Day 6 Outside #KellsWritingChallenge

Day 6 - Outside 

Outside the house, outside the box, standing on the outside looking in. So many different things came to mind when I thought of the word 'outside.' Outside the house is probably the most positive. We go outside to get fresh air, feel the breeze, see the blue sky or alternatively the starry sky at night.

In fact why don't I do that more often? I love sitting outside and looking up at the night sky. I'm ashamed to say I cannot recognise any constellations. I tend to make up my own, though they are rarely very imaginative. 'Look if you join that one and that one and that one its a giant triangle! How cool!' Yeah not very creative I know! 

So going outside can have many positive connotations. Think about going outside for the first time in years? Perhaps you have been ill or gaoled for a crime you didn't commit. 

I read recently about a man being released from prison after serving 27 years. It was discovered he was not guilty after all. Imagine when this man walks outside for the first time unshackled? Everything will be vivid, a blessing. Things we take for granted such as feeling the grass under our feet, feeling the sun on our face, a cool breeze on a warm day will be magical to him. Walking along a busy street and stopping to browse would seem like a great adventure.

So yes going outside. That's what I'm going to focus on today. Not desperately trying to think out of the box or being so different that you are an outsider.  Instead I will think of starry nights, a smiling moon, cool breezes, birds chirping in trees overhead; wondering if you may well be a victim of bird poop landing on you...Yes even that is positive. It is supposed to be good luck after all! 

There's No Time Like the Present #KellsWritingChallenge Day 4

Day 4 - There's No Time Like the Present.

Right now, in this moment, I should be getting up. Instead I feel rooted to the spot or as though I'm strapped to the bed. I want to get up and do what I have to do but I just can't. Of course I could simply ignore what I have to do... Just as I have the last few days. Putting it off, procrastinating, thinking tomorrow will be just fine. One day won't make a difference right?

So here I am in this moment, my hair messy, my nightie crumpled, my face no doubt pale and tired. I dare not look. I have the covers half on and half off; somehow it keeps you from being too hot or too cold. I can see the sunshine streaming through the gap in the curtains. No way to hide in the dark. I manage a bodily movement and cover my eyes with my forearm and take a deep breath. Am I still in the present? Everything I just thought is in the past now. What does my future hold?  How strange to be lying here, tired, immobile, a sick feeling in my stomach and just casually philosophising. 

I suddenly realise that the past is not something that happened a hundred years ago. Well it is but that's not all it is. My thoughts are now in the past. How long does the present last before it becomes the past? A few seconds? Minutes? Hours? There's no time like the present, the old saying goes and in this case it is correct. I should be doing what I have put off for so long. But what is the present? Once you think something then that thought is immediately in the past.

Perhaps it is better to think that something should be done in the future... The immediate future perhaps but it will be the future. Too much pressure to expect anyone to do something so taxing in the present.

Well my future awaits! So I throw back the covers and leap out of bed in one swift move. Like taking off a bandaid, it was easier to do it quickly and in one go. I head to the kitchen and without even thinking, put the kettle on and reach for a cup. I almost do what I have done every other day this past week and ignore my favourite mug, the one I feel I can no longer use. But instead, today I  grab it quickly. Avoiding it was the same as avoiding the task I must perform.

As the kettle noise rises, reaching its trembling crescendo, I find myself suddenly remembering my childhood, before electric kettles. There was something quite magical about dragging a heavy kettle to the stove top and using a match to light the flame underneath. The little hat in place that would whistle ferociously once the water was at boiling point. Why were electric kettles better? Quicker perhaps? Cheaper to run? I don't know, I just know I went with the flow like everyone else. No living in the past. In the present we use electric kettles. The future? Who knows. Maybe I might buy an old fashioned one, Polish it every day as my old aunt had.

I make my tea, the heady aroma almost making me feel better, calming me slightly. I tremble though when I lift the mug and spill a little. Enough procrastination though. I need to get to it. No time for changing or a shower; I just head to my office and turn the computer on, sipping hot tea as it boots up.

