Late Night Poetry

So, even with all my talk about being excited for the Get Sparked round that just started, I remembered last night at around 9pm that I had to write a poem by this morning to send to my partner. By this time I was trying to get Caelyn to bed and asleep earlier (gradual change in bed time I think will work best for getting used to 'school time') and couldn't really ignore her so I could work on the poem. I didn't have the smallest idea what this poem was going to be. As I'm laying in bed, thoughts start to crop up. Good! I didn't feel like getting up so I started typing sentence fragments into the notes function on my phone. I put it away and figure I'll just get up earlier and brainstorm last minute like I usually do. Well, I tossed and turned and didn't actually sleep for any great length of time between then and about 2am. I had to use the bathroom, so I got up, did my business, and then grabbed my netbook and lay back in bed to try and work something out.

I started with the notes I had on my phone, but it always happens: I start trying to rhyme, and I start trying to invent a regular meter to stick to, and suddenly the essence of the poetry gets lost while I try too hard to make the words work. I scrap it and start again on something new. I like it much better (duh), but I still wish I had more time to polish it. Maybe I still will. Anyway, I finish around 3am, put the netbook away, and try to get back to sleep. More tossing and turning. I was cold, so I got up for another blanket, saw that it was 4am, and finally managed to nod off.

Without further adieu, here's my poem:

Morning on Hoel Pond

No sound but the gentle ripples
against my canoe.
The sky is gray
and mist hanging in the trees
seeps down to blanket the lake
in layers of mystery.

I lay my paddle at my feet
and pull my hood close around my face.
The predawn chill permeates all.
I shiver in the stillness.

Two loons call,
greeting each other,
or in warning of my presence.

A stranger in this untouched land,
I close my eyes and breathe deeply.
Nothing but cold, crisp, clean air,
a hint of pine.
Quiet. Calm. Peaceful.

I glide back to the shore,
my paddle slicing the surface,
stirring the mist into spiraling ghosts.
The day breaks softly,
illuminating the sky
from behind the clouds,
a single layer of muted silver.

The forest awakening now,
I feel it reaching out to embrace me.
The loons call again.
I am home.

© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010

Get Sparked, Paper and Flash Fiction

It would be an understatement to say that I am stoked about this upcoming Get Sparked! round. The last round I was in (and my first), I'm going to take as a learning experience, getting a feel for how the whole process works. I didn't really get to know, or feel a real connection to my partner. This time around is different. I've been paired up with a paper maker! She makes paper from domestically grown plant fibers, waste paper, and fabric in her own micro-mill out of her house. How awesome is that?

This is a fact that I don't get to put out very often, but I absolutely love the look and feel of homemade paper. I have a leather-bound book that my BFF Tim got me when he was in Iraq, and the paper inside is so soft and luscious, I haven't written a word in it because I feel like anything I put in it would mar its beauty. I do have to admit that I feel that way about any bound book of blank paper. It all seems so permanent. I've always preferred to write in spiral-bound notebooks (wide-rule, not college-rule) because if I didn't like something, I wouldn't feel bad about ripping it out or scribbling all over the page. But a bound book with a real spine, brimming with deliciously blank pages... Ahh, that is a delicacy I haven't yet had the nerve to taste, though I've grown quite the collection.

At any rate, I have until Wednesday to put my poetry hat on and blast out something stupendous for my paper-maker partner to make something equally stupendous from. I can't lie; I am really excited about this!

I also have to add that I am extremely happy with the responses I've gotten from my first flash fiction submission! Admittedly it's not my greatest piece of writing, but for the amount of time I actually spent working on it, and knowing beforehand most of the points that would most likely get 'nitpicked,' I have to be careful not to feel overly confident in it. There were only 3 or 4 other stories in my group posted, and they were all pretty fantastic. Which means there are potentially 15 other stories that are even better than what I've seen.

I am a little bit nervous about the scoring system. The top 15 ranked stories in each group will be scored between 1-25 points (1st gets 25, 2nd gets 22, etc.). So the bottom 5 stories get zilch. If I don't get points, it means I really sucked. I don't want to suck! At least for the Short Story contest if you didn't make the top 3, you didn't know if you were the next best or the worst. This one you know exactly where you rank. Despite that, though, I can't shake the confidence I feel right now. It's more than what I felt during the Short Story contest, so I'm just taking that as a good sign, and I will hopefully do even better with the next assignment. More than 3 more weeks to deliberate on that one, though, and school will distract me a bit.

