I’m going to keep this simple. What I’m about to describe definitely bugs me, but I’ve given up trying to correct people because in the grand scheme of things, it’s pointless and almost entirely harmless.
Something that bugs me, quite a bit, is when people can’t seem to spell certain words.
Definitely being spelled defiantly.
Rogue being spelled rouge.
Peek and peak being used interchangeably and incorrectly.
I can’t think of any others off the top of my head (these are just the worst offenders) but things like that bug me. Now, granted, I’m not a perfect spelling machine and I have found mistakes in my old blog posts from years back, but I’ve left them because, like I said before, I’ve basically given up.
Seeing when other people do it is annoying, though.
First off, I didn’t really use a planner or journal in the traditional sense. I guess you could say I used the Tasks app on my phone like a planner since it helped me keep an eye on my daily to-do’s (like taking my meds) while also using it as a grocery list because I can have multiple unique task lists going simultaneously by just flipping through them as needed. Sadly, one of the ones I had originally deemed as an important reminder kept being forgotten. Oops.
On the journal side of things, I guess you could say I’ve been treating my blog here as a journal? I’ve been primarily using it as a thought outlet for daily writing prompts, answering all kinds of questions (like this one) and only sort of using it to talk about my creative writing endeavors.
So, looking back through the year, had I not done either of those things, how WOULD my life have been different?
I suppose it’s possible that if the journal/blogging aspect of my time had been missing I may have fallen into a different kind of mental slump. I’d have just filled that time with gaming or staring at my monitor not knowing what to do with myself.
For the planner aspect, I suppose I would have tried to adjust my routine and habits for taking my meds on time, but not by much, and everything else in my daily planner-style to-do lists would have probably gone on sticky notes that would get ignored (because I have a habit of doing that.)
That’s how I see it having gone, at least. I could be wrong.
2025 might be a different year for planning/journaling, though, so we’ll see if I do better or worse.
Last year, I answered this prompt talking about real animals, and how I came to love otters as one of my absolute favorite animals. I also ended that post mentioning dragons and phoenixes as favorites, but how they were mythical creatures rather than real animals and that I would discuss them later.
Well, it’s time.
I don’t know that I can really recall WHEN I fell in love with dragons, not like how I can pinpoint it for otters, but they’ve been a favorite of mine for a really long time. Phoenixes I could probably be more precise, as I came around to those probably 15 years ago, partly because Fawkes from the Harry Potter franchise reminded me of their existence but mostly because I learned of how they are opposite dragons when it comes to mythology (and specifically in terms of Yin and Yang in Chinese culture).
For dragons, one of the things that really grabbed me is how prevalent they are throughout world history while maintaining cultural uniqueness. From the different magical elements (like fire and water) to the different physiology’s (two legs, four legs, or even no legs) there is just so much to consider on how they fit into the mythos of our own world at the same time that we utilize them as inspiration in the fictional worlds we create!
As for the phoenix, well, sadly, my knowledge is not as extensive. I know that they are primarily representative of the element of fire, and that they seemingly defy the cycle of life and death through the power of rebirth. I just like how they seem simpler and sit opposite dragons. That’s all, really.
For most of this year I haven’t been reading many books. This is because I was helping a friend beta read their book, and I had made the choice to not read any other published novel of that particular genre so that I could avoid mixing up details or making comparisons. I wanted to keep the experience a little more contained and untainted because it’s the first time I’ve ever done anything like this, and it was honestly a lot of fun! It gave me a bunch of insight into how people will latch onto different details as they read the same material while we shared the same objective of trying to provide constructive feedback on how we felt as we read.
Well, tonight we finally finished beta reading that book and had our last meet up to discuss things. At least, for a little while. Then we’ll pick up with another one!
In the meantime, I think I can get back to reading one or two other books out of the MANY I have in my backlog, but I’ll probably be looking at things differently for a bit.
I’ve been ever so slowly working through the Mistborn trilogy (currently on book two) but that is not the book I am primarily reading right now.
Unfortunately, I cannot divulge any details about the book I’m reading because I’m sworn to secrecy. The only thing you get to know is I’m helping a friend.
Other than those, I have a massive back log of books to read through, and I keep adding more! I might have a problem.
What are the biggest challenges you’re facing right now? How can you work to overcome them?
There are a handful of things I’m dealing with regularly that I don’t often share with anyone. Not with family. Not with friends. And certainly not with coworkers.
Am I going to share them here? Well, some of them, but only because I know myself well enough that I can handle those particular challenges on my own because I’ve done so before and know the steps I need to personally take. Others I’m still evaluating and may need to reach out and talk to certain people. I’ll leave those as private for the time being.
