Day 20: What if you`re going to write a story about desperation with an evangelist as the main character and a memo as the key object? Set your story in a ghost town.

Mark:

This morning I broke the schedule. Scheduling is important. I have appointments to keep, planned recreation and planned meals. The schedule is as follows:

7:00 wake up. This is not under my control. The sun blares into my room between 6:47-6:56 year around. 

7:15 morning poop. Health begins in the toilet.

7:45 Breakfast. Dried fruit, canned milk, and rice. Sometimes I make rice pudding, but that's only for special occasions.

8:00 Prayer hour. Simple enough. I pray for the lost souls of my community and the global community at large. 

9:00 Evangelize. At this time every day I go out into my community and post signs and tactfully insert boards througout the town. 

11:00 Lunch. Rice, dried fruit, and water. There was a time in our community's past that water was scarce, but these days the water is ample. God is Good.

12:00 Prayer hour. In this time I pray for my own strength to provide for my community. I pray to be led in the direction my community needs. 

1:00 house maintenance. I used to share the house with 6 other people. It was actually a boarding hosue, but God has provided and I was able to buy the house for basically nothing!

3:00 Nap. The arid environment is difficult on the house. It is laborious to keep the house in tip top shape, but I want my community to know that I take pride in what God has provided. 

4:00 hunting. I am not especially good at it. I ran out of ammunition about 3 months ago. So far I haven't caught anything alive, but I have come across some recently deceased birds and rabbits. Meat is always a pleasant treat. 

6:00 Dinner. Canned milk, dried fruit and rice. 

7:00 2 hour scripture reading. 

9:00 bed. 

So, why would I disrupt such a well oiled machine? Typically I check my post box once a week, when I ride to the nearest town and grab supplies. I buy canned milk, rice, and dried fruit. I decided to buy more in bulk recently and went 2 weeks without needing to make the trip. I went to the nearest town on Tuesday this week, and checked my box. There was a memo stating that I'd spent my inheritance and that no more money would be deposited into my accounts. In that same letter my sister told me it was time to come back to St. Louis. She's never understood my need to retrieve the lost lambs of our world. She insists that she come to Boomtown and help me gathher my things. Because I hadn't checked the post in 2 weeks, she was due any day. 

Sylvia:

I left my family behind and took the train to Santa Fe. From Santa Fe I had to charter a mini caravan of 3 wagons to carry enough supplies to make it to Boomtown. The name is a joke. It's not even it's real name. People call it Boomtown because there was a population "boom", and then much like a "boom" the town echoed briefly and then died out.

My delusional brother is the only person there. 

He had a family once. We were raised in money. We weren't embarassingly wealthy, but we are both educated and were certainly prepared to continue our quality of life. Mark met Beth, and instantly fell in love. She wasn't quite as well off as we were but she wasn't a pauper by any means. He wanted to establish his career first, and did so easily. He was accepted into a local law firm and made associate in less than 5 years. He and Beth married. Four years in, everyone was beginning the lack of pitter-pattering feet and I asked Beth about it. She was upset, but said that God would do it on His terms. In the meantime, a man visited with Mark and proposed a Gold mining operation. Mark was eager to expand his income. I don't know why. He was doing fine enough at the law office. Any who, he gave the man money, and then apparently gave him 3 money wires. The total was over 20,000 dollars. The man never sent any bonds, or land rights. The man swindled him. Beth told him that God had told her to go take care of her dying father. We never found out where she went, but we know that her father died a year ago under the care of hired nurses. 

I think he came out here to find her. I don't think she's out here, but in any case he landed in Boomtown in the middle of the "boom". Housing was hard to come by, and he asked us for money to get a law office started. My husband and I gave him the money. He took to a boarding house and that's the last we heard of him for two years. I received a telegraph from the Doctor in Morgantown, the nearest town to Boomtown, around Mark's 29th birthday. He wrote in concern for my brother's mental fortitude. He said that Boomtown had basically been abandoned and that Mark insisted on staying to "tend the flock". This was particularly odd because my brother never received training in ministering. We are Presbyterian, but only loosely. Beyond that, one would think that tending a flock would mean a flock was present. 

