A Short Fiction

I wrote this short story for a writing competition - only to realize that I had it ready a day after the deadline! The theme was "Love gets him in more trouble than hate ever could."

 

"The Girl of My Nightmares"

 

There she is, girl of my nightmares.

Always on the other side of the room. It’s not far enough. Everything she does is annoying. Sometimes I think she plans it in advance: The pink sparkly pens she writes her name in. The way she’s always faster than me. That giggle (gross!). The fact that she never seems to know I exist.

I hate her.

She could see me in the cereal aisle at the store and not remember we’re in the same class. I could bump against her with three boxes of granola, and she wouldn’t stop looking at the corn flakes. I could knock over a display of Blueberry-Honey Bunches right on top of her and she would only worry that her dress is messed up. I know, because I’ve tried.

I might be sure she doesn’t know I exist, except that she once turned around and walked the other direction when she saw me coming. And once she gave an answer to a question that I knew just so I’d look stupid for saying it wrong. She’s a know-it-all.

I hate everything about her. That pink sparkly pen. The flip she gives her hair when the braid tickles her cheek. The way her hair looks like chocolate. The way I can’t stop looking at her. How cute she was in that dress.

Until last Thursday. That’s when I realized I kinda didn’t hate her. That’s when I put the lizard in her lunch bag and she didn’t scream. She jumped, but then she laughed (not giggled) and touched it with the very tip of a sparkly-pink nail-polished finger. And that’s when I realized I didn’t actually want her to scream. I don’t know what I wanted.

So I tried again. But I couldn’t find a lizard, so in the end it had to be sand in her shoes. She didn’t notice it was me though, and just dumped it out.

So: I don’t hate her.

I think I’m in love with her.

This is awkward. I’ve hated her for so long that now she hates me back. And what if everyone else finds out?

But it didn’t matter: I had to tell her that I actually like her. It would be worth it to have her maybe not hate me anymore.

I decided a secret message would be best.

On Monday I stole her pen.

I hate pink sparkles. But it would be worth it.

I drew a picture Monday night of a pink sparkly lizard, named Emma just like her. But I couldn’t bring myself to write the message in pink sparkles, so it had to be normal pencil. It said:

“Top Secret!

I actually like you. You’re very pretty, and it was great how you liked the lizard. Do you maybe like me back?

Love, Mac.”

Maybe I should have made it poetry. Girls like poetry.

But before I could figure out how to give it to her on Tuesday, she started screaming because she couldn’t find her pink sparkly pen. I forgot about that. It was in my pocket and I took it out, wishing I’d left it home or dropped it in the hall or something.

Then she saw it in my hand and screamed: “He has it! Mac stole my pen!”

“No, I didn’t!” I said, so confused that I almost didn’t remember it was a lie until too late.

She was so upset that I got in trouble at home too.

The next day I still hadn’t given her the lizard-picture message. I tried putting it into her lunch bag, but she was watching her stuff so closely that I didn’t have a chance. So later when nobody was looking I snuck up to her and slipped it into her hand. Then I should have run away, but I couldn’t. My heart was beating too fast.

She looked surprised, opened it up, and then barely glanced at it.

“That’s why you stole my pen?” she yelled, and crumpled it up to throw at me.

“No!” I said, grabbing it. “No! You’re supposed to read it!”

I tried to make her take it. She screamed so loud that everyone came running.

That’s how I wound up in the principal’s office.

“Leave Emma alone!” they all said. “Sit on the other side of the room so you won’t bug her.”

How was I supposed to know being in love would get me in so much trouble?

There she is, girl of my dreams…





The Raisin Fairy, on Etsy

Well, I have finally launched my Etsy shop!

This is, in fact, a huge victory.

Etsy, which I have known about for a while, seems like the perfect place to sell and test and experiment. For anyone who doesn't know, Etsy is an online marketplace where sellers and makers around the world can set up individual shops to sell unique and creative items.

I have a collection of hobbies that is far too long, and have always hoped to someday market some of the things that I make. Usually, my wildest and most successful dreams involve the crafts that I don't know very well (Ooh, I could design custom jewelry! Hmm, what about a line of historically inspired lingerie? Maybe I could get into bookbinding - I love books!); but lately, with practical necessity upon me, I have realized how many of the things I do well I might also sell. So, I will have a lot of crocheted items, since I am feeling comfortable experimenting with design; and I hope to include some hand illumination also. Calligraphy and illuminating are relatively new hobbies for me, but are more enjoyable and successful than many!

The only problem with these lovely plans so far has been an extreme nervousness about implementing them. How does it all work, anyway? What if I do something wrong? What about using other patterns to make stuff? What does the shipping pricer thing mean or is it only for people with business degrees? It was all fear, to be perfectly honest. I still don't know what it all means, but I have arrived finally at a place where I have to simply jump in and find out. It might be crazy, but here goes!

