Green Glass Door

Now this is a truly inventive game created by a pretty swell person a long time ago.

What goes through these green glass doors? Only those things that are fit for their ambiguous nature. This is a game that I remember playing as a young kid. I believe I was introduced to it in one of my religious ed classes. There were certain things that went in according to a special rule that was chosen by the person doing the talking.

Here’s an example:

I’m going through the green glass doors and I’m bringing cotton candy, but not icecream

I’m going through the green glass doors and I’m bringing the moon, but not the sun.

I’m going through the green glass doors and I’m bringing a puddle, but not water.

I’m going through the green glass doors and I’m bringing boots, but not sandals.

I’m going through the green glass doors and I’m bringing Wallace but not Gromit.

If you figured it out already, the rule is things that have double letters in their names go in, while things that don’t do not. The first time someone played this game with me, I couldn’t get the answer right away but after some thinking the “Aha!” moment arrives.

Glass

Stay Forever Young

early312
The road of life

I have set my mind on living every day from now on with as much verbosity and energy as possible. Make every day count because I will not get that time back.

I’ll only be 24 for about another month and a half. Next stop, living as a mid twenty something. Life is going to feel radically different because life isn’t slowing down anytime soon. The train is moving fast and events are flashing by my eyes. The world isn’t waiting around for me. It’s go time.

Here are some things that I am doing to stay young and active:

  • Go swimming nearly every day this summer
  • Try something new everyday
  • Think positive thoughts
  • Exercise
  • Laugh
  • Enjoy my favorite activities
  • Hang with loved ones and friends
  • Watch old favorites on Netflix (That 70s Show)

The road of life is a long and rocky one. You’re not going to always have a good day. Traveling along this road is full of adventures (and misadventures). Even when a storm is ensuing, it’s best to keep your head up and battle through.

Discover Challenge: For Posterity

I’ll Take The Chance

If there were a real Fountain of Youth, would you drink the water?

0331 Unbroken Pool

Only if I was absolutely sure the water was clean and pure, lol. Is there a sign there that says it’s OK to drink? I don’t want to be stupid and die a painful death from a foolhardy poisonous trap. And no telling how many people have walked in that fountain or if it even has the ability to magical clean itself. But in the best case scenario I would absolutely love to shed some years off my life, but not too many, maybe just down to about seven years old. I wouldn’t stop at my 12 to 14 year old life, since those weren’t exactly the brightest days.

Back in September 2001, I was sitting at an Apple IIe computer in the resource room, another name for the special room for kids with learning disabilities. I was ten years old. I remember the phone ringing and my teacher in there picking it up. She said hello and there was a moment of silence before she promptly hung up. Then she turned on the television hanging from the ceiling and instantly a news broadcast about some plane having crashed into a New York City building came up. It looked horrifying. The first thing I noticed was the big clouds of grey smoke surrounding a smoldering tower. Then an announcement came over the PA system:

“Because of a recent terrorist attack, all students are being let out of school early today for their safety. Please have them exit the building and board the buses immediately. Parents are free to pick up their children if necessary.”

I’m not sure if it went exactly like that but nevertheless, I was sent home that day, not really knowing what was going on. It was only until I got home and saw that my parents were talking about the attacks and had the news broadcast on that it registered in my mind. And then the second tower was hit and I remember my mom freaking out over it, not wanting to see the replay that was being used multiple times. This was the first time I was seeing something like this, being so used to cheery cartoons and Disney shows. Being forced by dad to sit there and take in the events “out of respect” was a little painful and boring because this wasn’t my idea of fun. And then President Bush came on with an urgent announcement. And of course all blame was laid on him.

The rest is a bit muddy. All I remember is a number of country songs being released the following weeks giving tribute to the 2,993 that lost their lives. I remember some controversy going around about Toby Keith releasing a song with the lyric “Cause we’ll put a boot in your ass/It’s the American way”. It died down though in midst of more serious matters, the biggest one being the war in Iraq that would ignite and keep going for very long time.

With the tenth anniversary of Hurricane Katrina this week, it would be a story to go back to when New Orleans was in the middle of devastation. I was 13 years old at the time and just beginning to understand how the world works. I remember the levees breaking, remember the flooding of the city on TV, remember the people seeking refuge in the Louisiana Superdome that had a hole in the roof.

Would I have the power to change events? I sure hope so. I would love to revisit that spelling bee in fourth grade that I got eliminated on the very first word I received: Flashback! Oh, geez. How did I get that wrong? Did the judges mishear me? I should have said something to them. I was very sure that I spelled the word right. But being that I didn’t have much of a voice, I just went and sat where my mom and sisters were and watched the rest of the contest. My mom asked me what had happened and I just shrugged my shoulders. Felt like a big disappointment there and the next day in school. No one seemed to acknowledge it though.

I wrote a poem similar to this prompt topic back on November 19, 2014.


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Forever Young.”

Student Driver

Sixteen was my turning point
I was becoming an adult
Adolescence being left behind
Finally leaping that pole vault
Learning to drive
That was an adventure itself
Riding the brake, riding the curb
My instructor’s thoughts: “I’m in hell”


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Only Sixteen.”

Don’t Look In the Dresser!