Our mother died when we were in grammar school, and Father died when we were away at boarding school. We were left with a decent inheritance. Mine allowed me to finish school, and provide a dowry for my now husband. Mark didn't have access to his inheritance until he was 25, which made law school difficult for him financially, but he worked hard and did a lot with our family's reputation. The bank made monthly deposits into his account, unbeknownst to me he'd increased the deposit amounts, thus taking a 25 year inheritance allotment to 8 years. 

The boarding house was abandoned, so I know he didn't pay money for it. I have no idea what he's spent the money on. I have no idea what I'm getting myself in to when we arrive. 

Mark: 

I saw the first wagon approaching midday. They moseyed but dust flew up like they were in a sprint. It was really dry outside of town.  

I grabbed my hat and walked out to meet the wagons. My sister was shrugged up to a weasely looking man. He got down first and offered a dirty hand, which my sister delicately and sparingly used to descend the rickety steps. She wiped her hands and straightened her clothes for a moment. She looked up at me with a flash of disdain, erased the expression, and replaced it with an endearing head turn. We embraced. I took her by the hands and led her back to the house. I released one hand when we got to the steps of the house. Her eyes combed the outside, painfully seeking out flaws, to which there were none. 

"Mark, it's a lovely home"

"Thanks. I've worked hard on it but it is a great haven for weary souls." I put my hands in my pockets and rocked back ony my heels. "So Sylviva, what brings you out? You didn't have to come all the way out here. You easily could've corresponded by letter. Can I help you with anything?"

"Is that a joke? What could I possibly need help with that you could help me with?! Will you pray for me? Ha! You are the one who needs help! That's why I'm here! To bring you out of this dillusion!"

"Sylvia I have a very important job. I know my calling now. I am meant to bring these people to God. I know I've been slow going but-"

"Mark, you are alone here. What people are you bringing to God? Do you see people?"

"Of course I see people! The town name is BOOMtown!"

"When was the last time you saw another soul?"

--waiting--

"Awhile."

"Weeks? Months? Mark you can't keep this up.You've wastd all your money! Come back home! Start practicing again! Beth isn't coming back, but you could find someone else. No one back there knows what you've been doing out here. Just come back and start over!"

"I'm not leaving my flock."

Up until this point Sylvia had been angry but tolerant. When the last word left his mouth she went into a rampage. She turned on her heels and walked out the front door. She walked across the street and up to the door of what appeared to once have been a saloon. She knocked. She kicked the door. She walked to a window and swung her change purse into it, breaking the glass. She hit it a few more times until the window was completely open and she stuck her head in.

"Hello? Anyone here? My dillusional brother wants you to find Jesus! As soon as you become a Christian I can go home!"

Silence. 

Then she walked over to the post office; also boarded up. She wiped the window with her glove and peered in. She turned to look at me, swung back the change purse, and proceeded to break the glass. She continued down the road until she'd broken 7 windows. No one responded. No one flooded the streets to take down the vandal. She was right. 

How had I missed that? Why did God send me to an abandoned town? I sank to my knees and watched dust roll around in the wind. My sister started walking back to me. She was sweaty and covered in dirt. She walked past me and into the house. She left the door open and I heard her lightly tapping on the stairs. 

I looked over at the wagons. The men were dirty but seemed honest. They'd had plenty of time to abandon my sister here but they were setting up camp for the night. One man was sitting on the wagon cleaning his fingernails. The other two were working on unloading the equipment. 

I walked over to the men. They were further away than I'd figured and by the time I reached them all three men were standing, arms folded, waiting on me. 

"Hi, I want to offer a room in my home for you. It was a boarding house so you can have your own space. There's plenty of water. I don't have a lot of food, but you are welcome to use the kitchen for your own meals."

"Why do you want to let us in there? Do we look like the kind of man you want sleeping in the same house as your sister?"

I hadn't thought of that. "I don't see why that should be a problem. You can have a bed if you want. Or you can sleep on the ground. I just wanted to offer the bed to you"

Realizing I wasn't getting anywhere, I nodded my head and turned away. I walked back to the house but just as I reached the first building of town, one of the men yelled out, "Can we shower?"

"Yeah. Please do."

"Ok, We'll be right in."

Day 19: List 20 things that annoy you and expand on one

Again with the negativity! How about I write 10 things that annoy me, 10 things that make life worth living, and expand upon one of those. 

Things that annoy me:

1. Being trapped on the bottom deck of a ferry behind a wall of stupid bicyclists. I was a bicyclist, but I wasn't stupid.

