How similar are we really?

I lead a highly embarrassing life, especially because there are two sides of me: the extroverted side that doesn’t care what people think and just goes with the flow, and the introverted side who will mull over every single thing that happened in the day and agonize over small details. And when my introverted side gets a hold of me and makes me stressed out over something that happened in middle school, I start humming to block Miss Introvert out.

I thought that this was something only I did, something that only pertained to me because I’m just crazy enough to have to do this.

However, I was watching a youtube video (what I do in my free time besides blog. I have such an exciting life) in which the vlogger said that he did the exact same thing and that he used to think he was the only one who did this, but then found out he wasn’t.

Anywho, this got me thinking: what other unique features about me do I have that aren’t actually that unique? So I thought I’d share with you some of my quirks, and then if you also share them, give me a shout out so I don’t feel sad and alone!

1. Whenever I’m lying or in an uncomfortable situation, my neck starts feeling tingly and I have to keep on stroking it or I have to put on a scarf to make the feeling go away. Or, as I just found out, this tingly feeling also occurs when I remember that I have this problem and am writing or talking about it. Great. Now I need to wear a scarf in 90 degrees weather, which definitely will not look like I have a hickey.

2. I always think that someone is planning a surprise birthday for me. I could be babysitting, and their mother will ask me to pick up her son because she’s caught in traffic, and I’ll think “Wouldn’t that be the perfect way to surprise someone? Get them to drive themselves to the baseball field and then throw them a fabulous party? I would never in a million years guess that.” And this isn’t just during my birthday month, it’s year-round. Even 6 months after my birthday, I keep on thinking someone’s planning a surprise party, using the rationale that I would be completely surprised if it was in June or July instead of November.

3. When someone recommends a book, a movie or anything to me, I’m less inclined to want to do anything about it. And then I realize what a colossal fool I was being when I find out that the thing they were recommending was actually really good.

4. I could extremely irate when people say “I could care less.” IT’S “I COULD NOT CARE LESS” STUPID PEOPLE! And sadly, most of these people are strangers to me, so I can’t go bat shit crazy on them like I want to.

5. I have this weird habit of running pages in a book through my thumbnails, with the effect that my thumb nails are now slanted and I always get weird looks at nail salons. On the plus side though, I have gained a minute amount of respect from my brother for being gross.

On second thought, that’s not much of a plus side.

6. When I have to tell someone bad news, I get a big urge to laugh. Kind of like Claire from Modern Family when she has to tell her son, Luke, that his elderly friend passed away… and she makes a face like this:

It’s not like I find bad news funny, but I really can’t control it. Thankfully, I have never actually laughed, but that’s because I have to screw up my mouth in a really odd position.

I don’t know, I’m just one messed up person.


Scheduled Post #1

I think you can tell from the title that all of my creativity has drained out of my body into the hot, hot sun that seeps into the cracks of my bedroom window at night.

And when I feel that my creativity levels gets too low, I turn to my favorite pastime—reading!

Because, really, reading is just like traveling around the world while staying in your own room; it’s having great adventures and getting to try on new perspectives; and, most importantly right now, it gives me new ideas to irrigate my drying well of creativity.

But I think my favorite thing about reading is that I lose track of time and, for that moment, I only exist in the black ink on the paper. I forget everything in my life, and I just read and read and read.
What is your absolute favorite thing about reading? Do you enjoy the way the words roll off your tongue, or are you more about the plot of the story? Or, if you detest reading (and there are people I know who do so), why?

What happens when a blogger takes a vacation…

Nothing happens! Because I can schedule posts. But anyway, as a last family vacation before their eldest child (as in myself) galavants off to college, my parents bought tickets for a week long cruise around the Mediterranean, as well as plane tickets in Florence, Italy so we can go sight-seeing for a few days. It’s going to be AMAZING!

I’m super excited, and I’ve already started mentally packing my suitcase (mentally, mind you. It’s not going to be physically until a few hours before the flight), but because of this, I am going to be blog-deprived for a good two weeks. What ever am I to do?