  

I have been putting this off for so long but no more so than this morning. Philosophical conversations with myself about what constitutes the past or the present. I was somehow in my past, present and future all at once. All these clever thoughts don't change the truth that I do need to act now... If I need to see it as the future then so be it.

So I open my email program, ignore the inbox and click on the compose icon. I sip some tea, my heartbeat suddenly galloping. In my immediate future I will write and send this letter. I will, I must. So I take a deep breath and start to type, 'Dear John...' 

#KellsWritingChallenge Chocolate Cake!

Day 3 - chocolate cake 

 

There is so much I could say about chocolate cake. I could try and describe the taste, texture or aroma. I could describe the feeling of expectation when you order it or make one, or the slightly ill feeling you get when you have eaten what you thought was just a small slice.

But you know when I think about chocolate cake I remember when chocolate cake was not really chocolate cake. When I was young a chocolate cake was basically a plain cake with cocoa added to it. It was a chocolate flavoured cake. It kinda looked like chocolate but it wasn't really. Then one day someone somewhere introduced the concept of mud cake where you actually put real chocolate in and my life changed! 

It may seem strange to some of you but I didn't much like cake as a child. Birthday parties were tough going. I didn't like icing and I didn't like that fake cream they put in cakes back then. Plus it didn't even really help if it was called 'chocolate' as that usually implied it was a chocolate sponge and that did nothing for me. For me it was like the difference between KFC and a packet of chicken flavoured chips. Some may like both but in no way does one taste like the other. So chocolate sponge cake is simply in my opinion, chocolate flavoured cake. In order for it to be an acceptable cake to me it has to have actual real chocolate in it. 

I bet you never even thought about the distinction before did you? Well it's an important one. These days there are probably so many different varieties of chocolate cake so that most people never ponder what is a chocolate cake and what is simply pretending to be one. But to me cocoa is no substitute for actual chocolate. That's just me. You may disagree. You may be one of those people that stuffed themselves silly with birthday cake at parties when they were young. I remember you. I equally envied you and thought you were crazy.

In fact I was probably the odd kid at most birthday parties. I wouldn't eat the cake and often had to explain at great length that it wasn't because I wasn't allowed, it was simply that I didn't want any because I didn't like it. Then there was the jelly which I also hated. I still do actually.. I would eat custard or cream ( if it was real!) and some very easy going mothers would happily give me a bowl of custard or cream without comment or asking questions.

These days my birthday is pretty simple. I get a chocolate mud cake. Maybe totally hand made, maybe made from a cake mix or maybe bought from a cake shop. I don't mind really, so long as it does what it claims and actually tastes like real chocolate! 

Moving? The moving House Gods are kind to no one!

Well here we are. Day 1 of my writing prompt challenge is here! The first topic is Moving - here is a blog post inspired by Moving.

#KellsWritingChallenge

Whenever I see the word 'moving' I think of moving house. If you just groaned at the thought then I am totally with you. I think moving house is the single most stressful thing you can ever do. It's traumatic. It makes grown men weep. It is one of those things that we all have to do at least once in our lives and yet we would do almost anything to avoid it.

You know when you are watching a game of footy and the commentators ( or the person beside you on the couch) will mention the football Gods. The ball stops just millimetres before the dead ball line... The football Gods were shining on the kicker!

Well I think there are Moving Gods. Except they are never ever with anyone. I see them as like those cheeky Gods on Mount Olympus playing tricks on the gullible humans. You may think the Moving Gods are with you but there will always be a sting in the tail.

Most people hope that on moving day it will be a fine day. Rain and moving house is a bad combination. So no rain please. The Moving Gods grant you this wish and for those few seconds upon waking that you realise it's not raining you think oh thank you! Until it turns out that instead moving day will in fact be the hottest day on record since 1971 so that two boxes in you melt in a puddle on the driveway unable to do more... Moving Gods are kind to no one! 

