642 Things to Write About Part 3
Apologies if I haven't been on lately or providing content. There have been frightening things going on at work and anxiety has been eating away at me. The only comfort I can find now is that there are people who are looking out for me. Maybe someday I'll write about work but not now. Also, I've been more depressed than usual due to the gloomy weather.
So here are some more bits I wrote in the book 642 Things to Write About.
A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.
Why do you want to die? Are you unhappy? Are you lonely? There are days when I want to quit, even as the sun is shining down upon my skin. There are days where I feel as though everything I do is futile. As though everything decent in me has drifted off to a land where I am not permitted. But my mood shifts. You will find that these feelings are transitory. That they flutter away with time, though you may feel as though time is not on your side. This mood will pass. And I will need your presence as you do mine. Let's stick it out for each other.
The long-lost roommate
----- told me of his college roommates once, three other boys who liked loud music and parties - he was of a quieter type, with his anime posters and his love for soft indie rock. I knew that we could have never been roommates, as I was a girl, but I would have gladly been -----'s roommate if it meant he could study and read science-fiction novels in peace. I never had that dorm experience which I felt was a detriment to my social life. But sometimes you don't know what a blessing is.
What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?
Therapy. Therapy would have changed the course of my life. If I had even known what social anxiety was, I may not have broken down during and after college. If I had known that my dread was solvable . . . I think a lot about the fear I felt in high school, constantly, though I never acknowledged it. If I had therapy then, I might have been there for group projects, rather than assume I was the burden that would drag my English honors colleagues down with me. I would have attended class more often, without the fear of others and their thoughts keeping me home. But it didn't happen. And though my depression and anxiety have impacted my life significantly, there are some very positive consequences in me that wouldn't be there otherwise.
Something you lost
Hope. Passion. I have a history of having people see potential in me. I've been nominated for programs because of this. I had a creative writing teacher who wanted to distribute my work. I had friends who told me I was good at writing. But I don't know what's wrong with me - I feel like if people find something decent within me, I'm obligated to ruin it. To show them that I really was a terrible person all along. This keeps me from having to deal with expectations. But I think I've lost something along the way with it.
Start a story with: "This is what she wants most in the world."
This is what she wants most in the world: a TV crew to document her every move as she drives around Beverly Hills in a convertible. She wants perfume ads, clothing lines, red carpet gowns that will be gawked over for years to come. A handsome man on her arm who exhibits absolutely no traits. Traveling to distant lands she has never heard of while she attends parties for work. Ah, work, yes. She will never truly have to work, other than become a slave of the public, to sit and speak on command, and how those words will become drivel upon her tongue.
After the above prompt, try this:
"She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world."
She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world: annihilation. She would rather seep her soul into the bowels of American culture than live a fulfilling existence. Her dream is to shut down, log off. To smile at the cameras while her life slowly dissipates before her eyes. No longer is she a being of agency, but a being of public scrutiny. By plunging into a sea of ratings, she will drown herself and eventually fade away into sea foam. Rather than express her desire for death, she longs for a life where living, as it is perceived in normal context, is impossible.
What did you wear to prom? How did you get your outfit, and what happened to it?
I never went to prom. People act like it's a big deal. It's not. Prom is jut another one of those social conventions that is pushed upon you by groups who believe they constitute what is normal in society (and yet, some of them will try to convince you that they're not normal). Initially, I wanted to go my senior year, but I had time to think about it logically: it was a lot of money, there would be people I couldn't stand attending, the music would suck, and frankly, spending an hour socializing didn't sound all that appetizing to me. I'm glad I didn't go, that I wasn't swayed by peer pressure. Now of course, people treat me like I'm some sad, dejected puppy when I tell them I didn't go.
What ten questions are you going to ask to figure out the object in a game of I Spy?
1. Can it kill a human being?
2. Does it hate all of humanity?
3. Would it maul me if I caught it?
4. Could I maul it if I caught it?
5. Does it have insomnia?
6. Does it ever sleep?
7. Can I stalk it?
8. Will it follow me home?
9. Can I feed it marshmallows?
10. Or will it come for ice cream?
Your worst experience playing a sport
On sports day, we played a game of tug-of-war. I was nine and I didn't want to do it, but gave my best try anyway. When we lost, one of the girls turned on me and said it was my fault that we had lost. She was the domino that set everyone else off. Before I knew it, everyone on my team was convinced we had lost because of me and they held me accountable for this for a week. And people wondered why I hated team sports so much.