It's been easier and more fun than I thought - muddling around learning stuff. Is this what life is always like?

So, there is my shop - "The Raisin Fairy." I have several items stocked and shall soon have several more. Mad and terrifying world, here I come!

The Cultural Relevance of "You've Got Mail"

"You've Got Mail" came out in 1998. That means it's now 17 years old, which means that it has earned a level of cultural relevance. Time is like that; even the cheesiest romances acquire significance when years enough have passed over them. After all, William Shakespeare was the writer of pop-culture entertainment for the masses!

 

So, we always watch "You've Got Mail" around Valentine's Day, along with a few others ("Sleepless in Seattle," "Just Like Heaven," "Much Ado About Nothing"...); but this year I am noticing all kinds of interesting things. Now I'm really no authority on culture or cultural relevance, or New York City (a central character in the movie), or multimillionaires, or store ownership. But I have opinions.

 

For instance, it's horribly fascinating how the mega-chain store Fox Books (modeled after Barnes & Noble and Borders, etc.) puts the tiny Shop Around the Corner out of business, and now Borders is gone and Barnes & Noble is struggling. The book business has changed - even in 17 years! Also - have you looked at the tech?! "You've got mail!" says AOL (ungrammatically); is AOL even around anymore? No one thinks twice about online relationships anymore! Nowadays, Kathleen Kelly (Meg Ryan) would be a blogger, and Joe Fox (Tom Hanks) would look down on bloggers - while probably having a founding and definitive blog of his own. And with all the billionaire secret-vigilantes we have running around these days (I've been watching "Arrow" a lot lately, and of course Bruce Wayne and Tony Stark come to mind), I catch myself wondering what Tom Hanks would look like in a green hood.

 

But what is really interesting to me is the way the world of books, book selling, publication, is portrayed. I am an aspiring writer, and in the past year I have learned a great deal about what it takes to get published. The publishing world has changed a lot since "You've Got Mail". Now we have massive self-publishing, e-books, and the kind of social media that requires an author to build her own platform. It's a world that the makers of "You've Got Mail" could have never imagined - and yet which is built on the one they were exploring. And also, there are the attitudes of the book-people involved - which are quite often dismaying to me as an author: The Foxes are scornful of both authors and readers. Patricia, an editor, is ruthless and disposes of people without regret if they are no longer useful - and yet is also insightful about Kathleen's knowledge of the book world. It is only in The Shop Around the Corner that books, writers, and readers are respected; and yet that respect comes at a cost, for their books are too expensive to allow the store to stand up to the retail of Fox Books.

 

It is a crazy and upside-down sight; a little terrifying for somebody who is trying to enter that business. That things can change so much - and hopefully for the better! And yet for all its faults Fox Book was the place where books and reading survived, even if now the Barnes & Nobles it was fashioned after are struggling. It's amazing, isn't it, how something so mass produced and generic can become beloved, and even classic?

Pumpkin Smoothie!!!

I love making smoothies! A little of this, and a little of that, all blended up at an hour before I'm really awake - and, voila! Breakfast for all!

They say that smoothies you can buy are often only milkshakes in disguise; pretend health food that is nowhere near healthy. So I make up my own recipes. My blueberry smoothie is good. The strawberry-banana is perfect. So I decided to try my hand at something more difficult - pumpkin! After a few tries, I found a ratio that is consistently pleasing. In fact, it's possibly our new favorite. So here's the recipe!

Surprisingly Good Pumpkin Smoothie

(Only because you wouldn’t expect a pumpkin smoothie to be good)

·         2 bananas

·         1 cup pumpkin puree

·         2 cups yogurt

·         4 cups milk

·         3 cups fruit juice (preferably V-fusion – I used cherry-apple)

·         6 cups ice

·         ¼ cup brown sugar

·         ¼ cup (ish) agave syrup

·         2 Emergen-C packets

·         1 tsp. vanilla extract

·         A dash or two each of the following, as desired: salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, allspice, ginger

 

Blend all of the ingredients in a blender until smooth. This, of course, won’t work – unless your blender is COLASSAL! I usually blend in 3 or 4 batches, with very specific order that probably doesn’t matter, so I won’t get into it.

Makes just under a gallon – plenty for a family or a group of enthusiastic friends to enjoy! I have no idea of what proportions to use when shrinking it down to personal size.

Sickness

I hate being sick. It is a most vexatious experience. You go about feeling generally blah, various bits of your anatomy don't function at acceptable levels, nothing is interesting, fatigue lurks around every exertion, and yet sleep is broken and heavy and restless. You fall asleep over books, can't concentrate on the boringest movies and TV ever, can't work...

