About the Blues There were reasons I was going to write about a grand mal seizure. Heck, I still have the reasons: I feel like it and it's on my mind. I say "it" because I only had one and it was some time ago. But they say I did a bang-up job of it.About the Blues2 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
My sister told me, "I woke you up to tell you it was time to go to the horse show, and you stood there and said you had a headache and wouldn't make it. Made me mad, actually. Then you keeled over and it's good my husband was there to catch you."
I remember the headache. Worst one I've ever had, truly crippling. I didn't want to disappoint my sister and her husband though. After all, my daughter and I were staying with them for an unspecified length of time. I'd even grown fond of the friggin horse shows.
The memory that's most embarrassing is a big sign the seizure isn't a small one -- loss of control of the bladder. Check. Tremors. Check. And I guess you stick out your tongue and your eyes go kinda
Procrastination CrapIt's dark now. The last drops of sunlight have been drained from the valley, leaving the soft film of twilight over the camp. She has long since left the safety behind the white line and wanders in the forest alone. Her footsteps are light on the ground, careful not to make a sound louder than the whispers of the tree around her. She crouches low to the ground as she moves through the shadows, keeping her ragged, frightening breathing under control. To her, it's more than a game. In her mind, the shouts in the valley are from a great battle where her allies fall to the ground with dead eyes and blood wets the long grass. Capture the Flag is a simple game, but in darkness, it turns to a deadly fight for survival that can only be ended with a triumphant ringing of the victory bell and a flag held high by the victors. Until then, the campers are brutal hunters. The girl freezes as she hears the voices of older campers drawing near. Dropping into a crouch, she presses into the bush and watProcrastination Crap3 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
dieciseis.Während Julia hier in Madrid weilte, kriegte ihre Katze zu Hause in Bern Junge. Ich ging einmal vorbei, weil ich dachte, wenn Julia das alles verpasst, dann sollte ich es mir wenigstens nicht entgehen lassen. Die Katze hatte sich unten in Julias Schrank ein improvisiertes Nest mit heruntergefallenen Kleidungsstücken und Halstüchern gebaut. Und dort lagen sie, die drei kleinen Fellknäuel, gerade ein paar Wochen alt.dieciseis.2 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
Man könnte stundenlang dasitzen, nur um ein kleines Kätzchen noch ein bisschen länger in seinen Händen zu halten. Irgendwie tut es gut und ich begann zu begreifen, warum Julia eine „tiergestützte Psychotherapie“ ins Leben rufen will. Hält man so ein Tierchen in den Händen, wird man sofort zu einem besseren Menschen. Eben war man noch voller bitterem Stolz und wollte die Welt niederbrennen, jetzt denkt man: Nö, lass mal.
Irgendwann öffnen die Kleinen ihre Äugelein und finden heraus, dass sie Bei
Battery MendellIt was just about sundown in the Marin Headlands. Away on the horizon, the Farallon Islands were silhouetted against the sun; the breeze had fallen, the world holding its breath. Across the Golden Gate Bridge, glorious in the dying light, The City sparkled and hummed inaudibly.Battery Mendell2 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
Kicking around the old bunker in the lengthening blue shadows, conversation had fallen into a lull, as well. Tired of scuffing pebbles with his shoe, Josh followed me down the crumbling concrete steps as I went to examine the heavy iron doors, rusted shut with the fog of a century.
“That’s where the Morlocks come out,” he said, jokingly.
Two things happened at once. The sun dipped in its final dive below the horizon, the last gold melting into the cold fingers of waiting fog on the western sea.
And in the empty warren of corridors riddling the mountain beneath us, we all simultaneously felt something wake up.
It was old. We knew that much. And we knew it was dreadful.
And it was comin
No, I'm Going To Be Spider-Man!I’m gonna try something different here because of the time constraints (I want to get this in before Halloween), so excuse how informal everything sounds. I was really on the fence about whether to make this a proper deviation or just a journal post. Since this story is entirely non-fiction and the narrator is 100% true-to-life me, I’m just not going to bother picking up my fancy purple quill.No, I'm Going To Be Spider-Man!15 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
So, I was browsing around my favorite literature group here on dA, Nurturing-Narratives, founded by (the very talented) WriteRelease, trying to give much needed attention to some submissions that had no comments, and I came across a little story called “Tales of a Daycare Teacher #1” written by (the just
A Different High You are constantly high on poetry, books and music. You like Barnes and Noble more than you liked Borders. Barnes and Noble at least tries to smell booksy. Borders died but it was already sterile – harsh fluourescent lighting and the smell of crisp cleaning product.A Different High3 days ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
You follow countless word blogs on Tumblr, reblogging with ecstasy closing lines, opening quotes, all the lyrical phrases in between the opening and the close. You remember the final lines to The Great Gatsby and Slaughterhouse-Five, the latter a Jeopardy! question once.
You think a demon cat drinking vodka and playing chess named Behemoth is the best character in Mikhail Bulgakov's The Master and Margarita, as well as concur with Behemoth that “...Dostoevsky is immortal.”
So is the leatherbound in which you read Crime and Punishment and need to read The Idiot and The Brothers Karamazov – prob
A Secret About Myself, A Struggle with OCDA Secret About Myself, A Struggle with OCD3 days ago in Introductions & Chapters More Like This
So browsing through the depths of the internet, I've noticed a trend.
A lot of people talk about having OCD in the context of putting a word to a specific quirk of theirs. I'm not here to tell you you're wrong. I don't know you, and it wouldn't be fair to judge. I am here, however, to talk about the effects of OCD on my life.
I've had OCD for pretty much as long as I can remember. It started with little things, like counting to a specific number over and over in my head. I would've been fine if it stayed so simple. Over the course of my life, this mental illness has evolved to monstrous proportions. This is also my fault.
Its so much easier putting off dealing with your own problems. Especially when said problems pertain to a mental illness. Mental illness are a hard thing to deal with. Fighting them causes pain, and letting them take over causes substantially less. I've been selfish to myself, and to those around me by letting my OCD take over my life. It hurts.
My specific symptoms o
My story of us..My story of us..7 hours ago in Stories & Vignettes More Like This
ok so I have a story to tell and it stared twenty-two years ago.
I was seventeen and I was working in a diner in Peoria, a little 50's diner. nothing interesting ever happens, but I was working lunch rush that day. I never knew my life would change so much this day.
I was behind the counter and I hear the door open and I look up to see the most incredible man walked in, I was breathless! super tall and dark hair, in a buzz cut, like for the army, and the most amazing eyes! god I melted when we made eye contact. I sure as hell was not about to let him walk out without a chance to forget me! I was going to make sure I left an impression on him, I don't know what happened except I fell so hard for him with just on look, I knew then he would be mine!!
So without hesitation I walked to his table were he sat with his mom, and I talked to him, sharing a smile and a laugh or two; when I looked closely into to his eyes my heart stopped and skipped a beat. his ey