2. People who take children to a restaurant and let their kids scream.

3. People who don't follow basic transportation rules (stay left, don't veer into traffic, etc, etc)

4. People who get barfy drunk in public. 

5. Shitting on other people to make yourself feel better.

6. Yelling. I hate it, actually.

7. Disrespecting the position of the president. You don't have to like him, but I can't stand when people say anyone should die. He is a human. 

8. People who talk while the teacher is talking. My RAS is low, and I am easily distracted.

9. Annoyed is a mild term, but I am [insert gambit of feelings] when I hear of a woman giving birth on someone else's terms. 

10. half assed or no assed parents. The next generation deserves better.

Things that make life worth living:

1. Sex. And yea, it's number 1 for a reason.

2. The moment you know you've made an impact on someone's life

3. The few months in a toddler's life when their vocabulary explodes. 

4. Making a friend, and knowing that person will stick around for a decade or two.

5. When a baby falls asleep in your arms

6. Encouraging someone to do what they want (in my case, pursuing higher education or choosing their own birth plan)

7. Reflecting on good times with people who've transitioned, and feeling the deep mourn for those loved ones. 

8. Proving people wrong. ;)

9. Cuddling

10. Laughing. 

I would say 1 and 10 are most important. However, to keep things appropriate for my mother who now reads my blog (hey mom!) I'll talk about laughing. My fiance gets so annoyed by giggling girls. It's kind of understandable, but having been a giggling girl once (and sometimes still) I have to say that he is simply missing out. One of my favorite feelings in the world is laughing until you cry. And maybe it's not the actual laughing that is so vital, but I think feeling comfortable enough with the people around you to laugh that hard is the best part. Most recently I was taking a pole class with my friend (since she took such sweet care of Agent Vidal, we'll call her The Caretaker). The caretaker and I were in 6' heels and she did a Peter Pan spin, went to land and slipped. She, with her superior upper body strength caught herself and landed, gracefully for the situation, on her knees. I laughed so hard I had to leave class. 

Also, side note: this blog makes me happy. I don't really get to know who any of you are unless you comment, but its really nice to be able to write to such a vast and anonymous audience. I am thankful for you.

Thanks for reading!

Day 18: Write about environmentalism

This... isn't random. 

I just listened to a radio show about a man who's published a new book about the morality of fossil fuels. When I listened to his explanation, I was taken back to the traditional variance in all debates. The basis of all differences in our perception of the world around us is whether we think we are animals. So I'm going to write about both.

1. If we are animals, the environment is our peer. Ultimately the environment is our steward. We are subject to it's availability. We are subject to its actions. The catalyst of the actions is "important" but not in the effect of what is happening over why it's happening. So, basically whether God is doing these things, if Universal intelligence, or if, my least favorite option, chaos, is to blame, it doesn't matter. We are intellectual creatures, like dolphins or octopi, or pigs. We have relationships and we build things. We created a heirachy of intellectual function for goodness sake! We are the pinnacle of macro-organisms! (that was sarcasm) If we are animals then we are like the tiny boats we build out on stormy seas: we can only change our circumstances on a minute level. 

2. If we dominate animals, the environment is a tool. Ultimately we are the steward over a sickly and deteriorating globe. It is subject to our actions. We are the catalyst. In this instance, the catalyst may be the same forces acting on our "nature", but it's still the same: it doesn't matter. We are intellectual creatures and intellect is paramount. Intellect can overcome our action. In this view the world is falling apart and in need of saving. From this perspective it makes sense that we should use fossil fuels to take the contaminants out of the soil.

Problems:

If our actions come from our nature, and our intellect comes from our nature then our actions should implicate our intellect and in true biological form, provide sustainability for off-spring.

Earth is a closed system. It is like a glass filled with water. Assuming volume can't change, and we aren't rapidly seaping atmosphere into the vast universe, taking a toxin out of one form simply means that it takes a new form; ie, if you take toxic materials out of the soil, you put them in the air. If take toxins from water or air and put it in barrels in the ground, you are simply changing their state. We are playing chess against the computer. There's only so many times you can move into and out of the corner before you just give up and let the computer have you. 

Wasn't it Einstein who said “Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”...that wasn't a question. Yes, it was. How are we to know that ants aren't geniuses at volume movement, or that dolphins were the pinnacle of evolution, but then decided it wasn't worth all the hype? 

