Elevator – 24

Okay, so I have been stuck on this prompt for a while not:

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: Put two people who hate each other in an elevator for 12 hours. What happens?

I finally was able to get something out, a friend, and I, are pushing it back and forth, editing and adding notes. I’m rewriting it, adding to it, expanding on it, and it hits me, I really am proud of what I am creating here; I think it has a lot of potential. So I really want to put some more work into it.

I might decide to share it, I might decide to write a novel based around it. We’ll see how that turns out. In the meantime though, I thought I should explain my absence. And, because I didn’t write something about elevator’s, here’s a comic from XKCD about elevators.

 

 

 

It’s His Day – 23

I watch from above as the chefs do their dance preparing for the upcoming reception.  It’s almost like watching snowflakes from this height.  Specs of white flitting around with determination.

This was his day and I was so glad that I am able to see at least this much.  He deserves so much more then I was ever able to give him.  He deserves to be happy and loved, and I’m so glad that he was able to move on to be able to have his  day.

I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish that I was sharing this day with him. But I know that’s not possible. To see, to know he’s happy gives me what I need to move on. I step away from the skylight and I’m ready to move on with myself.  There’s nothing left for me to do here.

They say your life flashes before you as you move on, but as I took my first step from this world into the next I felt like I was walking back into his arms, confident that I will see him again.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: You are looking down through the skylight as chefs prepare dinner for your ex-fiancé‘s wedding

A Reflection of Growing Up Queer in Guelph – 22

Dear <Name Omitted>;

I’m not sure why I feel compelled to write to you, but I do. I’m a bit of an aspiring writer, originally from Guelph and now make my home in Hamilton. I run a couple of blogs, one having to do with my own advocacy work, mostly to do with mental health, but as a social justice activist as well, my other causes tend to bleed in: Queer rights, women’s right, and really just social justice and anti-stigma in general. The other one is more of a practice to get over the writer’s block I have been suffering, and have been working through a journal of writing prompts that I found to help me to get over it. Funny enough it’s because of both of these that I am writing you today.

The prompt I am working on this morning is ‘What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?‘ I’m sure as someone who works in a high school, you can understand why this might be a difficult question for many people. I think maybe as someone who heads up a Gay Straight Alliance, I think you can probably appreciate that more then most. There is a lot of things that could have happened to me in high school that would have changed my life, I’m trying not to think about them all, because living in the past is not helpful for anyone.

However, I am trying to find my own way to write on this topic. Which is why I am finding myself writing to you this morning.

For a bit of background, I actually attended four high schools in total during my teenage years. The first being Centennial C.V.I. which I started at in 1997. The second of which was not actually a high school, but an alternative high school space for Queer students in Toronto called The Triangle Program in 2001. In 2002 I attempted a semester at Ross and a year later I went to GCVI for a year. I never actually actually graduated. I kept trying, but by the end of my high school years I was so broken that I couldn’t cope anymore.

I think you will be happy to learn, that of the three high schools I attended in Guelph, it was Ross and GCVI that I found more respectful of diversity, and possibly if I started my high school career in either school things may have been different for me as well.

Anyway, upon trying to write about this prompt I started doing a bit of digging around the internet about my own high school, and found your e-mail on their guidance page as someone who’s a contact for an upcoming conference in Guelph for students and educators alike. I am writing because although I can’t change my story, I don’t want anyone to have to repeat what I went through. I want to tell you, what I wish I had the words to say to say back then. Hopefully so you can share, or at least reflect upon. I am not trying to tell you how to do your job, and I hope you don’t take it as such. I think it’s important for a lot of educators to remember these.

Pay attention. Every single kid has their own story, some when they start grade 9 will not have much of one yet, maybe their stories are just starting. But some who enter have led lives that would break the hearts of the most stoic. I was raised in an emotionally and mentally abusive house hold. Nothing I ever did or could do was good enough, always told there was something wrong with me. I watched my step-father break my mother’s heart time and time again, and my brother and I spent most of our time trying to avoid his wrath. But at every parent teacher conference, my step-dad was there, to convince my teachers that I was just a bad seed. He was charming, handsome, and spoke with clarity and authority. All of my teacher’s liked him.

