Tuesday, April 30, 2013

A Microbial Quest (first draft, first installment)


Once there was a bacterium.
            He was kind of on his lonesome, which is strange for bacteria are social creatures who live in constantly growing (and diminishing) colonies.
           
            This bacterium very much wanted to know the purpose of life, and very much questioned the answer he was given every time he asked any of the bacteria that looked like him. He suspected that he might be given a different answer if he ever asked something else besides his own kind, but he had never seen anything but another bacterium. He was also terrified to venture out of his usual rounds in the small, soupy world he lived and swam in.
            He didn’t know much about what else was or could be out there, even though this made him terrified, he was also desperately curious and wanted to know what was out there.

            One day, if you could call it a day, maybe it was more a fraction of the many cycles that dictated our bacterium’s life, as he was wrestling back and forth between his morbid fear and avid curiosity for the unknown world that lurked the edges of his lonely routine something much larger than him appeared on the edges of his consciousness. He thoughtlessly fled, uncaring as to whether the thing might be possibly friendly or definitely predatory.
            He was heading straight for the edge of all he knew, and would have stopped, fleeing for his life or not, if he only would have noticed, but he was too busy fleeing the unknown thing behind him to have any thought for the unknown ahead.
            Still unaware, the bacterium quickly overtook his carefully accepted boundary and left it far behind, along with his pursuer, who had stopped stock-still, curiously, at the border of the bacterium’s familiar world.
            But he was once again unaware, numbed by terror, and a little bit oblivious by nature, he raced onwards still, on and on, everything a blur to his frantic consciousness.
            Completely spent, he finally directed his attention behind, the good news: he was no longer being chased, and the bad; he had no idea where he was.

            If bacterium could hyperventilate, this one would have at that very moment of realization. Instead, he swam in rapid circles, faster and faster until instead of being small and vaguely round, he was rather large and oblong and hollow in his middle. Eventually, he came to a stop, and returned to his normal size and shape.
            Finally calming down, he noticed a steady, pulsating glow, as if another bacterium was trying to get his attention, but the thing emanating this glow seemed nothing like any bacterium he’d ever encountered, which, granted, hadn’t been very many.

            “Who are you?” The bacterium cautiously communicated with a dim light from his own body. He would have fled, as before with the other unknown entity, but he was too exhausted and intriguingly, this new thing made him feel calm and peaceful, though he had no idea why.
            “I am” The thing simply emanated, and drew closer to the bacterium.

Tuesday, April 23, 2013

The pea and the popcorn, by Firesiblings 4/23/13


(A random story-writing project amongst my siblings and myself, changes in font indicate a change of writer)

Once upon a Time there was a pea and a popcorn.
The pea and the popcorn lived in a part of the house that was never swept. one day the popcorn was carried off by a very large rat, MWAlfha!fha! HA! screeched the Rat in a muffled voice, "you shall e olishis wif some polswee (parsley)!" spattering the popcorn with spit, 'help' is what the popcorn would have said but being a popcorn it could not talk so it said nothing.
The rat prepared the popcorn like a professional cool, adding the parsley at the very end. He sighed contentedly as he observed the finished dish. It smelled delicious; the rat was indeed very proud as he plopped himself down on a chair in front of the table. 
He was just about to take a slobbery, satisfied bite out of the popcorn when suddenly, a large green pea came flying through the rat's window and knocked the helpless popcorn from the rat's dirty claws. The pea rolled to a stop right in front of his front door and exploded kubagubllshhh... see RAts NeVer win in the end neither do Peas or PoPcorns so don't Be a Pea or a PoPcorn... Be a LightLy SaLted herring those always win.

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Stream of Consciousness: A response to personal knots untangled and Amanda Palmer's "The Art of Asking"

I am closed, but all the people I admire are open.
In my happiest, greatest dreams, I am open.

I am masked and cloaked and closely guarded.
I keep then all out, so why do I so badly want them in, why do I hope they'll let me in?

The things I want most to be, I keep in myself, away from others.
My heart is giving, my soul is tender, but I keep them draped in watchful distrust, not the blackest or heaviest of shrouds, but very interfering in the filtering of light from within and without.
I want to give, but to protect myself from potential harshness from others, I beat them to the punch and make myself feel bad first, even though they had no such intent themselves. I was not raised to be anything but my most authentic, honest self, I was never told that anything about me was anything but beautiful or multifaceted, and none of my friends have really stuck around long enough or been the kind of person to tell me anything of the sort. And yet, here it all is; the shroud, cloak and mask, the stinging barbs of "What you are you should not be" and "Nobody should/could/will ever like or love you".

But it is all lies, the voice that said I need all of this, the need for all of this, this in and of itself.
The Art Of Asking: it's okay to ask, it's okay to be open.
By asking, you are at your most vulnerable, your most earnest and authentic; your most open.
It is great, overflowing, boundless joy, and people respond to that on a very deep level, I respond to that on a very deep level.

Something will probably always be there (though I'm not going to over look the possibility that it won't), the worm-tongue whispering to the light of my being, "Hide. That is the only way to safety. Stay closed." But that voice is wrong; we get from others what we give, and I want the world to be as bright as I sometimes feel always.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Winter hasn't loosened his grip yet








(I'm a horrible photographer but whatever, it's pretty and amazing and at least my pictures show that much.)