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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write.
Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground.
 
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Everyday Canvas
"Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself."
CHARLIE CHAPLIN
Sometimes it takes darkness and the sweet
confinement of your aloneness
to learn
anything or anyone
that does not bring you alive
is too small for you.
David Whyte
This is my supplementary blog in which I will post entries written for prompts.
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Prompt: Write about a picture on a postcard. Does this post card have special meaning for you?
I’d rather receive a letter than a postcard as a letter is more intimate and shows sincerity. Having said that, I love the Christmas postcards with the photos of the families on them. One such card I am keeping is my daughter-in-law’s stepfather and his parents with the rest of the family. His parents have passed away now, and each time I look at that card, I remember them and think how lucky we are to have known so many people and to have in my hand some reflection of them while they were showing their best moods.
Prompt: Does taking selfies show narcissism? What about taking selfies with animals, especially wild animals, and disturbing their peace?
Selfies and narcissism? Not always. Don’t we write about ourselves? Is that narcissism, too? I rather think we take selfies to record the different stages and moods we are in; although, I am awful when it comes to taking selfies. My worst shoots are the selfies.
Taking selfies with others is all right if the other people agree to it; however, I would be wary of it if I am holding the camera or the cellphone myself. If anyone else takes the photo, it is fine with me. Taking selfies with pets is okay, too, because they are cute and we want to record the moment. Most pets are happy and love being with us, and usually, they don’t mind the camera.
As to wild animals, let’s face it; when a wild animal attacks, harms, or kills a person, it’s a tragedy. This epidemic of taking selfies with wild animals has me stumped, and I don’t understand why a sane person would mess with a possibly frightened animal, no matter how large or small, and why anyone would not respect the privacy of any animal. The harm that a selfie may cause to that animal may not be intended, but it still shows disrespect for its being.
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Prompt: We all think we know what truth is; however, what if truth is really a collection of feelings and attitudes? Or do emotions and attitudes affect truth in some way? What are your thoughts on this?
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It is difficult to figure out the difference between what is exactly true and what seems to be true. Yet, truth itself is a concrete entity that we can only understand or interpret it through our conscious experiences.
I know my feet is my feet because I can feel my feet, and if a pin suddenly pricks a toe, I’ll feel the sting, but if the same pin pricked someone else’s foot, I would be totally clueless. This is because I consciously experienced the truth of my foot and the pin. Yet, a foot and a pin are concrete things. We experience the truths of concrete things with our five senses.
As to the truths of abstract things and thoughts, the way we experience the truths of the abstract things depends on our judgment of them because we humans think in terms of analogies. We think if something A is like something B; therefore, something A, in its true existence, has to equal something B in some way. This conclusion is the result of our knowing or, in other words, our consciousness.
For example, we cannot hold jealousy in our hands and neither can we smell, see, or hear it, but we know jealousy when we feel it in our psyche. Yet, if we were taught in our upbringing that jealousy is a bad thing, we would refuse to believe that the feeling of jealousy existed inside us; instead, our truth of the said jealousy would slide toward our learned attitudes. In this sense, the truth of jealousy depends on the result of our emotions and attitudes, which means, the truth of anything abstract is subject to the interpretation of each person’s feelings and attitudes.
Take the truth of the recent terrorist attack in Orlando. We in the USA are horrified by the evil truth of it. Yet, the person who perpetrated that attack felt and believed in a different kind of glorified truth concerning the same attack. Here was one truth, which was that the attack did take place, but the interpretation of it changed according to who judged it.
This goes to show that the judgment of the truth of most anything depends on the people’s attitudes and emotions. This personalization of truth has to do with each person or group’s consciousness and the way they feel, think, and know through their learned attitudes.
The question, then, is can and should we deal with the problems of personalized truths or act as if they didn’t exist? I would certainly go for the first option of doing something about any personalized truths that hurt other people.
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Prompt: " I don't have to be what you want me to be. I'm free to be what I want."~ Muhammad Ali
What do you think he meant by this famous quote? Has his struggle made a difference in society? Do you have that same kind of conviction about your own beliefs?
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I don’t know what exactly Muhammad Ali meant, but this is what I think on the same subject.
Even if we are here on Earth without our consent, we need to choose and act freely to be how we want to be. Freedom of choice is the key here. No one should choose for anyone else without consent. On the other hand, the choices we make shouldn’t hurt others or invade their property or personal values. What shouldn’t be forgotten any time is that a responsibility is attached to all our freedoms.
