I live in a place where summer meant Christmas time, where Christmas day is spent playing in the waves and soaking up the sun while sand gets stuck in places it shouldn’t ever be in. I live in a place where rain floats down from the sky like snow and is never in large quantities. I live in a place where it is perfectly normal to see 7 year old girls holding and taking care of their baby brothers and sisters while their Momma is out working. I live in a place where they speak a language I don’t completely understand. I live in a place where I have foothills bordering on mountains in my backyard. I live in a place where if you step outside in flip-flops and stray from the sidewalk, your toes would be buried in sand. I live in the place where it is a rare sight to see a tree taller than me.
I live in a place where close friends are few and acquaintances are plenty. I live in a place where poverty has an iron hold, where the line between rich and poor is extremely distinct. I live in a place where squatting on abandoned property and saying you live in a mat hut the size of a small shed isn’t unusual.
I live in a place where belching is considered downright rude. I live in a place where the darker skinned you are, the more mean looks you get. I live in a place where when I go into the streets or cities, wolf-whistles and curious looks are all I receive from the locals. I live in a place where white people are glorified and all are considered rich. I live in a place where air conditioning and heating are nearly unheard of and only used in large buildings like grocery stores. I live in a place where the government is corrupt. I live in a place where children run around barefoot, in danger of stepping on broken glass and nails because their family can't afford shoes. I live in a place where dogs are not pets, but guards, and are beat and starved. I live in a place where seeing a cat is practically good luck.
I live in Peru.
--------
Hope you liked. It's a bit rough yet, but it's a glimpse into what I experience down here.
~Vicki
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Lack of Posts.
Yeah, sorry.
Busy.
Although I'll give you something to chew on. It's my writing, but the idea is NOT mine. I just chose the scene of a movie and wrote what happened as a prompt idea that I had. Take a 5-10 minute scene (could be more or less; it's a matter of preference) from a favorite movie that you can readily pause and play, since you'll be doing a LOT of that. Write out the scene using as many details as you can without being over-descriptive and dragging the scene out. The only rules are keep the dialogue intact and don't fudge things too much. Try to get everything into the writing. This is a good thing to do when you've got writer's block and can't think of an idea. Get your artistic juices flowing by drawing from someone else's idea. Or you can do it for fun. I thought it was fun.
Anyway, here it is.
One of my favorite scenes from "Inception."
Enjoi.
------------------------------
Pristine white rose in hand, Don made his way down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, reading the card he wrote attached to the long-stemmed flower. Slipping the keycard into the door of their suite, he opened it with a whoosh and immediately halted his steps.
The room was trashed.
His eyes scanned all around; lamps shoved to the ground with broken light bulbs scattered on the floor, chairs toppled and torn cushions lay on the off-white carpet like it was a battlefield. He slowly closed the door and realized that the only thing he didn’t see was Mal.
Striding forward slowly, he became wary. His eyes darted around shortly before he heard a snap from underfoot. Glancing downwards, he found that he had stepped right on the neck of a slim wine glass. What he saw next, however, made his heart beat faster.
Mal’s top was on the carpet right next to the glass.
He bent down and picked it up, examining it before slipping it into his pocket and walking forward again. The window was open as far as it would go, looking like monstrous jaws instead of a thing made of wood and glass. The white curtains billowed in the air swirling through it.
He stepped closer, almost afraid of what he’d find.
He leaned down to get a better look outside as he put his hand on the sill. He found Mal sitting on the window ledge of the room parallel to the one he was standing in. She was facing the street.
She had been expecting him.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He asked, showing no fear in his voice; merely curiosity. “Join me.” Mal replied sweetly. “Just…just step back inside, alright? Just step back inside. Now come on.” His left arm began making a movement akin to the “come here” and “inside” gesticulations.
“No.” Defiance was clear in her tone. “I’m going to jump and you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.