Now, I have what probably qualifies as excellent health. What I speak of here are the easy kinds of sicknesses, like colds or flus, for I am currently suffering under the former affliction (sniffle). I have never personally dealt with anything really serious, so I can't comment on horrible things like cancer or malaria or broken limbs or werewolves or gunshot wounds or anything of that kind. Just colds (cof!), and that seems quite enough for now.

In fact, it is quite enough. Colds and flus often knock you down and leave you like that for a while. You don't feel like doing anything; and sometimes you aren't able to do anything - except snuggle under blankets, use up boxes of tissues, drink plenty of fluids, and hope for chicken soup. And, nobody really wants you to be up doing anything: it is the one time the general public (friends, employers, and enemies alike) don't want you around at all. For colds and flus are contagious - the worst crime in our germaphobe culture. Cancer isn't catching. Neither is malaria, unless you happen to have a pet mosquito. You can't pick up a strain of broken limbs or gunshot wounds. And werewolves can still maintain friends and jobs, unless there is a full moon. But - "You have a cold?! Begone, unclean one!"

And, in that way there is something nice about getting sick. It absolves you from certain responsibilities (like, getting a job, right now), and restricts you from certain duties (like, cooking when you don't feel like it), and excuses you from certain necessities (like cleaning). And in all that spare time, when not sleeping fitfully, as you snuggle under blankets and reach for another tissue you can sometimes read books that you wouldn't otherwise have time for and watch that movie you always pass over at other times. Unless you can't concentrate, of course. (I have a habit of saying "I'll do that when I'm sick next" and then not getting to it!)

I am grateful for my good health. It's one of those things that I take for granted, so much that when it is even slightly dislodged I feel very sorry for myself. And yet, if I had been born 150 years ago (and lived past infancy, which is unlikely), then I probably would not have made it to my current age and almost certainly not as healthy as I am. For all our germaphobicness, we live in an amazingly healthy time with a wonderfully good diet. We are blessed. Even if it doesn't feel like it to me right now.

(Sneeze!) Now, excuse me while I drift off to read a "Doctor Who" graphic novel...

Criticism and Outrage

First of all, I should preface by saying that I probably qualify as a feminist - a feminist, that is, in the old sense of the term (perhaps the oldest): While I'm no expert in the issues or history, if a TARDIS trip were to land me a hundred years ago in an appropriate city, then I would probably be marching with the suffragettes. Women ought to have the right to vote, are as intelligent as men (though often in different ways!), are capable and ought to be employed in whatever field we are called to, should be treated with respect and dignity, and certainly ought to be paid at the same rate as everyone else. I might add that "homemaker" is an intellectually and physically challenging field to which a woman is often called and uniquely suited, and that in the pursuit of equality in all things feminists have sacrificed many traditional signs of respect accorded to women alone. History is replete with ironies.

With that established (and I probably won't return to it, since I don't find feminism an interesting subject), I can now address what brings me here in the first place; "It's a Wonderful Life"!

Ok, a bit late; but... This is one of my favorite Christmas movies. (My other favorite Christmas stories deserve a post all their own.) Many people love the film; but the very popularity of "It's a Wonderful Life" is a disadvantage, since it has become clichéd. This has led to all sorts of criticisms; everything from the silliness of Clarence the Angel 2nd Class, to the boringness of Bedford Falls vs. Pottersville. But if you really watch it, you can find much that is excellent, as cinema, as storytelling, as a character study. Sentimental? This film is almost anything but!

I know there are flaws and some criticisms of "It's a Wonderful Life" have merit. But certain things really bug me. I will restrain myself to comment on only two, found in the movie's FAQ on IMDb (here: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0038650/faq?ref_=tt_faq_sm). Both have to do with the "alternate" Mary Hatch (Bailey), and reveal an innate modern feminism - and then something worse.

First, the question of why the alternate Mary wore glasses. They answered that the filmmakers probably were indicating that the old maid had time to read more books (a good thing), which caused her eyesight to fail (medically false). Or alternatively, Mary always needed glasses but didn't wear them in real-reality because (to quote them), 'boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses.' At this point I explode in outrage: What!? Is that what we see in this? That Mary was only trying to look pretty according to an outmoded and ludicrous standard?! How tragic is this perception! Mary Hatch the old maid had long lost the dream of being as beautiful as Mary Bailey was. Mary Hatch was caged in the career of an independent single woman, while Mary Bailey was busy and productive. With no one to love, Mary Hatch was depressed and clearly did not take care of herself, and that would lead to ill health that might cause loss of eyesight. Mary Bailey loved and was loved, and shone. How sad that this fulfilling (if woefully traditional - that was sarcasm) life is dismissed so scornfully!