Ali’s struggle was an eye-opener for the society in general, and I applauded Ali when he refused to go to a war he didn’t believe in, even if that meant losing what was important to him. Rather than what he did in boxing, however, he has been a real champ in the way he treated less fortunate people and in the way he handled the authorities to force them into re-thinking their laws and deeds. Plus, he was a generous, compassionate man with a sense of humor and he helped many people and charities, but I am an old timer, and I didn’t like it when he said, “I am the greatest!” I think, even if you don’t believe in a Creator, no one can be greater than the entire Creation.
It is also true that I was never in Ali’s situation, so saying that I have the same or similar kind of conviction would be an off-hand statement. I have, however, stood my ground on things important to me, and this includes the family I grew up in and the family I have now. Still, I am not a fighter. I rather handle things amicably than fight fiercely, and I try not to “sting like a bee.” Even with verbal arguments, not that I give in, but I am not very good with harsh words. For that, I usually refer to and act on Ali’s another quote that says: "Silence is golden when you can't think of a good answer." 
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Prompt: What do you think makes you a good friend, significant other or spouse? Are there specific tricks to having a discussion about issues without causing hard feelings like using I feel instead of you are? What works best for you?
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I love the sign that merchants used to hang on their shop windows, once upon a time: Caveat Emptor, meaning buyer beware.
If you made a friend or bonded with a significant other or a spouse whose characteristics, modus operandi, and behavior you can vouch for, the rest should be easy enough. This applies to me, too, and here is my Caveat Emptor: I am not perfect. With some things, I am not even lukewarm good; though, with most of the stuff in life, I manage all right. I can never claim I am a perfect friend or spouse, although I try.
For my own peace of mind, from the start, I am picky with people who are and will be close to me, and I believe in the saying, to have (or make someone into) a good friend, be a good friend. Once I am sure I want that relationship, I offer a good ear and a shoulder. I am not quick to jump to negative conclusions, either. If I do, I do it inside my head and investigate the situation further. Then, if I am certain something is amiss, I ask the other person nicely. I don’t go like, “I feel…” as the shrinks advise. I just say it straight. For example, “When such and such happened, what did you think? Did you think I were to blame?”
Most of the time, if there’s friction, I try to reduce it in some way. If the friction grows and I can’t handle it, I am out of that situation. Yes, I don’t hesitate to take the flight option when fight or flight is offered to me.
Also, I never say, you are this or that. The minute one says “you are,” it means a blame is coming, unless the words “you are” are preceded by an if. “If you are mad at me about this and that…” On the other hand, I don’t hesitate to say “I am,” such as: I am sorry; I am hurt; I am angry; I am upset; I am not sure of this situation; I am not sure I acted the right way, etc.
Having written all that so far, I can’t claim I handle every single person effectively. There is someone who, luckily, lives too far away to annoy me on a daily basis. I avoid her like the plague because I just can’t handle her. There are and will be people like that in my life and in everyone’s life. I didn’t choose that person to be related to me. It so happened that she is. When I see that person, I let on very little to nothing about myself and I encourage her to talk about herself; therefore, I avoid causing her to concentrate on me so to find something she could hook her claws into. Plus, I am overly polite to her. I learned this being overly polite toward nasty people from watching a newscaster, Walter Cronkite. The more aggressive the person he would be talking to became, the politer Cronkite would address him. I think it works, at least some of the time. 
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Prompt: "If we could look into each other's hearts and understand the unique challenges each of us faces, I think we would treat each other much more gently with more love, patience, tolerance and care.”
Marvin J Ashton
How do you feel about this?
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I certainly agree with Martin Ashton; however, the act of looking into someone else’s heart and understanding their unique situation is not as easy as uttering profound statements, and this is certainly not for everyone because even those who are good students of human nature can fail to achieve such an in-depth look into someone else’s heart.
In addition, part of understanding others comes from the knowledge, respect, and the ability to deal in a right way with the diversity of people and their cultural differences. All human behavior is the result of some form of influence such as genetics, attitude, emotions, culture, and the specific comprehension of ethics and behavioral habits within a group, which is called the social norm. Good managers and leaders understand this and treat people working under them accordingly.