“No I'm not. N-now you listen to me: if you jump, you're not gonna wake up, remember? You're gonna die. Now just- just step back inside. Come on; step back inside so we can talk about this.” The level of fear was building rapidly in his heart. She was beginning to terrify him. She was serious.
“We’ve talked enough.” She pointed her foot over the street and let her tall high-heel slip off and plummet to the zooming cars below. He watched it fall, registering how incredibly set on this she was before pinning his eyes to her. “Mal-”
“Come out onto the ledge or I’ll jump right now.”
“Okay.” He said, his eyebrows rising, attempting to stay calm and keep her from jumping. He kept his eyes glued to her as he hoisted himself up to the sill and over the edge until he was sitting as a mirror image of Mal.
“We’re gonna talk about this…right?”
She ignored him. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith.”
His brows furrowed and arched upwards. “No, honey.” He shook his head slowly. “No, I can't. You know I can't do that.” He continued to watch closely. “Take a second and think about our children. Think about James. Think about Phillipa now.”
She continued to ignore him as if he hadn’t said a word. “If I go without you they’ll take them away anyway."
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion now. “What does that mean?”
She looked him dead in the eye. “I filed a letter with our attorney explaining how I’m fearful for my safety…” His heart beat faster and a sick feeling twisted a tight knot in his gut. His head snapped around to glance at the door to the suite. Mal continued. “How you threatened to kill me.”
He slowly turned his head back around, an expression of confusion and disbelief taking over his features. “Why did you do this?” He begged her.
Yet again, she evaded his question. “I love you, Don.”
“Why did you- Why- Why would you do this to me-?” He started to get frantic.
“I’ll free you from the guilt of choosing to leave them. We’re going home, to our real children!” She insisted, so firm on this lie that he began to think he wouldn’t be able to stop her from pursuing it.
“No no no no, Mal, you listen to me, alright. Mal! Look at me! Please-” She had closed her eyes, clearly ignoring what he was saying.
“You’re waiting for a train…”
“Mal! Goddamnit don’t do this!”
“A train that will take you far away…”
“James and Phillipa are waiting for us-!”
“You know where you hope this train will take you…”
“They’re waiting for us!”
“You can't know for sure.”
“Mal! Look at me!”
“But it doesn’t matter…”
“Mal, Godamnit!”
“Because you’ll be together.”
“Mal, listen to me! Sweetheart!”
She gently pushed herself up to her feet.
“Look at me!”
With her eyes still closed, she stepped over the edge.
“Mal, no! Jesus Christ!” His voice broke as he death-gripped the window frame.
Mal was gone.
Busy.
Although I'll give you something to chew on. It's my writing, but the idea is NOT mine. I just chose the scene of a movie and wrote what happened as a prompt idea that I had. Take a 5-10 minute scene (could be more or less; it's a matter of preference) from a favorite movie that you can readily pause and play, since you'll be doing a LOT of that. Write out the scene using as many details as you can without being over-descriptive and dragging the scene out. The only rules are keep the dialogue intact and don't fudge things too much. Try to get everything into the writing. This is a good thing to do when you've got writer's block and can't think of an idea. Get your artistic juices flowing by drawing from someone else's idea. Or you can do it for fun. I thought it was fun.
Anyway, here it is.
One of my favorite scenes from "Inception."
Enjoi.
------------------------------
Pristine white rose in hand, Don made his way down the carpeted hallway of the hotel, reading the card he wrote attached to the long-stemmed flower. Slipping the keycard into the door of their suite, he opened it with a whoosh and immediately halted his steps.
The room was trashed.
His eyes scanned all around; lamps shoved to the ground with broken light bulbs scattered on the floor, chairs toppled and torn cushions lay on the off-white carpet like it was a battlefield. He slowly closed the door and realized that the only thing he didn’t see was Mal.
Striding forward slowly, he became wary. His eyes darted around shortly before he heard a snap from underfoot. Glancing downwards, he found that he had stepped right on the neck of a slim wine glass. What he saw next, however, made his heart beat faster.