The ones I can share are personal goal, drive, and motivation oriented challenges.
Work has slowed down some, and my team is at a bit of a lull (but not a total standstill) for things that we might normally be doing on a regular basis. I have work available to me that I’m building up, but it’s a very slow build because it’s dependent on other people having the time and bandwidth to connect. These lulls, and “hurry up and wait” situations cause me to struggle to be productive with my current workload. I get things done in a timely enough fashion, but it still leaves me feeling a little empty. It saps my mental energy. I fall into a rut, and then it spills over into my private life a little bit at a time. I’m at my strongest when I have a “full plate” and am pushing my boundaries/limits to get things done. I’m the kind of person who works better under a little bit of pressure. So, how do I manage that right now? I have to remind myself that it’s okay to wait it out. I keep my manager informed of the way I’m feeling and we find work that needs doing (like updating internal team documentation and such) but I have to make sure I’m moderating myself as well. I can’t take it all on, or else there’s nothing for the rest of my team, and I risk burning through it all too quickly and just falling back into the rut.
How do I prevent it from spilling into my private life after all of that? I’m fortunate enough that my manager and the rest of my team are wonderful people and appreciate the intricacies of work/life balance. This allows me the flexibility to take time during the day to check on personal things. Taking a few minutes here and there to research things for my hobbies. Running errands for friends and family, and even sometimes my coworkers when they’re feeling a crunch in their own time. I “put myself to work” but in a different fashion to keep my mind engaged and try to force myself out of the rut and not lose too much of that mental energy.
On a more specific personal note, with trying to stay out of the rut in my private life, I’m making sure that I’m always aware of the sneaking feelings of imposter syndrome that try to creep in and keep me from writing. Self-managing those feelings is tough, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may need to constantly remind myself of a few things. Nobody else will put your ideas on the page if they stay locked in your head. Even if what you write is something that seems similar to another writer, you still need to write it to get the experience or else you won’t grow and improve. If you leave that idea stuck in your head, never writing it out because of it being similar, then you won’t free yourself from it and be able to think of something new. Just write it out. It won’t actually hurt you.
Of course, external validation helps, but depending on the kind it is, it just feels like a crutch, or a double-edged sword.
So, for the time being, a lot of what I’m experiencing right now is just requiring patience and consistency. I just need to keep moving forward.
The sound of the Admiral’s boots clicking against the steel floor of the hallway were receding as the lights of the teleporter platform dimmed back to normal levels, and Calvin was still collecting his thoughts.
We spent all that time and effort collecting strange golden mice, that I was told was a rare delicacy, for cats… Calvin sank to his knees, reliving the previous 48 hours trapping an exotic animal on a backwater planet and his hands began to twitch, a psychosomatic after affect of having his hands regrown over a dozen times by the ship’s doctor. The snap of a pen against a clipboard made him flinch and grab his hands as if he had just failed to properly set another trap to try and catch thousands of Mirage Mice in a strange alien jungle. Therese cleared her throat to get his attention. “Calvin,” she tried to speak up and give him his next assignment, but being brought back out of the horrified trance, back to the present, made Calvin leap up and chase after Admiral Slodpolk.
It only took a few seconds for Calvin to run through the hallway, his heavy footfalls on steel echoing along, before he caught up to the Admiral. “You said they were an exotic delicacy, the likes of which, when provided to the RIGHT buyer, would yield something EXCELLENT for the SHIP!” Calvin was fuming.
The Admiral stopped and looked the young man up and down, assessing his intern. “Why yes, my boy, and as I recall, you were all to eager to volunteer!”
“I was EAGER to volunteer because after my first month of interning, of negotiating with various angry factions, that we would have a simpler job!”
“And it was a rather simple job, was it not? Besides, you did fine work, and the job went well enough that we may have made a solid friendship with the Void Cats. As I stated before, they developed a special technique for dry-cleaning, and it’s especially useful for old military hats like mine!” He said, brimming with excitement over the retrieval of the hat now adorning his head and what he thought it might symbolize.
Calvin’s eyes slowly drifted up from the old man’s face to look at the hat before snapping back to lock eyes again. “YOUR HAT?! I LOST MY HANDS FOR YOUR HAT?!”
“Well, of course. My hat is special. Do you see the golden braids around it? The Sol Interstellar Military had discovered years ago that Mirage Mice fur was an exquisite material for clothing, but at the time they couldn’t produce enough to make anything more meaningful in size. Their fur offers a special quality that I’m technically not at liberty to discuss as it is classified, which is part of why we had such a short window to collect. The Milky Way Trade Regime took that classified status as a means to deem the planet ‘off-limits’ to protect the Mirage Mice, and the Void Cats needed to get their paws on a large quantity to try domesticating them as a food source.” The Admiral puffed up a bit and beamed with pride. “The black market smuggling industry is very fast paced, so I’m glad we were able to assist them in time. Fingers crossed they call on us again soon, as my coat is looking about due for a cleaning.” He said before spinning on his heels to keep strutting towards his office, leaving Calvin to stand like an angry, vibrating statue in the middle of the long gray corridor.
