“You’re given a plot of land and have the financial resources to do what you please. What’s the plan?”
The plot of land would have to be somewhere scenic. As a writer peace and solitude is something which I strongly desire and having a home away from those chaotic city sounds would be superb. I do not consider myself a recluse, but living and working in a city can be exhausting at times. A few trees nearby wouldn’t be such a bad thing especially when waking up in the morning and taking in a nice breath of fresh air. It would just make you feel alive.
On that plot of land I would definitely build a home. Something interesting to look at, something which would scream out “I am a creative individual and I make my dreams become a reality.” I’m not sure what it would exactly look like but it would definitely arouse the curiosity of guests staying over at the house.
The interior of the home would be clean, simple and spacious. I don’t like to have much clutter around the house so I try to stick to the bare essentials such as a TV, phone, couch, bed, cooker, bathroom etc. There would be a lot windows to let in light. I rely on light to give me the energy I need to keep me going throughout the day. I do not like the feeling of being boxed in and having a lot of windows would eliminate that. An office with windows instead of walls. Inside that office there would be one white desk, an iMac, a comfy chair and an Ikea/Pixar lamp to provide some light when working late on a novel of some sort.
I guess that’s what I would do with my plot of land. I don’t care much for possessions. I try to focus on the bigger picture and that is me growing as a writer. I enjoy the little things in life because if you don’t how are you supposed to enjoy the big things when they do come around. Over these last couple of months I’ve grown tired of trying to keep up with what the latest 24 hour trends are and it’s been a positive change in my life so far. You should try it.
“Tell us about a sensation-a taste, a smell, a piece of music- that transports you back to your childhood.”
The smell of cigarettes occupying my grandparents elevator. That is the smell which brings me back to my childhood. I was born in 1996 a year when the band Oasis were in their prime, denim was a must have fabric in everyone’s wardrobe, the film Dumb and Dumber was one of the best comedies around and the 80’s, well they were just fond memories and a thing of the past.
The elevator is old and rotten. The command buttons which were once white and shiny were now cracked and burnt as a result of the “Youth Gone Wild” generation. No longer distinguishable. The back of the elevator smelled like urine, whether it was from a dog riding up and down for thrills or a human who had one too many on a night out? I don’t want to know. The sealant which fulfilled its purpose between the walls of the elevator had now been replaced with chewed up chewing gums. I wonder what story each chewing gum possesses? Who knows one of those chewing gums could have been my mother’s when she was my age. Wooden panels which screamed out luxury in the seventies were now pleading for mercy as they had been vandalized by someone who felt the need to make a statement. Odds are that lost individual is now a lawyer for some high up corporation and covers up his tattoos with a top of the line suit every morning.
The elevator has been serving the public for the last 45 years. The people who once resided there have come and gone. The little window in the elevator door has seen a lot of things throughout its 45 years of service and the secrets which it contains will continue to go up and down until the hard-working pulley gives out. The people around us change. We change and the things we once knew and loved changed. But the one thing which continues to stay the same is the elevator and its scent of cigarettes.
“When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?”
The word pride is used quite frequently in my household. My parents and close relatives tell me that they’re proud of me all the time. But do they really mean it? The last time my parents told me that they were proud was when I told them I made it through a full root canal without letting out one single tear (Root canals are painful). You see there you have it, that was the last time someone told me they were proud of me. But in today’s post instead of going through the whole root canal procedure in order to really signify and find the reason why my parents were proud of me, I’m going to let you guys know about the time when someone did truly mean it and I felt it.
It was the summer back in 2013. I was just beginning my journey as a writer and I was focused on becoming the best video game journalist there is. I still am. The Electronic Entertainment Expo otherwise known as E3 was wrapping up and I wrote an article for my blog over at Blogger about “who had the best presentation” or something like that.
Up to that point I had been writing about video games every single day and I was putting in my blood, sweat and tears into the work which was being produced. I logged in every day with the hope that my stats would go right through the roof as a result of the previous article which was written the night before or that there might be a comment which may need to be addressed by the writer himself, me. But unfortunately stats remained the same and no comments had been submitted. I was distraught by the fact and I decided to log in a few hours later to write more articles for the site.
When I had logged in the bell located at the top right hand corner of the site had a little red 1 next to it and I immediately jumped with excitement. “My first comment.” I thought to myself and during that little period between being redirected from the home page to the comment page a hundred possible questions began to run through my mind. When the page finally loaded up and I glanced down at the comment I smiled slightly and logged out. It was the greatest feeling in the world and for the first time in my life the word “Proud” truly meant something to me.
Thanks for checking out my “Daily Prompt” and have a good day.
P.S. Thanks Dad for encouraging me to stay on the path as a writer. I had my doubts but “Words run through my veins” and it’s something which I can’t get rid of.