Monday, May 23, 2011

Half Hour to Create

In one of my writing classes, at the end everyone has a half hour to write. You can write any story you choose, it could be something you're working on, or something totally new. Or even just whatever comes out since you only have a half hour to jot down a fair amount of words. Please keep in mind that this is a very rough and raw first draft. This is what I had from my last class:


It was supposed to be a good day. That cold early January day when the snow wouldn’t stop falling and the traffic to work was horrendous.  Ted didn’t notice any of it, all he thought about that morning as he shaved and got dressed was that today was the day he would get the raise. The one that was due. As he walked past his dresser he picked up the crinkled white piece of paper that in cold business wording told him that after fifteen years of service he would receive five more vacation days and a raise that would put a smile on any mans’ face. 

His smoothed out the paper that was well onto one year old now. He had been patient. He had waited for fifteen years to receive his dues. Had worked for psychotic egotistical men who hardly even knew what they were doing and then took the credit for his work. But Ted couldn’t even feel angry about that right now. His thoughts centered on what he and his wife of twenty years would do with the extra money. Maybe they’d go on a vacation to the Caribbean.  Or perhaps he would buy a deck for the patio out back. They could get a new car; that old rust bucket that he been driving for the past 7 years was on its last leg. So many possibilities were at their feet now!

As he left the house in the early morning fog of flurries, his smile continued and the sound of humming came as he walked from the house with a quick step. He peeled out of the driveway like a man on a mission and drove just a little too fast down the highway for the tall building that housed the international accounting firm. This was the day. He just knew it; the paper said so. The promise was there in black and white; all that time of being a cubicle drone for the big wigs was going to pay off today.  He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as the traffic crawled by and zoomed off on his exit the minute he had an opening. His regular parking spot was open, just as it should be today, and he nearly hit the curb in his enthusiasm.
“Good morning Melody!” He said to the young receptionist at the front door. His only acknowledgement was a curt nod. Ted continued to walk briskly to his grey cubicle that sat two people. His cubicle buddy being a rather thin and balding young man straight out of college, who found it hard to keep from checking his FaceBook page while at work. 
“Morning Dan!” And at the sound of mumbling, “Whadya say Dan?”
“Nothin’ Ted. Good morning to you too.” The junior accountant forced a smile and turned quickly back to his computer. 
“Nice day out, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, real nice.”
Ted rambled on, “Wasn’t traffic awful though? I thought I’d never get to work today.”
“So, did you have a good weekend?”
“It was fine.”
“That’s nice.” Ted took his coat off and laid it on the back of his chair. This is going to be a good day. A great day. Yup, this was it. Deep breath; in and out. Steele yourself for when they call you in. Turn on the old computer. Maybe with the raise they would also get him a new one. That would be nice. All the young pups coming into the office recently had been getting cutting edge gear, while Ted sat there with his ten year old chunky desktop and scratched up monitor. But this was the day that would all change.
By ten that morning Ted thought he would just die if management didn’t come and get it over with soon. What could be taking so long? Well, this was business; you have to act with initiative. Maybe he should go to them.  Yes, that’s it, I’ll go right to Jack. He thought to himself as he stood and looked across the cubicle jungle to his bosses’ glass office at the west side of the building. He could see Jack sitting there at his sleek desk and high tech computer.
He waved through the glass to Jack who sat low down in his black leather executive chair making it look like he was closer to snoring than working on high level financial issues. Jack’s eyes went from his computer screen for hardly a moment before waving him in.
“Hi Jack. How’s it going today?” Ted tried not to sound too excited as he walked into the office.
Jack was silent and didn’t acknowledge Ted for what felt like ten minutes. Ted looked around the cold office with it’s glass walls, oriental carpet on the floor and Picasso wanabe on the wall.
“Ok, sorry about that Ted. So much going on in the management level meetings lately; lots to catch up on.” He seemed to wait then for Ted to show some interest in the managerial duties but when he said nothing Jack sighed and sat himself up straighter for a moment. “Sit down Ted.” He motioned to the hard modern design of a chair before the desk, “So, Ted, what can I do for you?”
“Well, you might remember that at my review last spring we came to an agreement.” There he stopped hoping to see some recognition cross Jack’s face. When nothing came he continued, “The issue of my fifteenth year of service? That I would get the raise? And the five extra vacation days?” With each mention of a promise he saw Jack’s face scrunch just a little between his dull brown eyes.
“You know Ted, I was actually hoping to speak with you sometime this week concerning that little problem.”
“What problem?” What could Jack be talking about? What issue was there? He had done everything they had asked; every late night project that kept him at the office for 14 hours a day. Every time they came to him for the dull and monotonous work that would normally be done by a temp they hired for a week. He did it all, everything they ever asked of him he did. With no question. All for this day. For this moment when, as he knew Jack would, an office announcement would be made concerning Ted’s promotion and dedication to the company through hard work. He was an example. He was who those new young whelps out there should be looking up to. “What problem?” he asked again.
“There seems to be some concerns coming in from management. They seem to think that it would be best to get young blood in here. Too many old fashion ideas about accounting are keeping us back from being at the top.”