Still, with all our differences and distinctions, each human being wants the same things out of life like purpose, fulfillment, happiness, and being respected. Yet, most of us, knowingly or unknowingly believe that our way is the right way and our path is the only single correct path without making an effort to take into account or at least to respect other points of view.
If we could get over ourselves and try to truly understand each other, we would all be very happy on the face of this earth, because understanding others supports the feeling of belonging, and a lack of understanding not only prevents the feeling of belonging but also it can create enemies. Most wars, arguments, fights and altercations are the results of simple misunderstandings blown out of proportion.
In understanding others, understanding alone may not be enough, either. After the initial understanding, it is important to figure out how to act, behave, or react to others. Part of this is in knowing what drives the human behavior and respecting the energy behind it. Then, we need to know how to talk properly for the occasion to persuade and inspire people so we can achieve common objectives.
For this end, we all need to learn tolerance first. After that, we can move toward an acceptance of people whether they are like us or not. Even past the tolerance and acceptance of others, we need to respect and appreciate the differences. When we sincerely respect and appreciate people for who they are but not who we want them to be, then we can achieve the true understanding that Marvin J Ashton has mentioned in the prompt's quote.
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Prompt by Megan: "I am not strange, weird, off, nor crazy; my reality is just different from yours.”
Alice-Through The Looking Glass
As a big fan of the latest Alice movie, I couldn't resist! What is your view on this?
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Nietzche said, “There are no facts, only interpretations.” I think the idea behind Nietzche’s words validate what Alice said in Through the Looking Glass.
Case in point: Yesterday, I read a story which started as a murder-mystery. Its ending, however, was a disappointment for me because both the murdered and the murderer died, and while on the other side, God sent one of them to Heaven, the other to Hell. Now, in the beginning or the middle of the story, there was no mention of God or Heaven or Hell; it was a clear-cut, stark murder mystery with serious action and everything. I reacted to the story from the viewpoint of a reader and as someone who is acquainted with the writing craft. This sudden turn was a put-off for me in a big way. Yet, two other reviews for the same story were laudatory. Those people who praised the story said that it was time God got into things and words of that nature.
Now their reality is certainly different from mine. Not that I am wrong or that they are wrong, but it is our viewpoints that are different. They think if something has to do with religion or God, it has to be great, and if I were to answer such reviews or argue my thoughts from the standpoint of the writing craft, they would think I was “strange, weird, off, or crazy” plus a godless heretic for not thinking like them; therefore, our very personal perspectives together with our prior or instilled knowledge and beliefs are the culprits that separate us.
Our earth is a small dot in the vast cosmos. Because this universe is so humbling when we compare our planet’s size to it, our different perspectives should not encourage an imagined self-importance for anyone, and we do have a responsibility to deal more kindly with one another in view of the fact that we all need to stick together for our kind to exist as long as possible.
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Prompt: “We can never know what to want,” said Milan Kundera. What do you think he meant?
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This seems to be a statement about human nature as to what constitutes our happiness. We humans want one thing, and when we get it, that thing loses its value. Our wants are endless and they come one after the other, sometimes stepping on or jumping over one another; but why?
I think, it is because we want to live, whether we like it or not, and as long as we are here, we want to make life meaningful for us. For that end, some of us think we want love, others security and comfort, others power, others pleasure, and still others fame. Our happiness usually depends on what we want at the moment that we want it.
Yet, it might be true that “we can never know what to want” with so many different options and combinations. If what we want covers so many different grounds, aside from getting our basic needs met, how would we know what we really need for our true happiness?
The way I look at it, the goal of life is growth according to the conditions of human existence for the satisfaction of what we have in our potentialities, but this growth can only happen with freedom, internal and external. Freedom from outside sources enables us to pursue the fulfilling of the potential inside each one of us. Freedom from inside can be more difficult, however.
Overcoming the internal forces such as hate, greed, egoism, narcissism, and illusions that make us ill-fated is the first step in this direction. Of all these, egoism and narcissism come in many guises, and they are the main forces that confuse us as to what we want. Then, in addition, the attainment of love, compassion, and unselfish service to others will more likely lead us toward our internal freedom.
In plain words, an unliberated person who always misses on what he wants will think, I am what I have or own. A truly free person who can pinpoint what he wants will think, I am what I am and what I do. Yet, this kind of freedom is rarely attained, and most of the time, the human nature, being what it is, is never satisfied even if all that a person wants is accomplished.
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Prompt: What does creepiness mean to you? And what does a creepy person/character look like?