I realize that we are really a mix of options 1 and 2. I know this, but I still don't think it gives us the authority to do stupid things. That is my final complaint: Humans have specialty. I promise you that an electrician could school me on how to install wiring into a house, but all it takes is one news article or one book and suddenly Joe Shmoe is an expert and he thinks the electrician is a complete fool. Why can't we have experts? Why can't we have specialists anymore? 

In typical fashion, a little information is a scary thing.

 

Day 17: write about your dreams

I've always thought that dreams were significant. When I was a kid I dreamed all sorts of bizarre things. I dreamed I died so many times. I dreamed I felt myself die; I dreamed I had already died and what I did later. I dreamed I couldn't die. I have dreamed probably a hundred times that I was going to drown but I realized I could breath underwater.

As time goes on my dreams seem to get more and more mundane. 

That is until this past year. 

My grandmother died a year ago. From the day she died until 2 months later I had 4-5 dreams a week with her in them. The weird thing is that for a few of those dreams, they were continuations of dreams my little sister was having. She was wearing the same thing and everything. 

I dreamed that I was in her kitchen and she said I had to go bc I would be late for work. I was late for work. I dreamed she cooked food. I dreamed she had comfy socks. I often wonder if I've glanced into "her heaven". I hope so.

Day 16: He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw...

He turned the key in the lock and opened the door. To his horror, he saw himself sitting on the couch drinking a beer. The door swung from momentum, and thunked against the foyer wall. The him on the couch took a swig and placed the beer on a coaster on the coffee table. He sighed and said, "This is something we've been needing to talk about for a while now." The him who opened the door half dropped his grocery bags. He walked in and sat on the vintage arm chair. The him on the couch looked like a child about to confess to stealing cookies from the cookie jar. Rubbing his hands together, he hesitantly began with, "I don't know how to tell you this but you have been in a coma for 5 years. This is all a dream." The him in the arm chair began to pale.

"I jest, I jest." He offered. "This is a dream, but you aren't in a coma. It just the regular kind. Plenty of people have out of body experiences (ish) in their sleep; they see themselves with their greatest desires, or they see themselves in danger. I don't know how normal it is to dream about grocery shopping, but at least I am normal."

The him on the chair relaxed. He opened his mouth to say something like, "Oh man, you had me on that one!" But soon realized he didn't have a mouth.

"Curious right? Why don't you have a mouth? This is your dream. Somewhere in there you have all the answers. Maybe you're just meant to listen through all this. Yep, there've been other times. And you don't seem to remember me, but I definitely remember you; my mute twin. I get to live in this dank house a few times a month, and I get to interact with you. I think this is the first time you have realized you don't have a mouth. The rules state I'm not allowed to tell you anything you don't come to on your own first.  Don't try to move your jaw. Last time you got pissed and tried to rip it open. I don't think it's worth it. You're just along for the ride. Let's talk about your wife. We haven't talked about her yet. Yeah, you don't really remember conversations from before."

The him on the chair glanced down at his hand and saw a wedding band. He didn't remember being married. He definitely wasn't married.

"Yes. You are. Her name is Debra."

The name made his ears ring. Like when you have been in the dark forever, and you are exposed to direct sunlight. The sound of your eyes adjusting and your skin contracting, like your whole being is clinching down on itself; like the only thing to do is ball up on the ground and wait for your body to catch up; like the opposite of brain freeze. 

When the pain stopped, the room came back into focus slowly. He had tears in his eyes: not emotional tears, but survival tears: the tears that come when you are concentrating with your eyes squinched shut. He looked to the him on the couch. He was lighting a cigarette, and offered one to him. Asshole. What was he going to smoke it out of? His ears?

"You could try your nose. Might hurt though. I don't know. So, Debra, breathe deep buddy. You'll be fine. Debra is your wife. She's the one who decorated this monstrosity. Mother of your children? You're business partner? Your financial guru? Anyway, she was here. She said she'd be back later. Judging by  your little show just now I don't know that it's a good idea for you to be her when she gets back."

Hyperventalating through your nose is difficult. His lungs wanted to exert themselves, but his nostrils regulated too well. He didn't know he was married, but the name made him so violently upset that it paralyzed him (at least his dream body).  

Part I.

 

Day 15: Use the phrase "Growing like a weed"

I stepped through the fence of fire, and found the witches there

I craned my neck along the pyre, and saw the little's hair.

