Writing

The Sounds of My City & Suburban Silence

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The Schuylkill Expressway

Long Exposure of the Schuylkill Expressway at night

Day 9 of Blogging 101 asked us to expound upon a comment we left on a blog on day 8; during which I’d commented on a post by Karen from Up the Country Lane; she wrote about the sounds of her country silence. In response, I wrote that I wasn’t sure what I would do with that depth of quiet and that although I have days when I long for a deep abiding silence and stillness I’m not sure I would ever be able to get used to that level of silence after a lifetime of the cacophony of sirens, incoming planes, and the traffic of city and suburban life. She wrote, even in the deep silence of the country there is noise, fluorescent lights, the hum of the fridge, and noisy Blue Jays manage to break the quiet calm of the bucolic hamlet. (I actually kind of love my backyard Blue Jays, but they are definitely the noisiest of the backyard bunch.)

Blue Jay with an Attitude

Hey where are those peanuts you promised?

I was ruminating on these thoughts when I remembered how silent the city is when heavy snow is falling. I lived my first 24 years of life in a house on the flight path to Philadelphia International Airport; the 3am plane flying so low the shelves in my bedroom shook. But whenever really big snowstorms closed the airport entirely and cleared the streets of traffic there was a fantastic silence; allowing the distant far off sounds of traffic lights changing color, train whistles from the 25th Street bridge, and the whirring of plane engines warming up to filter in to our consciousness. Now, I’m not a big fan of run of the mill snowstorms (talk to me when I’ve had to shovel 4-5 inches of snow off of the driveway), but there’s something poetic about big snowstorms bringing a whole city to a complete stop. It’s a peace and quiet calm that only those who’ve lived in places like Philadelphia understand.

Brrrrrr

Iced tea on the patio anyone?

But yet, as I sit here reminiscing about the quiet calm of Philadelphia during big snowstorms I can’t discount or overlook the truth that in the days following 9/11 I longed for the comfort of the familiar din of the constantly overhead planes and helicopters that provide the soundtrack of my daily life, it was eerie and uncomfortable without them. When I pray for peace, and silence, and stillness I forget to give the comfort of familiar sounds their due weight. It’s 6am and the helicopter is landing at the hospital across the street, the air conditioning just clicked on, the refrigerator is running, in the distance a dog is barking, and in an hour my cat will be meowing for her breakfast; I can hear the traffic from the main road getting started for the day. On most days I don’t even notice these sounds, they are my white noise and surprisingly my comfort; they are the sounds of my daily life and more beautiful and comforting than I understood before reading and ruminating on Karen’s own ruminations about her country silence.

Blogging 101 Task #4 — Identify My Audience

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Are you my audience?

*looks up with big, pitiful, pleading eyes*

Did that just evoke a small pitiful orphan in rags asking, “Are you my daddy?” Yeah? You too? You’re probably my audience because we share similar sensibilities and senses of humor.

Now then, getting down to business. This exercise asks us to identify our audience; to really reach for the stars and identify just who we really, REALLYwant to read our blogs.

Well…


If I’m pipe dreaming and REALLY reaching for the stars, I’d very much like the editor of the New York Times op-ed page and whomever it is at Random House that gives book deals to new writers to read my ramblings and recognize my incredible (I’m a legend in my own mind, don’t’ you know?) talent and give me my own column and a book deal. Seriously, call me I’m ready, willing, and able.

But… All that said


I want you to be my reader. There was a question I forgot to answer in my introduction post, why I publish a public blog rather than keeping a private journal. I write a public blog because I want to be part of the public discourse. I want you to read along and say, “Me too!” Or, “OMG! What the hell is she thinking? Is she sniffing glue? She couldn’t be more wrong.” In my mind I’m a sit down with a cup of coffee and read along blogger.

