Thanks for all those who took part, I think I got everyone who did. I’m sorry if I missed you, please make sure you backlink me and/or post the link to your work in the comments for the prompt post. Sometimes I reblog, sometimes I put in a post …
GOOD JOB EVERYONE 🙂
Writing Response – eloraczyr
A Response to Don Charisma’s Writing Prompt
I occasionally get random follows on my blog, and I do the courtesy of checking out whoever did the courtesy of wanting to pay attention to some of the stuff I write. Well I stumbled upon an interesting individual, and for those of you that actually gander through, I suggest you check out Mr. Charisma himself here.
And I decided to follow him, mostly because he IS charismatic in his written word. At least, that is what I’ve found. And it was that charisma that drew me to respond to a prompt he posted, though I realize I’m doing it a little quickly. Look at me, being a little eager beaver! Find his prompt here.
Find my response below…
I make faces, sometimes.
Confession, I make faces a lot. These aren’t pretty, tidy little smiles or polite expressions of some deep inner feeling. They’re ridiculous – they’re sometimes hilarious. They’re often provoked, a reaction to something strange or different, a reaction to my own typically embarrassing nature, not that I feel embarrassment too keenly. I’ve been hard to humiliate ever since falling off a stage in front of over three hundred people all under the age of twelve. I myself was twelve at the time, and so to drive the point home with a little redundancy, it’s hard to embarrass me.
It’s hard to embarrass me, until I get caught making those very faces.
Let me elaborate, because even then, when I look up whilst standing at my car and see a confused individual watching me, having seen me contort my mouth and eyebrows into something not socially standard, or having heard the weird grunts or grumbles I make to myself when I think nobody is paying attention, I freeze. I don’t really know what to think, and so something akin to embarrassment washes over me. I know I’m doing those things as an automatic anxious reaction. It’s why I can throw myself out there and completely embrace my extroverted nature. But I also know whoever catches me being such an idiot probably thinks I’m insane.
The funny part is it’s not always an unknown person. Sometimes, the critic of my strange little antics happens to be a petite, dirty blonde woman. She’s young, but rather average. Some, by a bit of a stretch might call her pretty, and there are days she can acknowledge a compliment or two. She’s dressed professionally, but with just enough of an unpreparedness to her that she often feels like a small girl playing dress u – a child out there with the big kids, out of her league, but doing her best to keep afloat. Sometimes she’s trying too hard.
I see her, making faces back at me in the reflection of my car window. This petite blonde professional is me. More appropriately, she’s someone I am trying to be. When we catch one another in our moments of mutual idiocy, we immediately thrust sour disapproval on each other. Internally, I ask her what is wrong with you? Can’t you be normal? And I know I’m really asking that to myself.
And we know – we know for a fact that our future relies on our professional image. We try very hard to maintain it. We network and we buy things out of our budget in this desperate cry to fit into a world we are still much too young to fully be incorporated into. We go to book club meetings, join societies of women twice our age. We try to be relevant to an audience that is incapable of taking us seriously.
And then we get caught making faces, and that scares us. Not because we’re worried about looking stupid. That concern has been thrown out the window long ago. But because we need to push ourselves harder to survive in a corporate entity that doesn’t give a damn if you’re sometimes a little goofy. And it’s because at the end of it all, we are just a little bit goofy, and there’s nothing we can or want to do to change that. Instead, we’d rather play an elaborate game of cover up, and make faces and sounds when we think no one is looking.
That’s what mature adults do, right?
Writing Response – mewhoami
Within a person’s mind, another lives. Another who is unlike the one that is visible to the world. Another who would frighten those around them with their honesty, thoughts and reasoning. The same one who frightens us.
We try to stuff this person down, knowing that if they were to surface our world would change. People would see inside and know more than we are willing to show them. They would know the person within. The one who keeps the secrets. The one who feels emotions that shouldn’t be felt. The one who feels fear, shame, deep rooted sadness, anger and insecurities. The one who is not strong.
The one who scares even us.
Sitting in its cage, it reaches out from time to time to breathe the fresh air that we call our own. Its reach touches the very ones we love and we rush to pull it back. To place it back into its cage.
We don’t trust it. We don’t like it. It frightens us. So we contain it, the best we can. We pretend that it is not there. That it does not dwell inside. If we don’t let it free, then no one will know that it exists. Only us.
Our fear is that one day we will no longer be able to contain it. It will burst free and all will see it. They will see the hidden parts, where we are most vulnerable.
This is the secret us. The one that even we don’t fully understand. The hidden one. The mysterious one.
Writing Response – oldestdaughterredheadedsister
SINK OR SWIM
by Audrey Dawn – Oldest Daughter Redheaded Sister
Destinations via water
The fear of the unknown holds us all back. Why do we allow it to control our decisions and our goals? We nourish fear with our strength, day in and day out, choosing to help it grow to become more powerful. We sit quietly as it beats us down. Fear doesn’t exist. This we all know. Kick it in the balls. Get on with the show. Go for the gold. Let’s stop worrying that we’ll fail. Live life now and beg for forgiveness later. Fear can hunt someone else down now. We’re alive, so prove it.
Prompting Fear, because it thinks I won’t. This lady is brave. Thanks, DC.
Writing/Painting Response – therandomg
FEAR – DON CHARISMA’S PROMPT
But let me try use my words…
Who am I?
Where am I?
Who are these People?
Why can’t I remember?
What has happened to me?
This is in response to Fear – Don Charisma’s Prompt
This post took about 15 minutes, my quickest so far. I hope it portrays the thing I fear most.
Painting Response – andromeda 65
‘Fear’- in response to Don Charisma’s prompt!
by andromeda 65
I’ve really enjoyed this one and glad to see that multiple disciplines are getting engaged with my prompts. Would like to see some photographers getting involved, perhaps we’ll do a more photography oriented one soon 🙂
For those who didn’t “get it” – accepting our emotions and working through them can be very therapeutic, epiphanies and resolutions to problems can occur. One can also create during the process, hence the prompt. Andromedia 65 posted a piece that wasn’t done specifically for the prompt, but the prompt had prompted them to post it. It’s obviously more than I would have asked anyone, but it’s a good example of where an artist can get to if they keep on doing what they love doing.
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“Give a man a fish feed him for a day, teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime”
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