Pr3ttyNP1nk

Prompt:Pick a Trigger Line, write it down, and keep writing.

Trigger Line: The first thing I want in the morning

The first thing I want in the morning is a nice warm place to sit and a steaming hot cup of Lady Gray tea. I am not much of a morning person, I admit. I really much prefer the night. I actually stay up very late, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning, working and reading from the comfort of my room. I focus best at night because it is so quiet and sereen. I feel more focused and diligent at night. In many cases, I work on homework whenever I find time during the day. However, I have noticed, over the years, that I tend to do a lot better both with comprehending the work  and  the over all efficiency of the work if I work on it at night. I guess that I have been a night person for quite some time. I find it very difficult to sleep if I know that I have work to do. My mind can’t fully rest because its so focused on the work that looms over me and shadows my thoughts. This is the main reason why I stay up late, making sure to get all my assignments done. I am, and always have been, a bit of a perfectionist and I pride myself on completed accurate work. I would never willing neglect an assignment and thus I often feel compelled to do my work and do it the right way, no matter how long it takes or how much it may require of me. My mom often tells me that I have the determination of a saint. Once I make something up in mind I will work it out until it comes to fruition. It is because I stay up so late that I dred the tedium of getting up  and ready in the mornings. Running on only a few hours of sleep and heading into another busy day often overwhelms me, leaving me even more tired.

Most of the time I set two separate alarms in order to fully wake up in enough time to get ready for class. The first alarm I set through my phone, and it is set for an hour and a half before my first class. The second alarm is an actual alarm clock alarm, and I usually set it for about fifteen to twenty minutes after the previous one. The second alarm insures that I get up and out of bed. Once I am up and out of bed, I groggly stumble into the kitchen and put water into my pink hello kitty coffee maker. I walk back into my room and set out what I wish to wear for that day. Next, I ready myself for the day. After I am dressed and semi-ready I walk back into the kitchen, pour the water, and steep the tea. I love Lady Gray tea by the Twinnings company because it has a blast of warm citrus taste and instantly wakes me up. The smell is heavenly and to taste it gives me the utmost morning pleasure. I usually find a nice warm place to sit while I drink my tea. Sometimes I curl up into the comfy couch, next to the window. Once I have finished my cup of tea, I go back into my room to do my hair and finish getting ready for the day. I stick to this simple morning ritual and often times when I deviate from it I feel the effect throughout the entirety of my day.

Prompt: Your trapped in Elevator, alone, with a person you would walk across the street to avoid.  Write a dialogue.

The elevator comes to a screeching halt, shacking the entire structure as well as those inside. As I stand from my protective steadying crouch, my eyes dart wildly about the cabin of the elevator to assess the state of things. It is at this time that I realize that the shading man, who I happened to be trapped in here with, hasn’t moved an inch as if he were expecting this brush with death to happen. It is at this point that I become petrified and decide to make conversation to ease my thoughts and interupt his.

” Woah! What was that,” I say in a shaky voice but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t even move he just shifts his eyes from the elevator’s control panel to my frightened face. Aware of my fear and aprehention, he flashes a devilish grin. Now I am really nervous and I begin to internally question the character of this menising man. I continue to speak to him, in hopes of easing the tension.

“Well, it looks…( I sallow loudly)…Like we’re both going to be late today.”

The stranger turns his head mechanically and respondes to my statement with a slow robotic nod.

“I was on my way to an interview at Harperman and Browning, you know at the the top suite,” I gestured towards the numbered button that indicated the  top suite. Hoping to get a verbal response this time, I decided to ask him a question.

“Where were you headed to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

He looked at me with an earnest expression of guilt and stepped in closer to me. He didn’t say a word but, instead, looked down at the smooth granite tiled floor. Feeling slightly more uncomfortable than I had before, I shifted my weight in a natural way that put a bit of distance in between the two of us. I glared at him expecting an answer. When he finally looked up at me, he smiled a sheepish smirk. I was really scared now. Why wasn’t this weirdo talking to me. I had asked him a question and he said nothing. Maybe he was hard of hearing? I doubted the supposition as soon as I thought it. Automatically, I thought the worst and used what I had learned from my father years ago. I spoke up in a clear manner, making sure that I could be heard and understood by the ominous stranger.

” Excuse me sir…( I cleared my throat hoping to even my voice in the process)…where were you headed?”

