Sounds of a College Cafeteria

The following is something I wrote while at work tonight. I finished everything on my check list and had some time to kill, so I decided to do a writing challenge. This is challenge was something brought up in my Creative Writing class at the beginning of the year. What you do, is grab a pen and paper and write down what's going on around you...specifically sounds and conversations. So, this is what the end of my work shift usually sounds like. 

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               “My class…what happened was…”

      

                A cart rolls by, drowning out all other sounds. Its roar amplified by the tiled floor and high ceiling.

          

               “Hahaha!”

       

                “Now you understand where I’m from.”

                “Hahaha!”

                “There’s no need for me…”

                Again the cart appears, again it slices through the voices; creating fragments out of whole sentences.

                “I have to get ready for the match!”

                “Are you going to the game?”

                “I’m announcing the game.”

                Ca-sh, ca-sh, ca-sh, ca-sh, cubes of frozen water crash against each other. Their voices like that of breaking glass, but softer, and less metallic. Their voices are deeper, more masculine then the shrieks of shattered porcelain.

                “But, the question is, will they let him play?” The person speaking on the mounted television doesn’t stand a chance against the hum of the large, shiny rotisserie oven. Freshly polished and stocked with the naked carcasses of chickens, the machine purrs louder than a cat in heat.

                The ice cream machine kicks on, its equally shiny surface shakes as it let out a growl louder than the rotisserie’s purrs. The chicken cooker may have drowned out the news, but it was a whisper compared to the ice cream machine.

                “Do you know where the…”

                Another cart rolls by, turning voices into muffled whispers.

                “Uh…we might be out.”

                Squeak, squeak, sneakers make their presence known. Their owner’s hand swinging a manila envelope back and forth. She stops, her blond curls sashaying, and glances at the cashier in curiosity.

                “Is the mail office closed?”

                “Yeah. It closed about four.”

                “Oh. Well. I guess I’ll go back to my room real quick.”

                “Wah, wah, wah, wah, wah, wah,” a worker, dressed in black, sings as the blond turns to leave. The paper towels in his hands are silent as they caress the glass beneath them. Their bodies soak up the blue liquid that had been sprayed on the glass prior to their presence.  

                “I don’t know where…”

                “Hey! Have you seen…”

                “Go for it! Are you asking me permission to make an omelet? Go for it! You could have that station tonight, if you want.”   

                “Do you have any spinach?”

                “I don’t know. Let me…”

                “Hey girl!”

                “Hey, we’re looking for the restrooms,” a couple stops by the wooden stand of the cash register, their hair salt and peppered by age.

                “They’re right through those doors,” the cashier points.

                “Can we use them?”

                “Yeah, go ahead.”

                Be-beep, a scanner signals the swiping of a card. Its voice blending in with the hissing of the grill.

                “Thank you.”

                “Yep, just remember that it’s sandwiches and salads right now. The rest opens at five.”

                Scrape.  Scratch.  Hiss.

                “Are you serious? You just destroyed the flat dog.”

                “What are…”

                Hiss. Scrape.

                “Pork fritters.”

                Hum.  Clink. Clink. Clank. Scrape. Growl.

                “Actually, I hope that…”

                “Super long.”

                A click is heard as the ice cream machine shuts itself off.

                Be-beep, be-beep, be-beep, be-beep, be-beep. Volleyball players file in, swiping their ID cards at the register.   

                Be-beep, be-beep, be-beep, hiss, be-beep, ching, clang, hum, be-beep, click, be-beep, be-beep…another dinner shift’s begun.  

Snippets of Thoughts

Sadly, I haven't written much lately. Nothing lengthy, anyway. This last week for me has been somewhat busy and just a tad stressful. Being a writer, my outlet for my emotions (my escape from reality) is writing. I don't need to write some long or short story in order to remain balanced in life, sometimes the smallest writings can accomplish just that. This is what happened over this last week. I didn't succeed in writing much on the stories I'm working on, but I did manage to jot down a few 'stanzas' as they came into my head. I figured, for this week's blog post, I'd share these 'stanzas' with you.

