Tonight the prompt was Shaggy and Batgirl in an elevator:

"Oh no Batgirl! I think we're stuck!"

"You fumbling idiot! You've gotten us trapped in the elevator and now Mega Evil Man will get away."

"Can't you use your awesomeness to get us out?"

"I could if this wasn't a brand-new building, but too many bumblers like you have died trying to escape from stuck elevators. Now they're making these things escape-proof - we have to wait for the fire department to rescue us."

"That doesn't sound so bad - we chill here until the heroes come save us."

"But we're supposed to be the heroes! We're supposed to stop Mega Evil Man before he takes the diamonds back to his secret island."

"Whoa, Batgirl! It can't be that bad. People don't really need diamonds anyway."

"UGH! How stupid are you? Mega Evil Man is going to use the diamonds for his lasers to destroy North America. Millions of people will die!"

"That's, like, really bad."

"Duh! I never should have let Batman team us up. I hope Robin and Scooby-Doo are having better luck."

"Yeah, they'll take care of Mega Evil Man. Wanna, like, make out?"

*POW*

I'm a crappy blogger

I had hoped I'd blog more consistently with this attempt, but this blog is further evidence that I'm a crappy blogger. This time I'm not giving up however, I'm just pointing out the obvious.

Tonight I'm trying to write, but feeling very frustrated with everything I come up with. I have story ideas, but when I try to get the actual words out on paper, I'm always disappointed with the results, and that gets discouraging. I know I need to keep trying and that it'll improve with practice, but I'm not particularly good at doing anything that isn't immediately satisfying. So yeah...

I have tried to post, I promise, but my iPhone wouldn't let me type anything.

One of my new favorite picture books is My Garden by Kevin Henkes, whose books I loved growing up. The dust jacket asks the question "How does your garden grow?" and I decided to answer:

Sparsely With careful attention to each plant, and little knowledge of what's right.

Clumsily With so many mistakes made.

Joyfully With each sprout seen as a miracle and new leaves and flowers greet with smiles.

Beautifully.

I think this synopsis of the opera The Italian Girl in Algiers from the Vancouver Opera is some of the best alliteration ever:

"Intrepid Isabella crash-lands her plane in Algeria while searching for her lost lover, Lindoro, who languishes locally in the labour force of Mustapha, the governor."

I just found out that a childhood friend is engaged, and in her honor I decided to Google "marriage" and free-write based on the first result. This is not at all autobiographical, so please don't think it reflects my personality:

Married and Bored?

Not yet! I'm busy planning my wedding. In 142 days everything will be a shining tribute to me and Josh's love for me. The planner has her work cut out for her to make everything perfect by then, but that's why we're paying her so much. She's much more professional than the first planner we tried, who suggested cream roses instead of ivory. Everyone should know that cream is tacky and those with taste choose ivory. Everything is going to be the best taste on my perfect day!

And after the wedding, when I'm Mrs. Dr. Joshua Stephens, all my friends will envy the big house we're going to buy and all the charity work I'll do since I won't have a job anymore. Looking right for all the fund-raising lunches and charity balls will be a lot of work, but it's worth it to help all those people below me.

Would I ever turn out to be married and bored? Who cares? That's what divorce is for.

I've been sick lately, so I haven't been writing much, and it's all been pretty bad, so now's a good time to start sharing quotes I like. Today's is "The Turn of the Screw in 30 seconds," from a kids horror story book that I've forgotten the name of:

"The Governess sees ghosts. Or maybe she's insane. Either way, it's quite scary."

Great summary, I must say.

One day I overheard a boy say 'I just want to read. Read all day. I just want to read, read not play." I thought it was a good line and decided to write a poem, even though I'm obviously not a poet:

I just want to read, read all day.
No work for me, no sirree,
I just want to read, read not play.

But work is always a moment away.
No matter what, I don't have the energy.
I just want to read, read all day.

Don't want a life lived just for pay,
I want a life lived just for me.
I just want to read, read not play.

I'm sick of doing what others say.
Why can't they just let me be?
I just want to read, read all day.

I'd like to float; come what may
I'll face it with integrity.
I just want to read, read not play.

Where is my life lived my way?
Will it ever be reality?
I just want to read, read all day.
I just want to read, read not play.

This first thing I'm sharing is a scene based on Franz Ferdinand lyrics I misheard:

“So if you’re lonely, you know I’m here waiting for you. I’m just across here, I’m just a shout away from you.”
“And if you leave here, you’ll leave me broken, shattered--”
“Alive,” I groan at how overly dramatic Jackie is and point out how small the distance between the table and bar is. Again, I remind her, “We’re just across here.”
“Just a shot and then he can die.”
“I know I won’t be leaving here with you.” I wink at Jackie.

Honestly, getting my best friend to have just one drink with a blind date should not be this hard. I’ve set her up Alex, a very nice guy from work. If I wasn’t already married to Paul I’d go on a date with him in an instant. But it took me two weeks to convince her to meet him, and only after I’d promised to stay nearby in case she needs me.
So now we’re in the bar, waiting for Alex to arrive. I’m carefully hidden behind a plant so he won’t know I’m here. I watch him walk in, watch him recognize Jackie from the photo I showed him at the office that day (chosen by Jackie, of course), and for the next hour and a half I watch them smile and flirt over their drinks. Then I watch them get up, watch him place a hand on her back, and watch them walk out the door.
I told her she wouldn’t be leaving with me.

Take Three

I'm a pretty crappy blogger, but I've just gotta keep trying. Take one, which is still going, keeps me in touch with a few old friends. Take two was my attempt at online anonymity and failed when my old computer died. I decided to let it stay dead since it wasn't anything to be proud of in the first place. This is take three, where I'll post things I write, if only to force myself to write something, and possibly expand as I go. Who knows what it'll evolve into...