I two stepped stairs steep to summit, but finally  I ARRIVE!

Just to see the blanket plummet, and the worst I could surmise.

The little not so little now, was growing like a weed

The little swaddled moments ago, wow, with such great speed

Has no more ribbons in her hair, no goofiness to lose

She has burdens broad to bear, where once she stood aloof.

My heart begins to ache for her, as the witch calls out my name

She says my job is to lure, her out--the time we've left's no game

"Because all young girls long to live bigger than they are 

But they need a heart to give, with out it they won't go far"

I wondered where I might start, and how to give her wings

the little grabbed my juicy heart, and gave it one tight squeeze.

I thought about what I would do, If I went at it again

I would go and act and view, as much as I possibly can.

I wouldn't let fear hold me back, or shame glue me down

My heart would love, throb and thwack, I'd never touch the ground

So what could I give the little that I couldn't give myself?

I'd give every ounce of courage and support I could. 

Nothing is something if you compare yourself to that brood.

 

Something is something if it matters to you

but nothing is nothing if its something you can't do.

And sometimes cant's and dont-want-to's aren't that far apart

and in moments like that when the panic sets in, I'd say listen to your heart.

'Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed'*

but success is measured in your own heart's content, no one else's- indeed.

* single line from Emily Dickenson's "Success is counted sweetest"

  

Day 14: 10 reasons to break off an engagement

(It's random I promise)

1. You expect your betrothed to change.

    A ring will make her happy. The yes will fill his heart. As with most gifts in life, we often lose focus on those things and their significance as time goes on. The ring will not make her more submissive. The yes wont remove all need for him to hear WHY you said yes. You should expect the bad to stay bad, and to good to stay good. If you find yourself engaged to someone because you thought the commitment would change behavior, its probably a good sign to let them go.

2. Your betrothed DOES change.

     I recently talked to a girl who's husband was completely normal until the wedding, and then he became increasingly possessive. It got to the point that he called her 15 times in one day bc she was in a 3 hour lab. Ain't no body got time for that. Betrothed means promised, but it doesn't mean enslaved. If you see behaviors that are frightening or vastly different, try to talk it out, but if its bad, get out. 

3. Cheating.

    My knee jerk reaction is that cheating is never ok. However, as an adult I can see if a person is neglected for months or years, and someone else comes along and gives them the affection they want, it makes sense that a human would migrate to what they want. That being said, you aren't married. Most likely kids aren't in the picture yet. The stresses of life are relatively low for you. If you aren't providing the love and support that he/she needs now, then it will only be more difficult when you have a family or buy a house, or changing jobs, or losing jobs, or any plethora of life circumstances. That being said, if your needs aren't being met, give the other person the opportunity to change. Break it off before you cheat.

4-10. Follow your gut

    Frankly, this prompt is annoying to me. I just got engaged, and I'd rather not focus on reasons to break it off, but for the sake of keeping it random, I wrote. Lastly, and this is my greatest weakness, follow your gut. If it doesn't feel right, don't do it. 

    Everyone I've ever talked to about divorce said that they had reservations during their engagement. I don't mean to be negative, but it seems like sometimes marriage means just not leaving. Hopefully your marriage will be filled with more; like love and happiness and consult and companionship. We all dream that our marriage will be the first ship to exclusively sail on fair weathered seas, but I think at somepoint you should consider what life would be like if you had to live every day with your significant other at their worst. And once your mouth is filled with acid and you could shoot darts with your eyes, consider what it would be like for your mate if they had to live every day with you at your worst. Statistically, its not likely that those scenarios would be average, but being with someone during sickness doesn't mean cleaning up barf and making chicken soup. Sometimes it means the mood swings that accompany weaning off of prescription strength pain killers, or the emotional roller coaster and pains of pregnancy and birth. 

     My worst is not caring. My brain has this auto prioritizing feature. My emotions, and the emotions of the ones I care about are usually the first or second thing to fall aside. So, I think about what life would be like for my significant other if I completely ignored his feelings for years. He's a pretty emotional guy. He's a talker and a sharer (yes, a dream by most women's standards). I am not. At best I can listen. I rarely make it above comprehension. If pushed I can sympathize, and maybe even emote a little myself, but ultimately, its just not in my nature. By suggesting that you consider living with your significant other at their worst, I am immediately reminded of what that would mean if I was specifically speaking to him. What a reminder!