Fifteen Minutes of Scrawl

The Call of the Crow I pretend to do be doing yoga as I lie on to top of my fluffy blanket. Looking up over my pale, freckled forehead, I can see a strip of sky from the two paned window above my bed. The wisps of clouds are nearly coalescing into something beautiful and bigger than themselves. I wait for them to become some magnificent shape, like I remember clouds being when I was young, back when they formed all the images from the stories and dreams in my head. But they remain little stringy meshes moving quickly on the wind, like if flavorless cotton candy had been pulled apart and set out on a breeze. The caw, caw, caws of the crow in one of the trees behind the concrete wall just beyond my window serenade me and my attention. I want to see what the commotion is, but the yoga video playing softly on my laptop says I’m only half way through, so I don’t more than glance at the small block of sky I can see. The chorus of cacophonous calls is somehow more melodic to me than

A perfect pet is hard conceive of. I really do love pets and I often find myself thinking of getting one. I guess I usually think of getting a dog. I love dogs (especially my friend Emily's) and I think they make great companions. Dogs are adorable, loyal, and love you just unconditionally. Also, a pet that gets you out of the house a few times a day would probably be good for me. If I got a dog, I'd like to get a medium or small dog. Big dogs still frighten me a bit to be honest. Small dogs have the benefit of me being able to pick them up and cuddle, but medium dogs make me feel safer (and can still be cuddled). I'm not sure what breed of dog I'd get because, to be honest, I'd adopt a dog. I guess realistically I'd like one with short hair. While long haired dogs are gorgeous, I guess the idea of having long hair everywhere sounds so unappealing to me. My ideal dog would also be very friendly and love to play fetch, but also like to be inside on very cold days

Penny flicked through her phone contacts deciding whom to call. She started with her friend Henry. The line rang a few times and then went to his voicemail. Henry's familiar voice came over the line, but his voicemail had changed from his usual message. It now said: Hey, it's Henry. I'm out of the country for the next few days so I'm going to be hard to reach, but leave a message and I'll get back to you once I have service again. Have a good day! Huh, Penny had forgotten Henry was going out of town. Oh well. She shrugged and called her friend Fiona. The phone also rang to voicemail. Penny knew her generation wasn't much known for talking on the phone these days, but this was starting to get a bit weird. She tried her friend Victor next and the same thing happened. Deciding that the phone calls were taking too long, Penny resorted to sending out a punch of text messages. She sent out texts asking if people were free to hang out this coming weekend to tons o

This may not be ultimately the most important, but I have seen this in more than one guide book so I feel the need to correct it. DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT order either an Irish Car Bomb or a Black and Tan. I don't care who or what travel guide told you to do it (although I will believe you that a guide told you to do it because I've seen it with my own eyes), it's a very insensitive thing to do. Just take a quick gander at a google search of what those cocktail names are referring to and you'll see what I mean. Have respect for the places you visit. I'll never forget that when I was in my study abroad semester in undergrad and we were at an ancient site of a ring fort (or something like that) and we were lucky enough to be able to just walk onto this site and explore it a bit and one of my classmates just left their trash there (don't worry, I picked it up). I was utterly shocked at this. It was almost as if because we're not the most used to having acces

Karen wanted to be crafty, she really, really did, but she was never any good at it. Even when she was a kid she could tell that her scribbles and macaroni art were just so below par. Her parents were always kind about it and, for a while, so were her teachers, but Karen always knew that her calling would never be with art. This didn't mean that she didn't appreciate art though. She loved going to museums and art galleries and sculpture parks. She'd soak in the art and feel so inspired by the brush strokes or the camera angles or the intricate shapes the artists could create. Sometimes, she'd even get inspired to sign up for another art class, but then she would just find out she was as abysmal at art this time as she was the last time. When she was dating, she always found herself drawn to artists and crafty people. Her first serious relationship was with Joanne, a photographer for the local newspaper. They hadn't lasted because her work took her too many place

Beth stared at the blood red letters, unbelieving: It wasn't heart attacks Beth had never been one to believe in ghosts or hauntings or demons or anything like that. The most she'd done was watch ghost hunters with a bit of amusement as to how ridiculous it was. She found herself doing the cliche thing of pinching herself to be sure she wasn't dreaming. How could this be real? After writing the shocking sentence, the pen had laid itself down again. This time, it offered no resistance when Beth picked it up. She wrote in her own, much uglier script: Who is this? She had assumed it was one of her grandparents, but considering this whole thing was surreal, she didn't see the harm in confirming. The feather pen leapt out of her hand and wrote back: Grandma Anna, sweet pea. I always told you it was your grandpa who'd lost his pen. Guess I was right. Beth smiled in spite of herself. The long argument over who'd lost their matching feather pen was finally