Luckily for you (or unluckily. Depends on whether you like my blog or not), I’ve set up a bunch of scheduled posts so you won’t have to go through any poetrybytheclueless withdrawal symptoms (hah. as if). But don’t expect any replies to comments or anything, because I’m going to be in Europe having one last amazing summer vacation with my family before I have to face the real world.

Wow, scary thought. I rather like being a child. I really hope this summer isn’t the last time I can just cut loose and not have any stress at all. Adults out there? Please convince me that this isn’t the case?

Haha alright, I will see all of you in two weeks! Hope you all are having a great summer 🙂

Free Write Friday

This is a rather long and pointless story (as are most streams of consciousness) but it’s for Free Write Friday, in which a photograph is shown for inspiration, and we are supposed to write a story about it. It’s definitely not an amazing piece of literature by no means, so be warned. Hope you enjoy my gibberish!  ——————————————————————————————————————

The moon was incandescent that night, though Elphbet wished that the other two moons were out of the cover of the clouds so that they too might guide her way through the marshlands. Elphbet wasn’t suited for the marshs. With her shiny orange and black coat and her long tail that got caught in mud and bushes, Elphbet was more suited for her fertile home planet. At least there she blended in with the rest of the life forms.

There! That was the signal, the light in the trees signaled to Elphbet to join the rebel forces and lead the attack. That was what she had been paid for to do anyway. She had a high success rate for leading rebellions, and she didn’t ask too many questions. In the eyes of rebels on every single planet, she was the perfect leader. She scared the troops into a dim-witted respect and obedience because of her strange quadruped appearance and pearly white teeth, and she left immediately so that the political masterminds behind the rebellion could take charge without anymore bloodshed necessary.

She was the perfect leader, and she was expensive.

The light was wavering now. A few minutes had passed and the rebels still hadn’t heard the splash of water that should have indicated Elphbet’s arrival into the marshes. For all they knew, she was still up on the dry land licking her paws like she always did before she had to make a big speech. And so they waited. They believed in Elphbet, and they didn’t want to give up on her the night when she was going to lead them to victory.

Elphbet saw the flickering lights and bared her teeth in her own peculiar type of grin. Her eyes closed into small slits as she moved between the rocks and the grass, though not as stealthily as she normally would have. She wanted them to see her, wanted them to see her bright orange and black coat and sigh in relief. For the first time, Elphbet was giving away her position.

Just as she expected, the lights went out the minute they saw her gliding toward the water. “Now,” the rebels all thought at the same time, “swim through the water to our side and lead us to victory. Then we will be safe from our murdering, greedy government.” They knew the Elphbet was the only one with the government maps, the only one who knew the schedule of the Reignor who had tormented them for generations and generations. She was the only safe one because she was the only one who had no reason to betray them.

But then. But then they saw her pause and yawn lazily as she stopped her beautiful, seductive glide right in front of the water. They heard her piercing roar in the sky, giving away not only her position, but theirs as well. And they felt the ground quiver as the pods from underneath carried the Enforcers whose job it was to kill all rebels.

They looked at Elphbet in silence as their chance for a happier life came crumbling down. And Elphbet smiled her peculiar grin, and said,

“I don’t particularly enjoy water. But I did enjoy your money.”

She walked away, back into the shadows of the building that the rebels had generously given her, and entered a deep sleep, dreaming of tomorrow when the leader of the totalitarian government, the Reignor, would take her back to her home planet in his space pod. To Elphbet, there were some things more important than the security of a few peasants. For instance, there was herself.

Elegance of The Hedgehog — in 33 words

Deathly boring bourgeois existence
for little rich girl;
Mask of stupidity
for elegant, philosophical concierge.

Delicate camellias and
arrival of Japanese
realizations of life’s beauty.


Then appreciation of
always within never.


From Trifecta: “This week we’re revisiting an early Trifextra prompt: retelling.  This time, we’re asking you to retell your favorite book.  In 33 words.  Nothing like a challenge.  We are sure you’re up to it.”

Small Tragedies

“Each day is a blessing. Make the most of it.”

That’s what my Mama always said, and I’ve started saying that every few minutes too, because it’s the only thing that gets rid of the grumpies. It’s hard, in this new world, to stay happy when I’m all by myself.