Mal’s top was on the carpet right next to the glass.
He bent down and picked it up, examining it before slipping it into his pocket and walking forward again. The window was open as far as it would go, looking like monstrous jaws instead of a thing made of wood and glass. The white curtains billowed in the air swirling through it.
He stepped closer, almost afraid of what he’d find.
He leaned down to get a better look outside as he put his hand on the sill. He found Mal sitting on the window ledge of the room parallel to the one he was standing in. She was facing the street.
She had been expecting him.
“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” He asked, showing no fear in his voice; merely curiosity. “Join me.” Mal replied sweetly. “Just…just step back inside, alright? Just step back inside. Now come on.” His left arm began making a movement akin to the “come here” and “inside” gesticulations.
“No.” Defiance was clear in her tone. “I’m going to jump and you’re coming with me.” It wasn’t a request; it was an order.
“No I'm not. N-now you listen to me: if you jump, you're not gonna wake up, remember? You're gonna die. Now just- just step back inside. Come on; step back inside so we can talk about this.” The level of fear was building rapidly in his heart. She was beginning to terrify him. She was serious.
“We’ve talked enough.” She pointed her foot over the street and let her tall high-heel slip off and plummet to the zooming cars below. He watched it fall, registering how incredibly set on this she was before pinning his eyes to her. “Mal-”
“Come out onto the ledge or I’ll jump right now.”
“Okay.” He said, his eyebrows rising, attempting to stay calm and keep her from jumping. He kept his eyes glued to her as he hoisted himself up to the sill and over the edge until he was sitting as a mirror image of Mal.
“We’re gonna talk about this…right?”
She ignored him. “I’m asking you to take a leap of faith.”
His brows furrowed and arched upwards. “No, honey.” He shook his head slowly. “No, I can't. You know I can't do that.” He continued to watch closely. “Take a second and think about our children. Think about James. Think about Phillipa now.”
She continued to ignore him as if he hadn’t said a word. “If I go without you they’ll take them away anyway."
His eyebrows furrowed in confusion now. “What does that mean?”
She looked him dead in the eye. “I filed a letter with our attorney explaining how I’m fearful for my safety…” His heart beat faster and a sick feeling twisted a tight knot in his gut. His head snapped around to glance at the door to the suite. Mal continued. “How you threatened to kill me.”
He slowly turned his head back around, an expression of confusion and disbelief taking over his features. “Why did you do this?” He begged her.
Yet again, she evaded his question. “I love you, Don.”
“Why did you- Why- Why would you do this to me-?” He started to get frantic.
“I’ll free you from the guilt of choosing to leave them. We’re going home, to our real children!” She insisted, so firm on this lie that he began to think he wouldn’t be able to stop her from pursuing it.
“No no no no, Mal, you listen to me, alright. Mal! Look at me! Please-” She had closed her eyes, clearly ignoring what he was saying.
“You’re waiting for a train…”
“Mal! Goddamnit don’t do this!”
“A train that will take you far away…”
“James and Phillipa are waiting for us-!”
“You know where you hope this train will take you…”
“They’re waiting for us!”
“You can't know for sure.”
“Mal! Look at me!”
“But it doesn’t matter…”
“Mal, Godamnit!”
“Because you’ll be together.”
“Mal, listen to me! Sweetheart!”
She gently pushed herself up to her feet.
“Look at me!”
With her eyes still closed, she stepped over the edge.
“Mal, no! Jesus Christ!” His voice broke as he death-gripped the window frame.
Mal was gone.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Young Writers Assignment...
...that tore me up. But in a good way. Unexpected tears surged to my eyes and I had to practically run out of the classroom we were writing in to cry, sobbing into my knees around the corner. It was a good, cleansing cry, though. Really.
----------------
Hey Grandpa,
I miss you.
