How do you write and relax?

Having the whole day to myself on Thursday, I decided to just relax and write some new flash fiction since it won’t write itself.

I had my alarm clock set for 9 AM so naturally I slept right through it and woke up at 11 AM. Had breakfast, washed the dishes, tidied up and vacuumed the room and hallways cause if I only do the room we’d just bring all the dirt back in. This took about two hours.

I finally sat on the couch and started my laptop.

I wanted to get everything done before starting to write, so I checked my e-mails, comments, FB messages, Twitter, etc. first which led to opening various interesting sites, reading posts, articles, and so on until another two hours later I finally closed everything, opened my Windows Live Writer and started writing.

I was almost done with my flash fiction when, aside from many other minor things that had distracted me constantly that day (for example thinking if I should cut my hair shorter, than searching for photos to see what I like), I looked out the window and saw an amazing color palette in the sky, clouds as the sun was setting.

I jumped up, went to get my camera, took a few photos and naturally wasn’t satisfied by them because of the flat(s), the trees, and the church, etc. were in the way.

So I quickly got my keys, and I rushed out of the apartment until the scenery won’t change too much (while noticing how crazy I am), got in the elevator even though I’m absolutely terrified of it and would rather go up the stairs to the 8th floor (with laundry!) if my fiancé can’t come with me.

After some terrible minutes in the squeaky elevator, I quickly ran up the remaining stairs to the 9th floor which is the dryer room, opened it’s lock and took it with me just to be on the safe side, and climbed out the window to the rooftop.

The view was amazing!

I took several photos mainly because I didn’t know which ones will come out pretty or blurry and thought to myself: okay it was worth it

Then I climbed back in the dryer room making sure I don’t break my camera or my neck (I may need to get my priorities straight cause I was way more worried about the camera!).

I gathered all the laundry which we forgot were even up there, and with a huge arm full of clothes I struggled to close the door, slowly went down to the 8th floor again seriously considering to take the stairs all the way down, but eventually decided against it (apparently I’m more afraid of the dark then dying in the elevator alone).

And here comes the not-so-much-fun-at-the-time part of the story which now I can smile about:

I somehow managed to be calm (okay so not calm… but calmer than usually) in the elevator, arrived downstairs, then struggled to open the apartment door with my camera and a set of keys plus the dryer room key in my hands and the clothes in my arms. Unfortunately when I tried to close the door, the draft slammed it behind me before I could stop it (insert big banging sound here) but did not close.

At this point my "darling" male roommate who saw my struggling, started shouting at me, cursing and mentioning my mom "asking" me to close the door without slamming it…

I think it’s rather sweet. He must really miss hearing my voice (I haven’t said a word to him since last year) and that’s probably why he provoked me. I see no other reason except if he’s not just pretending to be an idiot.

I didn’t say anything, there was no point. But my stubbornness somehow won the fight with reason and much to his surprise I slammed shut with proper banging sound all 3 doors I had to close (front door, hallway door, our room door (the last on to his face)) behind me.

Now I feel kind of bad, cause poor doors don’t deserve that treatment, but it did calm my nerves a bit, so that too was worth it (not even mentioning the look on my roommate’s face when I dared defy him).

Priceless!

Lost dreams of a broken link – by Estrella Azul

The grandmother sat happily sewing with her granddaughter by her side, chatting comfortably about this and that.

After a while, the machine slowed then stopped.
Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at her granddaughter and said:

“I had a dream about him last night. But this one was different.
In this one I was in the emergency room or somewhere and doctors and nurses were walking around me when I saw your uncle.
He was as handsome, respectable and tidy as when he was in his twenties, but clearly he was as old as he is … or would be… now. Fifty two.

I was so surprised to see him after such a long time.
I asked him how he got to the hospital, has he been there all along, was he staying? But he told me to be quiet now, that he’ll be by my side, that I should rest.
‘We’ll talk later’ he assured me."

The granddaughter listened, not knowing how to respond.

She also had dreams about her uncle sometimes quite a few times dreaming that he came back but she never told anyone.
Her dreams would only bring up unnecessary emotions and maybe unreal hope to her family, especially for her grandmother.

***

She urged the conversation on by telling her grandmother how she also remembered her uncle as a handsome man when he was younger.

“I can just see that one time I got ice skates for Christmas and he taught me to skate on the lake in Central Park. He knew mom didn’t have time since she was cooking for everyone and dad wasn’t around so even though he had other more important things to attend to he cancelled his plans just to spend time with me.

I was just thinking about him, about how we spent time together, how much he loved me, how protective he was of me, even when I had some fights with mom, he was the one who defended me, no matter what."