The reflection of the hallways artificial lighting, normally cast upon the pristine finished steel flooring and walls leading to the Admiral’s office, was eerily disrupted by the black cat that Calvin was following to the teleporter room nearby. It padded along silently, a bizarre sheen flitting across its fur every time they passed a light, combined with the near void-like coloring, made it seem like he was following a shimmering hole in space with a tail casually whipping back and forth. Only moments before, Calvin had asked Admiral Slodpolk what the assignment was, but all the crazy old man said was “Follow the cat and bring back it’s goods.”
They arrived in front of the teleporter room, and the cat, now facing Calvin, looked up at him expectantly with brilliant emerald eyes that almost seemed to float in nothingness. Calvin sighed but opened the door. He followed the cat into the room and instructed the computer to beam them down to the planet’s surface. The cat leaped up on Calvin’s shoulder and let out an aggressive, but not angry, meow that caused Calvin to jump back from the console. The void-like cat, now perched on his shoulder, dug in it’s claws to help maintain balance, and then meowed again, this time a little more politely, and the computer lit up with new coordinates that appeared to be a mile below the planets surface. Calvin was wincing in pain for a second before his jaw dropped. The cat gave a slight purr and gently bumped the side of Calvin’s head before jumping off his shoulder to pad over to the teleporter platform. Calvin instinctively rubbed his shoulder where the claws no doubt left some marks in his skin beneath his uniform, all while staring at the computer console.
Another meow caught his attention and caused Calvin to sputter a moment as he realized the computer was waiting for a second entity to join the cat on the platform. He walked over but stopped short of stepping on the platform, looking down at the cat that was watching him. He could have sworn it was smiling at him for some reason. It meowed aggressively again, and Calvin took that as indication he should probably stop hesitating and just get on with it.
The platform lit up as Calvin got in position. He opened his mouth and was about to address the teleporter console when, in a sort of pleasant chirping sound, the cat apparently issued the command to begin transmission. In an instant they were in a dimly lit cave deep beneath the planets surface. Calvin blinked his eyes several times, trying to adjust to flicker torches that lined the walls, and stifled a coughing fit from the dust he was waving out of his face. This cat is sophisticated enough to somehow communicate with our technology, and yet they’re using fire to light up a cave? Calvin thought to himself.
The cat nuzzled against his leg to get his attention before it walked over to a spot in a nearby wall between two torches. Calvin followed along, still confused as to the circumstance he was in by following this cat that almost blended into the very shadows of the cave. It scratched a few times at the wall, and then waited. Calvin picked at his collar, the heat of the cave now apparent to him in his stifling pseudo-military uniform that the Admiral made all crew members wear aboard his ship, was starting to make him sweat. He started fidgeting and looking around at the shifting shadows caused by the torches and realized they were in a very long tunnel. A few moments passed, and an almost child-like voice spoke up from somewhere near his feet. “Don’t worry, I’ll have you back to your ship and it’s precious climate control in a few minutes.” Calvin stumbled back and looked around for where the voice came from. “Holy shit! Who’s there?!”
“Calm down, calm down, it’s just me.” The void-like cat had started speaking, and Calvin started to fan himself in the heat.
“I must be hallucinating. This is probably another of the Admiral’s prank like tests.” Calvin thought he was losing it.
“No you dummy, I’m just forbidden to speak in other languages when off-planet. Our kind have a reputation to uphold.” The cat spoke again, and then before Calvin could ask it anything the cave wall began to shake and slide back. A seemingly normal light source, relative to Calvin’s usual situation aboard The Last Opportunity, issued from a slit in the wall. As the wall continued to slide open with a grinding sound, the cat slid through as soon as there was room. A rush of cooler air escaped and washed over Calvin, his shoulders sagged a little with the relief it brought. He hurried to get himself inside, determined to be in a more comfortable and air-conditioned area. As soon as Calvin was in, the opening began to close behind him, and he realized he was in a much more sophisticated space that was all white. The cat would have stood out in this space but was nowhere to be seen, and Calvin slowly walked through, looking around at tables, chairs, desks, and large, clear plastic cases. It dawned on him that he was in a lab of some sort. The cat leaped up on a desk at the far end of the lab-like space, Calvin finally seeing the hundreds of stations lined up from one end to the other. It took him a minute to cross, but he could hear the cat scratching at something on the desk, the sound of its claws scraping across the surface echoing through the lab.