It's been almost a year since you left us, but I hope that you are doing well. I hope you got to see Grandma and Shadow again because I'm sure they missed you as much as we do. I still can't believe how surprising your death was - it was just so sudden. I'm glad you went peacefully though, and with a smile on your face like nothing that the managers of the funeral home had ever seen before. You were always grinning when you were alive and I appreciate that so much. I wish I would've told you while you were here just how much you meant to me, because now it's too late. I hope there are palm trees and hammocks and sun in heaven like there are in Florida where you'd go for Christmas every year. I know you trekked down there all the way from Michigan for the winter because avoiding the cold and replacing it with warmth was worth the long journey.
I know we never really had many deep, meaningful conversations and now I'm regretting that. So much. Because now you're somewhere I can't bring you back.
I love you.
~Vicki
----------------
Hey Grandpa,
I miss you.
It's been almost a year since you left us, but I hope that you are doing well. I hope you got to see Grandma and Shadow again because I'm sure they missed you as much as we do. I still can't believe how surprising your death was - it was just so sudden. I'm glad you went peacefully though, and with a smile on your face like nothing that the managers of the funeral home had ever seen before. You were always grinning when you were alive and I appreciate that so much. I wish I would've told you while you were here just how much you meant to me, because now it's too late. I hope there are palm trees and hammocks and sun in heaven like there are in Florida where you'd go for Christmas every year. I know you trekked down there all the way from Michigan for the winter because avoiding the cold and replacing it with warmth was worth the long journey.
I know we never really had many deep, meaningful conversations and now I'm regretting that. So much. Because now you're somewhere I can't bring you back.
I love you.
~Vicki
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Don't Wait Up For Me
Her chest slowly rises and falls, tucked underneath a thick quilt and sheets with her eyelids heavy in sleep. A lamp illuminates the room in a soft yellow glow from the nightstand, sitting flush with the bed. A novel is perched on her abdomen, open but face down; her fingers loosely grasped the edges.
Carpet-muffled footsteps enter slowly through the shadowed doorway. He steps into the light and his ring glimmers subtly as he advances to her bedside. He smiles sadly, crow’s feet branching from the corners of his eyes as he delicately pulls the book from her hands, closes it and sets it quietly on the table. It was sweet of her to try and wait up for him, he thought, but tonight it was better that she hadn't been able to stay awake.
He gazes at her face and sighs melancholically. Ghosting a hand lightly over her cheek, he bends down and kisses her forehead tenderly. He whispers that he's sorry he has to leave, but it's for the best; that he'll miss her so much and that he loves her and will continue to no matter how much distance is between them. His eyes linger on her eyelashes, cheeks, and lips; every inch of her face before he tears his gaze away and turns the bedside lamp off with a click. He walks out the door and pauses momentarily at the frame of it, his hand resting on the faded wood as he contemplates again what he's about to do.
He looks back at her shadowed figure. She rolls over, mumbling something before falling still again.
He sighs, his shoulders sagging forward. He has to force himself to turn away before he can pick up the bag he packed and walk out the door.
Closing it behind him silently, he disappears into the night.
Carpet-muffled footsteps enter slowly through the shadowed doorway. He steps into the light and his ring glimmers subtly as he advances to her bedside. He smiles sadly, crow’s feet branching from the corners of his eyes as he delicately pulls the book from her hands, closes it and sets it quietly on the table. It was sweet of her to try and wait up for him, he thought, but tonight it was better that she hadn't been able to stay awake.
He gazes at her face and sighs melancholically. Ghosting a hand lightly over her cheek, he bends down and kisses her forehead tenderly. He whispers that he's sorry he has to leave, but it's for the best; that he'll miss her so much and that he loves her and will continue to no matter how much distance is between them. His eyes linger on her eyelashes, cheeks, and lips; every inch of her face before he tears his gaze away and turns the bedside lamp off with a click. He walks out the door and pauses momentarily at the frame of it, his hand resting on the faded wood as he contemplates again what he's about to do.
He looks back at her shadowed figure. She rolls over, mumbling something before falling still again.