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Work in Progress

So, I haven't really been writing for the past year - but that is all going to change! I have decided recently to honestly pursue the art of writing. Which has meant taking classes and MAKING myself write. I thought I would go ahead and share just a short first draft of something I've been working on in the past week.



The iPhone flew through the air and hit the brick wall as the clickety-clack of her black stilettos echoed on the linoleum tiles. She strode to where the loathed object now lay and with a smirk on her face, lifted her five inch heel and gave the final killing blow.

Dan sat there in stunned silence as his lover picked up his phone and threw it into his lap.

“There Dan,” She said with steel in her voice, “Date that. You and I are finished.”

And with that she turned to leave the small coffee house. The baristas watched with wide eyes and open mouths.  Patrons tried to look as though they had not just witnessed the spectacle when in fact they were hanging on every word from the troubled couple.  Everyone suddenly seemed very much involved with stirring their coffee and looking at the table intently.

“Wait! Ayla!  Hold on a minute!” Dan was shouting at her from his seat at the round table in the corner. Their table. ‘Not anymore’, She thought. Although he was calling her back he still had not moved; hadn’t even stood up from his seat to come after her. He had to have known that this was coming. This couldn’t be a shock to him.

Ayla stopped at the door and turned to look at Dan. His eyes seemed confused but at the same time he was quite calm. She shook her head and pressed herself against the cold door of glass and walked out into the flurry of snow that was falling on the city.

Ayla took a deep breath and let it out as a ragged but happy sigh. Free at last; why had it taken her so long? Dan and she hadn’t been right for a long time. Too long actually. Ayla smiled as her black heels clicked on the sidewalk. Heels always made her feel prettier, smarter and gave her a sense (perhaps false) that she knew where she was going with her life. And tonight they had been her greatest weapons. Dan hated it when she wore the five inch heel pumps. Not only did they make her taller than him, but he did not find heels attractive. Or so he said. Such a ridiculous excuse for his real reason: that they made her taller than him. Well, that’s what you get for dating a man whose height was 5’8” with shoes on. Ayla shook her head and walked faster to the main street where she could pick up a taxi to her loft across town.  

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

November Memories

November seems to bring out the nostalgic in me – perhaps the beginning of cold days and nights trigger memories. Novembers of past years all seem to hold very sentimental events in my life thus far; from the end of school (possibly forever!) to my trip to Paris.

I still cannot believe that it was really a whole year ago when I took my last test, wrote my last essay and received my last grade. Sometimes I feel as though we have been so conditioned since birth to education that it is like a cup of cold water to the face once said education is over. Of course, the argument will be made that our education is never over, and I do agree. But school does have an end. Isn’t it amazing that something that was once such a horror and a drain (and so complained of) can be missed? All the while through High School and then College I yearned for the day that freedom would come. No more forced tests and no more learning of subjects that held no interest whatsoever. But after the first shock of no school ended, I soon found myself trying to contrive some plan of getting back into the classroom. The grass is always greener, and we never know how good we have it till we are thrust out of our so called prison.

For the past few days Paris has been on my mind; the streets, shops, cafĂ©’s, rain, river and voices through the alleys. Perhaps I have romanticized it since it’s been ages since I last roamed the streets there, but I suppose that’s what Paris, France really is – a bit of a fairy tale. It has been a while since I last thought of my trip there, as I was 16 when I went, but it makes me smile and sigh for the sights and sounds once more. Paris is one of a kind and once you’ve been you have to return – or else spend your life dreaming of it. Sometimes I fear going back to places that have strong memories tied to them. Not that I have any bad memories of Paris! But more out of fear that the memories have a rosy glint over them.  And so I spend the week with my thoughts in French accent, craving the authentic French restaurant down the highway and dreaming of crowded streets full of starving artists, scribbling writers and the fashionable.