The question came out even and clear, it even sounded a bit authoritative in tone. For this I was proud. The stranger looked down again and raised both hands up until they were level with my face. “Oh no,” I thought, “this sicko was going to strangle me.” I knew exactly what to do though. All those years of having an overprotective ex-navy seal as a dad had paid off. I simply had to wait until this hands got close enough and then I would cross my hands, thrust my entire body downward towards the ground until I was completely crouched down as far as I could go. It would be hard in such a small space but still possible. At that very moment I realized that the man was not actually trying to choke me, but instead, was gesturing to me. As I realized this, I began to study his hand movements. He was using sign language. “Oh my god, he wasn’t responding because he couldn’t,” I thought to myself, as my mouth dropped open with surprise.

“Oh, You can’t speak,” I said with a sigh of relief. I looked at him and spoke each word as he gestured his response to me.

“You. Are. A. Very. Smart. Girl. I. Can. Tell.”

“Oh, not really, I actually thought…(As I began to confess that I thought he was a phycho-murderer, I digressed and decided to lie instead)… well, I thought that you were ignoring me.”

“No. No.” I said aloud as he signed to me with a puzzled look on his aged face. I waited for him to say more.

“I. Was. Trying. To. Figure. Out. How. To. Respond. To. You. In. A. Way. That. Would. Not. Frighten. Me… You.” ( I corrected myself at the end).

I smiled as I admitted, ” You startled me a little when I didn’t say anything.”

He looked amused and asked, “What. Is. Your. Name?”

“My name,” I said aloud, as I processed what he asked before answering, “Oh, how rude of me…(I held out my hand)…I’m Jasmine.” He reached out with a kind hand and shook mine, then he made eye contact with me and began again.

“Nice. To. Meet. Me…You…(I corrected myself again)…I am B. E. N. ‘Ben’ H. A. R. P. E. R. M. A. N. ‘Harperman.’”

“No way,” I said excitedly with out thought. “Wow! Its such a pleasure to meet you sir.” He looked at me and smiled kindly.

” You. Said. That. You. Were. Here. For. An. Interview.” He stopped and looked at me questioningly.

“Yes sir, I did say that. I am. I am interviewing for the receptionist position.”

” Why. That. Position. When. You. Serve. So. Well. As. A. Personal. Interpreter.”

I smiled coyly and sighed quietly as I said, ” Oh…( I chuckled) I didn’t know that was an available position.”

He looked at me and said, “What. A. Pitty. That. You. Will. Not. Make. It. To. Your. Interview.” I nodded in agreement and sighed much louder this time. He leaned down into my field of vision so that I may watch for his response much easier.

“You. Are. Also. Going. To. Be. Late. For. Your. New. Job.” As I began to process exactly what he was saying, a large cheesy smile flashed on my face.

“Are you offering me a job?” I asked earnestly. He gave one sharp nod yes.

I chose to write my journal entry on writing prompt number two…
Time to rant, rave, and foam at the mouth: the piece of mind you would like to give that old so-and-so.

You Come in a Hurry but you leave in a Furry

The above clip is from one of my favorite shows called , Portlandia. Though the the two main characters, played by Fred Amisen and Carrie Brownstein portray this situation in a very humorous way, the truth is, when you find yourself in such a situation, I doubt it is as funny as this.

Have you ever found yourself in a rush and it seemed like no matter how hard you tried, you kept getting caught up. Well have I got a story for you.

One summer day, I went to my friend Morgan’s house just to hang out. Morgan and I have been friends since Pre-School and, during the summer months, we would alternate visiting each other to relax and hangout. It was a garunteed blast when I got to go spend time with Morgan because she is one of five children and I love how busy her house seemed because of it. You see, I am an only child and, though I have plenty of fun and games at my own home, I was lacking in the people department. It was often just my parents and I and the occasional guest. Of course I would have other friends over but, none who connected with me in such a way that Morgan did. Even as we grew older we continued this tradition and, to this day, we still meet up to talk and relax together.

On this particular day, I had come to Morgan’s house with the plan of swimming in their amusement park style family pool. After swimming for an hour or two, everyone was ravenous. Morgan’s mother decided that she would make hamburgers for everyone but, after preparing the meat, realized that she had a shortage of hamburger buns.Of course, Morgan and I volunteered to go get some from the grocery store up the street and around the corner. Morgan’s mom gave us some money and sent us on our way. She warned us to be careful but added that we should not daddle around because everyone was very hungry and the burgers should be done soon. With these words echoing in our minds, we got into Morgan’s car and left for the store.

