The Joylessness of Being Six (a short story)

This story is dedicated to Sonya, who has been through so much more than this. As I wrote this story, I drew on experiences of Sonya's. Sonya is a strong beautiful woman who didn't have a very good start to her life. What she has become today was against all odds. You are amazing, Sonya.

(Weekly Writing Phrase: Powdered sugar explosions rarely hurt.)

An only child, Clara often spent time with grown-ups. She sometimes wondered if she was really a grown-up too, just one who looked like a little girl and so didn't get the respect the grown-ups got.

Just all the responsibility.

One afternoon, it was sunny though she hardly noticed, Clara was helping her mother in the kitchen. They were preparing a meal for her father. Her father was a stern man, who never cracked a smile. He was always too busy to be bothered with the annoyances of a child.

Especially Clara.

As a result, Clara learned to never make a sound. She was to only be seen, and never to be heard. Furthermore, she was only to be seen doing something useful.

Playing was not useful. Drawing was not useful. Reading was not useful.

On this particular day, Clara was trying to keep herself busy while her mother grumbled to herself unhappily. Her mom's brow was creased with worry.

Clara knew better than to think it was the lasagna noodles in her hands that put her mother in this mood.

Clara also knew better than to look like she had nothing to do, or to further aggravate her mother in some other way. So she tried to determine what needed to be done. There were dishes in the sink, so she began to run hot soapy water.

Her mother seemed oblivious to her.

Being six years old, Clara should have been in school. But she didn't go to school. Her parents home-schooled her so that she could be at their constant disposal for whatever work they needed her to do.

Usually the work they needed her to do was peddle religious journals door to door.

Clara was a very serious little girl.

She was chubby, which did not help her self esteem. She was lonely because she had no school friends and rarely spent time with her church friends. Not playing anyway. They were usually "preaching the good news of God's Kingdom" too.

Clara was shaken from her too-adult-for-a-six-year-old thoughts, "Young lady! What do you think you are doing?" Her mother cried at her, exhaustedly.

Regaining her bearings, Clara realized she was up to her shoulders in bubbles and there was water running over the sink onto the old cracked linoleum floor. Oh, couldn't she do anything right?

After helping her clean up the mess, Clara's mother gave her a new job, making dessert. It was a simple cake mix and surely she could handle adding the eggs and water and mixing it. Her mother handed her a frosting recipe that required a few more ingredients, but otherwise was simple enough for a six-year-0ld.

Or so her mother thought.

As Clara measured out the ingredients, her mind began to wander again. She thought of things she dare not, places she only dreamed of being. Anywhere but her house. Anything but this life.

Clara saw movement in the corner of her eye. It was the family cat. She wished with all her might that she could have been the cat. Her parents adored the cat. They never yelled at the cat. The cat would curl up in her father's lap.

Clara's dad never even hugged her. She hated the cat.

The frosting recipe called for powdered sugar. Clara had to climb up onto a chair to reach it in the cupboard. The plastic Tupperware where the sugar was usually kept was empty. She noticed a new plastic bag tucked into the corner and pulled it out. She turned to ask her mom for help opening it, but her mother had such a scowl on her face and was stuck in her own little world. Clara decided against interrupting her mother.

Maybe if she wasn't only a little girl, Clara would have thought to use a pair of scissors to open that bag of sugar. But she didn't. And when the bag finally did give, it exploded everywhere. Clara exploded too, big hot tears stinging her cheeks.

"Clara, powdered sugar explosions rarely hurt." Her mother cackled at her.

Since Clara never knew if she would be spanked or laughed at when she did
something stupid, this comment only made her cry harder.

Her mother was right. Powdered sugar didn't hurt. Nothing hurt like the joylessness of life.

Incoherent Lucidity (a poem)

Weekly Creative Writing Phrase:
The only disembodied voice I can stand is my own

Incoherent Lucidity

I often have nightmares.
I dream that I'm watching my life. As if it's a TV show.
Only it's different somehow.

I watch myself do something interesting or boring.
I don't even care to see what I'm doing.
But somehow I can't look away.
It's like I'm a car accident.
Only I'm just in a dream.
That's why it's a nightmare.
I can't look away.

Sometimes I hear a whisper.
It's not always someone I know.
It's not always in the form of a whisper.
I hate the anticipation of finding out.
I just want to wake up.

I don't understand what is going on.
I don't know why they are talking about me.
As if I am not even there.
As if they are in my line of view.
As if they even exist.

It is confusion that brings me to this point.
When all I want to do is sleep.
I wish to just wake up.
I want the voice to stop.
I try to find its source.
There is no one there but me.

