Spark 12 Poem

Since I haven't written anything substantial here for quite a while, I figured I'd share my latest Spark creation. The following picture is what was sent to me, and the poem following that was the piece I wrote with the picture as inspiration. Enjoy!

The Forever Kiss

I wish I could kiss you forever
like that day we were on the beach.
I remember the tropical pinks and blues
of the blankets scattered across the sand,
the peach and brown and sunburn
of the bodies laying on orange flowered towels.
And you.

I remember you next to me,
sweat dripping from both our brows,
the sun merciless on our backs
as we lean in close.
Lips touch once, twice,
Continuous.

All afternoon,
covered in hot sand, our blanket askew,
unaware of the other tourists
one by one leaving the beach.

Alone, our lips still pressed together
until the chill of the moon over the ocean
pulls us back into our hotel room
where we kiss again
forever.

© Elizabeth Cordes, May 2011

Spark 11 Poem - Matryoshka

Get Sparked Round 11 has begun! I hashed out a quick poem this morning for my partner. I feel bad it was so rushed. I had a LOT of ideas and had to consciously force myself not to slip into some horrible Dr. Seussian rhyme scheme. I went through the first two or three stanzas a number of times before I took a breath, erased it all, and started fresh. It's funny, and maybe more amazing than funny, how one idea which was turning out so terrible morphed into something so much better so quickly. And I mean quickly. Between re-reading and re-writing and just a little bit of editing (as always, could use more editing and polishing) it took me no more than 40 minutes total. Without further adieu, here is my Spark 11 inspiration piece:

 Matryoshka 

Each day dragging

more than the last,

I open myself with hopes

of finding a little more

motivation.

Yet each treasure that

I find inside the next,

one after another

becomes smaller,

inconceivably more delicate.

Tiny and beautiful,

gilded ornaments

so fragile

my hand shakes

they drop

and shatter.

I sweep up the pieces

but there aren’t instruments

small enough

to repair the valuable baubles.

But one golden seed survived,

so gently I hold it and place it

deep within myself

and continue on.

The seed is nurtured,

grows each layer again over itself

slowly.

Until all is restored

and I get to play the game

again.

©Elizabeth Cordes, 2011

Gilded Fish

In anticipation of the next upcoming SPARK round, and because I've been in contact with someone and looking forward to some art/poetry collaborations, I figured it was about time to sit down and try and get back into the groove. For some reason I feel naturally drawn to write in ballad meter. Not sure why. I guess I like the sing-songy nature of the prosody, and I feel an overwhelming urge to rhyme when I write poetry, so in both respects it works. Though it is really annoying when I try to write something more free and I wind up relegating myself to a regular meter like this.

Anyway, I tapped this out, very rough, but I kinda like it. I think because ballad sort of sounds very old-fashioned, so my wording and grammar turns out a little old-fashioned, too. It fits. Any comments would be appreciated, if you liked it, didn't like it, suggestions on how to make it better, parts that weren't very readable, and keep in mind this is the first draft (that is, if I ever re-write it. If I don't, this is the first and only draft!). Whatever the case, I hope you enjoy:

Gilded Fish


Little gilded fish
dressed in shining scales
golden ones above her brow
and silver on her tail

Swim, fish, swim
across the ocean vast
Swim, fish, swim
to arrive at home at last.

The current swept her far away
into many perils anew
and though her fears were mighty strong
she was stronger and swam through

A deviled canyon met her eyes
bubbles rising from the pit
she tightly shut those gleaming eyes
and swam right over it.

Swim, fish, swim
across the ocean vast
Swim, fish, swim
to arrive at home at last.

Tentacles reached out to pull
her in their squirming grip
she swiftly swished her shining tail
and out of reach she slipped.

A school of fish she then did cross
following the current
with them she did swim along
until her strength was spent.

Swim, fish, swim
across the ocean vast
swim, fish, swim
to arrive at home at last.

Tired and sore she had to rest
before her fins gave out
a rocky cave she snuck inside
then heard a mighty shout.

A slithering eel disclosed himself
and snapped his jaws so mean
but gilded fish was much too quick
the fastest he had seen.

Swim, fish, swim
across the ocean vast
swim, fish, swim
to arrive at home at last.

Exhausted was the little fish
she merely drifted on
no more swimming could she do
'til she heard a familiar song.

“Shining scales in sunlight
glimmering in moon.
Coral for your playground
night time comes too soon.

Sleep, sleep my little fish
a night rest you must take
and mother’s fin will hold you safe
Til the morning when you wake.”

Mama fish pulled her in
and kissed her glittering cheek
and gilded fish she settled down
for about a week.

