Short Story One

I'm in an intro to creative writing class this semester.  Below is my first attempt at a short story.  It's fiction but draws from real life.  I should warn you, it is not a comedic piece.  That aside, I hope some of you enjoy it. 

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Myra

By: Kyley Shinead Eagleson

When I was a kid, my grandma’s attic was the most magical place in the world.  It was like someone took Hogwarts and Narnia and rolled them into one.  You could find anything up there, seriously, anything.  Like, you know those giant condiment jars they put a pump in at school?  The ones that hold an entire gallon of ketchup?  Well anyway, Grandma had one of those full to the brim with buttons.  To this day I doubt if any of them match, but she kept them anyway.

Every day I took two different busses, the morning one from home to school and the afternoon one that took me to grandmas.  Her house smelled just exactly like you’d imagine, like baking things and cleaning supplies and cinnamon.  Except for the attic.  The attic always smelled like dust and something else, something that I now know was mothballs.  Even today it still smells like them.  Mothballs are the smell of magic; did you know that?

~ ~ ~

Sometimes we’d play games like dress-up and grandma would put me in an outfit she wore as a kid.  The clothes were so crazy; I still can’t believe people wore them.  The best though was when we’d do hide-and-seek; the attic was the best place to play hide-and-seek.

Some days though we would just sit and read together, those were usually the days when grandma was tired.  I’m not sure if she ever knew that I didn’t mind those days at all, I loved escaping into the fairytale world just as much as she did.  I wish I could remember for sure whether or not I ever told her that.  I guess it’s not really that important, we both loved the written word though, Grandma used to say that books were the one thing she’d always overspend on.  She could go years wearing the same old shoes, but hardly a day passed that she didn’t come home with a new book for one of us.

I started my collection when I was 11.  I’m 24 now and I have so many books that they literally line my walls.  Dad blames grandma, he always jokes that she’s the one who infected me.  Mom thinks it has something to do with our eyes though.  They look so much alike that she figures they must work the same way too.  That’s why we both love to read.  At least I’ve got that I guess.

~ ~ ~

“Geneva!” my dad yells up the stairs, “lunch is ready.”

I stand up and swat at my legs to get the dust off my hands before heading down, two steps at a time, like I used to.  In the cupboard next to the plates I see one of grandmas “no-no boxes.”  Those boxes were like her signature.

They were just old blue diaper wipe boxes that she’d drawn angry faces on and the words, “no-no,” but they worked.  I always knew to stay out of them because that was where she kept her medicine.  Today though I take the box down and open it; I see the old bottle of Xanax, pop the top off and take one.  I think she’d be okay with it.  I’m pretty sure she would understand.

We eat our sandwiches in silence; it’s just that no one really feels like talking.  When I’m finished I rinse my plate off and head back up to the attic, ready to go through more boxes. In a back corner I find a small trunk and open it, it’s got more books in it.  I recognize a few of the titles but most of them are strange to me.  At the bottom of the box I come across one with a blank cover.

Curious, I open it and instantly recognize my grandma’s handwriting; I’d know it anywhere, loopy and carefree, the writing that left me notes saying where the cookies were after school; it’s dated April 3^rd, 1941.  Doing the math quickly I realize it’s from when she was about 16 years old.  I pack up the books in the trunk to take back with me; the journal goes in my pocket though.  About an hour later I can’t stand it anymore so I go downstairs and get in my car.  I crank up the music as high as it will go, belting out Half Breed by Cher as I drive.

On my way home I pull over at a secondhand store to pick up an old silver mirror.  I got the idea while I was still up in the attic.  After spending a few minuets looking around, I find the perfect one.  It’s small, about the size of a typical photo frame, with delicate filigree flowers around the boarder.  Totally my grandma’s style, and mine too.

Back at my apartment I put the mirror next to my favorite chair.  Over the next few days I read through my grandma’s journal, discovering things about her that shock me, things that sadden me, and things that make me love her even more.  I never knew she had a lover before grandpa, or that her parents were so strict that they made her give up a child she had before she was married.

