Week 15: Free Karl

This is an excerpt from a short story I wrote for a friend last year. It's a super cheesy story, but mildly enjoyable. I titled it... Kylie Carson* and the Mists of Avalon

(*name change for protection)

"This, my friends, is the story of Kylie Carson. Raised in a war stricken and impoverished nation, Kyile was able to overcome the trials and tribulations of womanhood to take down the beast of the century. In this heartwarming and vulgar tale of her journey to the top, you will find yourself identifying with this wonderfully brave, yet very controversial woman.

            The story begins in the far away land of Sri Lanka, where Kylie and her best friend Kara were on a trip during their spring break. Hoping that this exotic hotspot would offer them the perfect amount of danger and prostitution, Kylie and Kara set off to the country of no restrictions. Looking to make the most of their trip, the girls were up for anything. I mean ANYTHING--no matter how illegal or death-defying it was. Facilitated by their reckless attitude, things got pretty crazy, if you know what I mean. Sri Lanka turned out to be the ultimate spring break spot, well, if you were looking to get an STD, stabbed in the hip, or have live raccoons thrown at you. Needless to say, Kylie and Kara had the most wonderful of times avoiding syphilis and participating in the most competitive league of raccoon dodge ball in the world.

             Just when it seemed their dream paradise couldn’t get any better, a man by the Wooey Whannna Humpya limped up to the girls on a street corner, offering them some of his famous “magical morsels”. In broken English, and with minimal teeth, the man shared the whimsical journey in which the morsels would take them upon. He spoke with such passion and fervor about the delightful visions that the morsels would induce that the girls just couldn’t say no. For the bargain price of their virginity and three crack rocks, they obtained these wonders. The brown bits resembled raisins that they knew from their homeland; however, the girls knew that these raisins would take them on a majestic adventure of the mind. Wooey watched as the girls placed the raisins on their unsuspecting tongues.  The rough texture of the small brown crumb was accompanied by a horrible taste that lingered in their mouths long after swallowing the disgusting morsel. Upon looking up at the man’s face, the girls realized they may have made a grave mistake. Looking as if he had just pulled off the greatest scam known to man, Wooey let out the most evil, terrifying laugh. His black eyes lit up with deceit, and leaning in closer to the girls, he whispered in a shaking tone, “Hope you enjoyed those morsels of kaka, muahaha!” The creepy old man ran off into a dark alley and became a memory in an instant...."

If you're dying to know what happens in the rest of the story, let me know. Something can be arranged. Haha. 

Week 15: Free Hat!

Last week was my brother's birthday, and to celebrate his existence, I want to share one of my favorite memories I have of him. Justin was really an incredible person. He radiated with love and happiness, and I can't imagine there was anyone who wasn't fond of his presence... His joy for life was truly contagious, and he is missed by family and loved ones every day.

I was young--6 or 7 probably. Justin was taking me out to the barn for the first time, just the two of us. It must have been one of the first times he had ever been out to the barn; it's safe to say that he didn't exactly know his way around a horse. Justin was 11 years older than me, and the age difference made our relationship a special one. Never a fight or misunderstanding, he was a great big brother to me. So when no one else was available to take me to PPA on an arctic December day for a lesson, Justin stepped up for his little sister. We arrived at the barn, which was unheated at the time, a less than convenient situation in blisteringly cold South Dakota. I gave Justin a quick tour around the barn, showing him everything I thought he needed to know about: all the stalls, my favorite horses, my locker, hoof picks, brushes, you know, the essentials. He smiled big at me as I showed him around, his cheeks plump and red from the bitter air. It was time to get my lesson horse out for the day. I would be riding Sergie, a red-bay purebred gelding with a gentle soul. Me and Justin retrieved him from the pasture, put him in the cross ties, and began to groom him.

"Justin, you have to brush him with the hair. And you have to get under his belly, and on his legs, and way up on top too."

