All Kinds of Wonderment

Planet Spa Secrets of India Hair Oil

Today is just chock full ‘o surprises.

While rummaging through one of the un-unpacked storage boxes from my last move, I came across this nearly empty so I keep diluting the stuff bottle of hair tonic that is way ages old but which I refuse to part with on account of it being out-of-stock and no longer made by Avon – since, like, forever.

It is the most incredible, heavenly scented oil I’ve ever encountered in my life, honest. You wouldn’t believe how good it smells, and I’m at a shameful loss for words to be of any help to you, too.

It’s heavy, the scent. Exotic, too. Incense-y, maybe? I honestly don’t know, but it has things like Indian Basil, and Lotus extract, Carthamus Tinctorius, and Sunflower Seed oil, but I don’t know that any of these things is the reason for the fragrance, or for the rich texture of the oil.

Whatever. It took me back to a long time ago in my mind and made me glad I kept it all this time … eking out the last vestiges of its fragrant, oily existence – even watered down as many times as its been.

Then I took Ma to the grocery store, and after staring at some Sandwich Spread for a time, it suddenly dawned on me that while it had always been a staple in our house, that I never cared for it until later on, when I began to acquire a taste for it, but then it was gone and never replaced.

“Why’d you stop buying this stuff?” I asked while absentmindedly fondling a jar.

“That was something your father liked,” she said and left it at that because when it comes to talking about him, she’d rather not. And, not so much in a bad way, or the bitchy, hateful, caustic way she used to rail against him while he was still alive, either. Regret, time, and guilt have managed to tame that side of her personality, I think.

We get home, I plunk down in front of my laptop here in the den, open up today’s Writing 101: Day Two prompt, and am asked to write flowery prose that isn’t unlike Gustave Flaubert.

Fell out of my chair laughing like a comedic idiot, believe me. Damn, right? If I could do that, would I be here on WordPress typing whining woe-is-me posts in search of a freaking voice, much less talent and an audience? I think not. Well, yes, maybe I would … in the form of a hipster Guest Blogger who is ASKED to make an appearance in order to teach others how to be more like them.

No, I don’t think I’d do that, either. Would I? Oh, who knows and who cares.

The next discovery came in realizing that I’d written something pretty profound back in the day, before I hopped online and let a lot of ridiculous OPINION mess up my mind and screw up my writing style. I wrote a story with depth, meaning, a strong character voice, and that transcended not only time but space as well. I gave this guy two chances at life – reincarnated once as a Doberman, even –  as well as a vivid glimpse of Heaven.

One of the many stories I chucked due to bad advice and stupid people telling me the wrong things. It was loaded with imagery, description of scene, the here, the why, the how, and when of the thing. And, today’s prompt asks me to go back and find that voice. It even gave a few examples to bounce ideas off of, one past and one present, which screams WHY DID I LET ANYONE TALK ME OUT OF BEING WHO I AM AS A WRITER?

Argh.

It’s an age thing, I know it is. I let a bunch of kids who never read anything after their parents stopped reading to them, or with the accumulated wealth of all things Stephenie Meyers under their belts tell me what is right and wrong about my style.

Kicking myself in the ass to infinity.

Oh, well. This is actually a good thing, but something I’m going to have to work at in order to return to the me I once was in order to be the me I need and want to become in order to improve, grow, and flourish as a writer.

Should I have said fruitful instead? $$$$$$$$$

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Story 2 Progress: sadly, it’s the same as yesterday, with just 13,340 words typed (blush)

WILL WRITE TODAY FOR SURE! No more Korean Dramas for me! (solemn oath)