I sit in my chair with her journal and a big mug of tea.  Sometimes while I’m reading it all gets overwhelming so I stop and look up at the mirror.  If I look really closely at my eyes, just for a moment, I can almost pretend she’s still here.

Friend Fail

So to preface, I should say that I am kind of awesome. 

This past weekend my friend Octavia came to visit me in Indianapolis.  We had tickets to see Jimmy Fallon.  It was super fun.

Anyway, that’s not the point of this post.  This is the good part of the story…

I am so not a “morning person.”  When made to wake up before I want to I am usually somewhat dazed, confused, and even more clumsy than normal.  Additionally, my brain and body both seem to move in slow motion; meaning I say things before I think them through and it takes me forever to actually get ready. 

This morning was no exception.  My alarm went off at 6:30 and I stumbled out of bed, over to my desk, and shut the noise off.  I then stood thinking to myself, “Self, there is someone else in your room that you are supposed to wake up right now.”

And that’s when things got confusing.  I could not, for the life of me, remember who I was supposed to wake up.  I stood there squinting in the darkness trying to make out the shape of the other person in my room, to no avail. 

And then my mouth, which got ahead of my brain, said, “Heather, you need to wake up.” (Heather was my roommate for two years so, I mean, really this was a reasonable guess, just not the right one, not the right one at all.)

Then in my head I think, “Doh, nope, that’s wrong, that's 100% wrong, Heather lives down the street, that was so the wrong name.”  As Octavia laughs and says, “That’s okay Kyley, I’m awake.”

“Hi Tavia,” I say, “I’m going to go shower now.”

(Side note, I then sat waiting for the hot water to get warm for like 30 seconds before I realized I’d turned on the cold tap, seriously, NOT a morning person)

Yeah, I think it’s good that Tavia and I have been friends for so long because that was just an epic fail.  On the plus side, Heather thought it was funny.

A Day in the Life: My Hair

Talking to my roommate last night:

Me: My hair is getting too long.
Roommate: Cut it.
Me: No, it’s not long enough yet.
Roommate: *confused look*
Me: To donate, it’s not long enough to donate yet.
Roommate: It is totally long enough to donate!
Me: No, if I cut enough off now I’d look like a pudgy faced little boy.
Roommate: So you’re definitely going to donate it?
Me: Yes, I haven’t in a while.
Roommate: Your head is like a farm. Hair is your crop! You are both farm and farmer!


And she’s the one always saying she “worries about me.” She’s just as strange, just saying.

A Day in the Life: Body Wash

So, I've decided that in order to increase the rate at which I update my blog I'm going to do little "A Day in the Life," posts. These will basically be little things that I do / have happen to me that I find funny / interesting but that can't really be expanded into a big post. / / / ...

So, without further ado, A Day in the Life: Body Wash.

This morning in the shower I finally used up the bottle of body wash I've been using (this is a big deal for me because I usually grow bored half way through and change to something new). As I was rinsing the bottle out so I could put it in the recycling something on the label caught my eye. The name was "Daily Moisturizing Foaming Bath," no wash.

I flipped the bottle over to look at the instructions and they were, "Shake well before use. Pour into running water for a lightly foaming bath."

Awesome. So, after spending months forcing myself to finish off this bottle of "body wash", I learn it was something I probably should not have been putting directly onto my sensitive skin anyway. Epic fail self, epic fail.

Not About Real Life, Not Even A Little Bit

I just had a sad realization. Before I get into the details, I should say that like most people my age I recognize that the Disney princesses, while pretty awesome, are not the strongest female role models. They all kind of wander around aimlessly until they find their prince and ride off into the sunset, but whatever. This being said, my personal favorite (Belle) is a book reading, prince saving, badass! But my sister’s favorite is so, so, far from awesome; that is what I just realized.

Arial is without a doubt the worst Disney princess; and this is why.

Ariel is a princess in the underwater city of Atlantica. Her dad and sisters clearly care about her and while she does share a room with like seven other people, life seems pretty golden. She gets to swim around all day, sharks seem to stay out of the city limits, and she’s a redhead with no freckles and no opportunity to get a sunburn, she’s got it pretty good. But does she recognize this? Not even a little. Lets take a look at a few of her brilliant acts.

