Writing Exercise: "Kittens"
On the subject of...Kittens
I. The Tangential Preface
Tonight I went with Janel, Kathleen, and Chris out to Underground Bluz, a little hole-in-the-wall bar across the street. Amidst the small talk, Chris and I talk about our desires to write stories and that he enjoys my writing style. I remember hearing similar opinion from my other correspondence with various parties over the years, and I even recall a series of writing exercises in my LJ that I had hoped to make into a continuing series to better hone my so-called craft. I mentioned my "Big Book of Carl" project--wherein I would write about my thoughts and philosophies about miscellaneous subjects. I also talked about my goals that I had wanted to accomplish by the time I'd graduated college. I wanted to get a photo published on a label of Jones Soda. I wanted to have a published book of poetry or a story. With renewed vigor I want to complete the story I've had outlined for the past few years. I always say that I have trouble filling in the blanks between my already-written story beats. I think that I ought to try to fill in the blanks as best as I can for now instead of simply giving up to futility without even making attempts. At least with some filled in, the gaps become smaller, and it becomes a matter of tweaking, rather than complete creation.
During the band's lengthy 'tween-set break, Janel gets a craving for McD's fries, so we all set out for a little bit to walk over to McDonalds, knowing in advance that it may be likely that the lobby is closed for the night and that our only means of ordering would be the drive-thru. Of course the car is not far away at all, but we continue on foot, nevertheless. Based on my past experience when I worked at the McD's back home and set off the drive-thru sensor while pushing along the garbage bin, I felt that perhaps if we jumped hard enough, we would have enough combined weight to trigger an order request. The girls have second-thoughts as we try the locked door and round the corner to enter the drive-thru lane. The line isn't long, and we only have to wait for one car. Before we can settle into our spot in the queue, two cars pull up behind us. I turned to try to look through their windshields for a reaction, but am not able to make anything out. I don't dally for we have a mission. Knowing that this might be a futile effort, I decide that if after 30 seconds we are not able to trigger an order, that we just move along and let the properly equipped drivers have their turn. We approach the second window and are told that we must--as not explicitly stated--be in a car to order...but however Silver Mine Subs is still open. Still feeling the pang of hunger--I suppose--we proceed to walk toward the opposite end of the plaza. I wind up ordering myself a $7 full meal. We take turns reading aloud the free news bulletin and I propose my blogging idea. I ask from them a topic from which I will try to create an interesting blog entry. Janel, invariably, announces, "kittens!" And so starts the game.
And yes. At the end of the night, we pile in the car and make traditional usage of the drive-thru for a single order of a medium-size fries.
II. A Tangent May Not Be Called As Such If Never Properly Related To The Initial Subject
I watched Woody Allen's "Melinda and Melinda" after returning to the apartment while trying to think of what I could possibly have to say on the subject of kittens, and it occurred to me that I exist somewhat on a skew to a proper timeline. Yesterday, my niece (through one of my first-cousins) graduated from college in the Philippines. ( Incidentally, she is also a Filipina nursing student named Kathleen.) How could it be possible that someone younger than me be both my niece and graduate from college before I could? My dad was the youngest of seven children, and my parents got married relatively late, so that's the primary reason why I can be relatively about a full generation behind other relatives. That being said, what does that do to the perspective that within my group of friends, I have been amongst the oldest (by means of my being born a couple of weeks too late for the Kindergarten cut-off)? It's odd to think about, and is probably too confusing to really think about in my current drowsy state.
III. The Main Event: Kittens
I was a Navy kid, and as such, our family moved around every three years. As is the normal practice, when you first arrive, you stay at the Navy Lodge while finding housing. Most often, you must first put yourself on a waiting list for on-base housing, so you must find living accomodations elsewhere in the meanwhile.
We moved to Sicily the summer before I entered second grade. The first apartment we found, to my vague memory, was very spacious, with great views, but had many, many flies flying around. We located a second apartment where we stayed for about a year or so before moving to on-base housing. All of the families, as far as I can recall, were military families, however the landlord was Italian but spoke often in French. All of the families had children, so we would often hang out together. One family who occupied an apartment for a time had a child who, I felt, was a bit of a free-wheeling, get-into-trouble-sort. It's odd that I think of him now as "the white kid," but that doesn't seem at all off when I recount that everyone else I remember had some Filipino/Asian/Spanish blood.