Christine woke up as late as she pleased and took a long breath as she stretched all of her sleep addled limbs. The day was all hers even though it was a Monday. Even just this past Friday, that wouldn't have been true. Christine had just left her terrible job that had been kind of crushing her soul (or so she had said in her more melodramatic moments). She had needed out and now she was out. This meant Christine was freshly fun-employed. She hadn't made plans for her first day off. It would be her first day off in over nine months because her ex-employer was not a big believer in vacation or personal days (or sick days come to think of it). Christine had just relished the idea of doing nothing all day. So when she finally decided she was awake enough to get out of bed, she went to her kitchen to make breakfast (even though it was closer to lunch time). Christine realized she finally had time to make herself breakfast. She had kind of cut breakfast out of her diet so she co

Beth sat at her desk with the worst case of writer's block she had ever experienced. Sure, people had told her writer's block wasn't really a thing, that what she should really do is start on a different idea if the first one wasn't inspiring her. But had those people ever stared at her mound of blank notebooks and felt incapable of writing? She couldn't even think of a first word to write. She thought of going for the fairy tale classic of "once," but that felt too cliche. She thought of just going with "the" as it had so many possibilities that could come after it, but that felt too overwhelming. She thought of just writing her own name, but that felt too self-centered. Beth sighed heavily and let out a long breath, blowing her auburn bangs up in the air. She began to tap her foot in impatience. Suddenly, there was a large BANG from under her desk. Confused, she stooped down and saw that she had somehow managed to kick over a metal box. She h

I had a hard time picking a movie to do this time around. I even looked through Netflix to see what I'd recently watched, but nothing really struck a cord. Then I remembered a movie that I had a lot to say about: Batman v. Superman  (or BVS). So let's get to it. Okay, first off. What the fuck was up with all of the horses? No, seriously, why were there so many horses in a superhero movie? The first is when we see Bruce Wayne run into a cloud of dust that has appeared because of Superman fighting the big bad in Man of Steel . In that cloud of dust is a horse! Now, why is there just a lone horse wandering around Metropolis? The horse has nothing on it so it's not a mounted police horse. It doesn't have blinders on so it hasn't broken free of one of the carriages that you see in downtowns carting tourists about from time to time. Is the horse supposed to symbolize something? If so, I have no idea what. Then there are mounted police officers at the the capitol build

Examine the reason that you're in the new place. Have you come for a job? For a degree? If so, try and meet new friends there, it's a built-in community for you already, make use of it! Have you come because you wanted simply to live in that place? Go on a walking tour. Tour guides tend to be very knowledgeable about the best places in town (and also can tell you some cool historical trivia). Or hit up a museum's tour, you can meet people there as well. Don't be afraid to suggest events yourself. Once you've met some people, you might find that no one is suggesting anything to do. Asking if anyone wants to get coffee is completely normal and, chances are, someone else is feeling like they could use a friend. Are other people suggesting events you'd rather not go to? Suggest ones you would like. You may find that a bunch of people like going on hikes when that sounds like utter death to you. Fear not, plenty of those people are still up for going to a movie or

Brian loved taking photos of his hometown. It was a small quirky little town, but it had a lot of beauty. It was also on a pretty major route to a national park, so they also got a fair few tourists stopping by. Eventually, the town caught on that it should exploit the tourist industry and start making some town merchandise. The mayor called a town meeting to discuss the matter (as they did with most things). They agreed that probably the most popular items would be shot glasses (because collecting these is apparently a thing) and postcards (people loved to have a ready to go snapshot of where they've been). The shot glasses, they decided, would have the town crest on them (as would some of the postcards). Considering the town crest had a grizzly bear on its hind legs on it, Brian thought that they would do very well with tourists. But then came the matter of the postcards. The town agreed there should be a variety so that people would consider buying more than one. After some

Leigh used to hide the fact that she loved construction work. She was the only girl who wanted to be on the construction crew at her summer camp. Everyone had to sign up to do jobs around the camp, it was a co-opeartive. Some people preferred to clean dishes apparently. Not Leigh, she was fine with not seeing half eaten food floating in murky water. Some people preferred to clear trails through the forest. Not Leigh, she preferred to avoid places she could pick up tics, bug bites, and thorn scrapes. Some people preferred to weed and tend the garden. Not Leigh, she liked her work to stand the test of time and not just the length from garden to dinner table to stomach. When she'd gotten older and had finally wielded a sledgehammer, that's when her interest really took off. Not that she often mentioned this to people as saying you like smashing things with an incredibly heavy hammer tends to intimidate people (for some reason). In the end though, this is why, when it came time,

My desk is actually fairly cluttered at the moment, so I had trouble deciding what item to pick. However, most of the objects on my desk are relatively new acquisitions or don't have much of a story to them (although, what tub of paperclips does have an interesting tale?). Ultimately, I decided to write about the framed photo on my desk. Now, most people might expect that a framed photo you bring with you to a new country would be of your dearest friend or family member, but no. Mine is of a dog. Not my dog, because I don't own a dog, but the dog that I love oh so dearly: my friends Emily and Joey's dog, Buehrle (pronounced like 'burly'). He's an adorable dog who snagged my heart a while ago (so much so that I even had a weekly walking date with him when I was in Chicago). Buehrle is a Boston terrier and rat terrier mix. He's also a very good boy. Except, to be honest, when he's not. He can be a sneaky little dog. I remember one of the times I had be

