Tagged: writing prompt
A homemade breakfast makes me want to wake up
When you’ve been waking up as early as I have for school, camp, and whatever else I spend my time doing, very little motivates you to wake up and get out of bed in the morning.
Sure, you have ambitions and life goals, but these pursuits aren’t solely reserved for the early morning. In my case, most of the creative and productive work (mainly writing) that I accomplish happens in the evening.
***alarm sounds*** Continue reading
Why Are You So Nice?
Sometimes I wonder about nice people
Do they know just how delightful they are?
Do they make an effort to be that pleasant?
If they’re conscious of their niceness, why do they choose to be so?
But then I wonder, are they actually nice?
Or do they just want to be known as someone who is warm and benign on the outside,
so that they’ll be more liked?
And then I ask myself whether or not it’s bad to make an effort to be such a pleasant person
Purposely saying nice things for the sake of being nice
Is it because they figure there’s already so much hatred in the world,
Or because they were taught that that was the correct thing to do?
But no one can be 100% nice.
Sadness and frustration always chips away at the shell of politeness and happiness
Do they deal with stress very well?
Do they just really appreciate life?
What if they only want good things to happen to people?
What if they just like you? Maybe they like me.
Sometimes I wonder about anti-nice people.
Horrible, nasty, pessimistic human beings.
Are they just permanently not nice?
Except, what if they just had a bad day? What if they didn’t sleep well?
Has something in their past caught up to their present?
What if they don’t think it’s necessary to be nice?
What if they think that no one deserves their niceness
Or maybe it’s just me – and the way I measure niceness
Not in how many words or good deeds
But by the intentions behind the words and deeds
Because we’re all different
And we all see the world differently.
What if they just don’t like you? Maybe they don’t like me.
A Letter To My Sister on Her First Day Of High School
We can’t always go to school completely prepared, with a pretty backpack and fancy hat.
A service has been invented through which you can send messages to people in the future. To whom would you send something, and what would you write? – Daily Prompt
You are going to start high school next year. You will make the huge transition from middle school to high school. While the jump is not as drastic as it is to leave high school for college, you won’t be prepared. No one ever is. We all have this ideal of high school in our minds that we find is woefully distorted. It is too optimistic. It is too much influenced by the parties and fun that you see on TV. And yet, it’s not as dramatic as the media portrays it. But this is only for me personally, a major introvert.
So I hope I can help you just a little bit.
You need to find friends but don’t cling on for dear life. Your social group is inevitably going to shift every couple of months. You just need to know that it will happen, and it is not the end of the world if it does. People you thought would be by your side for the rest of your life will desert you in a few months. You will make friends with people you never imagined you would. High school will surprise you.
You need to keep your grades up. There’s this evil thing called GPA which measures your grades from day one of year one. The higher it is, the more likely you’re going to go to a good school. Don’t be anal, but don’t take your knowledge for granted. In high school, everything gets a lot harder. You must apply yourself and start reviewing for tests early. You have to find motivation to do your work. You don’t HAVE to learn about the French Revolution, you GET to.
You need to find teachers that will like you. Yes, it’s nice to have them write recs for you, but it’s just nice to have friends that are in positions of authority. It doesn’t look lame. It’s the coolest thing ever. Find one that teaches a subject that interests you and do not be like everyone else in the class. Smile and say hi in the halls. Go to extra help not just to review for a test. Visit them even if they are no longer your teacher. I regret so much not doing so, and I have certainly alienated a good number of teachers that could be very meaningful to me.
You don’t have to find out your passion. You don’t need to decide what you’re going to be. High school is just the very beginning (a very painful and miserable beginning) of a path of stones that will lead you through life. Step completely and heavily and confidently onto the first stone. Explore many options and join clubs. If you find one that you like, you should stick with it. If your friends want you to quit it, disregard their opinion (in this instance). High school is not for your friend group, it is for YOU. It is YOUR experience. You are your own independent person.
Before year 9 you won’t take this advice very seriously because you won’t really know what I’m talking about. Every year you’ll read this letter again and understand it a little better than you did before. And you’ll find out that what I’m saying is true (in some respects, at least). And you will look back when you graduate and regret a little bit but we’re not all perfect, are we?
A houseplant is dying. Tell it why it needs to live.
Dear houseplant of mine:
Life is better than death, that’s for sure. If there’s a chance that you can muster up your plant willpower and restore your health, you should.
There’s always a risk that life has value. And you know that, otherwise you would have already let yourself wilt by now, correct?
Oh I see. I haven’t had the time to set you in the sun correct? You feel confined to sitting on my desk, and you long to be like the big tree at school whose leaves turn a most brilliant shade of orange in the fall? Yeah…if I were you I’d be jealous too, but I still don’t think it’s worth letting yourself die.
Life has more value in death. When you die, there’s no coming back to this “body” of yours, sitting safely in your brown clay pot. You might claim that you’d rather be free. One side of the argument is that you’d have a reason to live. You could congregate with other plants like yourself and converse about the weather, the soil tickling your roots, and the worms squirming on the ground. True, maybe it’s a little boring in this house, where you absorb more light bulb light than UV rays. Maybe I’m not around that much and rather boring to talk to. Perhaps I neglect you sometimes and desert you for days on end. But haven’t we had good times?
Believe me, from an optimistic point of view, you have it much better than the outdoor plants. Being a houseplant is special. I can feel your leaves shivering in anxiety during the stormiest of nights when thunder shatters your non-existent eardrums and lightning bolts light your non-existent eyes up in fear. The plants out there suffer, and you are guarded by the brick and mortar that holds this house together. Regard the roof over your head not as a jail cell of sorts, but rather as a shield from anything that could ever endanger you.
I’ve read headlines of studies (not the actual studies themselves) that claim that talking to plants can be beneficial for us humans. So thanks for all that you’ve done so far, even though I don’t feel much different.
I need you to hold on to dear life. I need you to absorb the fertilizer I sprinkle on your soil and the water that I spray generously on your leaves.
Death is inevitable. You and I will both be dead at some point in time, but don’t let it happen without a fight. If life is meaningless, there’s no downside to preserving it, but any risk that it has value means extinguishing it would be bad.
In conclusion, I can buy you another plant buddy if I’m truly that hard to talk to. How about a beautiful pot of African violets? Or a nice sturdy cactus? Whatever floats your boat, just hold on for dear life.
PS. I got this writing prompt from 642 Things to Write About.