When will there be a reprieve?
Will my consciousness attend this party?
I speak up and tell the others to go away.
The only disembodied voice I can stand is my own.
But even that sounds like a ghost to my dreaming ears.
I am afraid I can't wake up.
I am afraid.
I wish I understood.

More Writing Practice Fun from "The Cool Kids Writing Club"

So yeah, Russell provides a phrase and we all write a thing.

Here are a few phrases I missed out on because I was too busy being in California with my absolutely delightful boyfriend walking hand-in-hand and staring at the ocean.

Too much? Yeah, I think perhaps I could have gotten the point across without adding in the hand-in-hand part. But, oh well.

So...

Phrase: "How can I trust my own memory?"

I wrote this:

I thought I left it there, but nothing sat in its spot.
I thought I left it here, but here it isn’t.
I thought I remembered distinctly setting in on that spot high up nearly out of reach.
How can I trust my own memory when I make up such distinct thoughts?
This is why people blame things on made-up gnome-like creatures.

Phrase: "five out of ten experts agree"

I wrote this:

You might think that work is overrated.
But five out of ten experts agree that you are wrong.
Who are these “experts,” you want to know?
Well that is sort of beside the point, I think.

"The Cool Kids Writing Club" Weekly Submission - The Phrase: The Love Muscle is Open For Business

This reminds me of one of those bad jokes about three *somethings* walking into a bar. "A scallop, seahorse, and shrimp walk into a bar…the scallop says, 'Hey ladies, the love muscle is open for business!' A girl throws her drink at him and says, 'Clam up!'" Hardy Har Har.

But here is my "real" submission:

Mollusks Have Needs Too

Scallop says to Seahorse, "I wish I had a girlfriend to kiss."
Seahorse says to no one in particular, "I love my girlfriend."
Shrimp says to Seahorse, "You made up your girlfriend."
Seahorse says to no one in particular, "I kiss her face."
Shrimp says to Scallop, "We can do something about this."
Scallop says to Shrimp, "But what."
Seahorse says, "I am hungry."
Shrimp says, "There must be something we can do."
Scallop says, "Ah, but what can we do except wait for someone to float along."
Seahorse says, "Anyone want to go to a movie?"
Shrimp says, "I’ve got this friend."
Scallop says, "Noooo, please don’t set me up, I’d rather be alone on Valentine’s Day than set up! How humiliating."
Seahorse opens his mouth to talk but is interrup-Shrimp says, "Don’t be ludicrous! I am not going to set you up!"
Scallop says, "Then what?"
Seahorse wanders off to find a captive audience, or some food. Or a koala bear.
Shrimp says, "My friend has this service."
Scallop says, "A service?"
Shrimp says, "Yeah, a business."
Scallop says, "What kind of business?"
Shrimp says, "Well it’s sort of a dating thing."
Scallop, "A dating thing? What kind of thing?"
Shrimp, "Well just come with me."
Scallop, "This sounds fishy to me. No pun intended."
Shrimp, "Well it is. But I mean what have ya got to lose?"
Scallop, "What about you? You don’t have a girlfriend!"
Shrimp, "Who are we talking about here?! You, or me!?"
Scallop, "I’m just saying."
Shrimp, "Anyway."
Scallop, "Fine. What is this business? Who is your friend?"
Shrimp, "Follow me."
Seahorse, "Hey guys! Over here!"
Scallop, "So…the other way then?"
Shrimp, "Here, it’s this way, and you are gonna love it."
After rounding some corral reef…
Scallop shouts, "YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME."
Shrimp, bewildered, "What!?"
Scallop, incredulous, "That’s the worst pun I have ever seen"
Shrimp, annoyed, "What is it with you and puns today?"
Scallop, equally annoyed, "I cannot believe you thought this would be a good idea!"
Shrimp, impatiently, "Just go in."
Scallop, in disbelief, "The Love Muscle!? How can I go into a place called The Love Muscle!??!"
Shrimp shrugs, "What? The Love Muscle is open for business. It’s worth a shot."
Scallop, dejectedly, "This is the worst Valentine’s Day of my life."
Shrimp, amused, "It’ll be cute to tell your grandkids you met at a place called The Love Muscle."
Scallop, not amused, "Har har. Why are we friends again?"
Shrimp, so over this conversation, "Yeah. I’m gonna go find Seahorse. But you have fun in there."

Relationships Shouldn't be Compared...