Swim, fish, swim
across the ocean vast
swim, fish, swim
she arrived at home at last

Life went back to normal
or so the mama thought
the little fish remained uneasy
and dreamed of what she sought.

The ocean placed a longing
deep within her heart
in her reef she could not stay
she knew that she would part

from all the things she used to know
and all the things she loved
to find her place among the waves
whether beneath them or above.

She no longer feared the open sea
that had shaken her quivering core
now she gladly did embrace it
and went swimming back for more.

Swim, fish, swim
into the ocean vast
swim, fish, swim
to arrive at home at last.

© Elizabeth Cordes, 2011

Merry Christmas and all that Jazz

Just a warning, this is going to be a long one. A lot has happened and I have a lot to catch up on. I probably won't even be able to touch on everything.

I'm blogging from MY ROOM in the big house! It's exciting! Kind of. It's strange being here. It doesn't feel like it's for real yet. I'm loathe to unpack my boxes and put my clothes in the closets and dresser drawers because it would feel too permanent. I'm not sure I'm ready for that. It still feels like I'm just up here for a vacation. Like next week I'll be back 'home.' But I known that this is 'home' now. Weird.

I can't wait to set my desk and computer up in the office and start working again. I need to make some moolah. I'm pretty much broke right now. I don't like being broke. I am also looking forward to doing my taxes ASAP this year so I can get my refund. One of the only upsides of not making a lot of money and having a kid and not having to file jointly with someone. Also paying tuition gets me some nice education credits. At least it did last year and I'm hoping for a repeat.

Tomorrow I'm driving back down to Jersey with my dad so we can do a last clean-out of the apartment, and pick up his car. After that, it will be completely done. Nowhere to go back to. I've already done my change-of-address through USPS, and changed my billing address on everything that matters. Including my college records so they mail my diploma to the right place.

In other news, I have to go to the high school on Monday when the schools reopen so I can register Caelyn. I was going to do it before they closed for the winter break, but it snowed, and we had no snow blower for a day, and we didn't shovel out til it was too late. I figured Caelyn wouldn't mind a couple extra days of no-school. And it would give her some more time to get acclimated to LIVING here, and not just act like it's a vacation. Well, it sort of is a vacation, since it's technically "Holiday Break," but eh, we gotta get back into a routine. At least time-wise. Going to sleep at midnight is not good for a 5 year old, especially if she is gonna have to get up early for school.

And I was thinking, I'm not sure if I like having moved up in winter. It does give us a good excuse to stay in and unpack and organize and rearrange stuff, but it also doesn't make it easy to get out and DO stuff. I'd like to explore town and get involved in things; make friends, get to know people and all that good stuff. It's way too easy to isolate up here, especially in the winter. Maybe I'll sign up to be a class mom, go to PTO meetings or whatnot. Idunno. I'm thinking cleaning out all our stuff as we 'move in' will create a need to have a garage sale in the spring, and boy do we have the perfect driveway to have a garage sale!

On another note, I need a night stand. My "desk" where my laptop is now is against the wall by the foot of my bed. What I really need is a taller table to put a lamp on, and also so I can put my glasses on it when I go to bed. Also, I think I want a nice comfy chair in here with a tall lamp behind it, to read. And a bookshelf. I must have a big shelf for all my books. I've got boxes and boxes of them. I'm sure I won't be able to put all of them out, but at least my favorites will be able to breathe again.

And to end on, before this gets any longer (I will try to blog more often, about interesting things!), Merry Christmas everyone! even though it's a few days late. I hope everyone also has a fantastic New Year's Eve. And don't think too hard about all those resolutions. Mid-way through February we'll all forget about them anyway. I've never stuck to one in my life and don't see it happening this year either.

Well, that's about it, wishing you all every kind of holiday cheer from my new abode north of the Adirondacks.

PS, I knew I'd forget something... I registered for NYC Midnight's Tweet me a Story contest! Registration was free, so I figured, why not? I won't lose anything from entering and it should prove to be really fun! I'll probably post about this again as the event gets closer.

SPARK Poem

It's the first draft, and what I'll be posting on the SPARK website, as well as right here. My netbook is about to die and I feel too tired to get up and plug it in. Here's my poem, and I'll have to edit later to add in the picture that was the "inspiration" to it.


Walking Away

We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
I put you in the trash
after what you did
like so many others
did the same to me
you did the same to me

We can’t be friends.
We can’t be friends.
it takes trust
and mine in you
is broken.
It’s broken.
Forever.

What can you do to regain it?
Nothing.
You can’t do anything.
I put you in the trash
like so many others
what you did to me
you did to so many others.

We can’t be friends.
don’t even try.
We can’t.
I can’t.

