Writing Prompts: Attempt #2

I'm really geeked about the essay writing class I'm taking-- an eight-week course that started on Monday. In addition to reading published essays, learning more about the form and structure of the genre, and critiquing our classmates' compositions, I found out that we will be given multiple writing prompts-- one in-class and one take-home prompt per week-- brief exercises meant to provide ideas, trigger memories, and create fodder for future essays. I'm not usually good at writing on command or working against the clock, but I was pretty impressed by what I was able to hammer out in 10 minutes, and on just my second attempt!

The prompt was to write about a treasured childhood object, and to describe why it was important and whether I still have it in my possession. The first thing that came to mind was a giant stuffed husky dog that I named King (after my neighbor's vicious German Shepherd, who I wanted-- more than anything-- to be able to pet). I apologize in advance if my memories are a little bit fuzzy, on account that half of the essay took place back when I was a toddler, but I'm excited that I was able to structure the essay as well as I did, in such a short amount of time. It's not a bad story, either, so here you go!

When I first got King, he stood almost as tall as I did. He wasn't the real dog I wanted, but he was the next-best thing, and as soon as I saw the life size, gray-and-white husky tucked behind the Christmas tree, I was in love. I dragged him around by his fluffy curved tail the way some kids tote a security blanket; when not in tow, he sat faithfully by my bedside, pink felt tongue lolling out of his furry, toothless mouth. I loved that dog to pieces. Literally. When I finally split his seams (from sitting on him like he was a pony) my mom promised to sew him back up for me. He was added to the sewing pile in the back of the closet-- a pile which, sadly, grew as I grew.

I had all but forgotten about my faithful stuffed companion until years later, when I was home on break from college. I noticed an ad in the paper announcing that the "Teddy Bear's Clinic" was coming to the local zoo, stitching up the seams and reattaching the limbs of the well-loved, stuffed animals of children everywhere. I practically leaped out of my chair and set my alarm to get up early the next morning; I was taking King to the "vet". My mother, horrified, kept protesting that I couldn't go-- I was 22!-- but I didn't care.

When I woke up the next morning, however, I couldn't believe my eyes. King was sitting in the dining room-- glass eyes cloudy with age and his coat grimy with dust, and he leaned a little to the left-- but he was intact. As it turns out, my mother rescued him from the sewing projects pile in the closet and stayed up the better part of the night to make good on her decades-old promise to me, and to avoid the embarrassment of having her grown child go stand in line with a bunch of six-year-olds, waiting to be reunited with a lifelong friend.

I think this prompt-writing exercise will be kind of fun, although I'm having a much harder time with my take-home prompt, which is to describe a dinner conversation between myself and a (deceased) celebrity. What would we talk about and what would each of us order? Huh. I'd love to have dinner with Leonard Bernstein, but aside from wanting him to be alive, 60 years younger, unmarried, and straight (so I could go on a date with him!) I don't really know what else I should say! Stay tuned, though... I just might figure it out... and if any of these future prompt-writing exercises turn out well, I just might post them, too.

ICE STORM: 2010

Or should the title of this post be: "The Meteorologists who Cried Wolf"? That's certainly a more fitting description of the apocalyptic forecasts that cut into regular broadcasts as "breaking news" and "developing stories"; when will these local news stations come to the realization that weather forecasts are usually not that interesting, and to sensationalize things like precipitation as much as they do really only does more harm than good?

I'm not sure when this edgy, hardcore style of weather forecasting came into vogue exactly, but I'm guessing it started around the same time those 24-hour news and weather channels began appearing on cable. I know there are people out there who can watch the Weather Channel for hours; they're absolutely mesmerized by the 10-minute loop of local, regional, and national forecasts. I, for one, am not one of them. In fact, meteorologists, the less you have to report, the more I tend to like you!

The study of weather is generally not that exciting, and for the life of me, I can't imagine why newscasters are trying to make it exciting. Here in Chicago, for example, snowfall should not be breaking news. Unless we're about to be blanketed in two feet of the stuff-- during rush hour, coupled with 45-mile-per-hour winds-- then save it. There is no need to trump the real news of the day by reporting-- live, from outside the studio-- that it is in fact snowing, or send some rookie reporter to go stand on an overpass so they can confirm that-- live, from the suburbs-- it's snowing there, too. I can look out my window and figure that out!

I know some of the national news agencies like to send meteorologists to the beach to report from the eye of a hurricane or to a corn field in the path of an oncoming tornado to spice up the weather reports and increase ratings. That is also stupid. It is not cutting-edge journalism, it is foolhardy and dangerous, because even the best meteorologist is wrong a fair amount of the time... If only my job(s) allowed even half as much room for error... But back to the latest forecast, which ranged from copious amounts of freezing rain, dangerous ice accumulations, and nightmarish commutes... none of you Chicagoland meteorologists were even close! Maybe that was true in IOWA, but if you wanted to milk your on-air time like that, you should have gone and filled in on an affiliate station over there!

That's why Tom Skilling is my guy; he doesn't get all doomsday over every little upper-air disturbance. He tells it like it is, gets it right more than any of the rest of you, and we can all get on with our day. My only beef with him is that he gets so involved with tracking jet streams and explaining the composition of cumulo-nimbus clouds that-- by the time he gets to the actual forecast-- I've tuned out and have to wait around for another 20 minutes to catch the 7-day at the end of the news broadcast.

