I don’t know where to put it, and this has been an ongoing dilemma for years. In fact, I can say that if I knew where to put it, I’d already have it by now. It has to be a perfect replication of Hello Kitty. If it ends up being a knock-off that looks like it should be called “Hi Lopsided Eyes Cat Friend,” and I’m stuck with it, I guess it’ll have to be somehow magically – and with much sorcery – changed into Johnny Depp.
Category: daily prompt
Just one?
What is one word that describes you?
I don’t know if I can answer this prompt with one word. I’ve been told I’m a lot of things: quirky, eccentric, dynamic, hilarious, moody, feisty, sassy, a hot mess, frustrating, incomprehensible, silly, kind (this is my favorite one), grumpy, mouthy, talk back-y, really weird, stubborn, headstrong, indefatigable (not always true), tenacious, ridiculous, goofy.
I couldn’t do it in just one word. I knew I wouldn’t be able to.
That I’m a Talented Writer
From the first time it was said to the present, I am truly humbled and appreciative. There is no greater feeling than releasing what lives in your mind and heart to the outside world, and having people identify, relate and enjoy it. Even if it’s not feel-good reading material – perhaps especially then: when the subject matter is dark and from deep within, yet people absorb, reflect and are sometimes without words – stunned, overwhelmed. It is a risky venture to share one’s work. It can be met with unfavorable comments. There is a level of vulnerability that one must accept as a writer. In the beginning it was very difficult to be vulnerable, to risk being not enough, and to accept criticism as well as praise. I appreciate everyone who reads my words, regardless of their opinion of them. But for the ones who do enjoy reading my words, and for those who do identify with them, it buoys my soul. There is no greater compliment.
Thanks, everyone. I appreciate you all.
* featured photo is of me holding the author’s proof of the first version of my book. I made many changes and from those changes became what the novel is now. But, boy was I so proud to have that book in my hands.*
National Lampoon’s Station Wagon
Daily writing prompt
You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, car, or bike?
This is the obvious choice. If my vacation does not include this, I don’t want to go.
Wonder Woman
Confidence is a state of mind, and we can’t always see it. I don’t know how to answer this prompt, and I don’t particularly want to. So I’m going to go with Wonder Woman. But it has to be Lynda Carter. I will not be convinced that any other person is WW besides my girl Lynda. My mind is made up.
She has a lasso, she’s a bad ass with a bad ass costume. I had the WW Underoos when I was little. Anyone remember those? I dressed up like WW for Halloween – you know, the one with the scary plastic mask and flimsy plastic costume? Yeah that was me. I also had a Batgirl bathing suit, but I digress.
So, yeah, Wonder Woman.
Have a nice day, everyone.
Poetry, Music
This prompt is underwhelming. For those who want to read my poetry, check it out. It’s all here on this blog.
My musical taste is eccentric, just like my personality. The only thing that isn’t my jam is country music. I do like Chris Stapleton, but that is where it ends.
I don’t have a poem to accompany today’s prompt.
I’m going to leave this video and lyrics here. The song sums up my poetry journey so far this year, and I love Jason Mraz’s music.
Details in the Fabric
Jason Mraz
Calm down
Deep breaths
And get yourself dressed instead
Of running around
And pulling on your threads saying
Breaking yourself upIf it’s a broken part, replace it
If it’s a broken arm then brace it
If it’s a broken heart then face itAnd hold your own
Know your name
And go your own wayHold your own
Know your name
And go your own way
And everything will be fineHang on
Help is on the way
Stay strong
I’m doing everythingHold your own
Know your name
And go your own wayHold your own
Know your name
And go your own wayAnd everything, everything will be fine
EverythingAre the details in the fabric
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling?Are the things that make you blow
Hell, no reason, go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault
Of faulty manufacturingEverything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
EverythingHold your own
And know your name
Go your own wayAre the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic
Are your thoughts results of static cling? (Go your own way)Are the details in the fabric (Hold your own, know your name)
Are the things that make you panic (Go your own way)
Is it Mother Nature’s sewing machine?Are the things that make you blow (Hold your own, know your name)
Hell no reason go on and scream
If you’re shocked it’s just the fault (Go your own way)
Of faulty manufacturingEverything will be fine
Everything in no time at all
Hearts will holdSource: LyricFind
Songwriters: Dan Wilson / Jason Mraz
Details in the Fabric lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Goo-Eyed Music, Word Collections Publishing
Tennis, Writing
Apart from me rapping Eminem lyrics in my head right now, this feels like a rehash of a former prompt. I’m answering it, but barely.