Is your 81-year-old father sick and slowly dying of heart and kidney failure? Are you sad and scared? Did you just watch CNN’s amazing look at the television programs of the 1970s? Are you all choked up because these wonderfully written and colorful characters were real parts of your childhood? Did you have a brief obsession with reality TV until you realized reality TV is just people yelling at one another? Do you think the Democrats have no real contenders for the 2016 presidential race? Do you wonder with a sick fascination how many more Republicans will pile in to the 2016 primary race clown car? Did you wipe the kitchen counter down tonight with a Christmas dishtowel and realize that you haven’t bought new dishtowels since they were given to you in your wedding shower wishing well 19 years ago?

Yeah, I want you. You, the one with the leaky eyes, sentimental heart, and weird sense of humor; listening to an iTunes playlist that includes Bill Haley and the Comets, Kid Rock, The Sundays, Janis Joplin, the Blue Man Group, and The Killers? Yeah, you, you’re my people (bonus points if that brings to mind the little brother in Varsity Blues). You’re the people I want to read along with, laugh along with, question the sanity of society along with, and yes, even sometimes cry along with me. You, you’re my audience.

Now, if anyone knows the guy at Random house I won’t be angry with you if you tell him to give me a call. I’m just sayin’.

Blogging 101 Task #1 — (re) Introduce Myself

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do something that scares you every day …  (really? do i have to? do the 7 surgeries and 32 radiation treatments count for a lifetime of doing something that scares me every day?)

a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step … (and about a thousand bucks, i don’t have a thousand bucks, my single step leads out to the mailbox or to the couch to watch Gilmore Girls on Netflix.)

go big, or go home … (define big. can’t i go home and sit on the couch without having first gone big? my big is finally washing those four loads of laundry i’ve ignored all week.)

Have you ever noticed that the big bloggers have big personalities and big lives?

Yeah, I’m not that woman, and I’m definitely not that blogger. Nope. Not me. I’m an average woman leading a thoroughly average life. I’m a wife to a very understanding hubby, I’m a mom to two beautiful, albeit very uncooperative, cats; I’m a former resources editor, and I’m a (so far) three-year cancer survivor.

I’ve been working on a non-bucket list bucket list alternately titled, “Shit I Ain’t Never Gonna Do.” On it are things like skydiving, wrestling crocodiles, walking on hot coals, and/or snake handling. I’m afraid of fire, heights, spiders, elevators, and drowning, so if you’re looking for danger girl she definitely doesn’t live here.

I’m sarcastic, snarky, curious, wordy, and occasionally articulate and insightful. So if you’re looking for a really clumsy sarcastic blogger with strong opinions on just about everything, and who finds herself wondering what became of everyone’s common sense then I’m probably your new blog reader addition.

Here at Soapboxville 2.0 you’ll find lots of photo posts, lots of disjointed rambling posts about the world going to hell in a hand basket, and the occasional well-thought-out essay on topics near and dear to my heart like politics and the new fall season on TV.

Writing With Writing Prompts (flexing my mental muscles)

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Today I’m flexing my mental muscles using writing prompts. The first is the 100 Word Challenge from Verbal Verbosity’s site. The second is a prompt from Writing Basics Magazine.

The 100 Word Challenge focuses on one word, which is resistance. This is my first attempt at the 100 Word Challenge and normally I just write about what I’m thinking or feeling at that moment. Forming 100 words around one word is more difficult than you’d imagine. So with that said I offer you my first attempt at the 100 Word Challenge. (cover your eyes things are about to get ugly)

Resistance

“You know,” he said, “Only the Borg believe that resistance is futile. Don’t you?” I was taken with his geeky charm and his courage of conviction. I wasn’t quite sure if I wanted to take him home and feed him soup or follow him on this week’s crusade.

He pushed his glasses back up his nose and smiled at me. Part Clark Kent, part Victor Laszlo, part Sam Seaborn he continued on explaining that I in no way needed to accompany him on this latest quest to save the world from or perhaps for the baby seals. I was too distracted by the tape on his glasses to answer.

109 words (I’m wordy I can’t help myself)

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The writing prompt from Writing Basics asks you to spend 30 minutes writing on a certain topic. This week’s topic is: You’re late for work because you overslept, but your boss hates oversleeps. He does love entertaining stories so create an outlandish reason as to why you were late. The rules also say not to waste time revising or haggling over word use so please expect this first attempt to be a rough, rough, very rough draft. I normally don’t write fiction so this is a big stretch for me.