I should have listened to Mama. Mama’s always right, especially when she said “Don’t go into the Man’s Moving Cave.” I should have listened; I shouldn’t have argued and fought with her. But it was partially Mama’s fault, because she shouldn’t have been so lenient,  letting me climb up the big black wheel of the Moving Cave, up the green, shiny rock body until I fell through a big hole and landed inside.

That was what Mama warned me about, because once you’re inside, you can’t go out. I tried though; I tried so hard, but I couldn’t find that big hole again. I heard Mama screaming the entire time I struggled, screaming “Get out, the Monsters are coming! Get out, my baby, get out!” I moved as fast as I could when I heard that, and I think I was almost at the top too, but I was too slow for them. One of the Monsters, the Men, found me.

I think it was a baby Monster, but it was still ferocious. It dragged me with its pudgy fingers and squeezed me and spun me around and around and around until I couldn’t hear Mama anymore. Until I couldn’t hear anything but the cackling of Men and the whir of their wheeled cave.

Baby Monster held on to me the whole time, in its sweaty, greasy paw. Mama wouldn’t have liked that. Mama would have wanted me to take a bath, because Monsters are disgusting. But Mama wasn’t there in the Cave. Mama wasn’t there when we stopped either, and when Baby Monster got out and let me fall through the cracks of his fingers while another Monster thundered angrily at it and gave it something to wash it’s big, filthy paw, Mama was nowhere. I was alone.

That’s how I got here.

It’s very green here though with lots of nice moist fog that rolls off of my little shell. I think if Mama and the rest of them were here, we would have had a swell time. Maybe if I can find another Moving Cave, I can bring them here. But until then, I’ll count my blessings and make the most of this place.

That’s what Mama always said to do. And from now on, I’ll be a good snail and listen to Mama. And maybe one day, I’ll get to see her again.


For Three Word Wednesday

Not Only Blue

“Poetry is life and life is suffering” 

That was one of the three tenets his old poetry teacher had thundered out during class, until finally it became a tenet for Tristan’s own life.

“Only in the darkness can you find the truth.”

Although Tristan had diligently tried to capture true agony in the sheltered suburbs of his home, donning ripped clothes and smoking cigarettes in the process, there wasn’t enough darkness for him to write. He decided to gather inspiration by travelling to impoverished areas, hoping that their despair would seep into his poetry.

“Life is punctuated by the blue. Let the sadness permeate your soul.”

At first, he travelled to Honduras and found endless material in the poverty of the families who lived in shanties and had swollen stomachs filled with air. But after reading over his poems again, they sounded fake, not truthful at all.

Despite the feeling of dissatisfaction, Tristan sat outside in the May rains, hoping to get at least one good poem out of the trip. He sat there noticing the signs of sadness, until, suddenly, he heard a peal of laughter. There, in the rain, were a group of children dancing and squelching their toes in the mud, happy despite with their swollen bellies and lines of dirt and hardship on their face.

Tristan felt inspired. For the first time since the writing class, he felt eager to write. Could his teacher have been wrong? For he felt connected to this joy that he never had with the sadness and sorrow of his teacher’s teachings.

And as he stood there in the rain watching the children and mentally throwing away the three tenets his teacher had taught him, he came up with a tenet of his own:

“Life is blue.

But it is also red, almond, marigold, periwinkle and raspberry. It is black, white and even the absurd, nonsensical potato. Life is any color you want it to be.”


This week’s trifecta:

On to the weekly prompt, where we give you one word and ask that you give it back to us, using the third definition, in a 33-333 word response. The word is:

BLUE (adjective)

1  : of the color blue
2  a : bluish <the blue haze of tobacco smoke>
b : discolored by or as if by bruising <blue with cold>
c : bluish gray <a blue cat>
3  a : low in spirits : melancholy
    b : marked by low spirits : depressing <a blue funk> <things looked blue>

Definitely not my best entry, but I’m glad that I actually did something since I’ve been shrinking the Trifecta competition for a while now. So hopefully, it’ll only get better from here 🙂