He sighs, his shoulders sagging forward. He has to force himself to turn away before he can pick up the bag he packed and walk out the door.
Closing it behind him silently, he disappears into the night.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Scissors
He slid a thin, rolled white cylinder out of his pocket and flicked his thumb over the lighter. It ficked metallically before a flame ignited, dancing red and orange in the reflection of his aviators. She scowled and crossed her arms, turning away from him.
He took a long drag, his chest rising slowly before exhaling wispy gray smoke through his nose and mouth in almost what seemed like a long sigh of relief. Holding the lit cigarette between his pointer- and middle fingers, he tipped his head in her direction and quirked an eyebrow. She couldn’t tell where his gaze was through the shields of the lenses concealing his eyes, but she knew he was looking at her. She could feel it.
“What? Something bothering you?” He asked smoothly, inhaling through the red-tipped tube again. He expelled the smoke into the air and it dissipated in the cool night breeze. “Yes. Something’s bothering me.” She huffed and wrapped the jacket tighter around her torso, shoving her hands into the deep pockets.
“Care to elaborate?” His tone was calm, languid even. She envied him for it. But it only irritated her more.
“Care to guess?” She retorted sharply. She kept her gaze low and away from his face, away from his entire body. She heard him take another slow drag.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He prodded gently, setting a hand on her shoulder to turn her to look at him. To anyone else who’d do that, she’d shrug off their hand, smack it away, or bite it. But he was different. She let him touch her, even though the effort to not do anything made her grind her teeth together.
She looked up at him and was disoriented when she found his soft blue-green eyes instead of those mirrored lenses peering at her. Blinking, surprised, she looked away for a second before grasping her bearings. She had almost forgotten why she was frustrated with him when he sucked in more of that sick, noxious tobacco. Her anger kicked back in full force.
She glared at him.
“Why do you smoke those things? You know it’ll kill you. You know I hate the smell and your addiction. Why don’t you stop?” She crossed her arms and looked up at him sternly.
He looked at her, blinked, and looked up into the sky thoughtfully. He took another drag and respired the smoke straight up to the stars. Sliding a hand into his black skinny-jeaned pocket, he sighed leisurely like he had all the time in the world to answer her.
“You don’t understand this addiction.” He whispered to the air. Taking in another mouthful of tobacco fumes, he exhaled them through his nose before continuing. “It’s got me on a leash, on a chain that takes a lot of strength to break free from. I could do it if I really had the motive to…but it makes me feel too good to give up.” Here, he turned to her and gazed into her eyes. “I know you don’t like it. I know you hate it and I’m sorry. I want to be able to stop, but…I can’t. Maybe one day I’ll summon up enough courage to finally quit.” He turned away from her and lodged the cigarette cozily between his thin lips. He put his other hand in his pocket, his posture slouching even worse as he leaned back against the railing.
I’ll give you motive to quit…
She rummaged around in her own pockets for something, a certain thing an idea had just sparked. Her fingers rubbed against the cold metal and plastic and she grasped it in her palm. Swiftly pulling it out of concealment, she snipped once, chopping off the end of his cigarette. He blinked down, confused, and extracted the stub that was left of the cig from between his lips.
“What did you-?” He stared at her incredulously. His eyebrow quirked to a great height and she almost laughed in dark satisfaction. “How did you-?” Disbelief crossed over his lips.
Smirking, she slipped the blades back into her pocket and turned to walk away, but paused to look back over her shoulder as if she had suddenly remembered something. “You better quit soon or I’ll keep doing that.”
She sauntered away, leaving him to stare after her, perplexed.
She continued to smirk.
He took a long drag, his chest rising slowly before exhaling wispy gray smoke through his nose and mouth in almost what seemed like a long sigh of relief. Holding the lit cigarette between his pointer- and middle fingers, he tipped his head in her direction and quirked an eyebrow. She couldn’t tell where his gaze was through the shields of the lenses concealing his eyes, but she knew he was looking at her. She could feel it.
