Friday Fictioneers - The Old Tramp.

I have no excuse of neglecting my blog (again), but with a little encouragement from of all people my American Lit Teacher, I've decided to return to it for the time being.

This is of course due the the Flash Fiction book that finally got published. Yes, yours truly got in on that action. And trust me I'm happy I did. Being the overachieving twat that I am, I had to show it to my teacher. Which brings me to the question she just had to ask: Are you still doing this every week? 

No, said I. Which forced her to ask me, why not. I didn't have an answer to that. 

So without further ado I bring you, The Old Tramp (98-99 words)

Copyright Adam Ickes

Tuesdays and Thursdays she passed the old tramp. He parked his cart, with all his belongings, near the table by the mural. He would feed the birds using the money he made, panhandling. 

Thursday she was rushing, but noticed he wasn’t there. Tuesday, he was back, empty handed, minus the cart. The birds hungrily milling about his unprotected feet. 

She left home earlier that following Thursday, carrying a pair of shoes her husband wouldn’t miss. She placed them on the table. The tramp needed them more than she did. Her husband died last year. She hoped they fit.


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The Scariness of Failure

I've been harboring some negative thinking regarding just how smart I think I am. I feel like I'm not as intelligent as I try to appear. So with that in mind I try not to challenge myself too often in an effort to not fail.

I've talked about my issues with failure before. I hate to fail, when my body limits me, I count it as a failure, my dog does something wrong, I count it as a failure. My world is shot to pieces because I didn't do something the right way. I end up not trying at all some times. In the end I never challenge my potential, and that in itself is another failure.

School is the ultimate mental test for me. I have to learn something and learn it fast. I have understand it  to a point where I can apply it and retain it. I have to do all this on someone else's schedule. Accelerated courses will do that to you. There's not much time for you or anyone for that matter to cram. The class is so short, it's really one big cram session. Every minute counts, and every word is valuable. This is pressure. This frighten me.

What if I read the wrong section? What if I do the wrong assignment? I didn't get that email. I missed the bus on the way to class. I can't fail. Failing is unacceptable. Failing is why I tried to kill myself in 2011. I'd like to say that I've grown a little from that experience, but I can't really say if I have.

I held my breath as I checked my grade for my Psychology class today. I got the email sometime last night. The grades have been posted. Logging on to the the Student Portal felt like I was walking toward my execution. The seconds it takes for the page to load, seemed like hours. I almost wanted to hold my breath while clicking the link to my class grades.

I surprisingly got an A. Wait. What? An A, after that poor showing on the mid-term? How is that possible? I must have beasted the final. I already knew what the score was on the Group Project.  I was sort of expecting the worst. I was prepared to sulk for the rest of the month and eat ice cream and cry on my sewing machine.  I guess I don't have to do that.

Smart is the New Sexy

Actually Sexy is the New Sexy. With that said, I'm finally in school; have been for two months. I could go into every minute detail about it or I can just say that I'm happy to be finally working toward another goal. I'll go with the latter choice. But I will wax a little about what I have done class wise.

The first class was called Information Literacy. Recommended for every student upon entering. I'm glad I took it first and not something else because I learned how to navigate the schools online library, their actual library, write a research paper and give a non-DOD related presentation. Pretty freaking fancy if you ask me.

The class I'm midway through right now is Introduction to Psychology I may or may not have said on Facebook several times that I was intimidated by the class prior to sitting through the first lesson. I have since changed my mind. It's a little time consuming but otherwise not as scary as I thought it would be.

What I am most worried about is the fact that while I'm taking a class twice a week in the evenings I still haven't found a job. There is this crazy guilty feeling in the back of my mind that urges me to keep searching. Whenever I do search, every other day, I just become depressed. There is this feeling of utter hopelessness when I check my emails and find that all of the employers I've contacted have failed to reply. I try not to let that discourage me. Most important, is that this feeling does not bleed into my studies. 

I'm motivated to succeed at something. Almost two years of constant failure, on the job front, motivates me to do well. I do find myself getting fixated though on wanting to succeed just to succeed and not to retain information and that will lead me to become overconfident. I guess my motto should be, strive for the best, but always stay humble. I don't know, something like that or some other Jedi Yoda-style proverb, what ever. Before any people with much higher levels of education go all grammar nazi on my fragmented sentence, I meant to write it that way.

Overall I guess I'm about 50% content with how life is progressing. I want a job, and I look. I want to go to college and I'm in college. Now, if I can just get rid of my dog's fleas, and figure out what in the world is going on with my love life, I think I'd be a pig in mud? A perv at a peep show? A geek at Comic-Con? Kid in a candy shop? An NRA member at a gun show? Do any of these work right now? Anyone? Anyone?

I found myself...