When was the last time you were embarrassed? How do you react to embarrassment? 

embarrased

How about “When was the last time you were really embarrassed? I mean, just ran out of the room face red as a beet and never wanted to speak to anyone again? Didn’t even want to think about the moment.

I have a very well kept story that has never been told on the Internet, basically because I’ve never found the appropriate place to do it. Well, here in the ever polite and caring world of WordPress, I can speak my thoughts without feeling too concerned about what people will think of me. Here I go again, searching through the cobwebs of my memory…

I was 9 years old at the time.

One day mom was putting fresh laundry away in my dresser when she yelled out my three names: “Matthew Robert Hammell!” I was out in the living room, in my boy scout uniform and getting ready to go to a meeting that night at the elementary school. I immediately looked to my room down the hall and mom putting clothes in my dresser. She had found my private stash. The one I begged no one to find. The dirty magazine collection along with other stuff I had collected over the last few months. I immediately ran out of the house and up the slide in the backyard, burying my head in my arms just like you see in the image above.

I still don’t know if was normal for a kid at that age to have a morbid curiosity about the mysteries of the human body and sex. My curiosity had been peaking at an all time high and I didn’t feel like there was anything wrong with it. I discovered my very first Playboy magazine in the cabinet of a computer desk at my uncle’s house. I remember him saying “Don’t look in there” in a kind of joking/serious tone, but of course that only added fuel to my fire. I secretly took the magazine, folded it up in a tube, stuffed it down my front pocket, concealed it under my shirt, and went into the bathroom. There, I started tearing out the pictures I liked the best, stuffing them in my pocket and discarding the magazine behind the toilet. When I went out, everyone was curious as to why I was in there so long. To this day, I still don’t think they ever put two and two together but I suspected it.

And so I brought those cut out pictures home and created a “private” collection of pleasurable things. But it didn’t stop there. I even hand drew a picture of a naked lady on a barstool from one of the magazine pictures, the one that was a real embarrassment for me when mom and dad found it and showed it to me later on. And since I had a minor crush on a girl my age who lived in the house in back of us, I wrote a very inappropriate poem about her, that got thrown away immediately by my mother. I am hoping against hope that the girl never was told about it. Because maybe that would explain why she ran away from me at my graduation ceremony, the first time I saw her in years.

The most embarrassing of this moment is when mom and dad sat me down one night and had “the talk”. Oh god. How I still remember dad and his drilling stare, mom looking very uncomfortable indeed. “He’s only 9 years old,” she said, wanting dad to back off and not be so harsh, back off on the hard pressing questions of what led me to this. When he showed me the picture of the lady I drew, I could hardly look at it, totally ashamed of myself.

The next day, my parents did a little more investigating. It all seemed to centered around that picture I drew, which was very well done I have to say. They asked me why I drew it. And so I made up an elaborate lie of saying a kid at the school, a big kid named Lance I thought was in the fifth grade and typecast as my ideal bully, forced me to draw it on the playground table or he would beat me up. Oh, wow. How stupid could I have been?

So my parents went over to the school and talked with the teachers, trying to hunt down this imaginary bully of mine. I was in the third grade at the time and this was way over my head and a number of the adults as well. I was kind of hoping they didn’t pick anyone out in particular, because that would only be more embarrassing for me and kind of weird to the suspected. No, they never did find anyone, and figured out I was lying through my teeth and asked why I lied. I couldn’t ever say, but it was my fear of telling them about my raging curiosity of the female anatomy.

The rest of the story involved mom and dad never wanting to speak of this incident ever again, eventually trashing the evidence just in time for my grandma to come over and have dinner.

So I’ll end this story here with a link to a mother’s similar story about the perils of raising a typical red-blooded American male, this one being 13 years old. I was ahead of the game.

Photo credit: harmanlaw.com


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Isn’t Your Face Red.”

When You Were Young

You happened upon a fountain of youth,
The water so pure and clear,
Taking a drink you were instantly transported,
To the innocence of your childhood years
The good ole days,
with iced tea on the table,
mac and cheese in the microwave,
and finally seeing Aunt Mable.
When you used to sit on the floor
and let your imagination go wild,
while grandma would watch TV 
and look after the second and third child.
There was no indication of the outside world,
you were comfortable in that little bubble,
that tossed and twirled
and let you feel humble.
These were the innocent times,
there were no worries or obligations,
Just Lego, dolls, and cartoons,
Our vivid childhood imaginations


In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Forever Young.”

I previously published this post on November 19, 2014 in response to Salad Days and am now reposting it for this similar prompt topic, with some modifications.

Reflection

You step into an acquaintance’s house for the first time, and discover that everything — from the furniture, to the books, to the art on the wall — is identical to your home. What happens next?


Today I met my doppelgänger,
He was just like me in every way,
From the absent furniture,
To the red striped walls,
To the awkward TV entertainment cabinet,
Sitting in the fray,
His house seemed to be a complete carbon copy,
He even looked distinctly like me,
Had the same eye color (blue),
Wore the same clothes,
I wondered how coincidentally this could be
But then I realized I was looking into a mirror,
Reflecting my own image and the room behind,
But there was just one thing I didn’t understand,
How his hair seemed to be going blind
To my surprise, he then smiled back at me,
Simply waved,
And said,
“This is you in 35 years, don’t give up on your destiny.”

AlexKisilevich00


Daily Prompt 10/27/14