But

every other boy i've ever dated
i've wondered
WHY THE FUCK AM I PUTTING UP WITH THIS SHIT

With you
I think
This can't be real
This is amazing
You are incredible
I've known you but a short time
yet
not once
have you shown me
even a glimpse
of mistreatment

You are what a man should be.

I know a good thing
when
it kisses me on the lips
and
holds my hand
and
wipes away my tears
and
hugs my pain away.

The tears that you never caused.
You only make them go away.

My Boyfriend Inspires Me to Try and Write Beautiful Things

Dreadlocked Boy

All I can think of is your smiling face
All I can dwell on is my heart's space
For you there's a place
I miss kissing your face
I want your finger the outline of my cheek to trace

I want.

You are really a man, but you are My dreadlocked boy.

I wish for your touch right now

I desire
That look in your eyes
When you look into mine
Like
You are willing the stopping of time
Just
So we can keep this feeling forever
And never let go
I know
I miss you now
But forever will come
I can wait
Only two weeks
Until my forever with you will begin

And then
We can spend
Our days and our nights
Loving each other
And making our lives right
Finally we have what was missing before
That companionship and understanding
Combined with desire and longing
To make one another complete

Stuck in Sacramento! (People are Basically Good)

(This was originally written January 10, 2007)

So Monday was Travel-to-Eureka/Mike Day. I had the longest layovers. The day was uneventful, just very long. Finally it was time to board my last flight, 9:02PM Sacramento to Eureka/Arcata airport. It was a little puddle jumper, not much bigger in actuality than a charter plane. I believe there were approximately 30-45 passengers on board, pretty much full.

I was sooooo tired, and only one hour from Mike. "Just get through this last little flight," I told myself. The flight attendants took their time getting us distributed evenly for fuel reasons. They rearranged people, and eventually they ran out of cargo space and started buckling people's suitcases into empty seats.

Finally, the plane took off. I dozed off, exhausted from the day's events. I woke up when the flight attendant said we were descending for a landing at Arcata. After about 15 minutes it became apparent that we were no longer descending, but also didn't seem to be going anywhere. We were going in circles. The pilot voice: "We are in a holding pattern. The fog is so thick down there that we cannot even see the runway. We will do our best to land here, folks, but if the fog doesn't move within the next 10 minutes, we are heading back to Sacramento."

If there was a time in my recent life that I prayed, I guess this would qualify as it. I wished to myself over and over and over again, "please let us land, please let us land please let us land please please please please, he's just right down there in his truck waiting for me. PLEASE, I just need to hug and see Mike." I repeated this over and over and over again in my head, with my eyes squeezed shut. I can't remember the last time I wished and hoped and "prayed" so hard for something in my life. I don't know who I was directing it to, but it doesn't seem anyone was listening.

Well the pilots circled the plane for another solid 10 minutes, and then decided we were going to run out of fuel if we did not head back to Sacramento. The fog was too thick. These guys make this shuttle run from Arcata to Sacramento twice daily. Fog is a way of life in Arcata. The crew knew their stuff. If they didn't feel right about it, it wasn't going to happen.
I bit back tears, and had I not been reading Off the Map, I would probably not have had any sense of adventure. I was just too tired, and missing Mike so much. But I tried to be optimistic about it. "This will definitely be a learning experience," I told myself.

So after two-and-a-half unneccessary hours in the air, we landed back in Sacramento. The airline rebooked us for various flights in the morning, and then we were completely on our own. Some people got hotel rooms. Other people were opting to hang out and try to sleep in the tiny Sacramento airport. Some of us didn't even get the direct flight the next morning. I was going through San Francisco, and would get to Arcata around 10:30 the next morning! 12.5 hours after I was originally supposed to arrive there. Two more hours on planes, and nearly eight more hours sitting in airports.

Fuck that.

There was this guy, a middle-aged, quirky-looking, seemingly nice gentleman who was on my plane, calling out for people who might be interested in a one-way car rental and a 5-6 hour drive to Arcata. I was on the phone to a sleepy, equally-sad Mike who seemed leery of the idea. I had been reading a book about two girls who backpacked and squatted their ways across Europe, with nary a penny. So I was in a trusting-humankind kind of mood. I hung up with a sleepily protesting Mike, promising to call him back. I called out to the man that I was interested, out of 30-some people on our plane there had to be others.

We rounded up four other folks, who all seemed hesitant, but we sold them on it, 'it is an adventure, an opportunity to know people we might not otherwise meet or know. We would get home around 5 or 6AM. It would only be about $20-$30 a person, and this ordeal could be over. We wouldn't be spending any more time in airports!'