“He didn’t have any children, but he just adored you from the first moment he laid eyes on you! You are his only niece, his goddaughter. The man has good taste.”

She smiled and squeezed her granddaughter in a tight hug..

“And I remember his jokes, his fun, comical personality, all the laughs.” – the granddaughter continued.

“We had lots of laughs!

But I also remember the person he became after his second divorce…”

“Yes, I know… Holding down a job seemed to be hard for him, as he was in between jobs many times.
He began smoking and drinking. A little at first, then a lot, not taking care of himself, owing money to who knows what kind of people. Until in some sort of vulnerable state of mind he sold the house he lived in to those gypsies.”

The granddaughter looked down at her lap. That had stung she thought to herself… it was my grandmother’s house that he sold. And he didn’t even ask her.

“Do you remember your uncle’s neighbor’s panicked phone call to let the family know what he had done? I think you were the one who answered the phone that afternoon.”

“Yes, I remember. She said that my uncle was apparently asleep in front of the house while the gypsies were taking away all his earthly possessions. I wonder what ever happened to them…”

“I wish I knew. Your grandfather went there in a hurry, but the gypsies flashed a bill of sale under his nose and he had no choice but to leave them to take everything they wanted. There’s no reasoning with gypsies.
He couldn’t even save any of the old photos… so many memories gone just like that.” 

“That’s when my uncle went to Spain, right?” the granddaughter asked.

“Yes, then he was just a vagrant in a strange country, with no money, no place to stay, no right to be there.”

The granddaughter remembered what she had read in some of her uncle’s papers, that he slept on the streets, or in the park, wherever he could find a warm corner and that he had sometimes shoplifted to raise money for food.
He was arrested a few times for this.

She never told anyone what she read. No one else in the family understood Spanish and they never got the papers translated. Only she knew the real reason her uncle had been deported.

“Finally he got deported right before Christmas and was sent home with the clothes on his back, his passport and some paperwork. He didn’t even have an identity card on him.”

“I remember how great that Christmas was. He lived here with us and we could all celebrate together… and then in the first weeks of January he left.

He just left, no note, nothing.”

“There were a couple of phone calls, and he visited again after that a few times in March, or was it May? I don’t remember exactly, but either way spring 2002 was the last time I saw him. All we have now of him are the papers he left behind.

We never heard from him again."

***

No one has really gotten over it, especially my grandmother. I’m sure she’s still hoping her son will just turn up one day as he had before. I think that’s what prompted her dream.
Every mother only wants the best for their child. Just before she started up the sewing machine again she wistfully asked:

“What do you think this dream means? …
Do you think that maybe he is still alive?”

I sat there silently, knowing that we were both wondering the same thing:
if it’s better to know or not to know the answer to that last question?

 

Based on a true story.

 

Note: If by any chance G. T. might recognize his life story in these few lines, please contact me!

Wordless #3

  

Budapest, Hungary 2007

Gellért Hegyi vízesés (waterfall on Gellért Hill)

Homemade Facial Toning Water

Facial toners are great in giving your skin a more vibrant, clear, pure, healthy glow while help to keep it smooth, moisturized and diminish acne.

While commercial brands are filled with all kinds of chemicals aside from the ingredients that you actually need, why not home make your own and reduce cost as well as increase their efficiency?

Here are a few very simple recipes:

Tea Tree Facial Toner

70 ml distilled (or just boil water and let cool completely)
10-12 drops Tea Tree essential oil
-> Boil the water, let it cool, add the essential oil.

Green Tea Facial Toner

2 teaspoons powdered green tea
>1/2 cup boiling water
-> Steep the green tea in boiling water for about 10 minutes, let cool before use.

Rosewater Facial Toner

100 ml distilled water
12-15 drops of Rose essential oil
-> Mix the water with the essential oil.

or all the way homemade Rosewater Toner

Gather fresh rose blossoms.
Be careful to gather fresh rose petals and never use petals that have been sprayed with pesticides.
->Place the petals in a pan covering them with fresh distilled water and place a heat resistant dish directly over the petals to make them lay on the bottom of the pan.
Put the pan over a low heat for about 45 minutes to an hour, do not boil! As the water heats up you will begin to see drops of rose oil forming on the surface of the water.
Soon the water will begin to have a rosy color to it and feel thick and oily, this means it is ready.
When the petals have cooled use a tea strainer to strain the liquid and use your fingers to squeeze as much liquid from the pedals as possible. 
Store in the refrigerator.

Use any toning water after you’ve cleansed your face with soap, shake before use and apply on your face with a cotton ball.
Let your skin dry like that before you apply face cream.

I’m currently using the Tea Tree Facial Toner every night after washing my face. It’s just great!

