I'm having a hard time writing tonight. I'm pretty darn tired. I know ultimately where I want the story to go, at least somewhat anyway. Actually, I don't have a concrete ending yet. I'm pretty sure I know where to take the story, but it's the small steps that make up the journey. Those have yet to be discovered.
I've sat here for about an hour trying to find those next steps. It's amazing how you can have an idea of what those next steps are to be, but still the words do not come. You can see the steps that need to happen clearly in your mind, but the words...how to bring those steps to life. I think I'm just too tired. My mind isn't focusing quite as well as I would like. Tonight might be a movie night. I want to continue my story just as much as I'm convinced that my readers would like it to continue, but it just isn't coming right now. Good night!
I love you honey!
Wednesday, October 30, 2013
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Princess and the Enuresis Part III (hopefully)
So, I'm pretty tired. This is about the time that I start winding down for the night. I'm trying to figure out where to go with the story next. I think it's coming...
My family wasn't spiteful as many peasants tend to be, but we were poor. Not poor like the stable hands. They can sleep in the barns. They can bathe in the feeding trough. They can even afford to buy a small loaf of bread for the week, sometimes even an apple or two! We were the kind of poor that justified a certain amount of savagery in order to survive. We had to resort to begging, to stealing, to deceiving, to injury, and even to death. Stealing is a daily affair in the life of a peasant. You don't steal, you don't eat. That's just how it is. Sure, some will beg, but it's much easier to steal. It's easier to take something that never belonged to you than to rely hopelessly on the kindness of strangers.
------------------------------------------To Be Continued--------------------------------------------------------------
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
I love you sweet heart!
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
The Princess and the Enuresis Part II (Maybe)
Okay, I surprised even myself with the story that I am currently writing. The hardest part is continuing once you stop, and keeping a consistent vibe. I had a much more basic idea when I started writing, but I really got into it last night. I feel a little daunted by what I've started. I thought it was gonna be a dumb one page story, but this is really coming to life. I wrote all of that, and revised it within two hours. Am I bragging? Maybe a little, but this is the truth and I take pride in my work. So, here's my attempt to continue where I left off:
We weren't always princesses. My mother was never a princess, and my father was never a prince. In fact, we have no royal bloodlines whatsoever. We were the lowest of the low. Miserable peasants wallowing in our own self-pity. We weren't even good enough to shovel manure. We were the ones that were dumped on. Literally! The manure is shoveled onto large wagons, and carried out of town. Then they dump it where they please. Our backyard was a heaping, smelly pile of manure. It was especially bad in the summertime. Such is the life of the peasants, though! My mother and father don't treat them any better. They seem to have forgotten that they were once peasants too. Really, I think they refuse to acknowledge it. That isn't to say that it isn't possible for a peasant to ascend to the ranks of royalty, but it rarely happens. It's political, as it always is. A peasant has to convince someone of noble birth that they are valuable to them in some fashion. That is a very difficult task to achieve.
The monarchy is, as a whole, against it. Kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights, lords, dukes, even bards, friars, jesters and stable hands, all generally feel like peasants are unfit to rule. They weren't born into it. They are not of noble blood. They do not have the innate sense to rule. Really, nobody wants a peasant to rule, not even another peasant. Actually, I would say that they abhor the idea almost more than anyone of noble birth. Nobility will mock you. They will scoff at your foolish notion that you could even become a stable hand. They will make a public example of your idiocy, spitting on you, smiting you across the face, and throwing you into the mud. Peasants do not have that kind of power, but they are much worse because they actually hate you. Peasants despise anybody that has a higher standing than that of their own, and especially anyone that manages to rise from their equal standing to a higher standing. Peasants will kill to keep another peasant from rising above them. Rising to the ranks of nobility won't stop them either. They have nothing to lose. They don't have a throne for their son or daughter to assume. They are not leaving a kingdom behind. If they are killed first, that's it. They die. But if they kill you, your queen, your prince, your princess becomes their next target, until at last, they have assumed your throne. Wretched peasants!
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
----------------------------- Stay tuned for Part III -------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming next week
I love you dear!
We weren't always princesses. My mother was never a princess, and my father was never a prince. In fact, we have no royal bloodlines whatsoever. We were the lowest of the low. Miserable peasants wallowing in our own self-pity. We weren't even good enough to shovel manure. We were the ones that were dumped on. Literally! The manure is shoveled onto large wagons, and carried out of town. Then they dump it where they please. Our backyard was a heaping, smelly pile of manure. It was especially bad in the summertime. Such is the life of the peasants, though! My mother and father don't treat them any better. They seem to have forgotten that they were once peasants too. Really, I think they refuse to acknowledge it. That isn't to say that it isn't possible for a peasant to ascend to the ranks of royalty, but it rarely happens. It's political, as it always is. A peasant has to convince someone of noble birth that they are valuable to them in some fashion. That is a very difficult task to achieve.