I was either eight or nine years-old at the time.
The "white kid" had a cat named Dodger, after the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team. One day we, for some bad reason or another, leave the safety of the gates of the apartment building and wander down the road a bit. I don't remember exactly where it was that we stopped, whether it was just a rocky hill, or whether it was some sort of waste dumping area, or whatever. However, it wasn't long after exploring that someone had found a small litter of kittens, seemingly abandoned. We bring the kittens back with us to the apartment. Someone brings down a shoebox to keep them in for the time being, and we all sit outside in front of the building but within the fence and look over the small animals, still with their eyes shut. The "white kid" brings down Dodger, to see how he/she would react to the tiny cats. I think, now, that perhaps Dodger was probably a female cat, based on our thinking (or at least my foggy recollection of our young logic) that she might take them in. (Nowadays, when I think "Dodger," I connect it to the Artful Dodger from...Oliver Twist?)
After this I don't remember the timeline, whether it was hours or days later, that we gain the attention of someone who specially cares for animals and who brings us better things with which to care for the kittens. I know she brings us a dropper to better feed them, and a soft blanket to line the box. I also recall that during our discussions of possible ownership and division of the litter that the "white kid" proclaimed that I should not have one of the kittens because I didn't know how to really handle and care for it. I agree in hindsight, and I'm that inside I agreed at that time, as well. I know for certain I wasn't all that comfortable feeling their claws dig into my skin as I let them crawl on me. Again, I am uncertain of the timeline, but within the week--maybe within two--the kittens had been adopted by someone outside of our apartment, shoebox, blanket, and all.
IV. The Call For Requests
So, dear reader, I ask you for any writing prompts so that I may get some exercise. I wish I had the same kind of time as I used to, where my only excuse for not writing was laziness or not having a topic on which to write. However, despite my lack of free-time, writing is something that I enjoy, and it is always something that I look forward to doing, so please let me know about any subject you may want to hear from me about. I also appreciate any comments and criticisms about my writing style, as well as any general conversation.
I. The Tangential Preface
Tonight I went with Janel, Kathleen, and Chris out to Underground Bluz, a little hole-in-the-wall bar across the street. Amidst the small talk, Chris and I talk about our desires to write stories and that he enjoys my writing style. I remember hearing similar opinion from my other correspondence with various parties over the years, and I even recall a series of writing exercises in my LJ that I had hoped to make into a continuing series to better hone my so-called craft. I mentioned my "Big Book of Carl" project--wherein I would write about my thoughts and philosophies about miscellaneous subjects. I also talked about my goals that I had wanted to accomplish by the time I'd graduated college. I wanted to get a photo published on a label of Jones Soda. I wanted to have a published book of poetry or a story. With renewed vigor I want to complete the story I've had outlined for the past few years. I always say that I have trouble filling in the blanks between my already-written story beats. I think that I ought to try to fill in the blanks as best as I can for now instead of simply giving up to futility without even making attempts. At least with some filled in, the gaps become smaller, and it becomes a matter of tweaking, rather than complete creation.
During the band's lengthy 'tween-set break, Janel gets a craving for McD's fries, so we all set out for a little bit to walk over to McDonalds, knowing in advance that it may be likely that the lobby is closed for the night and that our only means of ordering would be the drive-thru. Of course the car is not far away at all, but we continue on foot, nevertheless. Based on my past experience when I worked at the McD's back home and set off the drive-thru sensor while pushing along the garbage bin, I felt that perhaps if we jumped hard enough, we would have enough combined weight to trigger an order request. The girls have second-thoughts as we try the locked door and round the corner to enter the drive-thru lane. The line isn't long, and we only have to wait for one car. Before we can settle into our spot in the queue, two cars pull up behind us. I turned to try to look through their windshields for a reaction, but am not able to make anything out. I don't dally for we have a mission. Knowing that this might be a futile effort, I decide that if after 30 seconds we are not able to trigger an order, that we just move along and let the properly equipped drivers have their turn. We approach the second window and are told that we must--as not explicitly stated--be in a car to order...but however Silver Mine Subs is still open. Still feeling the pang of hunger--I suppose--we proceed to walk toward the opposite end of the plaza. I wind up ordering myself a $7 full meal. We take turns reading aloud the free news bulletin and I propose my blogging idea. I ask from them a topic from which I will try to create an interesting blog entry. Janel, invariably, announces, "kittens!" And so starts the game.