Then there are the times when we realise that we really are beyond borrowing people's vans or hiring a truck and so we hire professional movers. So we plead that the movers be on time, not play blaring music that will give you a headache, and that they do their job quickly and efficiently. The Moving Gods rarely accede to this request. It's usually beyond even their powers to control the habits of removal men. But when they do... It seems like a small piece of heaven has arrived in your new home. That is until you discover every single glass you own is now in a thousand pieces... Or worse... Just one glass from every set of 4.

So the moving Gods are kind to no one. They like having their little jokes. If you don't know this then might I suggest you take a good look around where you live and imagine yourself living there for the rest of your life. Because if you decide to move then the Moving Gods will spare you no mercy!

A bit excited... Writing Prompt Challenge

I was going to write a post about common courtesy and about how it seems to be in fact very uncommon these days...if you will pardon the cliched pun. But instead of whinging and whining about people at busy supermarkets I am going to focus on the positive...

I can't tell you how thrilled I am to have posted my first ever event on facebook which is a writing prompt challenge. The thought came to me after I had participated in some online challenges. Mostly photo based ones but in the midst of these, I was a reading  a writing prompt book and the idea came to me; what about a writing prompt challenge? 

It worried me at first that it might be hard to write based on a prompt every day. But I thought even just a single sentence would do and even that can be creativity challenging. So why not? 

Given that not long ago I hesitated to even create a writers page for myself I think this is a great step in the right direction. It's scary to think I will have to post a piece of writing every day for ten days. But it's also exciting!

So thank you to all of you who have signed up. I can't wait to see what you all come up with. If you haven't been invited and would like to join then go to my facebook writers page. ( will put the link below) Also if I sent you an invite and you thought 'bloody hell I can barely have one clear thought a day let alone write something...' and have not accepted....then shame on you! No just joking.... It's all fine, this is meant to be fun after all. Feel free to silently stalk the page and chuckle at my efforts!

Anyway December 8th it starts and see... I have already forgotten about that annoying woman in the supermarket who made me want to rant about courtesy....

Bye for now,

Kell

https://www.facebook.com/Kellieawarner

That special friend...

Many of us have different types of friendships. Some friends are people we love like family. Others we see hardly ever but when we do we are simply able to take up where we left off such is the bond. Then there are the friends that perhaps we only see socially as they are fun but we would never trust them with a secret. Then there is that one special friend, the one you share everything with and know everything about; one that you love but can never meet in person for fear they might actually kill you.

Wait, you mean you don’t have a friend like that? Most of your close friends you can safely meet since they are not homicidal? Well yes me too but strangely it is not so for everyone.

Recently I was taken aback just a touch by an article in a regular every day magazine about a woman, Terri-Anne, who had a serious relationship through letters with Richard Ramirez, who was on death row (now deceased from cancer) and was a famous (infamous) serial killer.

If the name rings a bell but you can’t quite place him… Let me give you a run-down. Ramirez was active in the 1980’s and was known as ‘The Night Stalker.’ He murdered 13 people, attempted to kill another 5, and sexually assaulted a further 11 people.

I will let you Google him if you want the gory details but I will give you a small glimpse into his crimes. Ramirez shot and killed 66 year old Bill Doi then tied down his disabled wife and raped her. In another incident he shot Elyas Abowath then repeatedly raped his wife in front of their toddler.

Now imagine seeing this man on TV and thinking ‘He is hot’ and writing to him? What possesses someone to do that? I’m not sure I know or could even speculate. Perhaps I need to get that degree in psychology I once thought would be a good idea. But remember while there are plenty of women that have been seduced by criminals, most tend to believe their paramours to be innocent. Make no mistake this man did not proclaim his innocence. She wrote to him and continued to write to him and became as she says ‘very close’ to him, knowing full well he did what he was convicted of. Indeed remember my opening to this piece… she was smart enough to realise she could never meet him in person for fear he would kill her.