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Creepiness is if I can’t tell there’s a threat or not. Creepiness can be attached to situations, places, and people. It usually has to do with nonverbal or physical characteristics.
A totally unknown situation may be creepy. For example, going to a party where I don’t know anyone and was not told to wear a mask but the people there are all wearing masks.
As to places, some such as haunted houses may be creepy. Is it because I think of them as being creepy or are they really threatening me in some way should be the question here since my mind could play numerous tricks on me, also.
Talking about minds, as to people being creepy, it could just be that the person I might think creepy may be someone who cannot properly interpret social cues and norms and their actions and appearances may not seem quite the same as the general population, such as autistics and people with mental disabilities. This, we all may need to consider.
As to the creepiness in the actions or physical appearances of people, these factors may play a role: Creepy traits and behaviors may include: insistently talking too much about a topic that could make others uneasy; not letting someone out of conversation; laughing at inappropriate times; smiling peculiarly; standing too close to someone; displaying unwanted sexual interest; displaying too much or too little emotion; licking lips constantly, etc.
As to the appearance of a person, weird or dirty clothes, bulging eyes, pasty skin, too long fingers, greasy hair and dark eye bags or anything on the face or the body that attracts unnecessary attention would creep out most people. I don’t much pay attention or look too carefully at people, so these may not apply to me all the time; however, if one or more of these is accompanied by the behaviors in the earlier paragraph, I might find that person unusual.
Then, creepiness may come in expected and accepted norms, too. The real danger is in this kind of creepiness. Sometimes, a soft-spoken, polite and friendly person, too, may have something about him or her that can make me want to flee. It may be my intuition alerting me or my mind has stepped into overdrive. In any case, I think it is better to be safe than sorry.
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Prompt: Funny hat, crazy shoes, weird handbag, dazzling hair - I'm so ready for this interview but are you?
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Jordan Whippet with the funny Adolf-Hitler mustache was standing on the eleventh-floor ledge, threatening to jump, when I walked in for the interview. Hamilton Rogers walked in the room, zipping up his pants. Was he just out of the men's room or was he doing Ginny, the secretary, again, I couldn’t tell.
Hamilton yelled at Jordan. “Jordan, cut the shit out. We have that interviewee, here again!”
“That’s why I want to jump,” Jordan sobbed. “I am mad as hell, and I can’t take it, anymore!”
“All right! All right! I’ll take her today,” Hamilton yelled again, and then he muttered softly, “The guy’s off his rocker, again.”
“Whee!” Jordan stepped back into the room, disappearing through the side door. I guessed he gave up on killing himself.
“It isn’t my hat, this time, Mr.Rogers,” I said, turning to Hamilton. “I didn’t wear the replica of the Carmen-Miranda hat. This little number has only a couple of birds on it: a jay and a pelican, which are also on my shoes. The right shoe has the pelican and the left the jay. My bag, too, with the furry look has the same birds on it. I like to match my accessories.”
Hamilton averted his eyes from my hat to my shoes with the pointy tips and the birds. Then, he looked at me as if I were a boil on his backside, but he regained his composure again and pointed to a chair.
“Please, Miss Doosie, make yourself comfortable,” he said politely, marching around me to the desk and sitting down with a solid thud. “Which job are you applying for in our company again, today?”
“I am open to suggestions,” I said. “Although I’d love to work in the fashion department.”
He took a sharp intake of air and was silent for a minute or two, but he answered me, still politely. “You know that didn’t work out well the last time.”
I pouted and shook my head, knowing he wouldn’t be able to help himself and I was right. He took out his smart phone and pointed it at me. Was he taking my picture, again?
By this time, the hat had slipped in front of my eyes, due to the shaking of my head, and the birds hung in the air with their tiny beaks toward my nose. I gingerly took off the hat and placed it on the desk in front of Hamilton. Then I shook my head right and left to let my dazzling red hair with the golden sparkles fall in place.
“Perfect, Miss Doosie!” Hamilton exclaimed. “I’ll see what our advertisers can do with this video. They said funny ads attract more customers. About your job request, I am sorry to deny it, but you will be paid handsomely for the use of this video; I am very sure of that. Now, is there anything else I can help you with?”
I nodded, picked up my hat, and walked out.
The money was very good, but I so hate smartphones!
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Prompt: Be yourself. Everyone else is spoken for. What is your take on this?
