narrative begins to unravel. It’s a little scary.

I’m going to sit back and start a little today. I work tonight and tomorrow night and then I will be back on days for good. I’ll be able to get into some loose rhythm, and maybe make some progress. At least that’s my hope. Then I’ll have a long weekend and I’ll head out of town, a trip that was beginning to look doubtful even a few days ago, and maybe I’ll feel relaxed and ready to tackle my goal.

An experiment?

Do I even look like a scientist? What’s going on in my head that remotely makes me think that I am capable of conducting an experiment? Am I nuts?

Well, yeah I am. Just a little, but that’s besides the point. And it’s not like I’m planning on conducting a real scientific experiment, though that may not be such a bad idea, but I’ll ruminate on that in private. This is an introduction to a little personal social experiment in which I will try to think positively instead of negatively, where I try to be optimistic instead of pessimistic, so that I can make the necessary changes in my life that will lead me to success in my life.

Sounds hard.

It is, but my method will be simple. I will create a blog. In fact, I have already created my blog, The Power of Positive Affirmations. In it, I plan to write essays, post inspirational quotes from historical figures, and the like. Any support I can receive will be appreciated. Anyone that wants to contribute is welcome to do so. I welcome all the help I can get!

So far, I’ve only have the introductory essay posted, but I will look to post more in the near future. I would like to be able to post daily, which I admit will be difficult. We will see how this goes, and maybe see if it helps me make positive changes in my life, and in the lives of my readers. So far I have no followers, but this is only Day 1.

Where will this little experiment lead me? Will anyone join?

This week in My Silly Life

What a crappy week. My sojourn overnights is almost at an end. Tonight is my last night that I’m definite about. I’m scheduled two nights next week, on Tuesday and Wednesday, but our supervisor is adamant that he’s done working nights, so we’ll see what happens. I’m hoping tonight is the last night. I’m ready to get some sleep!

As for writing, like I said, I’m not doing any until I’m done overnights. I haven’t even read a single book. All I’ve done this week is lie around in a near catatonic state as this illness saps me of my strength, and my will to live. I feel better, but I’m not really getting well, at least not yet. Hopefully I will this weekend, which will begin tomorrow morning at 5:30 a.m.

At some point, I will have to force myself out of bed and drag myself to the local movie theater to watch Penguins of Madagascar. I mean I don’t want to, but my niece really wants to watch it. Who am I kidding? I want to watch it and I’m using my niece to keep myself from creepy myself and everyone out by watching a kids show by myself.

“Hey kids. I have Mild Duds.” 

“Umm….security!”

Not a good idea. I’ll take my niece, who’s stoked about it, and hopefully I won’t be hacking up a lung on the person sitting in front of me. That would be embarrassing.

So, I have this week and next week to enjoy not writing, but starting the 15th, I’ll be back to working on a project or another. Then Christmas will undoubtedly interfere with my writing, then New Years. No! No excuses. Two weeks is plenty to recuperate.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I want a nap.