How does that work? How can you care about someone and believe they care about you but you know they would kill you given half the chance? It would be very easy to write this woman off as simply stupid. Why else would you have an ongoing relationship with a serial killer? But I don’t think it is that easy. There must be something more behind it. I went from dismissing this woman as a moron to wanting to find out more about her.

I probably need to mention here that serial killers and true crime do fascinate me. I wonder about the sociopathic brain. What is it that separates their minds from ours? What would it be like to have no empathy? Is a serial killer capable of love in any way, shape or form? Most people think of serial killers as loners who form no relationships at all let alone deep abiding ones. This is certainly true for many. But the Green River killer was married to a woman who loved him and it would seem even if he didn’t love her he at least never harmed her and certainly had some sort of positive relationship with her. Jerome Brudos, the Oregon serial killer known as the ‘lust killer’ was married and concerned when his wife was being questioned after his arrest. Whilst he viewed his victims as akin to insects he wanted to simply squash he spoke well of his wife and children and was never violent towards them.

There are other examples. Ted Bundy formed close friendships and it is believed he killed women who looked like a particular ex whom he loved and never got over. It may well be he saw her more of a possession than a person to love but even so he felt something… something that turned his love or obsession into hate.

So is it possible that Ramirez could be totally indifferent to the lives of most people but be in love with a particular person? From what I could see of his letters, he did declare his love for this woman, in very romantic and even poetic ways. In fact I think plenty of women would love even one love letter such as he wrote to Terri-Anne let alone the 58 or so he sent her. Then again he did request nude photos and asked about her sex life which reads as a bit creepy rather than romantic…

But she might have found it easy to simply ignore any slightly icky moments as he called her his ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ and said things like ‘If the sun refused to shine, I’d still be here loving you.' Or 'I’ve never known a love like yours.'

So if he did in fact love her it still begs the question of how she could see past his crimes and also how she reconciled that with a genuine fear for her life if they were ever to meet.

Might it be that she thought he was like some sort of wild animal? That if they were alone together, his instinct to kill would win out regardless of his love for her? Like a Tiger who suddenly turns on an owner after years of being a loving pet?

Or does she really think deep down that he is nothing but a liar? His words of love being used solely to entrap her? She was merely a conduit to his ego… he can still receive attention from women in prison whilst being guilty of the most heinous of crimes?

So perhaps they just fed each other’s ego. She can tell people she had a ‘famous’ pen pal who sends her glorious love letters and he can once more feel he is manipulating a woman and getting pleasure from it.

I wish the article had gone further. In fact I would love to contact her and have a really good chat and maybe see more of the letters. Yes I am a bit of a busy body! I hear you all don’t worry. But we writers have to have a sense of curiosity, wanting to know more, get to the truth. So here I am wondering how this relationship actually worked. Perhaps I am simply being way too cynical in not believing that it was a real genuine relationship. That perhaps not all friendships or even romances are the same. People can be in love yet not be able to live together for various reasons. Others can love each other yet be totally platonic. The fear of a loved one murdering you is perhaps a new one but who knows? Perhaps someone can love you but also want to kill you?

What are your thoughts?

Bloglovin

I am writing a Blog post purely in order for a blog of mine to appear on Bloglovin! My dear friend Nat is coaching me as for some reason it was beyond me to work out how to use it.

This stumped me quite frankly. I felt like perhaps I was becoming my mother who still doesn't understand the difference between MS Word and Windows. She is just a bit... You know... Someone who is not good with technology. The opposite to a computer whizz if you like... An anti-geek.

I however am pretty good with technology. Ok so I can't write code and probably couldn't format a computer without assistance. But I thought I was pretty good with social media and blogging type programs. I tweet, I pin, I Instagram, I have actually once explained in great detail to someone what a hashtag is and how they work. 

So here I am suddenly wondering if I'm losing it? As I'm getting older I'm becoming less and less computer savvy? Will I wake up tomorrow and forget how to post a photo on facebook? By next year will I be calling the mouse a thingamabob? We can only hope my degeneration won't be quite that quick.... I might have a few years left in me yet! We will soon know...