And so I sit here listening to the strains of Brooke Fraser and thinking of Thanksgivings gone by. Over the years I have much to be thankful for – and many blessing to thank God for!

Happy Thanksgiving and God Bless,

~Aithne Someris

* Enjoy:

Saturday, October 9, 2010

The Scraps

Just a few scraps of the poems written tonight:


Fall has come but Summer laughs
The warm breeze is heavy with Summer memories
And the pond smells of fish and sun
But the leaves still dance
Gold and red in the sun

*This next one was put into my head after the church sermon tonight on insecurity :)*


Most of the time I feel
Less than I should be
Less than I am
Not enough for this
Definitely not enough for that
And sometimes I feel
But rarely
Does that happen
A compliment
Might satisfy for a moment
Praise can last a day
But in the end -
Not enough
But - Always 'but'
He can give 'enough'
The Lord is always enough
And He makes me

~A Name~

a name
is such a curious

small and common
yet precious
to a select few

owned but freely given
to so very many

hidden meanings
full of
obvious traits

a name is you
but are you the name
in the end?

~Aithne Someris~

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Just Strummin' Along...or Not

So I’ll confess it: I always wanted to be a singer/songwriter.

I can just see it – sitting there on the street corner with a scuffed up love worn guitar across my jean clad knees while I strum and sing lyrics that I scribbled in pencil. I sometimes wonder if real singer/songwriters have this same dream in their head. I think not. They probably see what they do as normal as they way I see going to work 8:30-5:00 every day and making it in the daily grind; as novel as making my morning cups of coffee.

I always loved the idea of making a living off of writing poems and making them into songs to share with the world… or at least my little corner of the world. But then again, this is just not my calling. Or so it seems at the moment.  The fact that I couldn’t play the guitar to save my life is one obstacle in my path. And then there’s my poem writing….esh…no songs coming from that region!

Yes, I’m one of THEM.

I really do love how shocked some people are when they find out that I was homeschooled. The popular stereotypes for my ‘type’ are so prevalent among ‘normal school’ kids/adults that I sometimes think that a book should be written for them to peel back the curtains and see what we really are like.

Although, on the other side: many of our stereotypes are pretty accurate. Like social skills for example. We really don’t have any. Since we’re locked up in our room with a thousand thick text books to make us into geniuses there really isn’t time for being out and making friends.

Haha, not really. But honestly, one day I will write that book. The one that dispels all of the rumors that go around about us poor unsocial homeschoolers. And I won’t even have to leave my room!

Au Pairing…um…no. Not now. Not ever.

A good friend of mine just got the marvelous job offer of au pairing over in Europe for the next few months to a year. The lucky girl wrote to me about all the details which sounded so exciting and wonderful coming from her. She ended her message saying that I should honestly look into au pairing and that it would be a wonderful opportunity to travel over to Ireland perhaps and make money at the same time.

She meant well, but what she didn’t know is that I honestly could not au pair. Well, I mean, I could , but I won’t.

I babysat consistently from the time I was 11 to age 18. And I have all the horror stories that come with watching of children for seven years to make a buck: Getting locked in a room with a three year old and a baby for hours. The dog attacking me. Blowing up the popcorn. The cat that screamed like a human child and had the tendency to get stuck on high ledges. The kid that spilled blue milk on the suede lazyboy. The child that threatened to tell her mother on me for punishing her and her little sister.

Yeah, I’ve seen it all. And I’m just a bit convinced that seeing the same in a foreign country would not rid me of my lack of enthusiasm for watching strangers’ children.  But don’t get me wrong – I don’t see all children as little monsters. I just think that I am not the best person in the world to put in charge…something WILL go wrong.

Just thought I’d share:

I recently discovered that the beautiful song “How He Loves” done by the David Crowder Band was not in fact written by David Crowder (what can I say? I’m always assuming that the guy singin’ was the guy writin’!). But that song was in fact written by the talented Southerner John Mark McMillan after the sudden death of a good friend.

As I said above: I always wanted to be a singer-songwriter. But even though I will never be one, the singer-songwriter genre is a bit of a favorite for me. After I found this guy I bought his latest CD “The Medicine” and have been playing it ever since. I never really share music that I love here (well, besides the few songs below) but this guy is wicked talented and you can listen to his songs again and again. 

And now I leave you on this chilly fall night that is really only made for cozying up with a cup of coffee and a good book~

~Aithne Someris~