So if you couldn’t tell by now, I’m a big fan of Hulu. Seeing as I don’t have cable, it’s a good way to catch up on most shows I would watch. I’m also a big fan of Netflix. Having both of those subscriptions in my possession, I don’t miss cable much at all. Maybe the only thing I do miss is the Rachael Ray Show. (Don’t judge. I stumbled upon it one day and it became a routine of sorts. I’ve gotten to know most of Rachael’s “Rachael-isms” and cooking shortcuts, such as adding nutmeg to most things, grating the garlic into the dish, scoring meat for burgers with the side of your hand, and making the centers of burgers thinner than the outside for even cooking. Thanks, Rach!) But they moved it to an earlier time (9am, I believe, from 2pm), and reading’s better anyway, so it’s not that big of a loss.
Hm. Where was I?
Oh yeah. Hulu. About a month ago, I started seeing ads on Hulu for Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s “new” show HitRecord on TV. I checked out the first episode, and someone on the show had mentioned that they’d used the prompts that were given as writing prompts, and I thought that was a genius idea! So that’s what I’ll be doing today.
In addition, I spoke yesterday about doing link ups. I found WordPress’s Daily Prompt, which I’ll be using a second writing prompt for today. One of these days I’ll do a link up to the website, but it seems as if I didn’t act fast enough to do so. Next time, then. So that’s your twofer. My other twofer also has to do with link ups. I found a really fun series that has to do with music, and you know I gotta jump on that! So not only am I responding to two writing prompts today, I’m also going to do two posts! Can you handle it?!? Well, let’s see, shall we? 🙂
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Writing Prompt #1 (inspired by HitRecord on TV): Re: The Number One
The phrase, “looking out for number one” has always been an insulting one for me to hear. It’s bathed in utter selfishness, and whenever I see it on TV or in a movie, it’s always some jerk who used dirty methods to claw his/her way to the top. It’s usually said with a sneer, in response to utterances of concern from someone said jerk stepped on to receive his/her glory. I can’t think of anyone but a villain with a dark soul to actually say this. It’s the epitome of caring for no one else but yourself.
While it’s true that one needs to treat themselves now and then (or often, if life/finances/time allow), having no regard for anyone else’s feelings is such a shameful act.
With that said, it makes me wonder who “number one” in my life is. Who am I looking out for? Who I protect and treat, making sure their life is the best it can be, no matter what the circumstance?
If I had a human child, I’m sure their name would be the answer I’d give. But I don’t. I do, however, have my dog. It may sound silly, but I would do anything for my dog. He’s a part of my family, and I do “look out for number one” in his case. I make sure he has the best quality of life he can possibly get, and I show him my love every single day. When I walk him on the shoulder of a road as I sometimes do, I make sure I’m the one standing on the outside in case we’re hit by a car. I want him to have the better chance of surviving, even though statistically I’m supposed to outlive him.
There’s also my husband, who should probably be number one, but might be a touch under my dog. Before you judge, let me explain. My hubby has more of a capability of fending for himself and keeping himself safe than my dog does. He doesn’t depend on me to feed him, to open doors for him, to take him on walks. He does expect love from me, and that I hope I provide to him to the best of my ability. Since my dog is a bit more dependent, though, perhaps he has my place as number one.
What about you? Have you come across an instance where it’s a good thing to think of yourself as “number one”? Or, if not, who’s the number one in your life?
Writing Prompt #2 (from Daily Prompt): Talking in Your Sleep
“Have you ever eavesdropped on a conversation you weren’t supposed to? Tell us about a time when it was impossible not to overhear a conversation between people who didn’t know you were there. What was the conversation about? How did it make you feel?”
I have to say that I’ve probably eavesdropped on way more conversations than I was supposed to. When I was little, I wanted to be Harriet the Spy (to this day, that remains to be my very favorite book of all time). As such, I’d carry around a green notebook and snoop into people’s lives. If I’m to be honest, though, I can’t recall any of the conversations I eavesdropped on without the help of that notebook.
The only conversation I remember vividly is one I happened upon when I was older, when I was more mature and had grown out of my Harriet the Spy phase; a time where my world felt a bit more fragile: a late teenager.
I was somewhere between 15 and 17. I was walking to my room to get some homework done, when I heard some commotion coming from my parents’ room. My mother was yelling something incomprehensible. By this point, my parents were fighting a lot anyways, so it wasn’t really anything new. But their fights usually surfaced at night, when they thought their kids were asleep. Let me assure you, though, there’s no kid on the planet, not even a deaf one, who couldn’t hear the rage that shook the walls during their late-night arguments.
The part that was new was that it was only afternoon, and they were so in the heat of the fight that they didn’t even bother to care who heard. They probably didn’t even know.
I wanted to know what was going on, thinking as I always did that somehow the fight was my fault. So I lingered by their door and pressed my ear to the door. More loud, anger-filled screams from my mother filled the air, followed by something I almost never heard: my father yelling.
I have to say right here that my father never yells, and when he does, it’s as timid and quiet as a field mouse. Those late-night arguments I spoke of earlier? It was always my mother’s voice that roared and made the ceiling vibrate. My father’s mumble-yell would follow at maybe one-quarter the volume. This time, though, I heard what he was saying loud and clear:
“Hit me! Hit me instead!”
My mother wailed in agony and I heard a few half-hearted thumps. There was a slight crack in the door. From what I could see, she was hitting his open palms.
At that point, I walked away. Whatever they were fighting about, it was between the two of them. But it was something that always stuck with me.
A few months later, my mother had been invited to go to Las Vegas with a friend of hers. She made it a point to ask me how to do her makeup in a sultry way, and she asked me to choose which of the two outfits she had laid out on the bed was sexier. She planned to go dancing at a night club.
My father wasn’t invited, and she wasn’t planning on wearing her wedding ring during the trip.
To say the least, that conversation has stuck with me to this day, and the mystery behind it still lingers. I’ve never asked about it, mostly because they didn’t know I was listening, but also partly because those are the kinds of conversations I simply don’t have with my parents. Much too awkward. Way too many emotions.
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Ahem. Anyways, that’s enough writing for today, I think. My next post for today will be much, much lighter and happier. Promise. 🙂
To Awesome Things that Come in Pairs,