When Calvin finally stood over the cat on the desk it stopped clawing at a small case and looked up at him. “Here.” is all it said. A button was blinking on the case while a strange cross-hatched pattern faded on a pad next to it. Calvin, more than a little perplexed, slowly reached out to press the button. The cat jumped off the desk and casually padded off to somewhere else in the lab, calling back to Calvin as it went “Tell your Admiral thank you for the food.” The case opened with a pressurized hiss, and some sort of white smoke wafted out with a fresh scent. Calvin waved it away and reached inside to pull out the Admiral’s hat. “Hey wait a second….” was the last thing Calvin got out before he was unceremoniously beamed back up to the ship, where the Admiral was waiting for him in the teleporter room. The Admiral snatched the hat out of Calvin’s hands and popped it onto his hands. “Ah, much better! Those cats are great at dry-cleaning hats.”
Calvin sputtered, still standing on the teleporter platform, and watched as the Admiral strutted out of the room. “You mean we smuggled all that food for cats?”
The last time this question came around, I had a list of a handful of podcasts that I had been listening to up to that point. Unfortunately, I’ve backed off of that list. I just haven’t made a lot of time to listen to them. I’ll still go through a couple items, though.
First off, the Writing Excuses podcast is something I still occasionally listen to, and I even made my own playlist (click here if you’re interested in learning about what they call the Elemental Genres) for one of the particular years that had structured content. I go back from time to time and listen to this subset of their content because I find it fascinating how they deconstructed stories into easily identifiable themes/genres. Each listen through I’m either learning something new/connecting new dots or I’m being reminded of something that I should go back and check in my own writing.
The other podcasts in the 2023 posts have fallen off substantially in my routine. Instead, I’ve ended up listening to a lot of D&D Live Play content this year. Particularly Legends of Avantris when I’m working on my painting/printing projects. They’re an absolutely hilarious group that I discovered through animated scenes that get shared in Reels or Shorts.
I should probably go back and look through the rest of the podcasts I used to listen to and maybe see about working them into my listening routine again. We’ll see, though, because there is only so much time in the day.
Recently, I hit the one year mark of writing every day here on the blog, and I was using the daily writing prompts provided through the WordPress dashboard. Unfortunately, I’ve now come full circle and been getting the same prompts. Because of this, I’ve been struggling with trying to find things to write about when I feel like I can’t reuse the prompt of the day.
So, starting today, I’m going to try and expand into creative writing instead of just my usual ramblings.
If I see the daily prompt is something I don’t think is worth answering again (because I can’t add on to what I shared the last time) I’ll instead be looking up different creative prompts and trying to throw them at my good buddy Calvin aboard The Last Opportunity. If you don’t know who Calvin is, he is the protagonist from my NYC Midnight short story challenge entry called “The Smugglers Intern“. (I’ve shared the original, unedited entry here, so feel free to read it and possibly provide thoughts or critiques!)
Before I dive into Calvin’s misadventures as an intern aboard a decommissioned military space vessel, I’d like to make sure you know that I don’t plan on these creative writing posts intentionally maintaining any kind of cohesion with each other. There may be some that continue off of others, but it is not guaranteed, as I will be writing entirely off the cuff for the day. At least, that is the plan at this time. Finally, they may be any length I choose. They could be a simple paragraph, or they could be another multi-page short story.
Without further ado, here is today’s prompt for Calvin!
None of it seemed real, but after several months of helping Admiral Slodpolk negotiate market contracts across the galaxy, Calvin was getting used to his new normal. Except for today. The smell, although cloyingly sweet and nauseating, wasn’t the problem. It was the sight and sound of Yugarth VII’s Root Beer Pigeon’s falling out of the sky like a plague of Terran Locust’s. Thousands of creamy brown and white birds slamming against the ground, against windows and sides of buildings, while Calvin and the Admiral took shelter beneath an awning. Everywhere Calvin looked, they splashed with unsettling squawks like muted fireworks. Cascading rivulets on glass that would then reform into the strange birds, cooing on the sills. Dripping off the corner of the awning, creating tiny versions of them to strut around with the terrier-sized ones that congealed out of large puddles. A few seconds after their “rebirth” they would explode into vapor that hissed almost like carbonation escaping a freshly opened can of soda. None of these things, individually, would have bothered Calvin to such a stomach turning degree, but the assault on his senses was overwhelming. He wouldn’t be able to drink root beer for a while, and the strange rain of exploding carbonated pigeons would likely haunt his dreams for a couple days.
The Dragon's Grove 