I think it’s important to note that I was doing incredibly poorly in pretty much all of my classes; despite being identified as gifted and always told about how much potential I had.. Except the one’s that gave me an escape, and that was only Music. At 14 I was lost. 15 I was depressed. 16? At 16 I just got angry, and more then once I was described as a ‘militant homosexual.’ No one ever asked me the right questions, teachers, guidance counselors – no one ever noticed what I was going through; and if they did, it was brushed under the carpet. Upon coming out to my family, my biological father beat the crap out of me, and my step-father kicked me out of the house the very next day. Two weeks later, my mother convinced me to come back only to have every person in my immediate blended family to hold an intervention to tell me how everything was my fault, that I was the root of every issue in my family. In fact, to this day, part of me is still convinced that this might be true.

The lack of support from family, was matched by a lack of support at school. I was teased and bullied horrendously. Being picked on for being gay before I even knew myself. Cyber bullying began to happen when I was in school, and there was a picture of me that started circulating via e-mail with home pretty awful things written on it. It eventually started getting hung in the hallways at CVI. Upon going to the administration to address this, I was told that, and I remember the exact wording to this day, ‘this wouldn’t be a problem if you weren’t so out’.

Everything that happened to me had me craving a community that I didn’t have. The LGBT youth group at the time was for the most part me and three facilitators Occasionally another person would show up, but never for long. I turned to the internet, trying to connect and started meeting men twice my age. Leading to what everyone warns people about with youth on the internet; my first time was not consensual.

As I round the corner to the next decade in my life, turning 30 in less then a month. I realize that spent the better part of my 20’s isolating myself because of all the trauma that I dealt with. i haven’t even told you the half of it and I promise you that high school was really just a more intense experience of the bullying I dealt with in elementary and middle school.

I am not trying to place blame on anyone because of what I went through, I’m honestly trying to retell my story in an attempt, to emphasize that maybe something could have been done to help me, as I didn’t have the knowledge or resources to do it myself. Maybe I could have been more forthcoming about what had happened to me, but my trust in adults had long since been severed. Maybe nothing could have been done, I don’t know. But I don’t want anyone to have my story, and maybe by sharing it, someone will pay a bit more attention and maybe help someone who’s story could turn like mine.

If it wasn’t for the actions of some staff at Change Now, a youth resource centre in Guelph, and of some students at the University of Guelph I probably wouldn’t even be here to tell you my story.

I’m not sure if I accomplished anything by writing this. I see the work that’s happening in Guelph area high schools now and part of me is sad that it wasn’t around when I was younger. That despite trying to start a movement at 16 and 17, I constantly felt that no one was listening, that no one was taking me seriously. I’m glad that it started to happen, I really am. Guelph high schools look so different now then they did when I went. But the problems I faced were not new, many before me had similar stories, and I am sure that many after will as well.

I am sorry for rambling on, I wish you and your students luck at the upcoming conference – and I hope that change continues to happen and that diversity is not just tolerated but accepted and supported.

With deep respect,

David O’Garr (Originally Clark)

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: What could have happened to you in high school that would have altered the course of your life?De

---

Writer’s Note: Yes, I did actually send this to one of the staff in charge of organizing this conference. I really am not sure if I accomplished anything. But I don’t think I hurt anything.

Self Censor – 21

I had something written here and I am choosing to censor myself. Not because I couldn’t write it, but because what I wrote about is something that’s very private.

As I practice my craft, I must learn how to write about the deeply personal and the dark, or at least how to channel it in order to fuel my own writing. This is something I am fully aware of, and I think it’s something that I am actually quite accomplished at.

IF you check out my other blog The Guy With BPD you will see that I have written about some very dark things.

But what I was about to publish here is something that I am not ready to share with the world, it’s something that is mine, and it might always stay that way. Or maybe not, I don’t know. But I do feel that I am capable of the challenge presented by this, it’s about being mindful of what’s going on in the moment. Inside, your feelings and thoughts when your words fail you.