“What? Something bothering you?” He asked smoothly, inhaling through the red-tipped tube again. He expelled the smoke into the air and it dissipated in the cool night breeze. “Yes. Something’s bothering me.” She huffed and wrapped the jacket tighter around her torso, shoving her hands into the deep pockets.
“Care to elaborate?” His tone was calm, languid even. She envied him for it. But it only irritated her more.
“Care to guess?” She retorted sharply. She kept her gaze low and away from his face, away from his entire body. She heard him take another slow drag.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He prodded gently, setting a hand on her shoulder to turn her to look at him. To anyone else who’d do that, she’d shrug off their hand, smack it away, or bite it. But he was different. She let him touch her, even though the effort to not do anything made her grind her teeth together.
She looked up at him and was disoriented when she found his soft blue-green eyes instead of those mirrored lenses peering at her. Blinking, surprised, she looked away for a second before grasping her bearings. She had almost forgotten why she was frustrated with him when he sucked in more of that sick, noxious tobacco. Her anger kicked back in full force.
She glared at him.
“Why do you smoke those things? You know it’ll kill you. You know I hate the smell and your addiction. Why don’t you stop?” She crossed her arms and looked up at him sternly.
He looked at her, blinked, and looked up into the sky thoughtfully. He took another drag and respired the smoke straight up to the stars. Sliding a hand into his black skinny-jeaned pocket, he sighed leisurely like he had all the time in the world to answer her.
“You don’t understand this addiction.” He whispered to the air. Taking in another mouthful of tobacco fumes, he exhaled them through his nose before continuing. “It’s got me on a leash, on a chain that takes a lot of strength to break free from. I could do it if I really had the motive to…but it makes me feel too good to give up.” Here, he turned to her and gazed into her eyes. “I know you don’t like it. I know you hate it and I’m sorry. I want to be able to stop, but…I can’t. Maybe one day I’ll summon up enough courage to finally quit.” He turned away from her and lodged the cigarette cozily between his thin lips. He put his other hand in his pocket, his posture slouching even worse as he leaned back against the railing.
I’ll give you motive to quit…
She rummaged around in her own pockets for something, a certain thing an idea had just sparked. Her fingers rubbed against the cold metal and plastic and she grasped it in her palm. Swiftly pulling it out of concealment, she snipped once, chopping off the end of his cigarette. He blinked down, confused, and extracted the stub that was left of the cig from between his lips.
“What did you-?” He stared at her incredulously. His eyebrow quirked to a great height and she almost laughed in dark satisfaction. “How did you-?” Disbelief crossed over his lips.
Smirking, she slipped the blades back into her pocket and turned to walk away, but paused to look back over her shoulder as if she had suddenly remembered something. “You better quit soon or I’ll keep doing that.”
She sauntered away, leaving him to stare after her, perplexed.
She continued to smirk.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Food for Thought
I'm still not sure what inspired all this to come together, but here it is. It's sort of titled "Peace," but that's just the prototype name.
Think what you want. I'm still not sure what I think of it, myself.
Love,
Vicki
---------------
Pavement melts into brick
red swallowing the streets
smelling of must and vanilla and old vintage clothing kept in the closet too long.
Prices tag cloth and skin
How much are you worth
it sickens me the heights these numbers take.
You, with your closed emotions
I want openness, you want to leave
Don’t leave, don’t disappear without words
Say something, say something
Whisper me the secrets of the earth
I just want peace.
Think what you want. I'm still not sure what I think of it, myself.
Love,
Vicki
---------------
Pavement melts into brick
red swallowing the streets
smelling of must and vanilla and old vintage clothing kept in the closet too long.
Prices tag cloth and skin
How much are you worth
it sickens me the heights these numbers take.
You, with your closed emotions
I want openness, you want to leave
Don’t leave, don’t disappear without words
Say something, say something
Whisper me the secrets of the earth
I just want peace.
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