Tag: fantasywriting

Insults to Keep up your Sleeve Part 2

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Because swearing is boring.

  1. You Cold Corndog

Listen, corndogs are kind of iffy anyway. Especially the oven made ones. They’re especially bad when they’re soggy and the hot dog and the breading seem to be two totally separate entities with the bread sliding off.

2. You Crusty Toothpaste Tube

You can thank my brother for the inspiration on this one. I mean, does it REALLY take that much of your precious 12 year old boy time to put the dumb tooth paste cap back on the tube???

3. You Goblin

For if you’re feeling real whimisical.

5. You Spork

Because sporks are supposed to do two things but in actuality does neither of them at all. Often like my siblings.

6. Cough Syrup

Lovely, simply because its off the wall but obviously insulting.

7. You greasy door handle

You can just feel this one.

8. Haggis

A Scottish dish consisting of a sheep’s or calf’s offal mixed with suet, oatmeal, and seasoning and boiled in a bag, traditionally one made from the animal’s stomach. And the perfect insult for a not so savory individual.

9. You Limp Lettuce

Because the joys of Alliteration.

Water Adventures to be Had

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Here are a few water related adventurous activities:

Canoeing 

Kayaking

Beach walking 

Swimming in a lake or ocean

Fishing 

Creek walking 

Swimming in a pool

Paint next to a body of water or even the scenery around said body of water. 

Or if you want to get real creative…

Picnicking in a boat. 

Reading in a boat 

Get a friend and send off a floating lantern in a boat, tangled style. You can buy floating lanterns online and they’re not that expensive. 

Have a water war

Throw a bottle with a note in it into the ocean. 

Paint or write in a boat. It’s incredibly relaxing. 

Learn a few sea shanties.

Impulse Control

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I was thinking, what would my past week have looked like had I no impulse control. It’s a scary yet interesting question. 

I think I would have thrown a head of lettuce in my sister’s face. 

I would have told that girl her dolphin earrings were cute and that lady that her highlights were spot on. 

I would have said hello to that person I thought I recognized and asked that girl who was crying at the library if she was okay. 

I would have randomly turned left as I drove out of our driveway and would have skipped work. 

I would have gone to the coffee shop and just drawn with charcoal all day. 

I would have told the barista that I wanted the sweetest drink she could concoct and I would drink it in one gulp. 

I would have woken up at 3 am to take a walk outside at night.  

I would have punched a wall once and a fake friend twice. 

I would have bought myself a new dress and shoes and would have danced in front of the mirror just to watch the folds of fabric shimmer and wave. 

I would have dyed my hair how I always wanted and maybe even cut it short. 

Until now, I haven’t realized fear has stopped me from doing so many things. Some good and some bad. 

It’s that Time of Year…

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

I came to a realization the other day. The phrase, “it’s that time of year” is suitable to proceed any sentence and make sense. 100% of the time you follow up what someone says with, “it’s that time of year”, they’ll nod in agreement and know exactly what you mean. Because apparently it’s ALWAYS that time of year. For example:

Person a: my banana went bad on the counter in just two days.
Person b: it’s that time of year.

Or

Person a: my Christmas tree shed all over my floor.
Person b: it’s that time of year.

It works all the time.

Nostalgia Is Wrong

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

The good old days are not a phase in life in which things magically are perfect. It’s something you’re actively doing and creating as you live each day.  Last week could have been the good old days if you lived them to the fullest. This last weekend even. Your life can be comprised of thousands upon thousands of “good ol’ days” but not if you continue to spend your life reminiscing of a time you thought things were perfect. The Good ol Days are now. The sooner you learn that nostalgia is a dirty rotten liar who insists things were better than they actually were, the better off you’ll be.

Recycling Emotionally

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Learn to recycle emotionally. 

Turn the energy that you use towards disliking yourself to building yourself up. 

The energy you use to envy others, use it to be thankful  

The energy you use to hate your enemies could turn into love towards those closest to you. 

Regret of the past can turn into the hope of the future. 

All emotions take energy. Make sure you’re putting yours into the right ones. 

Where to leave your perfectionism

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

When I was younger, I wasn’t worried. Not In the least.

I would wake in the morning with a light feeling in my chest and a carefree air about me. I would set out armed with a stick and go play in the woods and in the mud in search for adventure. 

I would crawl through culvert pipes and pretend they were entrances to magical worlds, rabbit holes to far off places. 

I would climb up to the highest part of a tree, and where the branches would meet at the center was a throne that I imagined was made for me. I would sit there and overlook my kingdom and pretend I could talk to the birds as the flitted past, giving me news of the worlds beyond. 

Then I would return home and write of my adventures in a notebook and draw maps of the new kingdoms I had conquered and discovered. Page after page I would fill with drawings and notes, describing the magic that I had found that particular day. 

But that’s not the way things are anymore. Now I’m worried, scared even, bogged down by fear and perfectionism. The stories don’t come as easy as they used to and the feeling of lightness and the glow of curiosity no longer radiates in my chest. 

