So, I'd like to thank you for adding me to your blog list... It means a lot. It means that the things I have to say are important to someone, if only for one minute, and that's nice. Thank you.
Since you were nice enough to subscribe to my blogging, I thought I'd share something new with you: my creative writing short story work as of late.
I write short stories for fun, and right now, I am working on dialogue. To do so, I had to set up a scene in order to have a conversation that a normal person may have, and I wanted to explore the feelings and meaning behind the conversation itself, because really, when do words just mean the definition that they hold? Words are complex creatures. Words are like wine- they may be just one flavor, but within that flavor are many subtleties that aren't apparent at first.
Long story short (ha, get it? It's a short story. Oh, the irony...) here is my newest short (ULTRA short) story, The Beginning.
I hope you like it.
He dialed her phone number carefully, like each number was a syllable in expressing his affection.
The way her phone rang in time with the beating of his heart, he felt that there was no way she wasn't his soulmate. What is a soulmate, anyway? Someone who we are matched to perfectly, soulfully, just... Fully. But a soul, so difficult to define, much like the people who possess them, is it just a fleeting thing, or does it continue after we expire? Does love continue after it expires?
"Hello?"
"Shannon! Hi!" Could she hear the way his voice rippled through her name?
"Hey, Lance. What's going on?"
"I was just, here, thinking about you- or, that thing you wanted to go to this weekend. The art... Thing, downtown?"
"Oh, Arts Alive! Yeah, what about it?"
He drew his breath fast so he could just get the words out of his mouth,
"Did you want to go? Um, with me?"
"Sure! It's at six. Meet me at the gazebo?"
"Sounds good. Oh, hey! Maybe, if you want, we can go to dinner first. At like, four thirty? I don't have any classes that day, so, I'm free, I don't know what your schedule is like though, so..."
"Talk to you later."
As he lowered the phone from his ear, he watched the screen change from a clock moving forward to a stopped one, blinking, and her name fade from black to red and then disappear. The waiting, the conversation, the inevitable end and then her absence felt like a relationship that had run its course. And in that there was beauty.
The beautiful potential of a beginning.
Now, for some FANCY!
Lately, I've been going stir crazy, and so I like to daydream about mine and Dan's future home together. I want one gorgeous, wooden edged sofa with some sort of lovely upholstery that contrasts our robin's egg/espresso scheme. A mustard or something. I want mirrored end tables (but you know that!) and a big, beautiful clock. Or maybe this one.
Good golly, this is a pretty living space.
We recently bought a bookshelf, and it has made a huge difference in my ten-by-thirteen foot world. (Our room is tiny) Dan was not aware, however, that bookshelves are not places to dump literature. No, no. They are places to carefully place beautiful things and books and clean regularly. Not that I clean regularly. Our floor is currently where my half of the closet is residing. What? It's not easy to pick the right sweater sometimes, and I was rushed! There was a birthday party to be had! Speaking of birthdays, let's talk about cakes. The cake I made last night (I worked on it from 11:30pm-2am).
A boxed mix and a can of frosting, simple ingredients and a preheated oven began my adventure into the land of baked goods last night, and I had every intention of making a simple, boxed cake. I'm never proud of making boxed mixes, I feel like I'm cheating and besides, homemade is better. We all know that. Unfortunately, I was feeling lazy but wanting some chocolate, so I grabbed the Betty Crocker box and added some egg, oil and water and BAM (and extra cocoa, chopped maraschino cherries and some juice from those), there was a cake. Then I decided I wanted to make it pretty. So, as the cake cooled (a bundt cake, might I add), I looked up how to drizzle chocolate. This involved tempering and adding of shortening, but I didn't have any way to measure ounces, so I used my womanly intuition and judged with my eyes as I used a casserole dish to "double boil" (with hot tap water) the baking chocolate and shortening. It turned out perfect! After that, I poured some leftover whipping cream and some vanilla into our whipped cream charger and put that in the fridge. Amazingly enough, I didn't even have to double layer the frosting (for the crumb layer)- the cake didn't crumble at ALL! After frosting it all over, I made it look uniform and grabbed the melted chocolate. With a whisk, I drizzled it like crazy (this did get chocolate on EVERYTHING, including Dan's bunny slippers that he put on my feet earlier) and it turned out very well. Then, eight whipped cream peaks and chocolate dipped strawberry slices and VOILA. I made a gorgeous cake. This never happens to me. I make yummy cakes, never pretty ones.
And lemme tell you, this was yummy.
Anyway, I'm sorry I don't have photos of this delicious cake (which I named The Bleeding Heart, since the strawberries look like, you know, bleeding hearts...). I have misplaced my digital camera. Maybe somewhere in my carefully planned chaos.
Thank you for reading my stupid musings, and thank you for subscribing. It really does make me feel special and warm and fuzzy. <3
Until next time.
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