We made it to the store with no problems. It seemed like we left at just the right time because we did not catch a single red light on the way there. We even got a great parking spot, right in front of the store, next the the entrance. We went in, recovered the buns, and went straight to the check-out line. We only had one item so we went to the express lane. The line was quite long but, we figured it would move fairly quickly because everyone else only seemed to have two to three items and five at most. Morgan and I made polite conversation as we waited. By the time we made it to the register, the check-out clerk left the register. We waited a little while for him to return and when he did, he informed us that his lane was closed because it was his lunch break. Slightly perturbed, Morgan and I got in the only other line, regular check-out.  The line was moving at a glacial pase so Morgan and I decided to move to one of the self-checkout  lanes.

We scanned the barcode on the bread, like we were instructed, but the automated machine said that the item could not be scanned at this time. Morgan and I were so confused, so we quite the check-out and tried again on a different machine. This machine accepted our entry but this time, it asked us to scan our next item. Having already scanned the only item we intended on purchasing, I pressed the “No Other Items” button. The machine made a few processing sounds and then instructed us to insert our money but, before we could, a nice check-out clerk ran up and told us that the particular machine that we were using had been acting up. She shared that it would not be a good idea to put our money in there, so she cortiously showed us to a newly opened express lane and told us that it would be fast and easier to do check-out here.

Morgan and I seriously doubted that it was going to be easy, seeing that we had already been in four different check-out areas. However, once we actually moved to the lane, we realized that there was only a frail looking elderly lady infront of us and that her items had already been scanned. She was paying. There was hope for us yet. The sweet elderly lady pulled out her wallet with shaking hands. She asked the clerk again how much she owed. The clerk said in a high pitched nasally voice, “$3.92.” The older lady peeked up on her tip toes and inclined her ear forward, closer to the clerk’s face. “What,” she asked again, almost yelling this time. The clerk repeated the price again and the elderly lady placed her wallet on the counter and began rustling through her purse. The lady was searching furiously through her purse, and whatever it was that she was looking for, it did not seem to be in there.  After a few seconds the clerk, as well as Morgan and I, realized that the lady was actually looking for her wallet. It was at this point that Morgan looked at me, crossed her eyes, and smiled. We both giggled quietly and continued to wait. The clerk pointed out that the lady had set the wallet on the counter next to her when she started rummaging through her purse. The poor elderly lady looked confused and began counting out the money. Thankfully she had three crisp dollar bills. However she still owed ninty-two cents. She began to look in the change section of her wallet to find the neccessary  remaining change. What the elderly lady did next shocked us all.

The lady realized that she did not have enough change in her wallet but she thought that she had more than enough in her purse. It was at this point that Morgan and I both had gone from impatient and semi-frustrated to somewhat amused. The lady reached her hand into her bag and all we heard was the jinggle of keys. Morgan wispered to me that she was doubtful that the lady even had the money and maybe we should offer to help her. I agreed. To our surprise though, the lady pulled out a quart sized ziplock bag filled with pennies. That’s right PENNIES. She proceeded to count out each penny one by one. When she got to ten she skipped ll and 12 and went straight to 13. Then she corrected herself and went back to one. The  clerk, stunned by the gesture, finally came to life and offered to help the lady count the pennies. The lady refused and so she let the elderly lady continue. Morgan and I looked at each other, once again, and this time I wispered to her. I said that I felt like we were being punk’d or something. There was no way that this was actually happening to us. Morgan and I both offered to pay for the lady but she got upset when we tried to hand the clerk the money.

The manager must have seen the exchange, because she rushed over and simply lied to the lady telling her that she had already paid enough and that she was about to over pay by counting out the pennies. The elderly lady must have believed her, because she looked at the clerk and laughed. She thanked the manager and the clerk and told everyone in line to have a nice day. Then the manager escorted the lady out to her car. Finally, Morgan and I had made it to the register and we actually purchased the buns this time. We made it back to Morgan’s house an hour later.

I can honestly say that I have never been so happy to purchase bread before in my life. It seems that we left the house in a hurry but returned in a furry of laughter and confusion. To this day we still joke with each other about the frustration of the entire incident.

The moral of this story

 When your in a hurry, slow down long enough to see the little pleasures in life. Also it helps to use those tacky green Coinstar machines. They count your change and give you dollars back in exchange.