Give them a try, I’m sure you won’t be disappointed

Later update: You can also find my post about the “Homemade Facial Toning Water” right here on Pillowchats.com

The Lake – by Estrella Azul

She looked around. The sky slowly turned grey from the strong blue it was when she had arrived.

Sitting on the pier, staring at the waves, listening to the frogs croak she felt overwhelmed. Thoughts and memories were rushing into her head one after another each stopping for only a moment… making her think of nothing and everything all at the same time.

Even though this wasn’t the lake in the mountains that she dreamed of escaping to it was still her lake, her hiding place.

Her beautiful lake, surrounded by Weeping Willows like the one next to the pier where she sat down.

The lovely willow almost seemed as if its sole purpose was to reflect her mood after the summer night breeze had dried her tears.

She just sat staring at the water.

The dancing waves often made her dizzy and forced her to look away for a second, yanking her back to reality.

A reality far too complicated and harsh, and one that kept her from achieving all that she wanted.

She didn’t even want much, she thought, so how was it possible that so many years went by and still … no change, nothing.

Listing the good and bad things that have happened made her wonder can only a few good things, kind people, semi-satisfied life and love really make a difference among the infinity of sad happenings, shattered dreams, jealous people, hatred and death?

Looking at her hand she jolted as she noticed her engagement ring was gone.

The wonderful ring which made all the difference in her relationship, which showed her fiancé’s undying love… undying…

But was it?

She burst into tears again.

Panic slowly took over as she looked back at the waves – could it be? She jumped up and walked around the pier looking for the ring, hoping at least that would not be taken away from her so soon, fearing that without it she’ll forget how to smile sometimes even if she’d rather cry forever, look away when she’d rather shout, stay put even if she’d rather run as far as possible.

Today when thoughts of her former life made her feel hopeless, confused and depressed that ring had kept her from running further than the lake.

The lake… the place where she and her fiancé first met. The pier where she even now frantically searched for her missing ring was the very place where they had their first kiss.

Where they often came back and ate ice cream just like on their first date, where they took photos, laughed and planned their life together.

Where he kneeled and asked her to be his wife and presented her with that beautiful ring.

The lake… where it all began.

She looked again at her shaking hand and stared at the ringless finger and the all too visible scar, a never-fading reminder of the car crash.

And…

She was afraid.

Afraid she’d forget how to live without her engagement ring when she hasn’t yet learned how to live without her fiancé.

I have a staple gun and I’m not afraid to use it!

Okay, I’ll admit: I totally forgot about posting today.
And I don’t really have anything to say, but as you can see I needed to tell you at least that

No, wait, I can keep it short and interesting by letting you how much fun I had just now:

I learned how to use a staple gun
And as if that’s not big news by itself, I just re-did the upholstery on the chair (yes, at 10 PM) I’m currently keeping my laptop on and typing these very sentences. 

Oh, it felt so good! There’s something about using tools that agrees with me 100%

It totally reminded me of the years we lived in the house with our big garden and the many times my grandfather was building or fixing things. He taught me how to do a lot of things and let me help him all the time, in most everything.
Come to think of it, maybe it was because I don’t have siblings, but who cares? I loved helping him so much!
Even when he was fixing cars!
I was so proud when I learned the names of all the different tools so I could hand them to him and then learn a thing or two about the actual fixing of cars too.

I sometimes miss those days so much… but it’s okay, now I have a staple gun around and I’m not afraid to use it!

 

PS: I found myself looking for other things to staple, so I’ll advise you to watch your words in the comment thread

You never forget your first by Estrella Azul

They say you never forget your first… it’s so true!

I sit here at my notebook now and still remember like it was only minutes ago that I was there, dressed up in a red form fitted shirt, my favorite mini skirt and high heels.

Waiting.

My boss’ sentence “Good luck with your first client and your future working career” rang in my head throughout the weekend before going in to work that day.

I wanted to relax, but felt more nervous with every minute that went past, I looked at my clock numerous times, anxiety was taking over as I thought of what was about to happen for the very first time.

I now know for sure I was compared to other girls, but back then I only thought about how I wouldn’t be able to perform like I wanted, about what it would mean for me, what to expect emotionally and physically, that it may hurt me in ways I haven’t even imagined before.

***

He came in, calmly looked around the space then determinedly looked at me.

My heart beat like crazy in all it’s madness as I saw him come towards me, but he wasn’t nervous.

He already made up his mind and knew exactly what he wanted.

And I wanted him to think that I was good at it, I wanted to meet his standards.

***

This evergreen phrase has been reminded to me countlessly while I was still in training: “Our client is our master.”