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How nice! Certainly, I do agree with this derivative of a saying attributed to what one of my favorite authors Oscar Wilde. “Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” If he didn't really say that, Wilde certainly uttered this: “Most people are other people; their thoughts are someone else’s opinions, their lives a mimicry, their passions a quotation.”
From the psychological point of view, when a person is being himself, it will be easier for him or her to see what they want out of life and what is truly important to them. To choose the right persons, friends, and environment that would nurture their freedoms would also help such a person to be unique and stay authentic.
Our civilization is in dire need of authenticity and authentic people, not those who are bad copies of others in one way or another. This mimicry--in other words mob behavior--is not only in human nature but also in the nature of animals who live their lives in groups or herds, which makes me think that such a tendency may have been engraved into our genes, at least partly. Mimicking others is the way we learn about life and how to do anything to survive.
Still, that learning has to produce a genuine human being who can think or act for himself eventually. A person’s failing to do so after reaching the age of maturity implies his being a coward.
In addition, progress and evolution are the results of original ideas and inventions by authentic people. Such people, with their own opinions, style, thinking, characters and distinct personalities, add much to the diversity of human beings everywhere.
Another point addresses the general tendency of individuals to disregard their own established principles just to stay out of trouble or public disapproval. This is wearing a social mask, which can also be called hypocrisy. Individuality, on the other hand, can only be formed by not being afraid of making mistakes and learning from them.
Yet, while different kinds of experiences, ideals, and principles nourish the human societies, true authenticity doesn’t mean going against and ridiculing with animosity everything that others revere, either, since authenticity also means respecting the other people’s rights and freedoms to be themselves.
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Prompt: What was your worst summer job? What was your best summer job?
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Summer jobs, especially for teens, enhance the sense of belonging as active members of society and boost their self-esteem as individuals. They also teach the management of money, no matter on how small a scale.
As for me, all my summer jobs were centered around tutoring. I was pretty good in school. One classmate’s younger sister was having trouble with a few of her subjects. After I tutored her during the summer so she could take the make-up exams later, she passed every one of them and with good to great grades. After that, lots of people brought their kids to me. I didn’t have to work anywhere else until I finished school. I also had a stint with working in the library part time one summer. Nothing was bad or too good about all these jobs. I enjoyed them as they were rather cushy, and I learned a thing or two while doing them.
I kinda wish, though, I would have taken other jobs like a sales clerk, fast-food worker, etc. I would learn about and understand the business world better. Possibly as the result of that, I am terrible at selling anything. In fact, selling scares me. I, therefore, encouraged my kids to work in different places during their formative years, and one of them turned out to be very good with sales of any kind in an ethical way.
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Prompt: “A perfect life makes horrible art.” -- Chris Rock, comedian
If you had a perfect life, would you give it up to create brilliant artwork of any kind?
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Heck, no, to the idea of a perfect life against creating brilliance! With respect to Chris Rock, there is no such thing as a perfect life. Inside the soup that is put in front of each one of us, one fly or even a swarm of flies always exist.
Still, supposing there is such a thing as a perfect life, would I give it up for artwork? Maybe or maybe not. I mean, I am in love with perfection, okay, even near perfection. On the other hand, being able to create such a brilliant anything would be part of what I would call perfection, too. To refrain from creating would have made my imaginary perfect life imperfect.
Yet, the psychologists and those who do those questionable statistics claim that people who have had to suffer or fight against and survive the early-life difficulties produce better writing and other artwork. I think, this, too, is an iffy supposition because writers and painters from easier and more nurturing backgrounds have produced just as brilliant work, too.
In this category, what first pops up into my head are two names, although we’ll never know the ins and outs of their seemingly better early lives. One is Jean Francois Millet whose work is said to influence Van Gogh, and the other is Sir Joshua Reynolds, who learned the apothecary trade in his teens and who later said: “"I would rather be an apothecary than an ordinary painter, but if I could be bound to an eminent master, I would choose the latter." He is a master all right, and both these men in their earlier lives, despite the biographers claims that their childhoods were storm-free, had to work very hard, one in his father’s farm, the other with serious studies.
Then, I thought of Hemingway and checked up on him:
http://www.lostgeneration.com/childhood.htm
Hemingway’s childhood, too, on the surface, seemed easier. That is, he didn’t lose either parent, didn’t experience hunger or other misfortunes, and he had at least one parent who took an interest in him. This goes to show that having that so-called easier life is in no way a hindrance to creating brilliance.