Many times I have rested my pen on a blank page only to be met with a emptiness of mind and spirit. And on the rare occasions that I would actually write something, I would return to it, and rip its pages away because it was not perfect. 

I still relished the feeling of pages beneath my finger tips and the smell of new notebooks but I could never bring myself to fill them with the same colorful stories that I used to create so many years ago. 

But there came A Day I was tired of it. Tired of being perfectionistic. For my fear of creating something substandard drove me to create nothing at all. 

So I took with me a journal, perfect and empty, on a walk. More times than I’d like to admit, I had wanted to fill this book with a great many number of ideas and drawings but I could never bring myself to mark up it’s crisp, empty pages. 

So I walked to a pond’s edge and looked out upon its reflective surface, unblemished and smooth like a mirror. At its shore, I tied a string around the book and left a long tail that I could hold onto. And then I cast it as far as I could into the water. 

I reeled it in, the journal now a soggy pulp of pages. So I took it home and dried it. 

It was not longer perfect. The pages were wrinkled and the cover was beginning to peel. But that was alright. 

So I set it on my desk and opened it and began to write. 

5 Things Wrong with Fairytales

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

5 Things Wrong with Fairytales

So, if you have lives in America around the 21st century or so (give or take a hundred years), chances are you’ve heard or seen your fair share of fairytales. Age old classics, these stories have been adapted and made into movies for children of all ages. But having been around forever, and thanks to disney, we usually totally miss the messed up morals and strange meanings that they could be teaching us.

1. Princesses usually tend to be underage when being stalked, creeped over, kidnapped… etc.

?I also find it funny, that 16 is the magic age for EVERYTHING to happen. Boom! You 16! Time for the romance, kidnappings, and curses to commence! Kiss your parents good bye, because they’re gonners too!

2. Prince Charming has no name.

Seriously. Just calling him Prince Charming isn’t going to work say when your in trouble. Kind of a mouthful to spew out if you’re shouting for help. Ever thought about shortening it to PC or Charles?

And here’s some more food for thought…

Every prince is referred to as “Prince Charming”, and everyone assumes they are different Princes, but what if they aren’t? Sounds like we have a Player here.

And another thing, what if he wasn’t Charming? Heck, most of the princes in fairytales a nothing short of creepsters. They should really go by their true names, “Prince Creepy” or “Prince Get-a-life”.

3. Step mothers are Evil not matter what.

It doesn’t matter who you are or what you’ve done, if you are a stepmother than YOU ARE SATAN.

4. The Morals.

Seriously. You think true love is the only thing being taught through these tales? Cinderella sneaked out at night to go to a party. Snow White lived with 7 guys. The Little Mermaid made a promise she couldn’t keep. Prince Charming kissed a stranger. Jasmine fell in love with a homeless guy and a theif…

These wholesome stories are just great teachers to the next generation, don’t ya think?

5. True Love

“Cinderella’s eyes watered as she turned away from the prince to leave. She hadn’t known only twenty seconds ago that they’d become so close.”

A whole flipping 20 seconds is all it takes to develop this “true love”. How…realistic…?

Aaaaaaand that’s the end of my thinking capacity for now.

Byeee!

Sarcastic Sleeping Beauty Part Two

~ Brooke F. ~ Leave a comment

Part two

After having been secretly wed by the reawakened Royal almoner, the Prince continues to visit the Princess. She bears him two children, L’Aurore (Dawn) and Le Jour (Day), which he keeps secret from his mother, who is of an ogre lineage (Oh, so wouldn’t he have ogre in him too?). When the time comes for the Prince to ascend the throne, he brings his wife, children, and the talabutte (“Count of the Mount”) (Whoever the heck that guy is).

The Ogress Queen Mother sends the young Queen and the children to a house secluded in the woods and directs her cook to prepare the boy with sauce Robert for dinner (One, Cannibal alert! Two, her worthless husband doesn’t have anything to say about this?!).

The humane cook substitutes a lamb for the boy (Because lamb tastes like boys, not that the cook would know or anything), which satisfies the Queen Mother. She then demands the girl but the humane cook, once again, substitutes a young goat (Which tastes like girls? Girls and boys have different tastes?), which also satisfies the Queen Mother. When the Ogress demands that he serve up the young Queen, the young Queen offers to slit her throat so that she may join the children that she imagines are dead. While the Queen Mother is satisfied with a hind prepared with sauce Robert in place of the young Queen, there is a tearful secret reunion of the Queen and her children (Is the Queen really that sad to see her children are alive? They don’t even say they are tears of joy. They make it sound like she’s sad!).

However, the Queen Mother soon discovers the cook’s trick and she prepares a tub in the courtyard filled with vipers and other noxious creatures (Um, that’s nice. Totally normal thing for a Queen to do). The King returns (Wait, where in the world was HE?) in the nick of time and the Ogress, being discovered, throws herself into the tub and is fully consumed (Wait, what? “I have been discovered so let me throw myself into this random tub!). The King, young Queen, and children then live happily ever after (But they never went to visit grandma).