Each 'stanza' stands alone, though a few were meant to be part of a longer poem, and are inspired by different things that happened throughout my week. Some seem dark, others fairly light, but all were thoughts inspired by classes, work, or friends...and the conversations/events that happened with each.

Stanza 1: Day In, Day Out (Inspired by the seemingly unending cycle of sleep, school, work, that I've gotten into) 

Day in,
Day out,
The same old story,
The same old path,
She wants to scream,
She wants to shout,
Day in,
Day out.

Stanza 2: Fading Life (Inspired by a line from Henry Longfellow's poem A Psalm Of life)

Weather changes,
Colors fade,
The world keeps spinning,
We end up in graves.

Stanza 3: Heavenly Matter (Inspired by a stanza from Henry Longfellow's poem A Psalm of Life)

One day we shall return to dust,
For our bodies are made of that stuff,
But our souls are made of heavenly matter,
And they shall live on forever.

Stanza 4: Missed by a Stranger (Inspired by when a friend of mine told me that her mom missed me...and I have never even met her mom, only heard of her)

To be missed by a stranger,
It adds value to your life.
It makes you wonder,
What you did to be so recognized.

Stanza 5: Cafeteria (Inspired by the hurried atmosphere at my work this weekend, and originally written for a Creative Writing assignment)  

People rush from one station to the next,
Plates are stacked high and steps careful on slippery floors,
They're dressed to impress in black hats and coats,
A commotion is heard in the back of the cafeteria,
Bang! Crash! Splat! Dishes and food fly everywhere.

Stanza 6: Red (Inspired by the autumn weather and my desire to write a senses poem)

Red...
Tastes like freshly picked cherries,
Feels like smooth silk,
Smells like a dozen roses,
Looks like the perfect shade of lipstick,
Sounds like the crunching of autumn leaves.

Stanza 7: What is This Place? (Inspired by...I'm not really sure...it just sort of popped in my head when I sat down to write)

What is this place?
Where am I?
Cold stone walls and carpeted floor.
Whispered voices and wooden furniture galore.

Stanza 8, 9, & 10: Lost Sanity (Inspired by how I felt yesterday, when I finally had time to slow down for a bit) 

I've lost my mind,
I'm not sure where it's gone,
I don't know where it's at,
I'm sure it was here yesterday,
Or was it a day before that?

Is it possible I've misplaced it?
Is it possible I drove it away?
Has someone come and stolen it?
Has someone whisked it away?

Has it hidden among my books?
Has it slipped beneath the papers on my desk?
Has it found its way into my printer?
Has it taken a dive into the trash can?
Or did I leave it in Campus Center?

(Campus Center is where the cafeteria is located on the university campus I live on...it's also where I work) 


   

An Accidental Framing

Some people work hard to frame others. They put so much time and effort into it, but then there are those who don't need to try at all. Those who put no thought, no effort, and no intent into the frame. Those are the people that accidentally frame another person. Those are the people that I'm a part of.

On Wednesday, October 17th, my roommate and I were innocently walking down our hall. We were on our way pass one of our neighbors' doors when the little white square hanging on their door caught my attention. I had noticed the picture that was drawn on the bored a few days prior to this event. Yet, the little hand drawn fish and seaweed were not what tempted me into action. On no, it was the words that someone had written in black erasable marker above the fish.

"This is Bob," the words declared and a thin-lined arrow connected the words to the fish.

Being who I am, the mischievous person I tend to be and sometimes fail to keep in check, I plucked the magnetic black marker from the door and wrote below the little friendly fishy these words.

"Hi Bob."

Hi Bob. That's all I wrote. Nothing brilliant. Nothing original. Nothing special. Just, "Hi Bob." As I walked away from that door, my mischievous side sated for the time, I thought no further into those words' future. I didn't stop to think what writing those words would do. I didn't stop to think that the person who had passed by my roommate and I in the hall would tell someone that I had been the one to write those words there. Not that I would have cared even if I thought they would.

Hi Bob. Really, what kind of harm could those two words do? Apparently, more than I thought...and that more ended up causing some amusement to rise in me.