Not Fitting In

And I'm not even talking about socially, which has always been an issue with  me. I get along with most everyone, but never quite feel like I'm a part of that "inner circle." I kind of straddle the line of that circle more often than not. But that's not what I want to talk about. What I'm talking about is support groups.

The point of finding a support group is to be able to talk about similar issues you all share. It's really sucky when you feel like you don't even fit in with people that have the same disease as you. And by disease, I mean PCOS. I know I've mentioned it a few times here already so I won't go into what that entails. I've joined a few online support forums for women with PCOS and still find that I don't fit in with them. We all have the same underlying  medical issues, and most are going through similar life-setbacks. But not me! Oh no, of course not me.

It seems that the vast majority of women who have PCOS are either dealing with obesity linked to insulin resistance, or are dealing with infertility, also rooted with the insulin resistance. I am, at this moment, unsure whether I am seriously IR or not. I am definitely not obese, and I do not have to deal with infertility as I am not TTC (as this demographic refers to "trying to conceive").

I also do not feel depressed or emotionally lost because of my diagnosis. I realize that, yes, I may have trouble in the future if I ever face the chance to have another child, but even then, I can't imagine ever being completely overwhelmed by the trials that are potentially awaiting me. Maybe it's because I already have a kid? Maybe because getting married and wanting another kid isn't something I actually see in my near future? This situation is unreal to me, so I cannot reasonably relate to all these other women's feelings about it.

Most newbie posts have been pretty negative, like it's suddenly the end of the world. I can't feel that way. To me, it's just a health issue that can be effectively managed and controlled. There's no sense in worrying about possible fertility issues when I'm not dealing with them today. Today is what counts. If I spent all my time worrying about the future, I wouldn't even notice my todays.

All America Redemption

This is my first entry for the Flash Fiction challenge. My assignment of genre/location/object was Romance/a restaurant kitchen/a ladder. I'm not too crazy about the title, but I AM crazy about my synopsis, which I will write here, and then the actual story. I clocked in at 985 words and submitted with an amazing 6 hrs to spare. I figured if I had fiddled with it any more, it would have gotten worse. I DID make a switch in action that I am very happy about so I'll leave my own comments at that and let you, my readers (huh?) decide for yourself.

"After dishing out the worst mistake of his life, can Scott fix it when served a second chance?"

       Scott punched in, on time as usual, and headed toward the kitchen of All America Food to start prepping for lunch.  He gave the requisite nods to the wait staff as he passed by.

      “Hey, Ashley, Kim, Jorge,” he forced out, not feeling in the mood to be cheerful, though he received more smiles and waves than normal in return.

      “Hi, Scott,” Kim grinned back, grabbing his arm and strolling along side him to the back of the restaurant.  “Don’t have a heart attack when you go in there, and don’t say I didn’t warn ya.” She let go and veered toward the bar just before they reached the shiny silver swinging doors of the kitchen. Scott paused and scratched his head, but didn’t think too long before entering. What met his eyes as the doors swung open, though, he could not have prepared for despite Kim’s warning.

      “Charlotte! What the hell are you doing here?” Scott’s face cycled through a spectrum of pinks and reds until it finally settled on maroon. He wasn’t sure whether to feel angry or ecstatic. He did know that his heart was perilously close to exploding in his chest.

      “And I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Charlotte crooned from her provocative perch on the step ladder. Scott was frozen in place as he stared at the impossible vision of his ex. She wore a t-shirt with Chuck Norris on it, jean shorts, and what were probably $5 Old Navy flip flops. Her long dark hair hung loose down her back, the ends just touching the top of the ladder where she sat, and the burgundy frames of her glasses glinted in the harsh lights hanging over the deep fryers.

      “No, I am not happy, I’m - What would possibly make you think that I’d be happy to see you? After what you - after we - argh!” Scott regained control of his muscles and he stalked over to the fryers and jerkily flipped the switch to “on.” Charlotte abandoned the seductive angle and slid off the ladder to wriggle her way between the fryer and Scott, the top of her head barely reaching his chest. Scott took a deep breath in an attempt to slow his heart rate as he stepped back from the petite woman.

