Writing Exercise: Random Words

For an aspiring writer of any kind, one of the most useful and important tasks is to write every single day. For me, this is no easy task, but using a website like this Writing Exercise one  is often a great help. Today I used the random words generator, which spat out these eight lovely words:

tongue
cheat
curved
piano
reject
enormous
coffee
  anger 

The idea  is to write non-stop for 10-15 minutes and incorporate all of the words into a story that is somewhat cohesive. Here is my attempt. Let me know what you think.

Holding your tongue both literally and metaphorically is a hard thing to do. Today, Gillian asked me to “hold my tongue” when I almost spilled her most private secret to a room full of friends. How dare she expect so much of me? How dare she expect me to keep such monumental information all to myself? It’s too big a task for an honest, simpleton such as I.

To hold my wet, slippery tongue literally would involve some logistics. If it’s not considered a cheat, I would simply dry my tongue out by breathing with it flopping all wiggly-piggly out of my mouth with taking deep breaths. Then, once dry, I would snatch a hold of with my fingers, and Ta-Da. Tongue held. However, to hold it in its naturally slimy state would take more finesse, and much more thinking. This is neither here or there, but how my wondering mind works.

Gillian has a curved, sensual, womanly body. Although, I would never tell her that. I have been her best friend for way to long, I am sure that door is well closed. That, and even she admits I am an awkward fool. She is also married, to a dink… I mean… A very well-respected man. Together, they have two children, a Rottweiler named Bruce, and me, I guess. I live in their pool house. I guess I should introduce myself. My name is Peter. Nice to meet you. I have known Gillian since we were kids, and she has always looked out for me. I can only assume, out of pity. In her words I am “Smart as they come, but when they come as people, I am dumb as bricks”. I don’t think that’s a compliment.

Last week, I saw something I was not supposed to see. Walking into the house, Gillian was naked. Completely naked, and laying on top of their grand piano. I tried not to look, but the vision was stunning. Legs for days. Curves like mountains I have read about and more beauty than what historical paintings have shown me. I finally pulled my stare away and turned to leave quietly, when I saw him. No, not her husband. Not Carlos, even though he is not my favourite person, I wouldn’t wish this on him. This man was familiar, although I could not place it. When he walked into the room, they both saw me. Gill shouted at me to forget what I saw and get lost. I did as I was told. As I always do.

The first time she pushed the “reject button” with me was in junior high, when I asked her to go to the movies. Even back then she would push me aside for the boys who could skateboard, or handle monkey bars. Not the boy who read poetry under her windowsill, or searched the dictionary every day for new words to describe her. Exquisite: extremely beautiful and, typically, delicate. This time, though, catching her with a man who isn’t me. That hurt. I can’t explain why, but it did.

Later, she came to talk to me about her enormous problem. She made me swear not to tell anyone, especially Carl. She was going to tell him, let him down easy, all in due time, yadda yadda yadda. But for now, I had to keep my mouth shut. I don’t like keeping secrets.

 Almost spilling the beans came oddly after delivering fresh coffee to a room full of friends gathered at Gillian and Carl’s house. I came in from the kitchen with the hot pot and went to pour it for a good friend of ours, when he set his mini egg sandwich down on the grand piano. I knocked hot coffee everywhere as my stomach lurched. I may be a bit of a Germaphobe. As the hot coffee was spilling and everyone was searching for an explanation to my outburst, I started saying something like “Gillian’s bare a…..” when Gillian cut me off. 

“My bare naked baby girl was sitting on there, but don’t worry, Brett, I washed it. Peter is a bit afraid of naked baby germs. Don't mind him.” Afterwards, she laughed nervously shot a terrifying look my way.

The room laughed, and I could see Gillian ushering me into the kitchen using a brief arm gesture and a fake smile. Here, I got a fine lengthy lecture from Angry Gill. All I really understood was that I needed to hold my tongue, or leave the house for good. I told her I hated her every human fiber (I am sure that should have been "every fiber of her being" but I wasn't thinking right), and I would be gone by sunrise.  Where has being honest gotten me, anyhow?

 

*If you enjoy the story, I would love to hear title suggestions, as I have yet to pick one* 

Reading Books & Drinking Wine

Most people know me as an outgoing person. A social butterfly. A Selfie Queen and party girl. If I asked you whether I am an introvert, or an extrovert, many would answer extrovert. Hands down. Here is where you’re wrong:

An introvert is best described as someone who gives their energy to other wonderful people. Where an extrovert takes the energy from others. An extrovert needs people around much of the time to lift them up and to thrive, whereas an introvert requires down time to re-charge before they face people again. That is me.

I give my energy away, and gladly so. However, when the crowd disperses, and everyone has gone home. I head straight for some alone time. A bubble bath, a good book, and if I am so lucky, a glass of red wine. This is my quiet, tranquil, heaven.

Reading a book allows my brain to reset, to focus, and restore any given (or sometimes stolen) mental energy.

Wine helps to relax, rest, and enjoy the capabilities of my developed adult taste buds.

It’s a perfect combination, a match made in love, and my go-to on the in-between days. The days were there is no dance party, or rooftop BBQ, or family to visit. The days where it pours rain, or worse, snow. I stay in, curl up in bed or on the couch and read. If my other, better, half is in the apartment, reading may be replaced by television shows so we can be together but simultaneously numb to the real world. It’s fabulous.

What I am getting at, and the reason for this post is to show that even us non-stop, party-rocking, individuals with huge personalities require downtime. Rest – Restore – Do it all again. Books, shows, bubble baths, coffee and an occasional hefty glass of red; that’s where I get my energy to socialize. Whether you enjoy me for my crazy laughter, un-filtered words, or watching me fall at a party, I hope you will keep that tiny piece of energy and cherish it. It is my gift to you and the reason I rest. 

:) 

Lauren