I read a book. No, I ATE a book today. Instead of sitting at the computer forcing myself to write something that wasn't going to come easy, I decided to tackle my pile of books. Kresely Cole's book Shadow's Claim had been burning a whole in the ottoman I tossed it on since it arrived.

I cracked it open and pretty much didn't put it down. What can I say, it was a good story. I wonder if I'll ever get tired of the series? I hope not. But I'm not blogging right now to do a review. 

Though I probably should since I've read like a bunch of books.

What happened after I put the book down was something short of amazing. I sat at my computer and began writing! I was pretty happy until I looked at my ceiling and smiled. Next thing I know a half hour had passed and I'd typed nothing. 

Drugs are bad m'kay...

Who knew the ceiling could be so fascinating? I blame the meds. Which begs me to question: Do people space out like I just did or are my prescriptions messing with my focus? Most likely a little bit of both in my case.

Anyway I'm going to attempt to return to The new God and see how I make out. Let's hope that I keep my eye forward and not let them get fascinated my the cracked paint above me.

Word Association: Lush, Phantasm, Pander, Keeper, Mouth

Like I promised, I'd post later about my word associations exercise to see if I could break my writer's block.  I don't think it worked, but then, I haven't looked at my novel since about noon today.

Some of these seem kind of poem-y. Poetry isn't something I would willingly delve into. Yet, if I frame some of this just right... You never know. Anyway, let me begin with the last one I worked on. 

Lush

The grass and leaves exploded with life and freshness. The air was crisp clean and smelled sweet. The wind carried bird song aling on gentle breezes that even God himself stopped to here. It was a glorious day and the lush dreamt the day away. Hung over from a night of merry making and carousing. She partied long into the dawn and missed all the beauty and wonderment beheld by the breaking of day. How the lush wasted.

I feel sort of like I wasted my day a bit here.  Next was Phantasm. This is the one that seems a little poetic. I am not knocking poetry, I just don't normally go there. What I'm finding as I write that some times my mind will take something and drag me to a place I rarely travel. I should enjoy the journey.

Phantasm

It seemed to be fading in and out of the shadows. The moon was full casting it’s silvery light over everythign it touched. But this gossomar creature flitted in and out of the light quick as lightning. Fading esscences danced behind it as it passed. A wiff of mint, a touch of lavender a hint of you. Is it really you? I have to ask. You’ve been goone for months now. No phone calls or letters. The only thing that remains is an old t-shirt, the scent long worn away. But you’re echo blesses me anew. A ghost that calls my name. Why me? Why now? 

Mouth came before that. If you haven't realized by now I'm going backwards, in order of which they were completed. Mouth seemed to lean toward horror and frankly having once been the character and not suffered this fate, I consider myself very lucky.

Mouth

Teeth! All he saw were teeth. Sharp pointy things. Row upon row of them. The more he looked the more he saw. The large gaping maw froze him in fear. He was petrified at the monstrosity. What kind of creature was this that rose from the deep to take him. Posideon had out done himself. The sailor sank into the water accepting his fate. He didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. As the huge mouth descended on him blocking out the sun he tried not to scream. Yet the pain and the force tearing him apart cause his to yell. No sound came. Water filled his shredded lungs and his own blood came rushing up. 

The monster bit down again before rushing away. It’s dinner captured for the night. 

The next Word Association is actually a memory. This is back when I was much younger and still  wanted to save the world one animal at a time. For a brief moment I thought I might be an aspiring sports star. 

Keeper

I wanted to be goalie so much it hurt. Ever ever since that one day in gym class when I caught the ball that Timmy kicked. It came so fast that I didn’t see where it was going. All of a sudden it was in my arms. I’d caught it, and not with my face this time. I was going to be a star one day. I’d make millions and be on the front of a Wheaties box.

A year later in soccer camp I was placed in the keeper position again. Ball after ball went past me. Reality sunk in. Not only was I a terrible Keeper, I couldn’t play soccer.

The first and my favorite so far has to be Pander. I didn't know what the word meant. Funny, I thought up the word and wrote it on a note card. I thought initially it meant to sell something. I wasn't far from the definition but the whole meaning gave the word a sort of sordid taint. I love this word now.

Pander

The madam stood outside the brothel. It was early evening and only a few clients were expected tonight. The butcher across the street threw his waste on the street and eyed her coveteously. She remembered him. He was one of her first clients so many years ago. Back when she had to work the streets. The money he paid regularly helped her set up shop.

He watched her smoking her cigarrette. The madam winked at him salaciously. He gulped. He was a married man now. A pillar of the community. If he was seen going into her house of loose morals he’d be an outcast. The thrill of getting caught tempting him even more.

The butcher returned to his shop. Oh well thought the madam. Maybe another day. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and went inside.

I guess I'm done playing around with words for today. If anything I've realize that I can still write which is what I mean to do for the rest of my life so that's good. If only I can get my juices flowing on my novel. Work work work.