So, the class I needed this blog for is over. So I'm reverting back to rants, raves, and writings.
I found a page that challenges you to write for 15 minutes each day, even providing a prompt and a timer. Sweet. No one had posted on that page for 3 years, so I['m gonna post mine here. Clearly, this will be me morphing prompts into a vehicle for dealing with my inner issues:
Prompt: A man or woman has just quit a bad habit. Write about their experience wrestling with their willpower.
Response:
The chocolate stared down at her from the shelf. It called to her. She knew the consequences. Sugar was addictive, they said. She laughed at first. Heroin is addictive, not sugar. Caffeine maybe. Nicotine. Not sugar. Not chocolate. Yet, there it loomed. Just a bite, that would be okay. No need to eat the entire thing. She shook her head and went back to the task at hand. Reading, writing discussion responses. Eating chocolate. No, not that one. Not that at all. She scrolled further down the page, mind numbed by the psycho-terms she was supposed to know but had never heard before. Baffled as to how this really might impact her teaching. She jotted down some ideas, completely and blissfully unaware that there was chocolate just behind her, almost within reach. Okay, maybe blissfully aware. Or not blissfully. Just aware. Constantly aware. Why was it even there? Because she’d gone shopping hungry. Always a bad idea, but often unavoidable. The easiest way to shop was to stop in a Kroger on the way home. She could pick up some sushi for dinner (worst sushi ever… but it was there), which was so much better than stopping at Jack-in-the-Box. But then she was hungry after trying to inspire young people all day (oh, the lies she told herself). Somehow, the chocolate sensed her presence, stalked her through the produce section (must have been, she never went down the candy aisle…), and jumped into her cart alongside frozen enchiladas (gluten free!), bananas (organic!), and the carrots she swore she was actually going to eat this time. What could she do? Clearly, she needed to take it home. It would help. She could prove the strength of her will by leaving it on the shelf. Not eating it. Not enjoying the silky-ish smoothness (not really) of mediocre American chocolate. Not feel the crunch of the almonds (or maybe cookie bits? She couldn’t remember which one she’d bought). Not… Dammit. She drew her hand back away from the shelf and focused again on the screen.
Thirty minutes later, she set her computer to “hibernate” and stashed away her pencil, homework done for another class. She closed her notebook and tossed a couple of tissues into the trash, along with a crumpled brown wrapper, devoid of its contents. Sigh. Fail. Try again tomorrow.
I found a page that challenges you to write for 15 minutes each day, even providing a prompt and a timer. Sweet. No one had posted on that page for 3 years, so I['m gonna post mine here. Clearly, this will be me morphing prompts into a vehicle for dealing with my inner issues:
Prompt: A man or woman has just quit a bad habit. Write about their experience wrestling with their willpower.
Response:
The chocolate stared down at her from the shelf. It called to her. She knew the consequences. Sugar was addictive, they said. She laughed at first. Heroin is addictive, not sugar. Caffeine maybe. Nicotine. Not sugar. Not chocolate. Yet, there it loomed. Just a bite, that would be okay. No need to eat the entire thing. She shook her head and went back to the task at hand. Reading, writing discussion responses. Eating chocolate. No, not that one. Not that at all. She scrolled further down the page, mind numbed by the psycho-terms she was supposed to know but had never heard before. Baffled as to how this really might impact her teaching. She jotted down some ideas, completely and blissfully unaware that there was chocolate just behind her, almost within reach. Okay, maybe blissfully aware. Or not blissfully. Just aware. Constantly aware. Why was it even there? Because she’d gone shopping hungry. Always a bad idea, but often unavoidable. The easiest way to shop was to stop in a Kroger on the way home. She could pick up some sushi for dinner (worst sushi ever… but it was there), which was so much better than stopping at Jack-in-the-Box. But then she was hungry after trying to inspire young people all day (oh, the lies she told herself). Somehow, the chocolate sensed her presence, stalked her through the produce section (must have been, she never went down the candy aisle…), and jumped into her cart alongside frozen enchiladas (gluten free!), bananas (organic!), and the carrots she swore she was actually going to eat this time. What could she do? Clearly, she needed to take it home. It would help. She could prove the strength of her will by leaving it on the shelf. Not eating it. Not enjoying the silky-ish smoothness (not really) of mediocre American chocolate. Not feel the crunch of the almonds (or maybe cookie bits? She couldn’t remember which one she’d bought). Not… Dammit. She drew her hand back away from the shelf and focused again on the screen.
Thirty minutes later, she set her computer to “hibernate” and stashed away her pencil, homework done for another class. She closed her notebook and tossed a couple of tissues into the trash, along with a crumpled brown wrapper, devoid of its contents. Sigh. Fail. Try again tomorrow.