The monarchy is, as a whole, against it. Kings and queens, princes and princesses, knights, lords, dukes, even bards, friars, jesters and stable hands, all generally feel like peasants are unfit to rule. They weren't born into it. They are not of noble blood. They do not have the innate sense to rule. Really, nobody wants a peasant to rule, not even another peasant. Actually, I would say that they abhor the idea almost more than anyone of noble birth. Nobility will mock you. They will scoff at your foolish notion that you could even become a stable hand. They will make a public example of your idiocy, spitting on you, smiting you across the face, and throwing you into the mud. Peasants do not have that kind of power, but they are much worse because they actually hate you. Peasants despise anybody that has a higher standing than that of their own, and especially anyone that manages to rise from their equal standing to a higher standing. Peasants will kill to keep another peasant from rising above them. Rising to the ranks of nobility won't stop them either. They have nothing to lose. They don't have a throne for their son or daughter to assume. They are not leaving a kingdom behind. If they are killed first, that's it. They die. But if they kill you, your queen, your prince, your princess becomes their next target, until at last, they have assumed your throne. Wretched peasants!
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
----------------------------- Stay tuned for Part III -------------------------------------------------------------------
Coming next week
I love you dear!
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Princess and the Nocturnal Enuresis
I didn't post last week for a couple of reasons: First, I read some posts from my friend's superb blog called Single-Minded Determination. Here's the link: http://malcolmravenclaw.com/ Check it out! I was amazed and wanted to be a part of it. Suddenly, my blog seemed so pointless, which was sort of the point.
On the other end, I didn't want there to be any point. I could write whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, no matter how stupid and pointless. No time commitments, no themes to adhere to.
In some sense, I want my blog to be humorous since I somewhat implied that to be the purpose, but I thrive on flexibility and spontaneity.
Anyway, the real purpose of this blog was revealed to me yesterday. Really, I had written it in a love note to my dear, sweet wife about two weeks ago. I hadn't realized until I heard her reiterate it back to me. I mentioned my blog in the note as a way for her to have some piece of me while I am gone at work half of the week. So, with all of my love and devotion for my amazing wife, I dedicate this blog to her and commit to post something weekly.
Here's an idea for a story that came to my mind on Sunday:
There's a reason that fairy tales seem to tug on the heart strings of boys and girls of all ages, filling them with wonder. The magic, the adventure, the daring feats, the noble causes, the princes and princesses, the romance, the good and the evil, the curses and spells, the witches, the wizards, the dragons, the talking animals, the faraway lands, the fantasy...the fact is...
Oops, I wrote that wrong. The fact is. Just like that. You see, the term 'fairy tale' seems to invoke a sense of fiction. Nothing could be further from the truth. Ofttimes, details are lost in translation, even by those who 'witnessed' the events described, intentional or otherwise.
I'm Regina, Princess Regina. You haven't heard of me. I don't have an amazing story, not yet anyway. I'll be lucky if I ever do! Ugh! You've probably heard of my sister, though. You know, the one who was so perfect and so refined that she could feel a single pea under a tower of mattresses? Um, yeah...not quite. I'd give that stupid witch's name, but she'd have my head and my idiot brother-in-law would gladly take it from me. That guy is such a lunk head! I'll admit he really is a hunk, but I've had more intelligent conversations with squirrels.
Oh? Regina? Ha! That's not really my name. I changed it years ago. So did the rest of my sisters. We refuse to claim any relation to those windbags! Yeah, they can't find us, but you can never be too careful. I'm just so sick of hearing people gloat about those two like they are somehow connected to them, and then to hear their exasperating cries when they proclaim their desperate desires to be like them. It's bad enough when the two of them tell the tale, the most fantastic, most incredible, most outlandish tale that people from kingdoms near and far have ever heard! My brother-in-law has become a man among men, having slayed seventeen dragons for the most perfect princess. Seventeen! What a crock! My parents aren't much better, but what can I say? I'm the product of whatever that was between them. My sister has become that model for every princess. Stupid mothers chiding their daughters to remember Princess- (I almost said her name.) We'll call her Princess Leaky Faucet.
We weren't always princesses. My mother was never a princess, and my father was never a prince. In fact, we have no royal bloodlines whatsoever.
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
--------------------------------------To Be Continued----------------------------------------------------------
I love you sweetie!
On the other end, I didn't want there to be any point. I could write whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, no matter how stupid and pointless. No time commitments, no themes to adhere to.
In some sense, I want my blog to be humorous since I somewhat implied that to be the purpose, but I thrive on flexibility and spontaneity.
