Make A Wish

Just something that was easy and fun to write



Sometimes it would catch her by surprise. She would look at the clock and there it would be staring at her waiting for her dreams.... 11:11 "Make a wish." That's what her friends had taught her. And she would.

When she first learned about it the wishes were of ponies, a new bike, pink ballet slippers, and a brand new baseball glove that had to be broken in with saddle soap, a baseball in the pocket, secured with rubber bands and then put under your mattress.

She wasn't all girlie girl. Her best friend David could attest to that. Hell, with a nickname like Frankie you knew she didn't sit at home polishing her fingernails waiting for a boy to call.

Baseball was what brought them together. They became friends that first day at camp when she stole his favorite hat from his sweaty head and took off running. She wore it the rest of the day and it didn't bother her that it had never been washed. It was the summer before both of them were going into fourth grade, and they were inseparable.

It's not that they were outcasts. They both had friends of the same sex. It's that they were most comfortable when it was just the two of them . They understood each other. Her friends (girls) didn't get it when she talked rbi's, era's, and her dreams to play shortstop. Day's friends (boys) didn't understand his love of reading and writing. When they were together there was an easiness; conversations switching between how their team could've lost last night's game to which book was their favorite that week.



They hated the teasing, and they got it a lot. Their parents, friends and siblings just wouldn't let up. She was the only girl invited to his bar-mitzvah and as soon as he said hello at the party they both heard the kissy sounds of his classmates. He told her they were jealous when he saw the tears in her eyes as she ran from the party. And it was then that he realized that they probably were and with good reason.

She was special and even if she was only a buddy, she was his.

It took her longer to realize. All through high school, he listened to her as they would throw the ball around, about this guy or another. He never told her how he felt. He was always afraid she would laugh and think he was joking. She dated almost every guy in his class and some in the classes above and below. The almost was that she didn't date him.

It was the summer after their graduation when he told her. They were both going away to school, and he was afraid he would lose her to a college guy. He had almost lost her earlier that year. He remembered listening to her talk once again about how she felt about someone other than him, except this guy wanted to marry her. It shocked him into action.

She laughed while talking about it. Finding it so very funny that someone could even think of her in that way. She still loved baseball and hanging with the boys. She couldn't see herself as someone's wife and then later as a mom.

He took another look at the girl he loved and realized that she wasn't a girl anymore. Other people saw her as a young woman with a brilliant smile that would light up her eyes even if they were hidden behind glasses and under that ever present baseball hat.

Writing

Do you get scared before posting an intimate story, poem, or intense and questioning feelings? Do you feel compelled to share them anyway... to open your soul so that the world can embrace it or trample it at will?

I find it easier to expose myself to many people at once than to just one person privately. Maybe it's because there's a lower chance of rejection, ridicule, anger, disgust or even shame. Because there must be someone out there who has experienced even the tiniest bit of what I write.

I'm thinking about why I write. Yes, it's expression and I use it as a release, to clarify and then try to look more objectively at my thoughts and feelings. But I think I write for understanding, interaction, feedback and accomplishment.

My writing voice is much different from my speaking voice. The tones and word rhythms I hear in my head are more formal. Isn't that funny? You would think they would be more casual. But maybe its because I view my thoughts and emotions with such intensity that is deserving of a more serious and formal tone/voice to express them. I love to write and forgot how much I loved it... how it flows from my head to my fingers.

There was a time when I refused to write on my computer. I was used to a more visceral experience... of my pen pressing down hard on paper leaving marks of the letters on the pages underneath. Crossing sentences and words out because I disliked the way they fit was always down with numerous strokes which then used to annoy me when I felt that I needed that phrase or word in another part of what I was writing. I would have to stare at the paper to find the shapes of the letters hidden under the marks.

Then I started to use computers and saw that the words could flow more freely, quicker than with my right hand and the callus on my middle finger, that bump from gripping the pencil and carving my words. It has started to get smaller and not as noticeable. Believe it or not my brain still works faster than my fingers and when I have a thought of another line to follow if I don't write it down it's possible to lose it as I get involved in the thoughts I am writing at that moment.

It can get distracting sometimes. I prefer to finish the thought I'm in the middle of rather than to write down a reminder word or phrase afraid of losing the flow. And now I have done just that and am racking my brain trying to concentrate on these words hoping that the idea will decide to come out of hiding, as if it's punishing me for ignoring it.

