What Makes People Deserve Awards?

Daily Prompt: Person of the Year

June 13, 2013

You’re asked to nominate someone for TIME’s Person of the Year. Who would it be, and why?

I don’t know all that much about politics. My general knowledge and awareness barely covers things like the unrest in Turkey and Edward Snowden’s uncovering of the NSA’s spying activity. So no, I don’t think I’m qualified, rather, aware enough, to name anyone as person of the year.

But I am keenly aware of what people I know have been through this past year. Several friends have struggled with their education, my roommate has had on-again, off-again depression because of a guy she’s seeing, and yet another friend questioned humanity itself, saying we don’t deserve to exist. I’ve seen nearly everyone I know, whether I like them or not, fight their own battles. One friend lost a father a year ago, another  has fought her weight and managed to lose some, and so on and so forth.

I looked up today’s Figment Daily Theme a while ago:

Your Daily Theme for June 12, 2013
A writer must learn empathy, that ability to fully understand the emotional life of others. Yes, even those we find depressing, boring, or plain old annoying. It’s that understanding of others that helps us shape compelling, three-dimensional characters.

Take a peek at the News Feed of someone you once hid on Facebook, or unfollowed on Twitter, and select a particularly grating recent post (Maybe: “Off to Zimbabwe then Paris! Pictures to follow! Send me a postcard from wherever you are!”), then write at least 500 words in the voice of that person about that post, in a way that helps you better understand him/her without anger, annoyance, or judgment.

…and was stumped. I trawled through old friends’ walls, searching for something good to use to spur my writing. That’s when I realized how much I’d changed. I was spending time with people I really connected with now, people who cared about me too. I was open to new experiences, and more confident about myself and my abilities. As a result, I was  less constricted, much happier, and a more developed, mature person than I’d been a while ago.
So I dedicate my allocated CyberAward of the Year to all of us. We have all grown this past year, no matter what the cause, what the field and what the reason. We have improved our lives and, whether we realized it or not, also had an impact on the lives of those around us. Just ask a friend and see, I dare you to. And isn’t that what this award is about? To have brought about a change in the world, one that affected others and was appreciated? You are an inspiration to several because of how far you’ve come.
Go ahead, take that badge and pin it on. You deserve it.

The Pebble

Daily Prompt: Weaving the Threads

Draft a post with three parts, each unrelated to the other, but create a common thread between them by including the same item — an object, a symbol, a place — in each part.

He couldn’t take it anymore; he had gotten through depression because of her and had stopped cutting because of her. He was a new man because of her. And she’d said no. How could she? She’d told him he was an amazing person, and that anyone would die to be with him, and he’d believed her; believed her thinking she was indirectly saying something to him. Well, it turned out all women were the same. Actually, all people were the same. They kept the good ones around, the funny ones around, and the ones that made them smile, but always as a friend. Nothing more. The perfect ones, on the other hand….they didn’t even have to bat an eyelid or say a kind word to be thought perfect romance material. What did she see in him anyway? Neal reached his favorite pond-side spot beneath the willow and kicked a smooth, round pebble into the pond, and stared at the ripples until they faded out.

x

The pebble hit his head with a thonk. Sammy, annoyed, flicked the tail of the tadpole closest him. “Ow, that hurt!”

Doubled over with laughter, Rick yelled back over his shoulder, “Wasn’t me, mate!” He shook his head, grinning, and swam ahead, joining the others in their race to Algae Cave.

Sammy scowled, falling to the back of the race. He jetted down to the bottom of the pond to get a closer look at the culprit.

The pebble was smooth, round, and whiter than any rock he’d ever seen – even whiter than the one Marty had shown them in show-and-tell last week, calling it the whitest rock around. Well, he’d show Marty.

Just them, he thought he heard a faint whisper. He looked around, but didn’t see anyone there. He frowned and checked once more; still no one. Just as Sammy gave up and turned to leave, he heard the same whisper, only louder – it was coming from the direction of the rock. He swam back to the rock and circled it. On the other side, half buried under the rock, was Katy, the cute goldfish from school.

“Katy!” he exclaimed, and ran to tug her out.

“It’s no use Sammy,” she sighed, tears in her eyes. “It won’t budge.”

“Well, I’ll make it,” retorted Sammy, setting his jaw in determination. After a few fruitless tugs, he looked around for something, anything to use.

“Don’t leave me here!” Katy pleaded.