And yes. At the end of the night, we pile in the car and make traditional usage of the drive-thru for a single order of a medium-size fries.
II. A Tangent May Not Be Called As Such If Never Properly Related To The Initial Subject
I watched Woody Allen's "Melinda and Melinda" after returning to the apartment while trying to think of what I could possibly have to say on the subject of kittens, and it occurred to me that I exist somewhat on a skew to a proper timeline. Yesterday, my niece (through one of my first-cousins) graduated from college in the Philippines. ( Incidentally, she is also a Filipina nursing student named Kathleen.) How could it be possible that someone younger than me be both my niece and graduate from college before I could? My dad was the youngest of seven children, and my parents got married relatively late, so that's the primary reason why I can be relatively about a full generation behind other relatives. That being said, what does that do to the perspective that within my group of friends, I have been amongst the oldest (by means of my being born a couple of weeks too late for the Kindergarten cut-off)? It's odd to think about, and is probably too confusing to really think about in my current drowsy state.
III. The Main Event: Kittens
I was a Navy kid, and as such, our family moved around every three years. As is the normal practice, when you first arrive, you stay at the Navy Lodge while finding housing. Most often, you must first put yourself on a waiting list for on-base housing, so you must find living accomodations elsewhere in the meanwhile.
We moved to Sicily the summer before I entered second grade. The first apartment we found, to my vague memory, was very spacious, with great views, but had many, many flies flying around. We located a second apartment where we stayed for about a year or so before moving to on-base housing. All of the families, as far as I can recall, were military families, however the landlord was Italian but spoke often in French. All of the families had children, so we would often hang out together. One family who occupied an apartment for a time had a child who, I felt, was a bit of a free-wheeling, get-into-trouble-sort. It's odd that I think of him now as "the white kid," but that doesn't seem at all off when I recount that everyone else I remember had some Filipino/Asian/Spanish blood.
I was either eight or nine years-old at the time.
The "white kid" had a cat named Dodger, after the Los Angeles Dodgers baseball team. One day we, for some bad reason or another, leave the safety of the gates of the apartment building and wander down the road a bit. I don't remember exactly where it was that we stopped, whether it was just a rocky hill, or whether it was some sort of waste dumping area, or whatever. However, it wasn't long after exploring that someone had found a small litter of kittens, seemingly abandoned. We bring the kittens back with us to the apartment. Someone brings down a shoebox to keep them in for the time being, and we all sit outside in front of the building but within the fence and look over the small animals, still with their eyes shut. The "white kid" brings down Dodger, to see how he/she would react to the tiny cats. I think, now, that perhaps Dodger was probably a female cat, based on our thinking (or at least my foggy recollection of our young logic) that she might take them in. (Nowadays, when I think "Dodger," I connect it to the Artful Dodger from...Oliver Twist?)
After this I don't remember the timeline, whether it was hours or days later, that we gain the attention of someone who specially cares for animals and who brings us better things with which to care for the kittens. I know she brings us a dropper to better feed them, and a soft blanket to line the box. I also recall that during our discussions of possible ownership and division of the litter that the "white kid" proclaimed that I should not have one of the kittens because I didn't know how to really handle and care for it. I agree in hindsight, and I'm that inside I agreed at that time, as well. I know for certain I wasn't all that comfortable feeling their claws dig into my skin as I let them crawl on me. Again, I am uncertain of the timeline, but within the week--maybe within two--the kittens had been adopted by someone outside of our apartment, shoebox, blanket, and all.
IV. The Call For Requests
So, dear reader, I ask you for any writing prompts so that I may get some exercise. I wish I had the same kind of time as I used to, where my only excuse for not writing was laziness or not having a topic on which to write. However, despite my lack of free-time, writing is something that I enjoy, and it is always something that I look forward to doing, so please let me know about any subject you may want to hear from me about. I also appreciate any comments and criticisms about my writing style, as well as any general conversation.