And then, still worse, a question I can't believe would be frequently asked: Why is George Bailey not happy to find his wife single and lost without him? This is repulsive and despicable. Are we so pettily jealous? Are we so self-centered? Are we so arrogant, that many would be pleased to find a wife depressed and sick and alone rather than with some other man? And the answer? this a direct quote, "This is considered an error in the movie with no explanation." An ERROR?! At the very least, this is George's humility; he always thought that Mary could do better than him and was horrified that she wouldn't try. But it's also a demonstration of George's love; he'd rather have Mary with someone else than languishing alone. But surely it can't be George's greatness also! It was disinterested love - love of Mary for her own sake, no matter where he stood in relation to her, without desire to possess her! Perhaps this is the worst result of feminism, an inverted and festering male domination; that we assume there are no men like George Bailey.

Resolve

 

There has been a movement in recent years to rename the New Year’s Resolution. I understand the impulse. It’s easy to start off the New Year with a “New Year, new you!” fantasy: This year I will [pick 1: Quit smoking. Lose weight. Stop eating chocolate (though, seriously, why would you want to?). Exercise more. Get in touch with my spirituality. Take up yoga, painting, woodcraft, knitting, spelunking. Get organized. Etc.]! And then, within two months or two weeks or two hours you have already failed at whatever it was you wanted to change about yourself. This is only natural; just because you have hung up a new calendar doesn’t mean that you yourself are any different or any more able to suddenly change habits that are carved into your grains. Any kind of change takes time – and not the kind of time that is marked by a countdown and a dropping ball somewhere on the East Coast, but rather the kind that ticks by and must be used wisely as any currency. But we are still disappointed with ourselves, and with our recurring failure, and then it’s all too easy to give up and forget whatever stupid resolution you made in a flight of wishful New Year’s thinking.

 

And that’s why so many have recently been advocating a change in the concept of a New Year’s Resolution. We could call them promises instead, or take certain steps to actually see them through, or not make them at all! Some friends decided to make fun resolutions, like finding the perfect shade of lipstick or trying a new recipe. And this is all very good, no doubt. Of course, it won’t stop the tradition of making New Year’s Resolutions any more than saying “Happy Holidays” has stopped anyone from exchanging gifts, decorating, and feasting on Christmas Day. We still have expert-written articles on keeping our promises to ourselves and two weeks of ads for running shoes, gyms, and exercise equipment. But it does make me think: About nomenclature, first off. “Resolution” has a bad feel to it, because we have all failed at keeping them; and for that reason some suggest calling them promises, or goals, or whatever – that way, the negative association is negated. It’s a way of tricking our minds into trying something we might otherwise be reluctant to do.

 

But take the nomenclature one step further; a resolution is not inherently bad. Change it a little; resolution is good. A little more; we must have resolve. It is, in fact, very easy to not have resolve. It’s easy to make a New Year’s Resolution that is actually, as Mary Poppins would say, a piecrust promise – easily made and easily broken. But to have the resolution to take a certain step, to be resolved to make a change – that is something else entirely!

 

I’m not big on resolve. I’m stubborn and obstinate, but that’s different; I can obstinately meander, and I can stubbornly endure what I ought to alter. But there are things that must change, and things I must resolve to do. Resolve is becoming necessary for me – though also awkward since I tend to have ludicrously high expectations for myself anyway, so I will have to find the balance between what I can do and what I dream of doing.

 

The New Year is a convenient time to mark a new beginning, and a good place to say “by this time a year from now, such and such will be different”. So I do have my own, traditional resolutions:

Fun resolution – Making time to read (I’m distractible, so this is surprisingly hard).

Serious resolution – Getting to a healthy weight.

Goal for 2015 – Beginning the process of straightening my teeth (I’ve put it off, with excellent excuses, for long enough!)

Promise – I will finish at least one other book, and try publishing something.

But all of those are aside from the resolve I must have to bring them about, and to simply make it through the tasks before me.

 

It is not easy for me to blog or keep up a presence of any kind on social media, but I must. It has become difficult for me to sit down and write, but I must. Finishing any project is a challenge, but, one at a time, slowly but surely, I must. Earning money is hard, but I must do it. I am so bad at marketing that I generally try to talk people out of buying whatever it is that I’m trying to sell, but I must market. Resolve! How I need it!

 

And resolve is needed in so many ways. It isn’t just for New Year’s Day, when we make Resolutions that aren’t resolutions. We slip, and promise, and break our promises before they are made. Perhaps resolution itself is a habit we should practice and form!