1. For starters, let’s re-establish the fact that she is only 16 years old when her whole story goes down. 16!

2. She’s constantly sneaking out and doing the one thing her dad has asked her not to do. Going to the surface to talk to a seagull and spy on the humans.

3. She’s like the original “Material Girl.” Seriously. I blame her for Paris Hilton. “I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty, I've got whozits and whatzits galore. You want thingamabobs? I've got twenty! But who cares? No big deal, I want more.” I mean seriously, this chick has an entire cavern full of stuff that no other merperson has and she’s still not happy. Come on, your life is not that bad, stop being so angsty.

4. She sees Prince Eric like once and decides she’s in love with him and that it’s worth giving up her home, family, and lifestyle to go try to make him fall for her. Forget getting to know him or anything, that’s just a waste of time. Then her dad finds all this out and yells at her and destroys all her human stuff. You’d think this would have been the end of her little adventure, but no, it’s just the beginning.

5. After she gets punished, instead of, I don’t know, learning her lesson she goes to the evil witch, sells her voice, gets legs, and goes to the surface all without permission, without a realistic plan, and with a fall back plan of being turned into a squiggly worm / seaweed thing if it doesn’t work out up on the surface. Awesome, great plan Ariel, great plan.

She goes on to do some more semi-absurd things but nothing quite so dumb. But then we get to the end and everything works out for her. Sea witch gets killed, daddy gives her legs, and she gets married at 16. I mean really, what’s the moral here?

Ariel < Belle, that’s all I’m saying.

Things I Will Never Understand

1. Why the German language capitalizes all of its nouns.

2. Why salt / baking soda / baking power come in such large amounts. I always end up throwing the bulk of it out because I feel like it is old.

3. Why bologna and lasagna don’t rhyme.

4. Where my phone goes when I put it in my purse and then can’t find it for 10 minutes.

5. How my keys end up in such bizarre places. (Under my armchair, in the fridge, etc.)

6. Chemistry.

7. Why nothing rhymes with orange; it’s just so sad.

8. How people like to eat liver. It’s an organ whose function is to filter poison, I mean seriously.

9. Why things that taste so good are almost always so bad for you.

10. Why it is so easy to procrastinate and so difficult to start studying.

Universal Truths as Seen by Me

1. I will never manage to get all of my socks in the same load of laundry.

2. There is no correct way to fold a fitted sheet, just give up; it’s always going to look stupid.

3. Most old cartoons were way better than the new ones.

4. There is a vortex in the bottom of my purse that transports my keys to ridiculous places.

5. The remote is never close enough.

6. The person who finally invents and fully circulates the “sarcasm font,” will be a millionaire.

7. You will always lose the roll of tape before using it up, unless it’s Christmastime.

8. Cutting a sandwich into two triangles makes it taste better than if you had left it a square.

9. Every roof has something bizarre on it. (Frisbee, deflated basketball, etc.)

10. There is definitely a clause in one of those Apple Terms of Use Agreements that makes them the owner of your soul.

11. If you read the book first, it’s better than the movie. Always.

12. Nobody knows where all the metal coat hangers came from.

13. Car washes will always be fun.

14. Automatic toilets only work 50% of the time.

15. I have no idea why I constantly type the word “suck” when I mean “such.” (Note: I just did it while trying to write the word such.)

Things That Annoy Me

1. People who think being a business major is easy / that it involves no real work.

2. People who pronounce an “X” in the word especially. There is no “X” there. Stop saying it.

3. People who use the word “obviously,” in presentations. Actually, I didn’t do the same project as you so that finding was not obvious. But thanks for making me feel like an idiot.

4. People who don’t grasp sarcasm. Get with the generation people; we’re a flock of dry humored cynics, keep up.

5. Forgetting something you were thinking about.

6. People who write the wrong version of the word “your.” If you want to attribute a characteristic to someone, it’s “you’re funny,” or “you’re an ignorant buffoon.” People don’t own funny. People should not own ignorant buffoons. Your grammar makes my soul die a little more each day.

