The Emotional Hangover

Jumping back into the blog water with some writing prompts. Today’s pick comes to us courtesy of ThinkWritten.com (and if it inspires some connection of words in your mind, please consider sharing in the comments below – linking to a post of your own inspired by it is okay too – but know that I review all comments and spammy ones are tossed). And with that, today’s prompt is: Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be? The air outside was thick

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Let’s Share Ideas!

September 10th, according to my calendar of obscure holidays, is National Swap Ideas Day. I didn’t want to just make an assumption about what that meant, so I let my fingers do the talking (walking?) and drilled Google to gather some answers. What is National Swap Ideas Day? One of over 1500 annually observed national days. Though I wasn’t able to find any definitive answer as to the creator of this national day, several sites suggested that it might have been Mr. Robert Birch, who they are also crediting with the creation of such other interesting days as Trivia Day,

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Late Night Brain Vomit

This marks the second time I’ve gone ahead and just posted what I refer to as brain vomit. I don’t know what it is or where it comes from, but it just appears there, in my head, and I don’t know what to do with it, hence the term brain vomit. I recognize it’s crap. But I figure it must be trying to tell me something, show me something, or lead me to something. Anyone else struggle with nonsense brain vomit? when once she wandered to and fro, nothing to do, no where to go. battle-scarred and beaten down, emotionless, no

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Fiction WIP: Reincarnation Snippet

I remain convinced that in one or more of my possible past lives I was a champion of the people. Fighting boldly for that which was just and humane. Self-sacrificing, pure-of-heart, strong, determined, fearless. My anxieties the result of countless past lives meeting their demise at the hands of stake-burnings, severe beatings, beheadings, stonings and the like. Yet deep within the spark remains. The tiniest ember. Glowing softly, weakly, beneath the deluge of several lifetimes’ worth of wreckage. Smoldering–both in the physical and emotional senses. Waiting, wanting, needing. Always with the potential to rise up in a gloriously hungry blaze,

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