Unjournalling, Day 19

Create five different descriptive phrases that all equivalent "like looking for a needle in a haystack".
1. Like trying to make a slinky actually tumble down a whole flight of stairs.
2. Like trying to say the alphabet backwards.
3. Like trying to find your keys in the place they should be...
4. Like trying to find the right receipt in your purse.
5. Like trying to remember what you were thinking five minutes ago... (and this is oh, so true! What were you thinking five minutes ago?)

Unjournalling, Day 18

To viewers, the painting "Polar Bear Eating Vanilla Ice Cream in a Blizzard" looked like blank canvas, how would the artist of that painting describe a blue canvas and a black canvas?
For the black, I think (if I was said artist) it would be... A crow on a black oak gazing at a darkened house at midnight.
Blue is substantially more difficult, but here goes! Swiftly, a blue-jay swoops through a cloudless sky, chasing a shimmering dragonfly over a pristine lake.
That last one actually sounded rather poetic, although the painter would have to be five for all of those colors of blue on a painting to be the same... None the less, at least the child would be using art!

Unjournalling, Day 17

Elaborate on the sentence "The dog barked" by making it as interesting and detail filled as possible.
Barking softly under it's breath, the moose sized dog twitched in it's sleep.

Well that was easy (ooh, Staples, what now?). I would like to wish everybody a happy Hanukkah, may the festival of lights shining brightly reflect your hearts! Now, I do need to say that I *am not* Jewish, but I do enjoy participating in the Jewish traditions that so fervently influences my own faith. Yeshua was Jewish, not Christian, so there doesn't seem to be any reason to me to part from the ways He doubtlessly followed. Obviously I do not perfectly follow the Torah (nobody can really...), but I do make a decent effort with what tools I have available. Since I am still learning, as we all are, I may make incorrect statements from time to time. Feel free to correct me!

Unjournalling, Day 16

Writers can describe the character, at least to some extent, through how they speak. I have to tell how each of the following would turn down an offer to a fishing trip:
1. A teenage boy turning down his grandfather
2. A business man eager for promotion turning down his boss
3. A wife just back from her weekly spa trip turning down her husband

1. Sorry Gramps... I, uh, I have some, uh, stuff to do. My mom, like, wants me to do some lame chores and stuff!
2. Sir, I would absolutely love to go with you! I love fishing! You see, though, it's my anniversary this weekend, and if I didn't take my wife to dinner she would be very upset. Maybe next weekend? I don't get to go fishing as often as I would like, and the opportunity to do so with you would be a pleasure!
3. Really, honey? Me, fishing? My hair just got done, and fish smell bad. Take one of your drinking buddies. Oh, and don't drown!

Unjournalling, Day 15

I have to pretend I am the writer for a clothing catalog who has to describe a brown, beige, red-orange, and purple sweater using two word descriptions for each color.
This long sleeved, v-neck sweater is a beautiful combination of woodland shadow, dessert sand, sunset orange, and dark lilac. It's length and diagonal stripes make it attractive on practically any body type. Made of 100% wool, this sweater is perfectly suitable for this damp and chilly winter climate!

Unjournalling, Day 14

Write a sentence that makes sense reading both forwards and backwards. Oh gosh, I don't want to do something like "Bob liked Mary and Bill", so how about this: I was lurking in the home of the free, (yay for Yoda speak!). Or maybe: Sally and Josh hated Andrew! That is almost a carbon copy, but at least it makes sense. It must count for something!

Unjournalling, Day 13

Creatively producing a "sentence" consisting entirely of multiple syllable dialog excluding: "a", "an", "the".
That sentence was... special, and a failure, so lets try this again!
Surprising the Elephant, a beautiful lioness sneakily ambulated, fearsomely adjacent.
Not exactly prise winning as far as... word on tip of tongue... structure! However, when you read it out loud the words chime together in a rather pleasing way. When I read a new book, if the words sound beautiful together regardless of the meaning then I'm pretty much a fan for life.

Unjournalling, Day 12

This time I am going to describe someone who looks bored, without using the words yawned, stared, or sighed.

The boy was about five, with shorts stained from playing in the grass and shoes to match. As he sat in his doctors office, waiting for his check up, he fidgeted. Rhythmically he would bang his shoes on the chair leg, wiggle from side to side, and eventually slouch over in dejection. Just to watch him made other people in the room come to notice how bored they were as well, though they responded in more adult manners such as toe-tapping, blank faces, and poor posture.
After twenty minutes or so, the boy finally gave up on his antsy behavior to curl up into a ball in his chair, rest his chin on his knees, and pout. In an effort to get his mothers attention, a little tear dribbled down his cheek. When his mother noticed, he said in a frustrated child's voice "I'm so BOOOOORED", but his mother merely instructed him to be patient. Once again, the boy started to wiggle with barely contained energy.

Unjournalling, Day 11

In one paragraph I have to describe a scene from any sport using these words: bounced, struggled, collapsed, and giggled. I am choosing to describe when my sweetheart got racked with a soccer ball a year ago, and I just want to make clear that at the time I didn't actually giggle...