      “Scott, please, I -”

      “Don’t play with me, Charlotte. What are you doing here? I have work to do.”

      “Listen, I know I said ‘no,’ but that’s only because you caught me off guard.” Charlotte matched Scott’s steps and placed her hands on his chest, her head tilted up to meet his alluring green eyes, the look in her own blue beauties positively supplicant.

      “You didn’t just say no. You burst into tears and ran out,” Scott added, hating how comfortable his hands felt resting on her shoulders. “And last I checked, I thought a proposal was supposed to be unexpected.”

      “Unexpected, yes, but not totally horrifying! You know how I get in front of crowds like that, and you -” she had to pause to regain composure, “you had the whole place staring at me, and I freaked out...”

      Scott heard her snuffle loudly, knowing she was trying in vain to hold back tears. But she, strong woman that she was, stood firm. He felt like a jerk. How could he have been so stupid? He should have known better. It must have been terrible for her to get put on the spot like that.

      “That was a week ago today, Scott. You didn’t even try to call or anything.”

      Scott’s heart sank, watching silent tears leak reluctantly from her eyes. She was right. He was an idiot. “I am so sorry. I was crushed after you left that night, and I was afraid you’d say no again.” All he could do was bow his head in shame, until a commotion by the doors distracted him. He looked up and saw Kim, Jorge, and Ashley spying through the small round window. He looked back at Charlotte, who was now smiling. She nodded to the peeping toms and they pushed into the kitchen, each holding a bouquet of at least two dozen roses each.

      “What is going on here?” Scott reeled in amazement as his friends surrounded him and Charlotte. Confused, he looked at who he had obviously mistaken as his ex for the past week. “Charlotte?”

      “Scott, I love you so much. I don’t want to have to run out on you again, so you better ask again quick.”

      “You all were...How did you?...” Scott glanced at Kim and the eager expression in her eyes goaded him on. He pulled the velvet box out of his pocket, he remembered telling Kim that he kept it on him for some reason, bent down on one knee, and presented the one karat solitaire to Charlotte.

      He looked straight into her eyes and took a deep breath. “Charlotte, will you marry me?” The moment of silence that followed was almost too long and he started to worry that she really would run out again. But then he heard the words he so longed to hear.

      “Yes, Scott, I will!”

      Scott stood and gathered his fiancee in his arms and kissed her long and hard until the cheers of the three rose bearers broke them apart. “How did you manage to -” Scott started to ask, but Kim answered before he could finish.

      “Charlotte called the other day wondering how you were doing, and I told her how depressed you were, so we planned it all to make sure you got to do it right this time.”

      Scott slipped the ring onto Charlotte’s finger and kissed her again. “How can I ever thank you?”

      Kim grinned before leaving the kitchen. “Just make sure we’re invited to the wedding!”

Santa and Flash Fiction

No, Santa is not writing Flash Fiction. At least he's not as far as I know. He may be moonlighting as an author, but I think I'd be dead tired after a hard day of eating cookies and having kids sit on my lap...

At any rate! I took Caelyn to Santa's Workshop in North Pole, NY today. I've taken her the past 2 years as well, and well, she loves it! It is such a run down little place, but it's magical, especially when you're still young enough to believe in Santa. Santa is real! He's right there in his house! Caelyn even told me last year, after seeing Santa at the mall, that she knows that that's not the real Santa, just a helper, because she's MET the real Santa, and he lives at the North Pole! How awesome is that? She is so smart.

So we (me and my brother, Dave) followed her around for nearly 4 hours until the park closed, and then had some amazing dinner at the A&W that's right down the street from "Santa Land." A bacon cheeseburger never tastes so good as it does next to a helping of deep fried cheese curds and a huge mug of the world's best root beer.

Now onto flash fiction. The NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest officially starts at midnight tonight, at which time I find out my 'assignment.' What genre I have to write in, where it's taking place, and an object that has to be in the story somewhere. I kind of want to stay up to see what I get to write, but I'm also kind of really tired and want to sleep.

