First I found my sock,

Then realized I got burned…(click here)

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Fridge-a-fying

Fridge-a-fying
by:basheesima

The struggle is real. What’s on my fridge? Not in my fridge, which is nothing. Actually, I do have six gallons of water occupying its shelves, which makes my refrigerator act as if it has food. And in the back lower corner is a lonely box of baking soda making only the plastic smell fresh. But these are on the inside; I’m struggling to understand what’s on the outside.

For beginnings, what is up with the blue bunny sticker that has a dog sitting in its belly? Did the bunny eat a dog? Must be one big bunny. Hey, can I eat that?

Of course, there is my friend’s kid’s art. I think the “kid” might be in college now, but we are too afraid to remove the “fine art from the fridge” for fear it is synonymous to some voodoo-doll-type murder.

Now I come to the “too good to be true” La-La nail files. Colored glitter green and righteous red sparkle, dear me, just awe-inspiring and hard to choose which to accent my next faux-drag outfit with—La, de, la, la—Laaaaaa!

Lists! Why—why are they on every fridge I have ever lived in company with? Lists of do’s, lists of don’t’s, lists of better do this, instead of that. Indubitably I need my lists and my lists need me!

I am forever fascinated with time and our magnificent worlds of life; how we all turn, burn, and return…answers wait to truly be found. Can there possibly be another Einstein?

I have a wonder woman magnet—only a best friend can give you this and honestly show his love by gushing out, “Because you are.”

A piece of white paper with specific lines and a G-cleft with no music written in, inspire him to create notes carried magically through the air—they are heard, are enjoyed and are written in one’s heart with no need of paper.

Every day, I hope: In all my days—not a one like this!

Verily, sometimes I come to my fridge and understand. Other days, life has a lot of bumps in the road. I try not to hit them all or I’ll need unthinkable alignment. The struggle is real.

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He’s still…

I am writing a novel.

A friend of mine, who has been reading the chapters as I write them, asked… ”I’ve always wondered about the writing process. Now that you’ve started and gotten a good ways in, how much has the ending changed since you started? Or has it simply become more defined?

I responded…

Interesting to be asking me this question at this exact moment when I have been contemplating killing one of my characters that I had not originally intended on killing.

Everything becomes more defined.

I create an outline to guide me where I have been with my minds thoughts.
I scribble on thousands of little pieces of paper what I imagine.
I test things for reality in real life, (this can be very fun)
I ask questions and questions and more questions.
I listen.

And then I go back to the outline. At times moments change on that outline, but not the truth of where I was going, because that is where I have already been. The first time around (the outline) it is like being at sea in a storm, all is fast and furious, and then it is over and you know everything that happened, but the details are missing until you go back and really look at them, really think about what went down, then you have a story.

When my best friend/partner read my response to this other friend, he started laughing. I looked at him questioningly. He explained, “No, no, I like it. It makes sense, but…” he tried to control his hystirics, “it’s just…” and here he made his voice sound like Yoda, “The truth of where I was going, I know, because I have already been there.”

He still has not stopped laughing.