Re-create your earliest childhood memory
Syndicated laughter filled the kitchen, redolent with the scent of fish oil. Raimi, my Filipino babysitter, had left The Cosby Show on as butter slowly melted on my toast. And there she sat next to me, cleaning a fish without flinching. The first step was to pop out the eyes, an act that horrified and fascinated me. Then, the scales were shaved off. She would tear apart fish with the same hands that ran through my hair before she put me down for a nap. I remember the constant combing as my scalp alighted with feeling - that's always been one of my favorite sensations, when other people touch my hair. When I woke up, her son Jr. would be home from school, more playful than I ever was. Once, when I brought my Care Bears stuffed animals, he placed them all near the ceiling while I slept, as if they had flown up there.
A beginners guide to getting up in the morning
1. Pull your lazy body out of bed.
2. Do not, and I repeat, do not place that body of yours back in bed. It will only spell failure.
3. Drink coffee. Drink more coffee. And if you aren't running around with your arms flailing yet, drink even more.
4. Take a shower, you stinky, mangy mongrel. Actually wash your hair.
5. Plan your outfit. Don't just grab the first thing you see. Not like I do that . . .
6. You did it! That took a lot of effort! Now for a celebratory nap!
Complete the following sentence and then keep writing: "My first _____."
My first favorite song was Cities in Dust by Siouxsie and the Banshees. I remember waiting in anticipation to hear it on the radio and willing everyone to be silent. I don't know what it was about that song that made me so enamored - was I attracted to the weird and the gruesome at that young of an age? (The song is about Mt. Vesuvius erupting and the destruction of Pompeii) Did I know even then that man-made society meant nothing in the throes of nature? The truth is that I probably just liked the music, the sound of Siouxsie Sioux's voice. I have a habit of reframing the past, but maybe I've always had the same interests. Maybe it was always something integral to who I am that connected with the song then. I will never know. Either way, it's still one of my favorite songs and I never tire of it.
Begin with "It didn't seem like much at the time . . ."
It didn't seem like much at the time, but my dad was secretly very empowering with me. He took me into comic book stores when that was still considered a "boy" thing, but he never made a big deal about it either. It was never about me being a girl in a comic book store or me being a girl who might have had an interest in engineering (my poor math grades broke his heart). My dad's focus was always on cultivating my interests as a human being. Not as a girl. And I realize now that his treatment of me is integral to the way I perceive the world. I don't even know what a woman is supposed to do or be interested in. Nor do I really care. I don't think of myself, "as a woman." I think of myself as a human being. And that, in part, is due to my dad (as well as my mom) and his very simple decisions on how to raise me.
So here are some more bits I wrote in the book 642 Things to Write About.
A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.
Why do you want to die? Are you unhappy? Are you lonely? There are days when I want to quit, even as the sun is shining down upon my skin. There are days where I feel as though everything I do is futile. As though everything decent in me has drifted off to a land where I am not permitted. But my mood shifts. You will find that these feelings are transitory. That they flutter away with time, though you may feel as though time is not on your side. This mood will pass. And I will need your presence as you do mine. Let's stick it out for each other.
The long-lost roommate
----- told me of his college roommates once, three other boys who liked loud music and parties - he was of a quieter type, with his anime posters and his love for soft indie rock. I knew that we could have never been roommates, as I was a girl, but I would have gladly been -----'s roommate if it meant he could study and read science-fiction novels in peace. I never had that dorm experience which I felt was a detriment to my social life. But sometimes you don't know what a blessing is.
What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?
Therapy. Therapy would have changed the course of my life. If I had even known what social anxiety was, I may not have broken down during and after college. If I had known that my dread was solvable . . . I think a lot about the fear I felt in high school, constantly, though I never acknowledged it. If I had therapy then, I might have been there for group projects, rather than assume I was the burden that would drag my English honors colleagues down with me. I would have attended class more often, without the fear of others and their thoughts keeping me home. But it didn't happen. And though my depression and anxiety have impacted my life significantly, there are some very positive consequences in me that wouldn't be there otherwise.
Something you lost
Hope. Passion. I have a history of having people see potential in me. I've been nominated for programs because of this. I had a creative writing teacher who wanted to distribute my work. I had friends who told me I was good at writing. But I don't know what's wrong with me - I feel like if people find something decent within me, I'm obligated to ruin it. To show them that I really was a terrible person all along. This keeps me from having to deal with expectations. But I think I've lost something along the way with it.
Start a story with: "This is what she wants most in the world."
This is what she wants most in the world: a TV crew to document her every move as she drives around Beverly Hills in a convertible. She wants perfume ads, clothing lines, red carpet gowns that will be gawked over for years to come. A handsome man on her arm who exhibits absolutely no traits. Traveling to distant lands she has never heard of while she attends parties for work. Ah, work, yes. She will never truly have to work, other than become a slave of the public, to sit and speak on command, and how those words will become drivel upon her tongue.