So sorry, Chris Rock and those who think the earlier misfortunes have something to do with talent and brilliance, what you say doesn’t hold water, at least for me.
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Prompt: What do you remember as sounds (e.g. clapping, cheering, being yelled at, raindrops, thunder etc.) from your childhood or from any phase of your life? Write about it in any type, form, or style you wish.
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I recall my childhood through its sounds, most of which were anchored in love and amazement that circled inside the mind, fortifying my bond to memories. What I recall may be snippets of remembrances that arrive in flashes, but as if I have traveled backward in time, I feel I am reliving them all over again.
Such are the sounds, like: The shuffling of cards or the moving of the backgammon pieces and the rolling of the dice when my uncles played with each other; the big splash my cousin made when she fell into the murky well, after which it took three men to rescue her; on laundry day, the swishing of the damp sheets on the line; the breaking of the earth by the hoes and spades before the sowing in spring; the pinwheels whirling on the flower beds; the pitter-patter of the rain on the umbrella, which my grandfather held with one hand while holding me up and carrying me with the other; the roar of thunder; the songs my aunt sang and the sliding of her slippers as she danced to her own singing; the bell on the front door ringing with its strange noise; the meows of the kittens born just a few days ago in the big box; the waving flags over everything in a parade whose sounds were outdone by the band; the whirring of fans in hot summer nights; the bluish, jazzy voice of the burgers on the grill that used to creep me out; the ding-dong of the ice-cream truck, singing its ditty; trunks of the cars, opening with the promise of gifts; wind stirring in the bushes; the waves breaking and lapping onto the beach and the spilling of sand from the little shovel as I attempted to load my colorful pail; the hammering of nails by the handyman while he fixed things around the place; the leaves falling from the trees with a slight complaint while my boots crunched the piles on the ground; the beautiful silence of snow broken by me and my aunt while we made snow angels on it; my mother’s whispering by the fence to the next door neighbor in her futile attempt to hide from me what she’s saying; the hasty sounds my mother’s pen made as it sprinted on the page when she wrote to my father who was away and stayed away.
When I look back, the cacophony that arises stuns me, and I ask myself, has anything ever happened that I did not forget due to its sounds?
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“Either life entails courage or it ceases to be life,” said E. M.Forster. Does a nasty happening spur me to love life more or does it make me feel like giving up?
In the face of what happened in Orlando, early Sunday morning, I feel sad and sickened, but in no way shall I give up on life or on the goodness of the people in general. If anything, such a horrible event brings out the best in everyone, well, at least in every person who is a decent human being.
The same kind of courage can be applied to writing. No matter how much we wish to write well, we can’t afford to compare our writing to others and feel like less of a writer. Our writing, at its core and through its nature, surfaces from who we are as people. For that reason alone, no matter how good or bad we write, we won’t be like any other brilliant author, or for that fact, any other writer because being unique is being one of a kind.
To become a good writer or an exceptional one, however, we need to find that uniqueness within ourselves. This we can achieve by mining what is there already inside of us. This, too, takes the same kind of courage E. M. Forster is talking about, which is some painful and tiresome work. It takes courage putting our most personal and strongest beliefs on a page and open it up to others’ criticism, misunderstanding, and if we are lucky, appreciation.
In other words, we have to put our hearts on the line in a delicate yet insightful way. That is, we have to be ourselves, which is the most courageous we can be.
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Are you a better sport as an adult or more competitive than you were as a child?
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I wasn’t competitive at all as a child, possibly because of having no siblings. I learned competition from the society as I grew up. As an adult, I am still not very competitive, if alone, but put me in a team, I turn into a tiger, surprising even myself. I don’t know why this is so with me. Is it because I want the work done or is it because I like the excitement of it? Possibly it is both.
Yet, it is said that competition brings out the best in output but the worst in people. In addition, it has long and short term negative effects on the losers, who might label themselves as failures.
Even so, those negatives can be handled with TLC, urging people into friendships with the rivals and lifting the moods of those who lose in a race by stroking their egos and pointing out to them the good things they did during the challenge.
I think the good side of all competition should be encouraged, also, because of the drive from within an individual to accomplish a goal, to bring out the best in people, and help everyone to better understand themselves. After all, what is wrong with being a competitive person if that person is ambitious, achievement-oriented with leadership qualities, and has a healthy level of self-esteem while he or she shows respect to his or her rivals?