“I’ll be right back,” Sammy promised, and swam back, true to his word, with a bit of bark he’d found buried in the mud. Using it as a lever, he put all his weight on it and, inch by inch, lifted the rock up enough for Katy to struggle her way free. Sammy shrugged. I guess Pond Physics 101 really wasn’t a waste of time.

x

“Oops, sorry Ver,” Mark muttered, as Veronica’s favorite bracelet went flying through the air into the pond they’d been picnicking by.

Veronica’s eyes widened in shock as her favorite bracelet sank to the bottom of the pond. “Mark! How could you?” she cried, running to the edge of the pond and kneeling, desperately trying to peer inside and find the bracelet. “Go get it!”

“C’mon, you know I don’t like water,” Mark said coolly. “It was just a bracelet anyway. Didn’t whatsisname, your friend, give it to you? I’ll buy you another one; now come on.” He turned to leave. “I’m gonna go start the car.”

Veronica’s eyes blurred with tears, remembering the day she’d recieved the bracelet. “…not for anything, really. It’s just….it’s been a year since I met you, and I’m who I am now thanks to you, so….I wanted you to have this,” he’d said, smiling at her with that smile only he had that lighted up his eyes. She turned her eyes to the pool, but held back. She couldn’t swim, never had been able to. She looked back to the pool, it seemed leagues deep and really scary; who knew what lived inside? But her mind conjured up an image of him giving her the bracelet again, and she knew she couldn’t turn away.

Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. Fighting for breath, she searched the muck for her bracelet. Her lungs were constricting now and she prayed for help. Just then, her fingers bumped against something hard. Out of breath, Veronica grabbed the fistful of muck around it and came up, struggling for breath. Breaking the surface, she bobbed with the water and opened her fist. She saw a pebble in her hand and almost cried in frustration. Then she saw the bracelet, somehow twined around the pebble; the pebble had kept the bracelet anchored. Just like Neal always kept me anchored. She climbed out of the water and headed for the car. She had an announcement to make.

In response to:

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/05/30/daily-prompt-weaving/

Breathing Vortices

Your Daily Theme for 5/28/2013
 
Opening Line
 
She sat at the window, nose pressed against the glass until it was numb with cold. She imagined her breath brought frost and her blinks brought rain. From inside her tiny room, she controlled every element of the world outside.
 
Use this as inspiration for a short story or poem.

 

She stared out into the window

Rapidly firing blinks

Like water bombing from a watergun

Or torrents from a thousand sinks

And breathed, through the glass,

Wilfully into the world outside

Creating a universe of Ethereal Beings

In the gloom and darkness to reside.

Faster, faster, first they walked, then ran,

Moshing in a great Wall of Death,

An uproar that even the Heavens noted

With jagged spotlights

Drawn into the maelstrom, coated

With a layer of the ground.

Spiraling out of control,

The vortex turned upon itself ‘round,

And vanished into the sky whole

With but a glimmer.

 

Link to my poem on Figment:

http://figment.com/books/647243-Breathing-Vortices

Perfect Weather

Your Daily Theme for May 24, 2013

 
Photo prompt: Write a poem or story inspired by the scenario in this image.
 

Ice-cold, crisp weather,

Perfect  weather

For the mood I am in.

Looking at the four lines etched out behind me

And the past few feet, just one;

The white expanse ahead of me

suddenly longer.

The milestones suddenly seem insignificant;

A jumble of numbers and words

In a different tongue,

In a different time.

The safety of the fence just behind me –

I can turn back still,

Except I can’t.

I wonder if they will

Keep a light burning for me

As long as they will for each other.

Ice-cold, crisp weather,

Perfect  weather

For the mood I am in.

 

Link to my poem on Figment:

http://figment.com/books/644705-Perfect-Weather

On Goals and Garbling

Daily Prompt: Goals

When you started your blog, did you set any goals? Have you achieved them? Have they changed at all?
I started my blog on WordPress just 3 days ago. My goal is to start writing more and develop as a writer, and maybe get some external input and encouragement along the way.
I began blogging as a sort of bet with my friends. We all plan on writing blogs for a certain period of time. At the end of it, we’ll present each of the others with a list of around thirty different blogs, from which they have to guess which one ours is – that was the idea. So far, still sticking with it, but three days isn’t a lot. Who knows what might happen between now and then?
But, to be honest, even that’s not the truth – the bet might’ve been the final impetus to actually make it happen, but my actual goal as such was not a goal – it was my need to be heard.
I like talking, always have. I like it even better when I have an audience. It’s cathartic to talk your heart out to someone, and it’s nice being able to talk to people who will and can judge you solely on the basis of your thoughts, beliefs and expression.
So my blogging goals are basically still the same. To be able to think, write and be heard. But then, isn’t that everyone’s?