I feel this because I did do it, I did write it. I just want to keep it to myself for now.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: Describe the most recent moment when you couldn’t think of anything to say. Were you having a hard time making conversation, or were you dumbfounded.

Tea Time – 20

1932.

A Kitchen table in a run down apartment in Buenos Aires. Two old women sit having tea.

“So. There’s a revolution going on outside. They say we’re going to have a new government soon. It will end this depression.” The one says while sipping her tea.

“Maybe then we will stop having to steep old leaves and can have a decent cup of tea.”

“Would you like another cup?” She asks holding the pot.

The other holds her cup and saucer up, chipped, worn and stained from the years of tea it has served. Unlike the government it has stood there year after year, and more accomplished at being a tool in serving the people then any government has ever been.

“So when’s that grandson of yours going to get married?” She asks as she pours the cup.

“Oh probably when he’s done playing revolution.”

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic:  Write a short story that is set in Argentina in 1932, in which a teacup plays a crucial role. 

---

Writer’s Note: Yeah, I know, I sort of copped out on this one. But I actually did try and do a lot of research about Argentina in 1932, just didn’t feel inspired to write much about it.

Last Laugh – 19

“So let me get this straight,” She said, furrowed brow and all, this was not the look and tone of someone who was impressed. “Last week you were all over me to take this job, a job that I didn’t want in the first place, a job I told you I wouldn’t be good at, but a job you ensured me that I had the skill set you wanted, and what I didn’t know you would take the time to train me in. Does any of the sound familiar?” She asked raising an eyebrow.

“Yes and please, keep your voice down,” he said, looking nervous, a bead of sweat could be visibly seen rolling down his forehead. “We just decided to move in a different dir..”

“Okay seriously? A different direction? That’s the line of bull shit you’re going to give me. After weeks, months even of persuading me to leave the job I was in, that this would be a better direction for me?”

“Well it’s just that… well you know, you didn’t end up being the right fit” He said fidgeting with his tie.

“Right and this has nothing to do with the fact that I wouldn’t sleep with one of the partners.” She said frankly, it wasn’t a question, it was a statement of fact.

“That is a very serious allegation and I’ll have you know….”

She had already turned to talk away. “It doesn’t matter you’ll be hearing from my lawyers.”

“Christina, this is a law firm if you think we’ll just take this sitting do…” He said trying to sound authoritative and intimidating.

“You’re a bunch of corporate suits lawyers, you brought me in because I’m a human rights attorney and you thought it would look good. I’ve got enough evidence in my one week here to bury your firm in lawsuits for years.” She smirked and left the building, confident in her knowledge that she would have the last laugh.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic:  Write a scene in which a woman is fired after only a week on the job. Just a week earlier, the same person who is now firing her was very persuasive in convincing her to take the job.

Home on the Farm – 18

Growing up a farm you have a much different relationship to trees and plants then I think you would growing up in a city. I’m not sure though since I only really know what it’s like growing up on a farm.

Growing up we had this one huge maple tree in the middle of the yard, and beside that there was a Macintosh Apple Tree. Between the two we had a sand box and a little shack built up on stilts for my brother and I to play in.

Just to the north of our tree house was where my grandpa grew all his vegetables, and a little further to the west were two more apple trees of the red delicious variety, and a little flower garden that had the biggest honey suckle push you ever saw.

Further south past themy grandpa and dad’s workshop, there were several huge black currant bushes, with lots or rhubarb surounding it.

It was not rare for my brother to be outside from breakfast until supper. With so much food around us, it wasn’t strange that we’d sneak into the vegetable garden and have a snack when we were hungry, carrots washed off with the garden hose, peppers nice and sweet, breaking the snap peas right off of the vine.

Or maybe we’d enjoy an apple or two if the time was right for that. And for some reason whenever it came time to harvest the raspberries in the vegetable garden for my Grandma’s jam there never seemed to be any left. My Grandpa kept telling her the birds got after them, and not two little boys named Chad and David

And despite making myself sick on Black Currants more then once, I still to this taste love the tangy sweetness of a currant. They by far make the best jam, and it’s a great flavour to mix in with Cider as well. The hard stuff, and of course I only learned that later in life.