The ball flew through the air, and bounced toward the Viking's goal. A member from each team spied the ball, and they both struggled furiously to gain control. The apposing team landed a harsh kick on the ball, but it was stopped, unfortunately, by a Viking defensive player. He fell to the ground in pain. After a moment, the audience realized what had happened, and they roared in shock. Being the horrible person I am, I couldn't restrain my giggles at the fallen player's bad luck.

A few things must be clarified now: his dad "giggled" more than I did; and since it was November, 30 something out, and raining there wasn't a big enough crowd to actually make a roar. Regardless, it was a pretty intense scene for those who were there and were paying attention. The Vikings didn't win, but they fought hard all evening. Even better news was that James took no permanent damage!

Unjournalling, Day 10

I have to create a sentence with each word beginning with the next letter in the word "sentence".

Secretly exposing the evil, nobody cared; ever.

That deserves a back story, I'll write it down sometime.

Unjournalling, Day 9

So much shame! I was out all day studying for finals with a friend, but here I am, with still 32 minutes to go. Never again shall I be so late in the day, hopefully tomorrow I'll get this taken care of before noon.
This assignment was an activity to learn tone. I have to write a letter to the owner (Ms. Applespot) of the non-existent store, Widget World, to ask for a raise. However, the owner hasn't noticed how well I do my job and I must use tact as well as be to the point.

Dear Ms Applespot,
Throughout my five years as manager of Widget World, I have fully fulfilled all responsibilities as well as increasing productivity. All of the employees are happy, and the store receives very few customer complaints. I would like to address at this time therefor, the state of my pay.
In the past few years I have not received very high wages for my position, but none the less have continued to serve this store diligently. I would like to request a pay raise of $1.50 an hour for my services and continuous loyalty to the store.
Thank you for your time,
*insert name here*

I can't imagine how it would be to request a raise like that in real life, the thought terrifies me! Hopefully I will never have to do so. Oh, and *insert name here* was because I do not feel obliged to present my own name, not just because I tend to be uncreative in that area! When me and Byron play life we have to get out his mom's baby book to figure out the children's names... We were a tad crazy about that game for a few weeks.

Unjournalling, Day 8

Today I had to write 10 ways to say no without using the word "no", one of them I had a bit of fun with, so I wrote 11.
1: I'd rather not...
2: Negative.
3: Of course not!
4: When pigs fly.
5: You couldn't pay me to.
6: As if!
7: Absolutely not.
8: When said by a parent- maybe
9: That isn't happening.
10: I refuse.
11: Because 9 was joking, here's my extra- I would if I could, but I can't so I won't.

Those were actually more difficult to come up with it than it seems. If you can think of anything else, let me know!

Unjournalling, Day 7

Describing the gunk at the bottom of a sink was nasty, telling the story of a cowboy was long, but this I think was by far the most difficult. The task was to write a paragraph (about anything I wanted, at least there was that kindness) using 20 words containing double vowels (needle, cool, room, etc).

At the center of the room sat a drooling poodle. The poodle had a horribly bad rap, which generally was well deserved. It peed on carpets, bit children, and stole food right off people's plates! Not even a beetle or flee would dare to land on it. A baby crawled into the cool room, and cooing all the while, made its way up to the devil poodle. Its mother ran in and snatched up the child, she was no fool to leave it be. She felt woozy, and set the baby down right outside the door. stepping out of its pool of drool, the poodle slowly walked up to the kid. Reaching out with soft hands, little babe wiped some of the drool off, and in surprised the evil poodle wagged its tail. It ceased its looming, stooped down, and licked the baby's face. When the mother came back, she nearly swooned! Even to this day, the child and poodle are the best of friends.

Wow... just wow is all I can say. It does sadden me so that "poodle" was the only noun I could think of to write about that contained a double vowel. However, cuteness has been attained. Or I think it has...

Unjournalling, Day 6

Today I had to write a story about a big bad guy walking into a bar in the old west, only give it a happy ending. I had thought about trying to make it only a paragraph, but that wasn't exactly possible. At least not for me!