It wasn't until Friday or Saturday, I forget which, that those words came back to place a laugh on my lips and a smile on my face. To be honest, by that point I had completely forgotten that I had written that  small message. Hadn't even bothered to look at the bored I had written it on. Yet then, out of the blue, I was walking back to my dorm room when I noticed a group of girls at the end of the hall.

I didn't pay much attention to the girls, I merely kept walking. Now, before I go any further, let me explain something to you. My name's Ashley...there are at least four other Ashley's that live on my university's campus...there's two Ashley's that live on my hall. Understand that? Okay, then let's move on.

As I was saying, I wasn't paying much attention to the group of girls. I was just about to open the door to my room when I heard one of the girls say, "Ashley, Bob thanks you for the message."

Out of habit, I turned towards the girls. That's when my accidental framing came to light.

"What message? And who's Bob?" another Ashley asked, her eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"You know, Bob. The fish on my white board." the first girl attempted to clarify. "So-so (I forgot who she said exactly told her) said that she saw you write 'Hi Bob' on my board."

"It wasn't me," the other Ashley spoke in a confused manner.

At this point, I was in my room, the door opened just enough to let in some of the hall light, and attempting to stifle my laughter.  Without even meaning to, I had managed to frame another Ashley for the simple message that I had written...and I had found it amusing.

When I informed my roommate of this event, she cracked up laughing. She's a Criminal Justice Major with an odd sense of humor and -thankfully -enough out of her mind that she can deal with me and my antics. I believe she gained even more amusement from the situation than I did and has been calling me a criminal since my telling her of the event.

Life is full of crazy little things like theses. Those small events can sometimes cause the greatest outcomes. When I was little, someone told me that a butterfly fluttering it's wings in China could cause a hurricane here in the U.S. It wasn't until I was much older that I realized what they were really saying. It's those little things that can make or brake you in life. They have the power to affect an entire day...or even a week.

That little moment, the laugh I got from the accidental framing, had made my day. It had added some joy into a day where my thoughts were otherwise preoccupied by book reports, reading assignments, and the mysterious language of Fine Arts. It gave me a smile that I had needed and it gave my roommate a laugh tonight, when she needed it. Funny how those little things do that sometimes, isn't it?

One thing's for sure, I thank our Creator for all those little moments, for those glimpses of sunshine. For those moments of laughter. Without them, the world would be a darker place.  

50 Things To Do With M&M's

It's safe to say that we all know what M&M's are. They are those shell-covered chocolates that have been a favorite candy for years. Yet, did you know that you could get creative with M&M's? Being a snack isn't the only thing they're good for.

Last night my roommate and I had a candy fight, which involved those fun size packets of M&M's (and one Snickers, but that's another story)...and then later that night we took a break from studying to play a game of tic-tac-toe, in which the X's and O's were blue and Yellow. This got me thinking. I began to wonder just how many ways I could come up with to entertain myself with M&M's. So, today I grabbed my trusty composition book and set out to compile a list of ways to use M&M's. Now, at the end of the day, I have a list of 50 different ways to use M&M's...and I'm going to share it with you.

50 WAYS TO USE M&M'S

1. Have a candy war with them.

2. Play tic-tac-toe with them.

3. Bribe children with them.

4. Snack on them.

5. Divide the colors among a group of people, place a cup on the opposite side of the room as them, and then have them toss the M&M's into the cup...the winner's the one who gets the most M&M's in the cup (If that wasn't obvious).

6. Teach kids to count with them.

7. Use them to teach kids colors.

8.Glue them to a paper and make a picture out of them.

9. Melt them over popcorn.

10. Use them to bet with in card games.

11. Use them as a miniature hockey puck and shoot them across a table with your fingers.

12. Line them up in a trail down a hallway/stairs/sidewalk....etc...

13. Sort them by color.

14. Pick a color before opening a package and only eat that color.

15. Decorate cakes/cupcakes with them.

16. Bake them into a cake.  

17. Bake them into cookies.

18. Use them to help kids understand diversity/equality. For example: The M&M's are different colors but are all still M&M's...such as humans are different races but we're all still humans.

