Monday, September 5, 2011
Finances
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Life is a Half Marathon
This November I will be running in a half marathon. It's going to hurt my legs pretty bad. In fact they already hurt often. I've been trying to think of some way in which this can be turned into and example of life's struggles and how we can push through them, but unfortunately, not everything can be an elaborate metaphor. Sometimes, your legs simply hurt because you've run a lot.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
The Way I See It #2
As of Late, I began to have the ideas of adulthood fill my head. This is such a dreadful occurrence and if you have yet to have it happen, I urge you to avoid it at all costs. You see adults think of nothing than To-do’s and To-da’s. All day gibberish nonsensicalities as far as I wish to believe, for I see nothing of any sort of joy come from it. Nonetheless I am of the age which the To-do’s and To-da’s tend to procure a space for themselves, ever so uninvitedly, into my brain where I am forced to battle them to the death. Mostly these battles are won rather quickly; however, some are unfortunately insurmountable. When such Tasks appear they are placed in prison cells behind my brain where they bash tin cup along the bars providing an unending headache. It is at that point I am forced to release the unruly obligation, place it on trial and decide, once and for all, how to deal with it, while avoiding as much of the grown world as possible.
My point in bring this up is merely to say that today was the trial of the Bank. You see I find banking to be a terrible task, horrid in all ways. I don’t understand how it is that people can seem so miserable while taking my money. Granted, if it were up to me I would not have the institution of money at all and we could all live happy lives on self sufficient unicorn farms but as this is most uncommon to the untrained mind I will continue to need the services of a bank. I had been avoiding this particular prison, due to its unfamiliarity, for quite some time but as I mentioned before It had reached the point of necessity.
Thus, I sent forth the strongest Wills I had and each brought the Task in had. A strange creature this Task was for he appeared inviting, peaceful and serene, yet the closer I got to it there was something that felt aloof in the his appearance. You see, I have come through my dealings with Tasks to see that there are many types, though mostly I can place them into 3 catagories; the good, the loved and the untrustworthy. You see one Task may be a loved Task while still lacking any sort of good qualities, still one may be a good Task yet I personally don’t enjoy its company. But as I approached the banking Task he seemed to fit into the third, the untrustworthy. I have on several occasions brought him out only to return him to his cell without any reason or attempt at confrontation; however today I was faced with the adult reality of trial and execution.
Sitting in my usually seat as judge, I couldn’t help but notice the view from my seat was slightly different. No, very different. You see I always look out at the audience, but this time I noticed I was slightly off stage left of the people and turning to my right I began to see why it was so different. I was in fact in the defendants chair and the Task had taken my chair as judge. How perplexing I thought to myself, that a Task would be the judge of his own execution. So I sat waiting while task turned to me and spoke,
“Who are you child?”
“Me, oh uh, well you of all Tasks should know by now who I am! I am Rachael!” Absurd! Imagine such a task not knowing its own master. I was baffled, and it continued to droll on showing little to no reaction to my surprise. The task then forced me to perform duties and fill out forms before eventually dismissing me. For a moment I was left confused but now have reasoned that there must be some Tasks we can control and some that control us… Such a strange species Tasks are!
Friday, April 30, 2010
They way I see it, #1
I think that it is the utmost pinnacle of beauty to have the skin of a dark leopard, yet It seems like no matter how often it is that I go tanning I can’t quite ever achieve that deep dark tone I desire. I much prefer that it be a brown, similar to that of dirt, and once I do achieve such a feat I will lie upon the dusty brown earth and be invisible. Such a thing as I did today. You see I daily compare my skin to objects of the shade I desire, which requires I lie upon the floor and gage my color based on the reactions of others, as that it is most uncommon for a woman of my stature and social level to lay upon a bare floor, mostly one would use a mat of sorts. Even still I often lie atop an occasional pile of mud, whence I come upon them, and if I receive a bizarre glance I know that I have not yet become dark enough.
Today, however, as I began to lie down it took very long before I was noticed. As if I had become nothing more than the floor which I lied upon. Only when a young boy tripped across my forehead did anyone notice me and then it was not quite myself which they were caring after (for it did hurt reasonably so). No they were tending to the child, whom had injured his knee. Though I know that he will be OK, after all it isn't very often you hear of one suffering a stroke from a scraped knee. Yet; despite my distaste for the major lack of concern for my condition, I was pleased to see that finally I am the color I so desire, and deep dark dirt brown skin tone. Beautiful. Seeing this I popped up off the floor and walked away never to return to the spot (since I had no use of it any longer).
Sunday, April 4, 2010
The Best Part of Waking Up
The Best Part of Waking Up
On 4/5/10 Liz Cook and Rachael Scharett decided to write a novella. Each took turns writing a sentence without discussing the subject before or during the writing. Liz wrote the first sentence, then Rachael wrote the second, and so on…this is the outcome.
Many People drink coffee…but few drink coffee just to die.
Cecelia Flounderson was determined to change this fact.
Cecelia was a swarthy man, but hid beneath his glistening skin, rippling muscles and perfectly proportioned body a gentle soul.
Compassion was one of his best qualities and thus he knew that for some people, the best part of waking up was not waking up.
One day, as he casual sipped his morning cup of Absolut, Cecelia decided it was time.
The world was becoming over run with small children so he heroically devised a plan to single handedly solve overpopulation.
“What,” he wondered, “could I devise to enter the home of every American family and gently summon the Death Angel?”
Then, like a frosting covered midget stripper from a cake, an idea of pure genius popped up in his brain.
Uncle Wanda, who currently resided under Brad Pitt’s diving board for “journalistic reasons,” had all the connections Cecelia needed.
He pointed out to his nephew that there was one delight everyone, including the bod-god Mr. Pitt himself, partook of daily. In a resonating voice as rich and deep as music from a Bose radio, he spoke: “COFFEE.”
It seemed to be shear brilliance that what some considered “the nectar of the gods” would soon become the Jeffery Dahmer of the earth; eating at the insides of people young and old.
He could have wept at the beauty of it.
Cecelia and his dear Uncle Wanda went straight to work creating a mystical coffee additive that would be undetectable yet lethal.
Aside from brief journalistic investigations of Hugh Laurie and Liza Minelli, only one of which involved loss of limb, their research progressed smoothly.
Within, a fortnight their death elixir was complete and they began to lay out lans to sneak it into the local Starbucks supply.
Unfortunately for the luscious Cecelia and his deep, crystalline blue eyes and bulging biceps, but fortunately for the world, Angelina Jolie shot them dead with a bow and arrow on live television.
But, alas, the potion had already been added to coffee supplies worldwide and as Angelina tried to explain this to the television audience the writers of this story began to desire a delicious barbeque down by the pond of their apartment complex so they decided to use a run on sentence to inform the reader that the world did drink the tainted coffee however the potion turned out to be flawed and everyone was transformed into vampire bunny rabbits, forever.
The End
Friday, January 1, 2010
I Make Plans Not Resolutions
All too often people start out the new year by making a series of meaningless resolutions that are almost always failed at within a few weeks. Thus I am going to be making PLANS. definite. decided. Actual things That I will accomplish along with deadlines for their completion.
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