So we shuttled to the side of the airport that had the car rental counters and split up to attack all the various rental companies at once. All of the other places were unavailable, and I called out from the Avis counter to my new cohorts "we've got a minivan over here for $130 one-way, plus tax and gas."

We had all managed to locate our checked luggage, so we loaded up our new means of transportation, made introductions, and climbed our haggard, travel-weary bodies into the van. Jeff, the college professor at HSU, was our first driver. Everyone was from Cali, all going home after holiday-related travel. They knew immediately from hearing my "accent" that I was from the mid-west.

There is no way I can give this experience justice by trying to explain what happened. The conversations that occured. The camaraderie. The bad jokes. We all came out of this less-than-ideal experience having exchanged email addresses and phone numbers, with promises to keep in touch. We left each other just a little bit richer than the night before. I've already got friends in California.

When Mike met us at 5:30AM at a gas station in Fortuna, California, my new friends quietly informed me that we were driving right by his place and could have dropped me off an hour later. He had gone out of his way to meet me and get to me sooner. "That's about as nice as it gets," my new HSU student friend Sam said. He was right.

So the circumstances my first night in Cali were less than ideal. I got to Mike six hours later than I was supposed to. But I was raised to believe that people were basically bad inside, that you can't trust them, that everyone is only looking out for their own best interest, and screw you.

But what occured in that van over the six-hour impromptu road trip, proved to me otherwise. That my parents are wrong. That people are not only basically good inside, but when you work together and have a common goal it can make for a downright amazing experience.
When I mentioned that I'm considering moving to northern Cali, my car companions had nothing but wonderful things to say about the people here. They said if I want a chance to heal, clear my head, and learn about myself free from judgment there is no better place.

Now Mike is "nagging" me (he totally is not a nagger) to run an errand with him. So I gotta jet, y'all. This place is a paradise. My Mike is my perfect man (glass artists have the patiences of a saint, seriously), and if I didn't have to, I wouldn't even go back. Until this morning, I didn't even have a return flight - United canceled it when I didn't show for my rebooked flight the next morning (good work, travel agent, I totally knew this, but my exhausted brain couldn't comprehend anything but going to sleep). Thankfully I went to the Arcata airport, and explained to them what happened. They immediately reinstated my return flights with no issue.

Love y'all. This is one happy girl!

OK so I just got this email from my new friend Sam, sent to all in the minivan Monday night/Tuesday morning. I think it's a nice testament:

"here's to long conversations in the dead of night. Jeff, did you make it tothe Gate pres? I was up at 10:00AM, too much energy drink, and i thought of you. Naomi, i hope you end up following what your heart tells you,regardless of the consequences. As Joseph Campbell said - Follow Your Bliss! Kevin and Dory, call me at xxx-xxxx if you guys want to double datesometime. And to the future firefighter, and the one with the best story,your dedication and perseverance serves as an excellent example to the rest of us. Thanks for finishing the deal Jeff, I'll see you on campus.Sam"

Cheers, y'all. It's Thursday morning in Cali and it is fucking cooooold! But the highs have been between 50-60 each day and Mike promises it will warm up today as well!

I'm out.

Eggplant Eyes, A Short Silly Poem

So "The Cool Kids Writing Club" (that's what I call it) works like this: Russell supplies a weekly phrase, and we each write a thing.

The phrase: Just don't tell him his eyes look like eggplants.

My poem:

Words of Wisdom for Creating a Romantic Moment

You can tell him he is your darling peach
You can tell him he is the apple of your eye
You can tell him he's the cream in your coffee
Just don't tell him his eyes look like eggplants

You can say he's your bread and butter
You can say he's your toast and jam
You can say he's your pina colada
But nobody wants to be compared to eggplant

What happens if you say he's better than chocolate?
What will he think if you choose him over cake?
What if you forget about your sugar addiction for a second?
I think he'll like it and think you're sweet. Unless you call him an eggplant.

You can say he's the peanut to your butter
You can tell him he's the star to your burst
You can let him know he's the M to your M and the Best to your Friend
But whatever you do, don't say he's the egg to your plant!

WHY I Can't Be a Vegan

grilled cheese

chocolate cake

butter

turkey sandwiches

egg and cheese croissant sandwiches from Sophia's on Sunday mornings

caramel banana cake

cake

cake

cake

cheese curds

swiss cheese

cheddar cheese

meunster cheese

fried cheese

fresh seafood

omelettes

cream in my coffee

fresh organic milk

chicken enchiladas

cheese enchiladas

banana cream pie

What have we learned? That if I was Vegan I'd be skinny!