Anyway, the real purpose of this blog was revealed to me yesterday. Really, I had written it in a love note to my dear, sweet wife about two weeks ago. I hadn't realized until I heard her reiterate it back to me. I mentioned my blog in the note as a way for her to have some piece of me while I am gone at work half of the week. So, with all of my love and devotion for my amazing wife, I dedicate this blog to her and commit to post something weekly.
Here's an idea for a story that came to my mind on Sunday:
There's a reason that fairy tales seem to tug on the heart strings of boys and girls of all ages, filling them with wonder. The magic, the adventure, the daring feats, the noble causes, the princes and princesses, the romance, the good and the evil, the curses and spells, the witches, the wizards, the dragons, the talking animals, the faraway lands, the fantasy...the fact is...
Oops, I wrote that wrong. The fact is. Just like that. You see, the term 'fairy tale' seems to invoke a sense of fiction. Nothing could be further from the truth. Ofttimes, details are lost in translation, even by those who 'witnessed' the events described, intentional or otherwise.
I'm Regina, Princess Regina. You haven't heard of me. I don't have an amazing story, not yet anyway. I'll be lucky if I ever do! Ugh! You've probably heard of my sister, though. You know, the one who was so perfect and so refined that she could feel a single pea under a tower of mattresses? Um, yeah...not quite. I'd give that stupid witch's name, but she'd have my head and my idiot brother-in-law would gladly take it from me. That guy is such a lunk head! I'll admit he really is a hunk, but I've had more intelligent conversations with squirrels.
Oh? Regina? Ha! That's not really my name. I changed it years ago. So did the rest of my sisters. We refuse to claim any relation to those windbags! Yeah, they can't find us, but you can never be too careful. I'm just so sick of hearing people gloat about those two like they are somehow connected to them, and then to hear their exasperating cries when they proclaim their desperate desires to be like them. It's bad enough when the two of them tell the tale, the most fantastic, most incredible, most outlandish tale that people from kingdoms near and far have ever heard! My brother-in-law has become a man among men, having slayed seventeen dragons for the most perfect princess. Seventeen! What a crock! My parents aren't much better, but what can I say? I'm the product of whatever that was between them. My sister has become that model for every princess. Stupid mothers chiding their daughters to remember Princess- (I almost said her name.) We'll call her Princess Leaky Faucet.
We weren't always princesses. My mother was never a princess, and my father was never a prince. In fact, we have no royal bloodlines whatsoever.
© 2013 Ihaveadryfish.blogspot.com
--------------------------------------To Be Continued----------------------------------------------------------
I love you sweetie!
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
What's in a name?
I’ve been thinking about starting a blog for a little while now, but have distracted myself with meaningless pursuits instead, mainly watching countless YouTube videos. I’ve even stalled tonight for that reason, and the simple reason that I have not been able to come up with a good name for my blog. I wanted to call it fishoutofwater, which is a reference to my dry sense of humor.
In fact, on my facebook profile that’s almost exactly how I described it except that I inverted the two phrases to make it even drier and weirder. My exact words were: “I have a dry fish. It’s like a sense of humor out of water.” I don’t know if anybody got the joke, but that doesn’t matter, ‘cause I did. Also, I think I just found my blogspot name. (Crossing fingers)…
I had decided to write on MS Word until I could come up with a good name for my blog. Why? ‘Cause it’s my blog, dang it! I thought about something like Midnightranting or everythingaboutnothing, but those were too generic. I wanted to come up with a name that was a reference to a quote from one of my favorite movies, my very most favorite being Little Shop of Horrors, not the old cheesy horror movie, but the tongue-in-cheek, star-studded musical from the 80’s, the year I was born to be exact. I would’ve also been good with a phrase from a song by one of my favorite bands, among which are Cake, Weezer, Daft Punk, etc. Nothing came to mind. I even turned toward using a band name that I had come up for the band that I fantasized about being in. The name was The Heck, but it was taken. I felt that it was the best description of what this blog is all about. After all, there is no theme, and I suspect that it will be very random slice. That could possibly be a good blog name…we’ll see…I think I like Ihaveadryfish best.
Anyway, now that I've bored you to death, I will leave you with one random funny idea that came to me the other day. I really want to hear a group like The Three Tenors (I think they're dead...hmmm...), Il Divo or some similar popera group perform their rendition of a song by the Beastie Boys. I'm thinking that Sabotage would be an excellent one for them to cover. Just listened to it...I was wrong. Sabotage has mainly one singer the whole time, but Intergalactic is more like what I was expecting, where the three are constantly taking turns spitting their lines, and when it's one person at a time, the other two come in at the end to finish up the phrase. What do you think? http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qORYO0atB6g Wrong again... Brass Monkey would be the best by far: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBbQyXZvkbA I think I'll put this in Jimmy Fallon's suggestion box. Google it if you haven't already. Good night!
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