I even reread all the above to see if it would kick start it, but it seems that it's gone. But instead I go back to how I used to shuffle the papers around. And I've just remembered that I wanted to write about how I would agonize over first sentences, how I would write and re-write them. Or even start with the second sentence knowing that something a certain rhythm, cadence of words naturally belonged in front of it. I used to place the papers with different sentences and switch them around till I felt they fit together.

Do you write with a rhythm in your head knowing that a certain word comes next with two syllables and the emphasis on the first one? I do. If I can't remember the word I want I don't usually fill it in with a synonym instead I leave it blank and come back to it later. Re-reading and drumming out the beats of the word in my head until it comes to me or until I use a thesaurus. I do this when I write prose as well as poetry.

I just read an essay on poetry and on the rhythm of syllables. I need to read it again so that I understand it better and can actually use it and the terms describing it that were written there. When I read different authors the words on paper set a rhythm in my head. I like the way it feels, different than my own thoughts.

I guess people would call it a style of writing but when I hear that word it reminds me of the characters and descriptions a writer uses not their____. I also find that writing late at night or very early morning the words flow easier. Is it less barriers because my mind is tired after a long day and thoughts and feelings come out??? Don't know. I'm getting a little too tired to write now it's about four in the morning, and I've been listening to the slight click of my fingers on the keyboard.

What a difference from the sounds of typewriters or even older keyboards. Maybe it's easier for me to write with a computer now because the sound is less distracting to the rhythms in my head. But I remembered one more point about how I also write using an informal voice. That's when I hear my talking voice in my head. It's when I feel as if I'm having a conversation, maybe a more relaxed or joking conversation with the reader. And that made me think that maybe my formal voice I also use my formal voice my writing voice when I speak. Hmmmm.

Too tired to continue and the thoughts are not fighting for attention in my head anymore. My eyes are closing so I'll end this post. I'll read it later to edit it for spelling etc., but this one just wouldn't leave me alone until it was done. Good night or should I say good morning the birds have been singing for over a half hour now. That makes sense considering that its now 6:30. I thought I started writing a little earlier. Guess not. G'morning to you guys I'm off to get some much needed eye rest.


After reading this over again before I posted, I remembered another thought that I lost while I was writing. It's that I don't listen to music when I write. I like quiet. That way I can hear the rhythms more clearly... so maybe that's another reason why I like to write late at night or early in the morning the world and my life is less noisy.

Cranky

Cranky, grouchy, grumpy, kvetchy, or whatever you'd like to call it. That's the way I feel with only a couple hours of sleep, trying to fix the internet connection on my mom's computer (it looks like my abba had a party with it again or somehow managed to step on it) my BlackBerry service not working properly, and I miss him.

Yeah, yeah, I've never even met him. How can I miss him? BUT I DO! So don't mess with me on this one. Plus my mom's treadmill belt is slipping so I can't even run/walk this uchy feeling out of me!!!!

And NO! Having some coffee would not help. I don't drink coffee unless it's late at night, and I'm driving back to Oz. I don't like the taste of coffee, although I really do like the smell. My cup of coffee is a nice hot shower. It wakes me up in the morning, and if for some reason I don't get to have one try to stay out of my way until I do. Well, I'm not that bad.

It takes a lot to get me to this point of crankiness, but the sun is out, the darlin' boy is happy, I got a hug from him without even asking for it, and I'm in Kansas... so really what am I complaining about? It's just about out of my system already. And now I'm off to a nice hot shower, brunch with my da (dad), some bike riding and basketball, and picking up a new wireless router for my mom.



I'm feeling better already

Again

I've been tagged by MAK so here goes:

1. Link to your tagger and post these rules.
2. Share 7 facts about yourself: some random, some weird.
3. Tag 7 people at the end of your post and list their names and link to them.
4. Let them know they've been tagged by leaving a comment at their blog.


1. Since y'all know I'm weird to begin with, the fact that one of my nicknames used to be superchicken shouldn't surprise you.

2. I've become friends with the people who work for the collection agencies. I owe a lot of money. That's what happens when you get divorced, and I get weekly calls from some of the same people.

3. My brother does a great Redd Foxx imitation.

4. I used to dream I was an Indian Princess that was captured and I was adopted by my mom and dad, but someday I would be returned to the tribe to live in a tee pee and ride wild horses.

5. I shop for DB's clothes at least a year in advance at end of season sales, and I buy t-shirts for myself at the same time. It looks like this year I will be buying the same size for both of us.

6. Computers don't like me. No, they haven't told me that. I'm just assuming it from their actions.

7. Exercise and high doses of B vitamins keep my pms at bay.



I tag Rafi, Scraps, Jameel, Cat, Doc, Hesh, Frumhouse