Why I’m Late For Work

*short girl rushes through office door looking disheveled with dripping hair* *She rambles excitedly at her rather stern looking boss.*

Oh my God Bill, you’ll never guess what happened to me. A transformer blew up at the end of my block last night. Yes. You heard me correctly. A transformer, yes an electric transformer blew up. Well I suppose technically it blew up after being drove into by a tractor trailer which skidded on the icy road and hit the pole, which fell on Mr. Digiovanni’s car, which then brought the pole and transformer crashing into the church yard across the street. You should have heard it. It sounded like an explosion. What? Oh yeah I guess it was an explosion. But it sounded like such a bigger explosion.

We’ve been sitting in the dark since at least midnight. I haven’t had a clock to look at since the power went out so I’m not quite sure what time exactly everything happened. Of course there was no sleep to be had with all the noise and lights from the squad of emergency vehicles dispatched to the scene, not to mention the generators and power tools the guys from the power company were using to you know turn the lights back on.

I don’t know what that truck driver was thinking driving out on those icy roads last night. What would possess someone to be out on the road driving a 48 footer in the dark during an ice storm?

It’s a good thing we were already prepared for the overnight ice storm. I already had candles and matches out on the kitchen counter in case the ice brought power lines down. I’m so glad I stopped at the store on my way home last night to buy batteries for my flashlights. Who knew? Go figure.

I was dozing off on the couch with Boris snoozing on the floor next to me. *laughs* No. Boris is not my husband. Boris is my 100 pound Samoyed. I think I started dozing while watching the re-air of Keith Olbermann’s new show on the Current TV. The house was nice and cozy and the streets outside were quite. Only the sounds of the ice hitting the windows could be heard. It was glorious. I’d already had my evening shower and my nightly cup of tea and I was all cozy in my footed jammies.

Imagine my surprise when I woke to the sounds of a transformer exploding and a house in darkness. I wasn’t sure what had happened so I shook of my sleepiness and went to the front door. The ice storm had frozen my screen door shut so it took some pushing and shoving to force it open. When I finally got the door open Mrs. O’Malley was on her way back from the corner and she filled me in on all the news. It seems the police believe the truck was going too fast when it tried to turn off the highway and onto the city streets. It skidded on the ice as the driver hit the brakes. The truck didn’t stop at the pole it continued across the street and into the 24-hour Dunkin’ Donuts. Luckily no one was sitting in Dunkin’ Donuts and the workers ran for their lives when they saw the headlights heading their way. The truck came to a stop at the counter. I hope one of the news-guys got a picture of that. It looked like the truck was patiently waiting for its donut. I threw some clothes on and went to see the destruction with my own two eyes. Boris enjoyed an unexpected trip outside in the cold air but I was shivering so I didn’t stay long.

I think I finally fell asleep at around 4am. The electricity was still off and my cell phone was dead so there was no way to set an alarm. I’m a light sleeper so I thought I’ll just doze. I must have been more tired than I thought I was because the next time I opened my eyes the sun was up. I jumped in the shower hoping there would be at least some hot water left from before the power went out. There wasn’t. I was doubly disappointed to find that with no electricity comes no hair dryers so I stood drip-drying in my freezing cold bedroom with no TV and no radio to tell me the time. What? Oh, no we haven’t owned a battery-operated radio since boom boxes went out of style. Yeah, I suppose it would be a good idea to have a radio just in case. I suppose we could use a wall phone too. Yeah. I’ll work on that for next time.

I was even more disappointed to find that with no electricity comes no toast. I painted quite the pathetic picture as I stood anxiously awaiting my morning toast when it dawned on me that of course the toaster wasn’t working either. I finally just fed Boris and got in the car to come here. The police had the other end of the street blocked off so the power company guys could keep working so I had to back out of the street. Did I mention my husband slept through everything? Unbelievable.

So that’s why I’m late for work.

written in 29 mins., 54 secs.

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So there you have it, my first attempts at using writing prompts to keep my mind active and working while I recover from my radiation treatments.