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Prompt: Pick something off the desk or table nearest to you and write a short poem or story about it.
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“Awesome!!, Now it’s very easy to do projects at home. We have selected few DIY arduino projects for beginners; we have explained everything in specific project page along with code. Let’s see which are the first top 10 projects. Feel free to leave a comment if you have any questions,” says the ELECTRONICS HUB page.
“Awesome!” is right, if the page is referring to the two HUBs inside which I have stored all my work and preferences; however, if the page is referring to the most improbable fact that I opened it with the idea of learning how to make or program a HUB, they can wait forever. 
I have two hubs attached to my laptop. Time and experience have taught me that once the hard disk and the computer goes, the entire contents go bye-bye with it; therefore, now, long live the flash drives! Yet, I have flash drives ranging from 2gbs to 128gbs filling a box. So, for the most used ones and those in current use, my two HUBs have come to the rescue.
My first-born HUB is Anker 3.0. It has four slots and it takes all kinds of flash drives. It has served me well, but four slots, although good enough, didn’t have circuit breakers. So came the second one, Tonsum, a generic one-I think, with seven slots, courtesy of Amazon. Tonsum, now has all its slots filled and Anker is relieved to one slot only. Its other slots are reserved for camera and MP3 players' plugs.
I couldn’t be happier with my two HUBs, especially the one with circuit breakers. When I put the laptop to sleep, I turn off all the slots, so when the computer wakes up, it doesn’t have to overwork. I only hope my two hubs last forever together with my flash drives.
When I tried to explain all this to my husband, he grimaced. I bet he thought I was more considerate of my laptop than of real people, but I have to be. A person, on the average can live from 60 to 100 years, if not more. A laptop in my hands, however, is subjected to a very short life, which is usually three to four years...if it’s lucky. Especially, now that I bought the cheapest laptop in Staples… 
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Prompt: "There is so much about the process of writing that is mysterious to me but this one thing I've found to be true: writing begets writing." Dorianne Laux
Do you think this is true about writing?
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Absolutely! It is especially true about writing. For one thing: We, writers, are never bored because through writing, which means also reading, we are already dealing with subjects more exciting, more interesting, and more unthinkable than we might otherwise fathom. Even if bored, we can write about our boredom if nothing else jumps to our minds. Through writing regularly, we get into the habit of working with what is given, what is available, or what can be explored further.
We, writers, write anyway, whether we are stuck, whether we think we are writing badly, whether we have relationship problems in real life. We know how to burden our characters with our very own problems and feelings and get away with it; that is, we can always shrug and say, “it was just fiction,” without attracting attention to ourselves or making anyone else angry. Through writing, we also examine our own perspective and feelings in a deeper fashion, and if any ugliness exists somewhere we manage to move past it more quickly than a non-writer possibly can.
We, writers, also write about what we see around us, inside our own heads or imaginations, or what we read in the news. If a writer says he or she is blocked, to me, it means he or she isn’t seeing what is in front of him. For example, I can fill volumes just describing the objects inside the room I am in now plus the impressions and stories they bring to my mind. It would not be the best writing in the world, but it would fulfill the needs of my writing obsession, wouldn’t it?
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Prompt: "I heard an angel speak last night and she said: "Write!" Elizabeth Barrett Browning Do you ever feel like an angel has talked to you?"
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All the time, though not through words specifically in speaking. Of course, this, too, depends on your definition of an angel.
Still, no angel told me to write. It was my uncle first, then my teachers in Grade, Middle, and High schools. I guess I can call them angels.
Angels or rather the idea of angels have been around in human minds since the birth of humanity, but who can say what an angel is? Even the spiritual people or the people of religions cannot agree on their shapes and what they are. Yet, most agree that not all angels need to have wings as imagined by most.
Angels write to me, review my work, and send me C-notes and other goodies to lift my spirits up, right here in WdC.
Then, there are unseen angels who warn me if a danger is lurking somewhere. Their advice comes in some form of my intuition.
There are also angels when I feel I am in a bind and, lo and behold, the whole thing suddenly clears up. The kudos in such cases has to go to the angels or unseen forces of some kind.
Before the Internet, I would go to a bookstore to find information on a specific subject. Once or twice, such books fell on me from the upper shelves. Now, who sent those books down to me, while the store’s staff were either at the registers or somewhere else? “Ask and you shall receive” is the promise, yes, but who carries that promise to its finish line?