19. See how many you can fit into your mouth.

20. Wet them and use the color dye for writing/drawing.

21. Use them as Secret Santa gifts.

22. Sell them.

23. Have messages put on them.

24. Use them for a proposal.

25. Make trail mix with them.

26. Mix them into Puppy-chow.

27. Poison a dog with them...but not really, because that's animal cruelty.

28. Play marbles with them (works better with the peanut ones).

29. Scrape the "M" off an convince people they're Skittles.

30. Repeatedly toss them at your dorm wall and see how long it takes your neighbors to ask you to stop.    

31. Pass them out for Halloween.

32.  Buy a box/bag of them and make a movie night themed gift for a friend.

33. 'Accidentally' spill bowls of them on a tiled floor...and then leave so someone else has to pick them up (To make this more effective, hide all the brooms and shop vacs first).

34. Instead of using styrofoam (<---spelling issue) to pack a box, use fun sized packets of M&M's.

35. Use them to spell out a message on someone's desk/floor.

36. Completely cover a floor with them.

37. Use them as ice cream toppings.

38. See how many you can throw into the air and catch with your mouth.

39. Teach a kid to swallow pills by swallowing M&M's whole.

40. Fill someone's dresser drawers with them.

41. Stand in a crowded place, with a packet of M&M's, and suddenly trow them into the air while exclaiming, "They're talking to me! They do exist!"

42. Dress up as an M&M, hand out M&M's, and then proceed to fake fainting when people eat the M&M's.

43. Hold them in your hand and see if you can get them to melt.

44. Attempt to balance them on your nose.

45. Give them to people who've had bad days.

46. Tape words of encouragement on packages of them and leave them in random places.

47. Sit behind someone and toss M&M's down their shirt/jacket.

48. Put them in a jar and shake it like an instrument.

49. Name them.

50. See how many you can stack on top of each other (I only got 2).



Well, there you have it readers. My list of things to do with M&M's.

Part of a Story

You may recall me mentioning in an earlier post that I am currently writing a book...well a series of books really. I've decided to post something from the book up here. This is just a rough draft of a scene I plan on having in the third book of the series. Any feedback is welcomed. 

                Inky tresses swirled about their owner’s head, as if they were alive, as she made a violent twist. Her body spun counter-clockwise, her right hand sweeping a jagged edged scythe. Reflections of the fire and broken buildings around her were reflected on the weapon’s silver surface.  Flames danced not only in the streets, but in her cerulean eyes.

               

  A dark red liquid was creeping down the scythe’s blade, distorting the reflections of death playing across it. As more of the liquid was gathered, it made its way slowly down the reflective surface. The liquid became like crooked fingers as it wrapped itself around the wrist of the young woman holding the scythe.    

                “Axel!” her head whipped around, searching for the person screaming her name. The glowing flames and dark smoke made it hard to see and gunshots drowned out sounds. She could barely hear the person calling for her. The voice wasn’t clear enough for her to tell its gender, let alone who it belonged to.

                The war around her was raging on. A large chunk of metal fell to her right, just missing her by mere inches. It’s weight disturbed the concrete below, causing spider web like cracks to form and throwing small pebbles into the air. A few of the concrete pebbles made contact with the flesh of Axel’s face. She threw up a hand to shield herself but her actions had been too slow. A few small pieces of the debris flying through the air hit her in the eye. She fell, her knees hitting the ground below her hard as she struggled to rid her eye of the foreign objects. Her body’s natural cleansing ability in her eyes kicked in. Water formed in the corners of her eyes as she blinked repeatedly.

                “Dang it!” she cursed. She had dropped her scythe when she fell and was now rubbing at her eyes furiously to clear them.  

                “Axel!” There was her name again, but where was it coming from?

                “What?!” She growled into the smoky air.

                A pair of black boots scrapped the broken concrete. Their movement came to quick stop in front of her.  Axel’s eyes, still having trouble seeing because of the rock in them, traveled from the scuffed up boots to their owner’s black covered legs, to the white shirt and black vest covering their owner’s torso, and finally came to rest on the sharp angled face of Lucifer.  His left hand was held out for her, his right holding a complicated looking sniper rifle. The nearing flames gave his silver-blue eyes a danger glow and cast his long shadow over her.