I was taught to wear practical clothes that would come off and could be put back on quickly enough in heated situations so the client wouldn’t have to wait for too long, discreet so I won’t attract too much attention, care in revealing things about myself to my co-workers and clients, knowing that my words and behavior will attract different sorts of reactions from them and affect how they treat me in return.

I was afraid about times when a client could be overly infatuated by me, I already thought of how I wouldn’t lead him on and help him see reality before things get out of hand.

It was going to be a totally new experience, but I knew it would be made easier by all the information I got throughout the training period, confidence and also the client’s support.

***

After saying hello to him, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and asked how I could please him.

He looked at me deeply and attentively, and when he started talking everything seemed unreal.
He asked for something incomprehensible to me and I had to think for a second before knowing how to respond, without making him feel unattended.

I still remember his words so clearly in my head:

“Hello. Nice flower shop. I would like to buy a plant for my car!”

Pop Art and Funny Pearl of Wisdom #11

Given that I’m very busy today cleaning up my virtual space, copying/moving things from folder to folder/partition to partition/PC to laptop, analyzing thoroughly what I do or don’t need any more, deleting stuff… I kinda… didn’t prepare a post for today.

Luckily for me, Karen (I must say “Happy Birthday!” to her again with this opportunity) decided to include one of my pop art I made of her photo a while back and also tell the world how much she liked my Halloween short story and something I said/wrote to her in an e-mail.

So here it is, my pop art and personal funny pearl of wisdom over at Karen Schindler’s Miscellaneous Yammering.

Thank you again Karen, especially for being my friend and an amazing role model to look up to!

Kisses and hugs!

Autumn Window Decorations

These past few days I found some great templates for window decorations and made a few autumn themed ones.

They’re pretty easy to make, and all you need is:

How to make – Window decorations

recycled colored paper (or white paper you can color yourself later)
a template or imagination and skills to draw one yourself
carbon paper
and a paper cutter

You start off by choosing your design, print it out/draw it, place the carbon paper on you colored paper, place the template on the two and trace it to transfer the design to the colored paper.
Then use the paper cutter to cut the gaps which give your window decoration shape and the much loved effect on your window.

Here are a few I made (I placed them on a black background so you can see the colors and shape gaps better)

 

I love how cool they look on the window and they’re great cause they can be enjoyed from inside and outside as well.

Carving terrific Jack-o’-lanterns by Estrella Azul

It was his thirtieth Halloween on his own.

He longed for his childhood days especially during this holiday when he remembered his father reading him The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.
He always imagined the Headless Horseman with a pumpkin on his shoulders.

Jack always got into the Halloween spirit and heck, he just loved how his name was a part of the word Jack-o’-lantern.

When he was a kid he made them with the help of his father but those were simple pumpkin lanterns with triangle shaped eyes nose and a mouth. As he got older he fancied different patterns.

Since he could almost call himself an artist with the knife each year he was more pleased with his work.

Getting ready for Halloween started a few days earlier for him with picking out the right pumpkin and setting up the work area making sure it was peaceful so no one could bother him.

He wouldn’t have wanted to cut off his fingers by accident.

Carving pumpkins is messy work but making a mess was never so much fun for him as before this special holiday.
He layered down plastic foil to aid with the clean up after the carving was complete, which was never as easy as gathering up the plastic and walking away.

He started with cutting the lid by angling his knife to 45 degrees so he could create a ledge the lid would sit on.

Jack could almost hear his father saying:
“ The key thing to remember is that you need create a ledge to keep the lid from falling into the pumpkin adding a notch to the back of it so that you can easily line up the lid with your pumpkin.”

Gutting the pumpkin was his father’s favorite part, while Jack preferred the actual carving.

But since gutting had to be done before the carving he got to it making sure the insides of the pumpkin were thoroughly cleaned out so that there wasn’t any loose pulp hanging anywhere, the loose pulp would detract from his design.

There isn’t always a need to gut a pumpkin for a pumpkin sculpture. He knew some sculptors out there that never gut their pumpkins.

Jack’s personal opinion however was that adding a light to the inside of a pumpkin sculpture adds a whole new effect. He created a flat surface at the bottom for the light to be placed.

He then carved out the eyes, nose and mouth with extra care, following a creepy template he drew in preparation for tonight.
It didn’t come out exactly as he wanted, but he’d have a whole year during which he could further improve on his skills.

It was much more elaborate and unusual then what he had done when he was a kid.

He took his time cleaning up the insides, leaving no trace behind. His job at the coroner’s office had taught him well.

Jack made a calm phone call while he stood back and admired his work.

Now all he had to do was place his pumpkin in the window, get rid of the body before hearing the sirens and wait.

Wait for next Halloween.