So the next time you all decide to forecast the "storm of the century", you had better be able to justify your radical predictions. You're losing your credibility with viewers (like me!), and I'll kindly thank you to quit freaking me out, especially on the days when I have to drive all over the suburbs. And if you aren't already familiar with the children's story about the boy who cried "wolf", I suggest you pick up a copy. I think you'll find it a fascinating read. Oh, and while you're at it, try to see if you can figure out a way to apply the moral of the story to your professional lives... it'll give you something to do on the days (like today!) when there's not much to report from the weather center.

GET OUTTA MY WAY!

That's how my turbo-kick class started; its theme song, if you will. Yes, you read that correctly. After about 6 months of watching from afar (a.k.a. the elliptical), I decided to bite the bullet and try the cardio-kickboxing class offered by my neighborhood gym. It looked intense, but seemed to require slightly less coordination than the confounding zumba classes I attended with a friend in the fall. And besides, with all the resolutioners clogging up the gyms this time of year, this would be as good a time as any to start, because surely there'd be other first-timers there. And with so many newbies, they'd have to explain some of the moves, right?

Wrong. I listened to the Pilates instructor give the class before mine a five-minute lecture on how to properly stretch out your hamstring, but as soon as the mats were rolled up and we took our places on the over-crowded floor, the music started blasting and away we went. In a matter of seconds, I found myself frantically trying to mimic the seriously buff (and overly aggressive) instructor; kicking, punching, and weaving my way through one seriously high-energy workout.

She was calling out instructions: "Hook! Jab, cut!" and "Kick it back! Knee it up!" and I had no idea what any of it meant. I was all: monkey-see, monkey-do. When the percussive song "Get outta my way" (with lyrics along the same vein) came on, she roared, "Windmill!", and began flailing her arms and legs, kicking and punching and hitting whatever imaginary obstacle was in her way. While she looked formidable, I looked like a damn fool.

I came home and immediately looked up the different punches. I'm doing my homework on this because I plan on going back tomorrow (and because I don't want to hurt myself). The workout was hard but fun; I can see how people swear it's addicting, but I can also see how the numbers of participants will thin out dramatically in the next few weeks. I'm in pretty good shape (even though I don't look it right now) and was able to hang; I didn't get all of the moves, but I was able to keep moving. I can't say the same for the gaggle of wheezing, middle-aged Hispanic ladies behind me; one was halfheartedly punching the air while trying to talk on her cell phone, and another disappeared into the locker room after about 10 minutes.

Is this something new and different for me? Most definitely. Was I sore the next day? You betcha. Will I stick with it? Schedule permitting, yes! And next time, all you insincere resolutioners, you had better GET OUTTA MY WAY, cuz I'm kicking butts and taking names!

My New-Found Resolve

As people around the country are making their 2010 resolutions (and making every effort not to break them in the first week of this shiny new decade), I've decided to broaden my scope. Sure, I'd love to lose weight and make more money and find love and get out of debt; that's nothing new. And to place so many expectations on something as arbitrary as the dawn of a new year seems a little ludicrous-- I think I'd only be setting myself up for failure. So I've instead resolved to change my circumstances, by making smaller changes that will (hopefully) have a larger impact, in hopes of striking a better balance in my life. The plan is simple enough, and I have a sneaking suspicion that, once this balance is achieved, all my hopes and dreams will just fall into place behind it, like ducks in a row.

For starters, I hope to strike a better balance between work and play. I won't beat myself up for not managing to cross off everything on my ambitious to-do lists at the end of each day, because all work and no play makes... well, you know. Once I know all my commitments for spring semester, I plan to schedule one day of rest, and quit trying to work around the clock-- even God took a day off now and then! Some of the specific things I plan to strive for in my quest for this balance include:

• Practicing and/or working out six days a week. There aren't always enough hours in the day to do both, and that's not my fault! See above for my plans for day seven.
• Make more time for social activities. That one will be easy and fun! I've already got a number of things planned for this month, so I'm off to a good start.
• Write more. I want to update my blogs once a week (at least) and submit more articles for possible publication. You can help me on this one-- keep reading, and I'll keep writing!
• Read one book a month. I used to read voraciously, and got out of the habit in grad school (a.k.a. when I started trying to build Rome in a day)... I miss it, and think one book a month is a completely reasonable goal.
• Continue with my recipe-a-week resolution from 2009. Not all of the recipes I tried were winners, but I enjoyed it enough that I'd like to continue filling my recipe box!

The other area of my life that needs reconciling is the way I interact with others, or (more specifically) the experiences and encounters I have with (and because of) the people around me. I need to get better at holding my ground without backing down or losing my temper, and to rid my life of the people and relationships that are weighing me down (literally and figuratively). To accomplish this, I plan to surround myself with more positive people and experiences by:

• Reconnecting with good friends who I've lost touch with over the years.
• Letting go of past hurts and old grudges.
• Distancing myself from people who drag me down.
• Stop investing time and effort into one-sided friendships.
• Learning to say "no" more often. (I've already gotten a good jump on this one, too!)

So there you have it. My new-found resolve. Is it an ambitious list? Of course! Can I accomplish everything I'm setting out to do? Only time will tell. But for now, I'm leaving the messes of 2009 in the past where they belong, and looking ahead to a bright new year, where the misadventures of my life are yet to be written. Happy new year one and all!