I remember what we had.
Thought we had.
Never had.
Never will have.
Wish we could have.

I put you in the trash and
we can’t be friends.

It's been a while...

So I shall make a short little post since I am probably forgetting to do something, or should be doing something else... like finding a box to pack more stuff in! Since Caelyn has no school tomorrow and Friday, I figured we'd take a whirlwind trip up to the house to visit Poppy and to get some more work done on the house. Last weekend I went up Friday morning, came back Sunday, and painted the insides of all the kitchen cabinets (with help from my brother Dave. Woo Dave!). I felt quite accomplished! This trip hopefully we can finish putting the shelf paper in the cabinets, possibly paint the ceiling, and start (and finish? Dare I even think the thought?) putting down sticky tiles in the kitchen as well.

I think we agreed that the kitchen (and downstairs bathroom) should be the rooms to get "done" first, since those are probably the rooms we will be using the most once we move, aside from our respective bedrooms. There's nothing WRONG with the bedrooms, and easy enough to work around and finish quick before everything gets unpacked after we move. Wow, rereading what I just wrote, I can tell I'm writing really fast; it sounds like I'm talking really fast to someone because our call is about to get cut off.

At any rate, that's what's been going on. I have totally disregarded the end of this most recent SPARK, and have yet to finish the poem I'm working on. NaNoWriMo started the other day and I wanted to try and participate in that this year, but so far have written absolutely nothing. I've been busy!

The other thing that happened today was a modification hearing. I now have official permission from the courts of New Jersey to relocate out of state. Woo!

And without further adieu, abedeabedeabede, that's all, folks! Until next time, of course ;)

The end of Flash Fiction

That's not to say the end of it all together for me, just for now. The results of the second challenge of the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Contest were posted last night, and well, I didn't make it into the second round. BY ONE POINT. I didn't make it by one measly little point. And that's also not to say I did horribly on the second challenge. On the contrary, I did quite well! I scored 20 points, which is a 3rd place ranking, but added to my 4 points from 12th place on the first challenge, wasn't enough to get me in a top 5 position. The 5th place spot had a total of 25 points. I had 24.

Ok enough sad math. I'm happy I did so well. I got some good feedback (despite being a jerk and not giving feedback to any other stories myself) and some tips on what to work on for next time. I hope I'm in a position to participate next time, cuz next time I'm gonna be at the top!

Facing the Day

It's been rainy and dreary the past few days. I set my alarm for 6:20am, not to get up, but to allow time to snuggle with Caelyn. She is getting accustomed to waking up at this time as well so things are going a little more smoothly in the morning. So, I wake up enough to poke her awake enough to climb under the covers next to me. It really is quite cozy, warm and sleepy, next to my baby girl, who's not such a baby anymore. It's hard to really wake up and get out of bed when the real alarm goes off at 6:55 (allowing for at least 2 five-minute snoozes), especially when it's still dark from it being so cloudy.

Anyway, here is a poem I wrote during class (No, not a poetry class. I was bored, and uh, wrote some words down).

Facing the Day

Warm
hidden
covers over my head
eyes shut tight

The sun is peeking up over the horizon
but I don't want to see it.

secret
alone
burrowing deeper
grasping for dreams

but as my mind awakens
I know I must
face the day.

Paper and Poetry

I'm going to keep this post short and to the point. I've had a lot on my mind the past week or so, between going upstate, getting me and Caelyn ready for school, and some propositions in regards to my writing (I will speak about that when things are more set in stone), I feel like I'm ready for a week of sleeping and not showing my face to the world at all.

The following is the response my Get Sparked partner created from the poem posted in my first previous blog post, Morning on Hoel Pond.

"Hoel Pond" Canvas made of handmade paper, made by the Artist, Gwynne Mason, kakishibu dye, silk paper, mixed media.

The following picture is the work of art that my partner sent to me, and then following the picture I'll post the poem that it inspired.

"He Said He Was No Longer Interested In Me" Handmade plant fiber papers, made and decorated by Gwynne Mason, mounted on a handmade silk tapestry, mixed media.

The following is the poem I wrote using this piece as inspiration.

Sea of Wanting

Shower of spring petals
dancing

Trees, flowers, adoration
growing

Silver sands of summer
enticing

Riding waves of desire
reeling

It was wonderful at first.
Everything was vibrant, colorful.
Life was full and then it wasn’t.
empty.
distant.
cold.
lost interest.

Shimmering autumn hopeful
shriveling

Threads that once bound us
unraveling

Snow-flecked winter winds
freezing

Break through fragile ice
sinking

Gone.

© Elizabeth Cordes, 2010

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.

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.

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.