Pretty much our entire property was lined with sugar maples, and in the later winter we would start to tap them all for their sap. Going out a couple of times a day to collect it. Then boiling it down to maple syrop for our pancakes.

Of course we climbed the trees, and took notice of them. There was this huge maple on our property that seemed to eat anything you put around it. If you cut that tree down I think you’d see a couple of Beware of the Dog signs, and a wire fence.

Most of the fields grew cattle corn, that’s the corn that’s generally grown to be processed into feed for cattle. In the late fall when it was dried out, my brother and I would take off cobs of the stuff and whip the kernals at one another in a weird game of tag.

We’d run through the fields, we’d eat the food when we needed to, and my mom would scrub our necks raw in the winter when our tans started wearing off thinking we were dirty.

There are not many things I remember about my childhood, but the plants, trees, fruit, vegetables and flowers, where we played our games, had our snacks and our little treats. They are some of my favourites.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: Name the trees in the neighbourhood where you grew up.

---

Writer’s Note:  I went my own way with this one, naming the trees where I grew up seemed a little silly.  I think the point was to express the relationship you had with the natural world around you and I let the essence of the prompt inspire me to write what I did.  The point of the prompts is to inspire and challenge, not limit.  I think if I took this one literally it couldn’t have been the story I wrote.

The Sky Before – 17

Retrieved from The Weather Network credit to Kayla Laurin

You could see the storm starting to roll in long before it hit. The Grey purple hues mixing with the beautiful colours of a glorious colour of the setting sun, made the sky look both warm and inviting, and cold and dangerous. From just looking at the sky we knew we were in for a big one, the clouds seemed to be picking up speed, the rain falling from a sky that was cloudless above us. It was time to go in and ride this one out, as we had before. Hoping and waiting that everyone would be alright.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: A storm destroys your Uncle’s shed and kills his six-year-old son. Describe the colour of the sky right before the storm hit.

---

Writer’s Note: I’m really not happy with this one, and I think I’ll revisit it at another time. I feel the main point is try to use literary devices such as pathetic fallacy and perhaps dramatic irony to really set up an ominous feeling. I think I haven’t done it justice, but I need to sit with it a while and think on it. If anyone has any tips on what I could do or how I could do this better, please feel free to chime in.

Little Black Box – 16

I do not quite understand what this contraption is suppose to do. Despite the fact that I am told it is some sort of communication device, I cannot fathom the logic behind it. As it seems that most people with these devices, as oppose to speaking to one another sit and walk around staring at it, occasionally poking at it with their fingers.

It is small, black, and of a quadrilateral shape, one side is slightly reflective. There seems to be a lens on one side of it, but once again I can not surmise as to why.

On occasion one will put it up to their ear and start shouting at it, as if having a conversation with someone, but it is beyond my comprehensions as to how this works. Is it possible that it some sort of tiny tranciever?

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: Describe an electronic device in the future that you won’t know how to operate.

Note: Decided to describe a smart phone as seen by someone from the earlier half of the 20th century.  

Tumbling Along – 15

It doesn’t look like much, this little rock tumbler.  But it was going to make me rich. You see I was going to make the most beautiful and stunning jewelry with it.  Pendents, broaches – all once these stones polished up.  They were going to be gorgeous.

As a kid who didn’t grow up with much, trying to find ways to make my own money was something that was always on my mind.  That paired with my life of pretty shiny things,  made the Rock Tumbler an ideal toy for me.

Upon getting the Rock Tumbler for my 12th birthday, I immediately took it out of it’s package, wanting to get it started right away.  The process was going to take days to to do, and it’s not a very quiet toy.  My Step-Father made me unplug it because it was two noisy, instead of trying to help me find a solution for the noise of course, and I never did get to enjoy the finished product.

Inspired by 642 Things to Write About
Topic: Describe something you wanted badly and, once you got it, never used.