Then maybe, the most important angels take the human form and they live among us as humans. Maybe us humans have the inclination to act as angels from time to time. Being angelic doesn’t necessarily mean you have to have two wings and you cannot live like people. The goodness in people is what may turn them into angels, too.
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Prompt: Most of us enjoy stand-up comedy, but what do you think of stand-up comedy and stand-up comics? What turns a person with a funny-bone in him or her into a stand-up comic?
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I always liked the stand-up comics if what they said were funny and it hit a nerve; however, I think this has to be a very difficult job to do, especially the writing of the material. First, you have to know your audience and what makes them tick. Second, you mustn’t have scruples as to who you are going to attack with your jokes, including yourself and your own family. In addition, the material has to be fresh if delivered more than twice in the same location. Then, you mustn’t pick subjects that would make everyone mad. No wonder, such funny people often seem troubled!
Yet, the essence is in the word “seem” in my last sentence for chances are these people may only seem to be psychologically unhealthy and they may be perfectly fine in their everyday lives.
Then, there is that ability to write humor. Not every comic writes his own material. Some of them employ several writers and when they go on stage, they are no more than the actors who have perfected their timing in telling jokes. These types of actors depend on not only the timing but also on the use of the subtle social signals such as gestures, gazing or staring at the audience, and the use of their bodies while telling their jokes.
What turns a person into a stand-up comic? I think it is us, the audience. What the comics tell us may be funny, but anything funny in a subject alien to us wouldn’t make us laugh. What would make us laugh are the subjects we know about or better yet disturbed about, which should be freshly delivered. We like stand-up comics because they validate our likes, dislikes, and prejudices, and in return, our recognition and cheering can encourage an actor or a comedy writer to turn into or continue on being a stand-up comic.
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Prompt: What do you think is the difference between a short-short story and a prose poem? This question is because some people are mixing up the two.
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One difference is time. A prose poem can ignore time, but fiction depends a lot on time, as to what happened when.
Another difference is that a prose poem is composed of densely situated words, their subject being a description or the expression of feelings, sometimes regardless of grammar and good sentence construction. While it lacks the line breaks of regular poetry, the prose poem often uses poetic tools such as fragmentation, compression, rhyme. and repetition. A short-short story, since it has to tell a story, is more of a narrative, even if some of its sentences could be sentence fragments.
Although the prose poem appears as prose, it reads like a poem. A prose poem need not be about a character. Fiction, in any genre and length, is always about characters because a short-short story always tells a story since any fiction, short or long, depends on its characters, setting, plot, conflict, and theme.
A short-short story is limited as to the number of words, possibly 300 to 500, while a prose poem can be in any length from a few lines to several pages long and it can use numerous subjects and styles.
In essence, while a prose poem is the more relaxed form of poetry, a short-short story, also called flash fiction, has special challenges for introducing the characters and situation and making something happen.
Off the top of my head, here are two examples:
Prose poem:
Rain comes in shimmering waves like the tide to erase the distances between winter and spring and washes away the leftover snow in watery drip-drip-drip-drips that waltz on the eaves. Mud and slosh instead of the fish bones on the beach. Bulbs of trumpet daffodils showing up their heads through the softened soil, as if waking up groggily in surprise. In the city, birds are beginning to chirp to the traffic, but in the woods, silence…and my unending loneliness.
A short-short story:
He left me in the cabin for three weeks, saying not to step out of the place for it could be dangerous and he’d be all mine when he returned. He made sure I understood that he had serious business to take care of in the city. Monkey business for sure, I thought, as I perused the fridge that he had filled to the brim.
This place with unreliable wiring definitely needed a dependable handyman. Even the drywall was coming apart in some places. Still, I stayed in and constantly listened to the radio playing the oldies. On the last day, tired of my predicament, I burst into tears, but reason took over, and I ventured outside to find him. I thought maybe I could hitch a ride to the city, regardless of his possible anger and macho friends with dirty dealings.
I few steps on the driveway, I spotted a wheelbarrow piled with rotting leaves. An envelope inside a plastic bag was attached to its handle. It read: “He’s all yours, now!”
I swooshed off the leaves from the top and saw him, neatly folded inside the wheelbarrow. His eyes, though scratched by twigs, were still open, staring at me, as if saying, “I told you I’d be back!”
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