I Lied

The worst part of working a swing shift is not the strange people that come in around 11:30 or so. It isn't the groups of drunken barely over teenagers stumbling in to find munchies so they can return to their alcoholic escapades. I can honestly say the it's not random truck drivers who try to slip their phone numbers, hastily written on a napkin, into my hand... Okay I lied.
The answer is all of the above.
And the fact that it's three AM and I'm still wide awake.

Proud

I found this link while stumbling. http://juliannakunstler.com/art1.html
I found a little tutorial on this site, and I have spent the last few hours drawing these silly squiggly lines, and to be frank, my fingers hurt.

I had forgotten about the scratching sound of graphite on a sketch pad. I missed the feeling of filling a blank page with grey color. I think more than anything I miss the feeling of accomplishment when I finish a drawing and step back, proud that I created something beautiful.

Discuss

"Fleshy jello mold."
Discuss among yourselves.


Yeah I know its kinda cheating, but I'm curious what people think of.
So post a comment with the first thing that comes to mind

Screwed

"The interdimensional zombies just broke through the force field. They're-- ARGHH BLARGH!...."
That was the last thing I heard before the connection to the bridge was disconnected.
I looked around, searching for anything that I could use as a weapon without much success.
"I'm screwed."

Ask of You

I'm listening to my husband play his ukulele; a present for his birthday last year. He's strumming a song I asked him to learn, and though he doesn't actually like the tune, he learned it anyway. For me. It's silly but to me, that's love. Doing something you don't want/like to do because the person you loved asked it of you.

Oldies

I keep hearing old songs from forever ago.
I can't seem to think of anything new.
Old lyrics, and ancient tunes rolling around in my brain.
I can't believe they call those songs the "oldies" now...

Learned

Fighting my great master was something I never thought I would have to do. Our swords sang to each other, as we danced a deadly waltz, While we stepped to the beat of an unheard melody time stood still as if waiting to see who would stand victorious. I knew it wouldn't be me. I simply hadn't trained long enough; hard enough to beat him.
Blow after blow screamed pain down my arms and chest as my master struck me repeatedly. One quick hit to my stomach with the flat of his blade, and I was on my back looking up at the point of his sword.
"Now." My master held a hand out to me, and helped me to my feet. "Go clean yourself up, and remember what you learned."