7. Anyone and everyone who frequently says, “totes,” “adorbs,” and/or “presh.” For the love of God just say the whole word. Saying these words makes you the exact opposite of adorbs.

8. The noise “um.” I want it out of today’s vernacular. It makes us sound like idiots. I both hate myself every time I utter it and lament for others every time they do.

9. People who always put “lol” in all caps. Why are you yelling at me about your laughter?

10. That baby that is always wailing in the grocery store. You know the one.

The Plight of the Peace Lily

You may remember me posting about a peace lily at the beginning of the summer; the one that was dying. The one I foolishly thought I could save. I was young, naive even; let me bring you up to speed.

When we last left off in the story of the internship lily I had it pretty well under control, at about the beginning of the school year though, things started going down hill.

As those of you who read my blog may know, in my time at my internship I have moved around a lot. From my little desk, to the regional managers desk, to a cubicle, and finally to my current work area which is a counter sort of space by the windows on the back of my building. The lily has come with me through it all, however, when I was in my cubicle I had to set it on the ledge of Jake’s in order for it to get sunlight.

I came into the office one day, soon after classes had begun, and the frosted glass had been put on the tops of the new cubicles (see photo) so my lily had been put on the counter behind Jake’s cubicle (the same counter I now reside at). In just a few short weeks I was also moved to this space.

I put the lily next to me and continued to water it but something was wrong, it didn’t seem happy, watering it no longer made it perk up, neither did its plant food, I was at a loss.

I decided my best plan was to re-pot it so I took it home, went to Lowes, bought potting soil and a bigger pot (one with holes in the bottom), put a layer of rocks in the bottom, put dirt in, put the plant in, and covered it with more dirt. I watered it and it perked up. I was thrilled!

I then proceeded to forget to take the plant back to the office for about a month and a half, it was fine at my house though. In hindsight, it might have fared better if I had just left it at my house, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

I finally remembered to bring the lily back and I put it on my desk next to my computer. As I was back by the windows now, I thought it would be fine there. It was not fine there.

Over the past few months, I have watered and cared for it as best I can, but it still insists on dying. If you look at the photo you can see it dies in little spots, slowly…slowly….slowly……

Last week I had a thought that maybe it was getting too cold back here so I moved it up to the front desk where it would be warmer. I pruned off the dead parts this morning and I’m hoping they won’t come back. I will continue to water it despite it’s lack of a will to live.

I decided to stay on at my current internship next semester but now I’m a little worried, I may have to resign gracefully before the lily totally dies and I get fired. As of now I’m keeping the dream alive that the lily will get out of its funk though.

Pray for us.

Databases are Evil

Mua-ha-ha-ha Butler databases! I have rendered you unnecessary! I have gone around your roadblocks! I have beaten you and your sadistic ways!

Back-story time…

I’m writing a paper for my econ class about how the Massachusetts health reform effected / is still effecting safety net health care providers. I needed to find a reference that was listed in an article I read so I took to the Butler databases.

Honestly, I’m not even sure why I bothered. In the four years I have been here I don’t think I’ve managed to make them do my bidding even once. But I digress; I went looking and found the article on a database. It would only allow me to see the first 150 words though. I tried expanding the text but it wanted a username, I tried my butler username and it wanted me to activate it, I tried to activate it and it asked me for information I simply don’t have.

Not one to be daunted I called the office of the library people who help with the databases. I got their voicemail.

I called the library and spent a few minuets explaining my situation to the front desk person. She put me on hold in order to go ask her supervisor. She transferred my call without telling me. I got the database people’s voicemail again. I severed all potential ties with the library desk girl.

Then I went to campus; I assumed using a campus computer would solve my problem. It didn’t. I asked one of the library workers. We fought gallantly with the databases, swords, control codes, and hand grenades were involved; we could not make it yield.

Then we had a stroke of brilliance! Aided by the dewey decimal system we located the article in a book entitled Archives of Internal Medicine Vol. 169.

That’s right! I found my information in a book! Take that 21st century technology! You just had your ass handed to you by a printing press.