I like to watch tennis. I can always get engrossed in a good match (see photo above). And no, I do not have anything personal against Feli. He is quite nice. I don’t know why I wasn’t watching he and Rafa play doubles, but I do know someone from Getty Images (?) caught me (not) doing it.
I like to write. Time seems to slip by when I’m in the writing zone. I think most of us here can relate to that.
Have a great day, everyone.
Ha! No.
The irony would be too much.
It’s bordering on absurd.
Tell me, how would a black-cat-having, left-handed person born on Friday the 13th (who walks under ladders and opens umbrellas in the house) accomplish being superstitious?
I am a walking superstition.
Witchy Woman
Song by Eagles
Raven hair and ruby lips
Sparks fly from her fingertips
Echoed voices in the night
She’s a restless spirit on an endless flightWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeShe held me spellbound in the night (woo-ooh)
Dancing shadows and firelight
Crazy laughter in another room (woo-ooh)
And she drove herself to madness with a silver spoonWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeAh, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ah (aah-ah)
Ah, oh, ah-ahWell, I know you want a lover, let me tell you, brother
She’s been sleeping in the Devil’s bed
And there’s some rumors going ’round, someone’s underground
She can rock you in the nighttime ’til your skin turns redWoo-hoo, witchy woman
See how high she flies
Woo-hoo, witchy woman
She got the moon in her eyeSource: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Bernie Leadon / Donald Hugh Henley
Witchy Woman lyrics © Cass County Music, Likely Story Music Co
A Cat
If you’ve been with me for a while, you knew this answer was coming. Why would I compare myself to a cat? Why not?
Here’s what cats and I have in common: When we like you, you will know it. When we don’t like you, you will know it. We don’t give our affections to just anyone, we choose the people who won’t look at us. Duh. We will welcome you after you’ve been away for a long time, but we will not run up to greet you and lick your face. That is uncouth. Instead, we will wait the perfunctory 3 to 5 business days to say hello to you, because you left, and that was not approved.
(I love dogs, have had several, and you guys know that I love my friend Petey. The insinuation of dogs being uncouth is a joke.)
Here are some photos of me training to be a cat:
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
Dear Amy…Again
Dear Amy,
I heard you turned 100. Happy Birthday! I hope there wasn’t a fire when they lit the candles on the cake. Couldn’t resist sarcasm, but you know that about us. Anyway, I just want to say thanks for everything. I’m sorry about the neck. I tried to tell teenage Amy about this, but she didn’t really listen. She carried that heavy bookbag on her right shoulder for 12 years… I was trying to make her see reason, but she wouldn’t have any of that. You know teenagers. I should apologize for the neck as well. I spent hours with my head down, looking at my phone, using poor posture in front of the laptop, and generally not taking the advice that I gave to teenage Amy. I guess I never learned. I hope that you are a “good” 100. By that I mean I hope you’re still active and enjoying things. I hope you are of sound mind. It would dishearten me to learn otherwise. Please tell me you’re still wearing fedoras and dressing like you want. I hope you have a really cool scooter and that it goes 60 mph. I hope you start foodfights in the cafeteria of the assisted living home. I hope they have really good chocolate milk there. I hope there are no weird men. Ha, who am I kidding?
Thank you for all the years, and I hope that all of the versions of us have made you proud. We’ve done the best we could, haven’t we? We protected little girl Amy with all that we had. We did some bad, we did some good, we loved hard, we laughed hard, we worked hard, sometimes we cried hard, and most of all we lived. We really lived.
I see that lady from Room 3A eyeing the pink wheels on your scooter. You’d better get over there. It looks like she’s messing with your music selection. You let her know that no one changes the song but you.
Love,
Amy
100-year-old Amy gets on her scooter and turns up the volume. She tells the lady from 3A to move, she’s got stuff to do. She peels out, heading off to parts unknown, her speakers blaring “I’m Bad” by LL Cool J.
©️2024, itsamyisaid.com, all rights reserved
“It's Amy,” I said. 