                “Come on!” the man with the liberty-spikes demanded. His hand snatching hers and pulling her up from the ground.

                Axel barley had enough time to grab her scythe before being dragged around a corner and maneuvered through a crowded ally way. Chunks of debris were everywhere. Pieces of building and cars blocked their path. Forcing them to shimmy between walls and wreckage.

                “Where are we going!” She yelled over the sounds of gun fire.

                “Back to base.”

                “We’re retreating?”

                “Regrouping,” he corrected.

                “Why?”

                “It’s all part of the plan.”

                “You know, I don’t think everything you say is part of the plan is part of the plan.”

                Lucifer came to a sudden stop. His body shifted to face the raven-haired girl. His eyes were as cold as steel. “Everything I do is part of the plan. Every order I give is part of the plan. The deaths our team experiences are not. Those are the consequences of war, and it’s because of the consequences that plans change. Hence why we’re regrouping. So, no. This was not part of the original plan, but not much is at this moment. You just have to trust me. You’ve let me lead you this far, you need to let me lead you the rest of the way.”

Perfection

The following is something I wrote a while ago. I've edited it a bit, but it's basically the same. It was my attempt at a vignette/stream of consciousness story...except it ended up being a retailing of some of my favorite memories. Honestly, I couldn't tell you if the jungle gym mentioned in this story is still standing today. I doubt it is, but maybe the next time I'm around Polo Missouri I'll swing by and see.

This story, Perfection as I've titled it, is dedicated to my cousins (Drew, Elena, James, and Leilani), as well as my uncle and sister (Dillion and Katie), who helped create all the adventures that took place on the pile of rusted metal we called paradise.



Title: Perfection

                 It was old. Made of yellow metal and rusted so bad in some places that, looking back, it was a wonder our parents let us play on it.

                It was rickety. In no way was it sturdy. Its bars would nearly bend in half as we hung from them; they would let out the oldest groan. A squeak that meant nothing to us at the time, but is now a sound on my memory’s soundtrack. 

                We were so young then that it was like climbing on an old man. A bunch of kids climbing on their grandfather as he gave them piggyback rides.

                We never saw it as an old grandfather though. We never saw it as old, period. When we were out there, climbing on it as if it could support an elephant, the rust and age never crossed our minds. To us the imperfections were invisible. To us, there was no place closer to heaven than at the very top of the tower.

                The tower…oh, it had gone by other names. What it was called was different for each of us. The tower… the fort…the spaceship…our parents called it the jungle gym.

                Its name mattered none. Whatever it was…the tower…the fort…the spaceship..it was our place of refuge. No matter what adventures we were on, it was the safe spot. We’d climb its bars…hop to the other side…land on a piece of wood…declare victory.

                Only when I was an Indian was it not a safe place. The others were cowboys…I was never allowed to win. I’d be thrown in the jail and then die by the end of the adventure. It didn’t bother me though.

                How could one be bothered when five seconds after their death they were alive again? We died...we lived…we lived…we died…our adventures continued on.

                Every summer we would gather for these games; sometimes during the fall as well. Then, one day, we found ourselves facing the greatest adventure of all.

                Rust appeared and we heard the old man squeak, We hardly touched it anymore. We had moved on…maybe, secretly, we were afraid to break it.

                Occasionally we’d take a seat on that piece of wood on top of the tower…the fort…the spaceship...but never for an adventure.

                We’re adults now. Each and every one of us. Each of us have parted ways. Words have been spoken to each other on occasion, but we hardly ever revisit our adventures. That chapter’s closed. Those pages yellowed.

                Yellowed, just like the tower…the fort…the spaceship…the jungle gym. Our parents would still say that’s what it was…a jungle gym. We would readily agree. Yet, there’s still something magical about it.

                I’m sure, by now, that old man is long gone, but looking back I still see perfection. Rust and rotting metal…squeaky chains and rotting wood…dangerous….risky…perfect.

                I cannot speak for the others, but for me that tower…that fort…that spaceship…that jungle gym…will always have that magic that makes it perfect. There is no amount of rust, yellowed metal, or old wood that wouldn’t make me take one look at it and think, “Perfection.”