Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Thing #20: A Hobby

Day 20: A hobby of yours.
 Well, if I take the term "hobby" loosely, I have a lot of hobbies. And I've had a lot of hobbies. I.E. theater, which I haven't been involved with in nearly four years but which used to be a huge hobby of mine. And in my previous post I mentioned that I play guitar. I've been better about practicing lately but as I go through phases with that I don't really count it as a long-standing hobby that I regularly spend time on. Same goes for horseback riding (I go maybe one to three times a year), snow skiing (haven't been since the winter of 2009), singing (don't think singing along with the radio counts; I haven't even song karaoke in a couple years), cooking (I do it nearly every day and many times enjoy it, but honestly I'm a working woman and I have a lot going on so if I could pay someone else to do my cooking I'd say "have at it!")...I could go on and on.

So my hobby answer--something I've done as long as I can remember and something I've never gone very long without doing--is writing. Be it blogging, journaling, working on memoir-style pieces or from prompts, or settling down to add to one of the many novel-type deals I've had piles of for years...I write in some form or another nearly every day of the week. And not just 140 character tweets or little blurbs on a blog. I can't help but think about what I'm writing, no matter how trivial it may seem. Writing is both my hobby and my therapy.

I don't have a picture. Obviously. But I'll post a bit of writing that I did in response to a writing group that I used to organize (past tense because I just didn't have the time for it anymore). This is the last prompt I did when I was running the group, and I've written other stuff since then, but you know.

Prompt: Describe a landscape as seen by a woman whose horrible husband has just died. Do not mention the husband or death.

It was summer in South Carolina--a hot, dry, dusty summer this year. Funny that hot, dry, and dusty were all adjectives that she could have used to describe herself, lately.

Could have--until this evening. This evening, she had become free. This evening, she stepped outside, and hot-dry-dusty were not the words she felt about her beloved home. It was warm, and the warmth wrapped her in its arms like a comforting friend. The sky was a soft pink, the same color as the rosy cheeks of a small child. Although the grass had been burned brown by the summer sun, she did not see it as dead or ugly. The grass was merely dormant, just as she had been. Soon there would be rain, and even if it was the violent rain of a summer storm, it would breathe new life into everything.

This wasn't perfect--nothing was--but there was so much hope and potential. It was there, lurking just under the surface, and she, she who had ignored it for so long, could see it now.


Day 21: Something you know you do differently than most people.
Day 22: A website.
Day 23: A way in which you want to be remembered.
Day 24: A movie no one would expect you to love.
Day 25: A recipe.
Day 26: A childhood memory.
Day 27: A physical feature you love.
Day 28: A scar you have and it's story.
Day 29: Hopes, dreams and plans you have for the next 365 days.
Day 30: A motto or philosophy.
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