The Saloon doors slammed open, The Cowboy entered. Rumors held that he once killed a man just for givin' him the wrong kind of beer. The Cowboy rode his big bay stallion across the west, and never stayed in one place very long. No sheriff would arrest him, no posse hunt him down; any feller with any sense stays clear of this one-shot-dropper. Nobody even knew the man's name. He was just "The Cowboy", and ever'one understood.
I started to hyperventilate, The Cowboy sat down next to me! Beside me, a skinny 16 year old boy who wasn't even good with a gun, he seemed like a giant. However, one thing struck me as odd: when I let our eyes meet just for a minute, they looked just like mine. I thought I was looking into a mirror! Groaning under The Cowboy's massive frame, the bar stool he sat on sounded like a shrieking Indian as he turned to face me. My heart lept in my throat, I could already visualize him reachin' for a gun, maybe a knife, killin' me dead right there in my Ma's bar...
When my Ma was fresh married a year, just had me, we was both carried off by the Indians. She used to tell me how when I was a youngun that the Indians would dress me up in their garb and let me play with the wooden tom-a-hawks.
'Course, I don't 'member none o' this, but it's a funny tale anyway. Anyway, one day a band o' men came on horseback and freed all us white folks the Indians was keepin'. Ma figured Pa was dead, and hadn't seen him in years anyway, so she married one o' her rescuers. Jack was his name, he was a good man, but he died last year o' the brain fever. All that was left was the Saloon that Ma runs now.
Staring right into my soul, that's what it felt like when The Cowboy looked me in the eye. In a hoarse voice that was somehow gentle too, he asked "Lad, where's yer ma?". I was scared he wanted her for unholy reasons, so I dropped my gaze to the floor and lied "Don't know". Firmly, he grabbed my shoulder and told me "Boy, when I was yer age I lied the same way, you can't fool me. Now, where is yer ma?". All I could do was pray that Ma wouldn't come out from the kitchen and the The Cowboy would just leave and seek another lady. Just as those thoughts was going through my head, Ma, in her black dress o' mourning, stepped out with a fresh pie in her hands.
For a moment when their eyes met, time seemed to stand still. The black magic holding them still halted when Ma dropped her pie and the dish shattered on the floor. In response it seemed, The Cowboy lunged toward my Ma. Out o' fear for her wellbein' I tried to stop him, but it was too late. The Cowboy scooped my Ma up in his arms, and to my surprise, Ma started laughin' and kissin' the man! I hadn't heard he laugh since Jack died, and she never kissed him in such a vulgar way.
Shocked, the whole bar had fallen silent. Eventually, Ma unwrapped herself from The Cowboy's arms and walked up to me. Softly, like only a mother can do, she hugged me and whispered "Meet Tom, yer Pa". I was dumbfounded!
Ma closed the Saloon early, and "Tom", The Cowboy, started to tell us about his ventures in search of us. He had traveled all across the west, interrogatin' Indians, talkin' to sheriffs, and killin' anyone who got in the way of findin' his wife and son. Not all that shocking, all the killin' had scarred him, changed him. Now, though, all Tom wanted was to be with family, learn to love, work, and fear God again.
At first, I hated Tom. Now, five years have passed and I have my own wife. These days Tom and I git on good, Ma's never been happier, and the Saloon hasn't ever done so well, My wife is even expecting, and I'll git to try my own hand at bein' a father by the end of the month.

Not exactly short, or well written, but this was a ton of fun. Maybe I'll try short stories more often now!

Unjournalling, Day 5

Today my assignment was really... revolting. To be honest, I didn't have much of an idea of how to do it, and I'm not exactly pleased with the result. In following in good faith, but do not expect much from me.

I must describe the gunk at the bottom of a sink without using the words "disgusting" or "gross", not in of itself that difficult, but non-the-less unpleasant.

At the bottom of the cleanest sink, at some point has been caught a stringy mass of dead hair, skin, and soap. Every hair seems to congeal  to the others, almost in a jelly-like fashion. The chunks of soap and miscellaneous detritus of the average sink give variety to the texture. While nausea often attacks the who attempts to remove it, some have the stomach to taught the damp, moldy, and furry mass. It frequently smells.

Unjournalling, Day 4

Today I shall attempt to write a paragraph about a cat attacking something, only I will not use the words "hiss", "scratch", or "pounce".

Slinking its way across the floor, a young cat eyes its newly found prey. A few feet in front of the cat's delicate paws, a string twitches, agitated. The cat leaps! Its wild eyes dart around the room, following the string. Digging its needle-like claws into the clean, white carpet, the young cat chases the string. Suddenly, the string vanishes! Now there is nothing but a large hand stroking the cat's silken fur, and a lingering echo of laughter.

Unjournalling, Day 3

This exercise was to write a paragraph using at least 10 words that rhyme with "be":

There was once a tiny butterfly, flying free. Its motion was flighty, yet it never missed a date with destany. The bubbly butterfly wafted down by the sea, into a tree, on past a bee, to land at last on the rim of a cup of ice tea. Frightened by a looming hand, the butterfly sped away, past even so far as an owl could see.

Unjournalling, Day 1

Recently I happened upon a book entitled: Unjournalling. My Mom purchased it for me several years ago for some basic writing exercises, and I think that I shall finally endeavor to use it. The first assignment listed was to write a paragraph about a girl named Dot without using and i's or j's.

Dot was a beauty, she had a heart of pure gold. Every week she would volunteer at the local food pantry, not to say her generous offers of labor to her local church. Sadly, her pet cat recently passed away. Now Dot be as crazy as a lark, and shall spend the rest of her days at a home for the helpless.

Unjournalling, Day 2

The second assignment was to list three creatively silly things:

Silly is the small corgi who is afraid of spoons, loud noises, and hair dryers.

Silly is the blonde who's hair gets darker as she ages, so she bleaches it so that nobody will find out.

Silly is the little kid who runs around with balloons in hand, trying to static other people's hair, despite the frustration of his parents.