Well my blogging is being cut short. I've just been informed by a very persuasive 5 year old that we need to go to a dark place to look at the stars. And so we will.

Dreams

I don't normally put much stock in dreams because PMS causes me to have very vivid ones. Most of which I don't remember, but the ones I do remember stick with me. Last night I had 2 very distinct dreams. I wish I had gotten up and written them down right away because now they are only fuzzy blurs, but enough that it still kind of disturbs me because they both involve anger and yelling.

The first one involved someone I am friends with on Facebook, have never met in person but are friends through a mutual friend. I was tied up in a chair, like a hostage, but not in a scary location. It was in a well-lit house, furnished living room and stuff, like I was at home, but it wasn't my home. And this person I think was questioning me, or yelling accusations at me. Or maybe it was more like excited jabbering. He was smiling. and acting excited, or crazed. Or it was about being lost; we couldn't find the way out (of a house?), which still doesn't explain the reason for me being tied up in a chair.

This is also strange because this is the second time that this person has appeared in a dream of mine. The first time he was narrating what was going on, like a blog-writer. Which is even more strange since I have never heard his voice before.

The second dream was me yelling at my daughter. And I mean really yelling. Not obscenities or anything, but flat out screaming stuff like, "DON'T DO THAT" "WOULD YOU STOP THAT, I MEAN IT" and stuff like that, that I am always telling her, but this time it was angry and very loud. And she didn't seem overly perturbed by it either. She was just going along her business and I'd yell at her to stop. I think this dream happened because I was hyper-aware of how extremely moody I was the last time I was PMS'ing. I would get frustrated, irritated, and angry at stupid little things, and yell at her, but then feel bad about it, but I still felt angry so I couldn't even apologize properly. I guess I felt a little guilty.

At any rate, that is it for now. We are going to take a trip to Kmart or Walmart and pick up some small Lego sets, because Caelyn has a Lego table in the play room and no Legos to play with on it.

A Few Thoughts

I'm going to start with this one: "Shoot for the moon, because even if you miss you'll land among the stars." This does not make astronomical sense. Number one, the stars are WAY farther away than the moon. If you shoot for the moon and miss, most likely you'll burn up in Earth's atmosphere. If you're lucky. More than likely you'll wind up floating in the vacuum of space where no one can hear you scream. So, a better phrase would be to shoot for the stars, and if you miss you may land on the moon. In either case, though, I think I'd rather hold onto my position here on Earth. Where I can breath.

My second thought is: It's really bright outside today. Bright and a little bit warm. I've got my window fan and my ceiling fan going so it's at least comfortable here inside. Yes, I'm in Malone, NY again until the 15th when I will be making the depressing drive back to Jersey. It's not really that I hate Jersey, it's more that I like the mountains better. I do have to work while I am here, though, brought my computer and everything, but it's just nice to be here.

My third thought is: PCOS. I was recently diagnosed with this disorder, and for those who don't know the acronym, it stands for polycystic ovarian syndrome. It sounds much worse than it is, but I suppose for a lot of women it IS really bad. There are many manifestations of this disorder, and so far I'm thinking that mine is very mild since it hasn't disrupted anything major yet. Most women with pcos hate it because they are trying to get pregnant, and pcos basically is a "no baby for you" sentence. (pcos=no released egg=no ovulation=no fertilization=no baby. get it?) Fortunately, I am NOT trying to get pregnant. And without getting into too many details, pcos also can disrupt...womanly cycles. Mine have not been irregular to the point of saying "oh my gosh what the heck is going on?" so my body is still on some level of normal in that regard.

My fourth and final thought of the day: I have recently signed up for the next Get Sparked! round happening at the end of this month. I am also looking forward to the first round of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction challenge, happening next weekend. What I'm NOT looking forward to is the fact that that is the weekend we will be packing and heading back to Jersey. At least it's only 1,000 words, right? I can knock that out in no time. But still, it will be one more thing to fit into the schedule. I would love to get past the first round in this one, so I'm really going to try hard. And maybe, just maybe, I'll be up to participating in NaNoWriMo again this year. I didn't do it last year, but the year before I actually broke 50,000 words which I was so proud of even though I didn't get close to the end of my story. I'd like to try and actually finish something this year.