He simply nodded to my young know-it-all instructions, and was a big help on the top of the back spot, which was far out my short reach. In my first years taking lessons, the pre and post riding groom took far longer than the actual lesson. But I didn't care. I loved the barn, riding, the smells, feeling soft horse hair under my fingertips, all of it. And it was great to finally bring my big brother along. Halfway through getting Sergie ready, we went into the lobby to warm up, leaving Sergie unattended for a few minutes. As you may be aware, horses don't particularly like being alone for even a moment's time, and soon, we would see that Sergie's nerves amounted to something of a mess for Justin and I. Upon returning from the lobby, we came around the corner and saw something that surprised us both--a real puzzle of a sight. A massive wet puddle, frothy in spots lay beneath Sergie, freshly sprouted in our absence. Me and Justin's eyes blew up in fright, not knowing what to say or do. I broke the silence with a naive declaration.

"Sergie threw up! He must be sick, Justin!" I was now worried about him. "We have to go tell Denise!"

"Oh. Yikes. Yes, let's go do that." Justin was worried too. He'd certainly never seen horse throw-up before.

We ran through the lobby hallway and into the other side of the barn where the main arena was. "Denise, Denise, Sergie just threw up!! You have to come quick!!" I shouted into the arena in fright. I was expecting the same sort of reaction from her that Justin and I were experiencing, however, she only blinked her eyes hard and showed a look of complete puzzlement.

"But Kara, horses can't throw up. That's not how their stomach works." She shared calmly, still taken aback by our declaration of fright. I looked up to Justin, who was just as surprised as I was. Surely that couldn't be correct, I thought.

"No, Denise, he really did! There's a big puddle under him and it looks like throw-up, I swear! Come see!"

She followed Justin and I over to Sergie's cross tie, and upon looking at the mystery puddle below his big belly, Denise couldn't help but smile big, holding back eruptions of laughter. "Yeah, that's definitely not throw-up guys."

"Hmm," Justin said. "Well, ahh, what do you suppose it is then?" He must have knew at that point what the unknown puddle was composed of, however, my young mind was still trying to wrap around the whole situation.

"Sergie peed." She simply stated, now holding a hand over her mouth to muffle the laughter.

No, certainly not, I thought. I looked at the puddle, up to a giggling Denise, and over to Justin, holding a look of embarrassment and about to break into laughter himself. Even though I was still dumbfounded with the shocking news, at least Sergie had only peed! What a relief!

"Ohh wow! We didn't know horses couldn't throw up! That's just crazy, Denise!" I said, now smiling big with relief and joy.

We were all laughing. I can guarantee that horse pee has never brought anyone so much joy as it gave us in that moment. I learned a lot that day. I learned that horses can't throw up, what horse pee looks like in a cross tie, and what a great big brother I had for helping me through it all.

Week 15: Free for you, Free for me

"Know It All"

Mac Lethal

"I know a girl with an artist trapped deeply inside her

She provides for herself, she don't need you to like her

She dresses like a famous portrait

She talks like an angel with the makeup of dangerous torment

She don't wanna get married, she wanna get carried

Away, and figure out how to display all the things she wants to say

She would try to paint, but she don't got the patience that it looks like it takes

Plus her thoughts are too colorful to fit inside a picture

Her spirit is the genuine elixir

Her personality is such a brilliant, fucking work of art

She's a devil with a sensitive heart

She don't like the boys that feel like they gotta be cool

And she don't like the fake hoes in cosmetology school

But one day, she'll show the world

That she's no ordinary, Goddamn woman"

When I listen to this song, I hear so much of myself in the lyrics. I don't need you to like me; I am me, and I will never aim to change to please someone else. The turmoil of my mind is filled with longing thoughts; I miss my brother and what could have been. There was once a time when everything was easy, everyone was carefree, and boys didn't matter. It's not that I've been broken a lot- don't worry, I'm too guarded to really give a boy anything that matters. Honestly though, I think it's more me than them; how can I be with anyone until I find myself? Right now, I'd much rather get carried away to figure my life out. I want to go far away, to a free and new place, where I can finally experience clarity and live a life free from preconcieved notions. The colors of my lively mind will escape, allowing my soul to drink in the elixir of my spirit, and become the girl my expectations have set me up to be. I just want to show the world something great- I'm no ordinary woman. Haha, okay. Girl. 