Roberta was honored with the request, truly she was. She was touched that her crossword puzzles meant so much to the people of her little city. But it was starting to cause so a lot of problems and it was making her second guess her work. But she wanted to help the guy out, truly she did. About a week ago a young man named Phillip had sent her email. He explained that he and his girlfriend did the weekend crosswords together every week and that his girlfriend, Laura, did Roberta's weekday crosswords too. They had been together for five years and Phillip was working up the nerve to propose. He was hoping that Roberta would be able to hide his proposal in one of her weekend crosswords. Roberta was touched and immediately agreed (after checking with her editor) before realizing how difficult this was going to be. Fitting the words in wasn't so hard, but she also had to decide how quickly the clue should be there. How obvious should it be? Should it happen right when the two st

Ms. Himple's first grade class was going to do a bit of practical learning. At least, that's what she had decided. She wanted the class to really engage with the work and get their hands dirty (although, to be fair, how clean are six and seven year-olds' hands in general?). They had been talking about the seasons, with a focus on Spring as that was the season they were in. This had led to them talking a lot about plants and how they grow. With an idea in mind, she spoke to the principal about an idea she had. There was an area on the east side of the school that wasn't really utilized. It was too small for any playground equipment so it just sat as a patch of grass. Ms. Himple spoke to the principal and asked if she could take it over as a garden for her class. She had written up a budget for the tools and supplies she'd need and pointed out that it was a great chance for hands on learning as well as for the kids to see how they could make a difference at the scho

"Sir, I think morale has been low lately," Ms. Fredrickson said to her boss. Her boss, Mr. Green, was the manager of their regional office. "What makes you say that?" huffed Mr. Green over his morning cup of coffee that Ms. Fredrickson had made for him. "Well, sir, people have been muttering about how the changes to the healthcare plans are very unfair and will put a lot of them in tough spots." "Mine didn't change," Mr. Green said, taking another sip. Ms. Fredrickson sighed. She knew Mr. Green didn't remember the changes, they didn't affect management, but they affected pretty much everyone else, including assistants like her. "Well, while management's plans didn't change, the rest of the office's plans did." "I don't have any control over that." This was true. Healthcare plan changes came from much higher up than Mr. Green. "Still, it might be nice to do something to raise the off

Winning the lottery is one of the those day dream fantasies I often find myself in. Who doesn't want to just get a ton of money out of pure luck? How much easier would my life be? Some people probably think about all of the extravagant things they'd buy, but I guess my fantasy ends up being a bit more practical. I would first pay off my student loan immediately. Then, I would probably check with my family and see if they had any loans that needed paying off. I guess I just think clearing debts is a good first step when you get a ton of money. Honestly, next I would probably set aside enough money for me to attend another master's program after this one finishes. If I could reasonably afford multiple master's degrees, I would get them. I'm loving being back in school again and there is so much more that I want to learn. Not that I would want to stay in school forever, but I could stand another year or two. Or maybe more in the future. Probably next I would set

"What if we call him fluffy?" asked Lena in her sweet five-year-old voice. "That's such a cliche name for a pet," snapped back Rachel, who had recently learned the word cliche in her fifth grade English class and was eager to use it. "We need something more original." Lena, who did not know what cliche meant, but could tell from Rachel's tone that it was bad, put her finger to her chin so she could pretend to think it over. "Okay...what about Spot?" "Still boring," huffed Rachel. "What about Lena?" Lena suggested with a bright smile. "No." Lena crossed her arms and pouted, "You're just saying no. You need to say an idea." "What about Basilisk? That's the name of a creature in Harry Potter." Rachel was quite proud of this idea. "Mom says I'm not allowed to read those for another year." "So?" "So I don't wanna pet named after somet

Frida was finally at the farmers market this Sunday, like her dad had been asking her to for about a year. Her dad had, since retiring, really gotten into farmers markets. He had begun to extol their unending virtues and had served her dish after dish that he proudly told her had come from ingredients solely purchased at the farmers market. At first, it had just been the farmers market down the street that he went to, but now he was becoming a farmers market connoisseur. He went all over the city and, sometimes, even all over the state to visit the best of the best. He told Frida all about how they had different schedules and different specialties and how the winter was the most difficult, but there were a few indoor markets that he could visit, but they just weren't as good. After all, he told her, some of what you go for is the atmosphere and you don't get much atmosphere at an indoor market. Frida had never been one for cooking and, while she enjoyed eating, had never re

"Budderfwies?" "Bees!" "My fellow apiologists are about to be so jealous." *pulls back shower curtain* "Hey--stop screaming--it's me, we need to start running. The bees have managed to get in the house." "This better count towards my entomology PhD." "Hey so awkward, but suddenly important question. Do you have an EpiPen, or, if you're allergic to bees too, two EpiPens?" *incoherent screaming* "It's times like these that I wish I could remember which kid was allergic to bees." *looking at my fellow classmates* "Guess we're about to see survival of the fittest at work." "Will you bee  my valentine?" "That's so terrible." "Yes, but not as terrible as the swarm of bees headed for us." "Do my old eyes deceive me or is that a slow enclosing swarm of bees?" "Run! There's a swarm of bees headed right