After the above prompt, try this:
"She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world."
She is lying. This is what she wants most in the world: annihilation. She would rather seep her soul into the bowels of American culture than live a fulfilling existence. Her dream is to shut down, log off. To smile at the cameras while her life slowly dissipates before her eyes. No longer is she a being of agency, but a being of public scrutiny. By plunging into a sea of ratings, she will drown herself and eventually fade away into sea foam. Rather than express her desire for death, she longs for a life where living, as it is perceived in normal context, is impossible.
What did you wear to prom? How did you get your outfit, and what happened to it?
I never went to prom. People act like it's a big deal. It's not. Prom is jut another one of those social conventions that is pushed upon you by groups who believe they constitute what is normal in society (and yet, some of them will try to convince you that they're not normal). Initially, I wanted to go my senior year, but I had time to think about it logically: it was a lot of money, there would be people I couldn't stand attending, the music would suck, and frankly, spending an hour socializing didn't sound all that appetizing to me. I'm glad I didn't go, that I wasn't swayed by peer pressure. Now of course, people treat me like I'm some sad, dejected puppy when I tell them I didn't go.
What ten questions are you going to ask to figure out the object in a game of I Spy?
1. Can it kill a human being?
2. Does it hate all of humanity?
3. Would it maul me if I caught it?
4. Could I maul it if I caught it?
5. Does it have insomnia?
6. Does it ever sleep?
7. Can I stalk it?
8. Will it follow me home?
9. Can I feed it marshmallows?
10. Or will it come for ice cream?
Your worst experience playing a sport
On sports day, we played a game of tug-of-war. I was nine and I didn't want to do it, but gave my best try anyway. When we lost, one of the girls turned on me and said it was my fault that we had lost. She was the domino that set everyone else off. Before I knew it, everyone on my team was convinced we had lost because of me and they held me accountable for this for a week. And people wondered why I hated team sports so much.
Re-create your earliest childhood memory
Syndicated laughter filled the kitchen, redolent with the scent of fish oil. Raimi, my Filipino babysitter, had left The Cosby Show on as butter slowly melted on my toast. And there she sat next to me, cleaning a fish without flinching. The first step was to pop out the eyes, an act that horrified and fascinated me. Then, the scales were shaved off. She would tear apart fish with the same hands that ran through my hair before she put me down for a nap. I remember the constant combing as my scalp alighted with feeling - that's always been one of my favorite sensations, when other people touch my hair. When I woke up, her son Jr. would be home from school, more playful than I ever was. Once, when I brought my Care Bears stuffed animals, he placed them all near the ceiling while I slept, as if they had flown up there.
A beginners guide to getting up in the morning
1. Pull your lazy body out of bed.
2. Do not, and I repeat, do not place that body of yours back in bed. It will only spell failure.
3. Drink coffee. Drink more coffee. And if you aren't running around with your arms flailing yet, drink even more.
4. Take a shower, you stinky, mangy mongrel. Actually wash your hair.
5. Plan your outfit. Don't just grab the first thing you see. Not like I do that . . .
6. You did it! That took a lot of effort! Now for a celebratory nap!
Complete the following sentence and then keep writing: "My first _____."
My first favorite song was Cities in Dust by Siouxsie and the Banshees. I remember waiting in anticipation to hear it on the radio and willing everyone to be silent. I don't know what it was about that song that made me so enamored - was I attracted to the weird and the gruesome at that young of an age? (The song is about Mt. Vesuvius erupting and the destruction of Pompeii) Did I know even then that man-made society meant nothing in the throes of nature? The truth is that I probably just liked the music, the sound of Siouxsie Sioux's voice. I have a habit of reframing the past, but maybe I've always had the same interests. Maybe it was always something integral to who I am that connected with the song then. I will never know. Either way, it's still one of my favorite songs and I never tire of it.
Begin with "It didn't seem like much at the time . . ."
It didn't seem like much at the time, but my dad was secretly very empowering with me. He took me into comic book stores when that was still considered a "boy" thing, but he never made a big deal about it either. It was never about me being a girl in a comic book store or me being a girl who might have had an interest in engineering (my poor math grades broke his heart). My dad's focus was always on cultivating my interests as a human being. Not as a girl. And I realize now that his treatment of me is integral to the way I perceive the world. I don't even know what a woman is supposed to do or be interested in. Nor do I really care. I don't think of myself, "as a woman." I think of myself as a human being. And that, in part, is due to my dad (as well as my mom) and his very simple decisions on how to raise me.