Week 14: Reading Response

"The story, in the first draft, has put on rough but adequate clothes." 

This chapter was very helpful in terms of understanding just how much work needs to go into the revision process. It really puts into perspective how differently I should go about writing something, from the beginning of a work, all the way to completion. Every aspect of writing needs a revisionist eye, and honestly, I don't think that is stressed enough in most English courses. Before this class, I hardly knew the extent of a proper revision on a single piece of writing. It's crazy. 

I do enjoy making corrections on my work, however, I have found that it is incredibly important that I distance myself from the piece for a pretty good chunk of time. In my life of deadlines, procrastination, and poor time management, this is not always a possibility, but I'm working on it. I've come to realize that in terms of fleshing out a paper that is "good enough," it really doesn't take me much time at all, especially under the right state of mind and a viable topic. But, of course, topics are not always going to strike my fancy. This is why, for me, it is important to write almost constantly--especially about the things I love-- horses and music. Journaling, blogging, whatever, it's just important that my thoughts are expressed so that writing becomes a common occurrence in my everyday life that can be done with ease and expediency. So, yeah, you could say that I'm just trying to get there, man. 

Week 14: In-Class Dialogue

She went on and on about how perfect Danny was. She danced around my bedroom in her neon pink leggings, turning up the radio on her way to the purple bean bag chair. Her face lit up as she heard the words "Jessie's Girl." She then went into explicit detail about her and Danny's first kiss to this very song. Oh, isn't that amazing, Emily? Yeah, so amazing, Shelly. "Oh his lips are so soft, and my oh my, does he smell gooood!" I bet. She went on to say how they went to Applebee's and then up to the point for some "alone time." She did that dumb thing from the movies where you move your eyebrows up and down really creepy-like and kicked her leg warmers through the air like two pink fluffy blades.  I subconsciously shivered in annoyance. I forced a "haha" just in time saying "ohh yeahhh, party" to hide my real disgust and, okay, jealously. But honestly, what can I expect? Boys go for Shelly for the simple fact that she puts out. And, hey, just as my dad says, "if somethin' works for ya, you stick with it." I guess that fits here. But still, I couldn't help but think of the time I told her about my crush on Danny. I told her that we spent the afternoon in the library, exchanging precious little innuendos, giggling like a couple of real dumbasses. I should have known she wasn't listening. That was the day that she got a new purple dyed jean jacket. She was standing in front of her full-length mirror, doing the most bizarre poses I'd ever witnessed. Spinning around, sticking out her small ass, puffing out her non-existent chest, throwing out her arms; are these things she plans on doing when she wears that jacket all the time? If so, I made a mental promise to reconsider our friendship. Now, as she spoke in depth about the gloriousness of Danny's pecs, I again wanted to evaluate why we're really friends. I guess I didn't know anymore. But I did know one thing. She was going to let Danny "go all the way" on their next date. Wonderful.

Week 14: Freedom is Insanity

My mind is a cage. I imagine my thoughts are the lions, the giraffes, the hippos, oh how unhappy they must be stuck in captivity. They cannot escape and realize their full potential any more than my own thoughts can. It's a sad life in both the depths of my mind, and within the trap of a cage. Controlled food intake, but most of it is shit. Reality TV, few meaningful relationships, processed food, easy literature... what am I giving my mind to harbor any true essence of meaning? The animals, too, have are forced to mate with whoever is put in front of them, if at all, food is monitored closely, and no joy of life lies within the walls of their enclosure. Where is the door? Where is the release for the flamingos and monkeys? They would like to see the world that God intended them to live in. Captivity is no place for them, nor should my deepest inquiries and dreams be shut in and pent up in solitude. I'll keep looking for the door. I'll call you when I find it.