June 2012


A picture prompt this week:

There was an old woman who lived in a teapot. With lots of children. She gave them some broth and sent them to bed and they all lived very happily. Until one day when calamity struck. It was very windy. The wind pushed the lid off. They heard it crash to the ground. Then they looked through the window and saw the little pieces lying on the ground.

The woman and the children waited all day long looking up at the sky in trepidation, knowing what was to come. Finally, it came.

Then they were in hot water.

If you want to know more about the 100-word challenge, click on the picture below.

I’ve just realised why I have a problem telling people about social anxiety – well, one of the problems.

I say, “I suffer from social anxiety.” It’s true – it causes suffering. But I say it because that’s the only way I can think of saying it. It’s not what I really want to say.

When someone says, “I suffer,” it sounds as if they’re asking for sympathy. “Oh you poor thing – I do hope you get better soon.” That kind of thing. But I don’t want sympathy. I’m not some poor, pathetic character who spends her life feeling sorry for herself.

I tell people in the hope that they’ll understand why I am as I am. I tell them so that they’ll know this thing not only exists but is very common, even though it’s seldom mentioned. I want understanding, not sympathy.

And as far as getting rid of it is concerned, I’ve come to the conclusion that no one does that. You can learn to live with it, to do things despite it, to stop letting it restrict you. But it doesn’t go away. It’s always there, somewhere.

Anyway, coming back to the problem – the “suffering” one, how can I explain it without the S-word? Any ideas?

A few fun bloomers were mentioned when I donned my technical writing hat this week.

  • “Finally, check for maladjusted screws.”
    .
  • Machines that use “micro witches.”
    .
  • Machines that “present you with a massage when you open the door.”
    .
  • On Twitter: “When the button is clicked, all the twits are removed, and new twits are displayed in their place.”

This is not good enough. I need to write other blog posts besides those for 100WCGU. Not that I have anything against 100WCGU, but that’s not all this blog is about. So I will be writing other posts – as soon as I’ve thought of something to say!

In the meantime, here’s another post for

Click the image if you want to join in

This time we have to include the prompt:

… in the dark recess of my mind …

The Listener

So she’s telling me the story in all its detail. Her memory is amazing. She remembers every word they said to each other, every movement, every facial expression. She can describe not only the whole scene but also the people who walked past them. Anonymous souls who have no connection to the story. How does she do it?

I’m staring at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. After each sentence, I’m going “Really?” and “Wow!” and “No!” and “Oh my God!”

Somewhere, in the dark recess of my mind, in that secret place to which she has no access, I’m thinking: Don’t succumb to the temptation to yawn.

This week’s challenge: There’s a real buzz about this place.

Julia says we do not have to include the text, but I did.

“Okay, I’m in the garden, about to pick the lock of the back door.”
“Remember, do exactly what I told you. Nothing else.”
“Sure, boss. You can trust me – you know that. There’s a real buzz about this place.”
“Can’t be. They’re on holiday. There shouldn’t be anyone there.”
“No, I mean a real buzz. A buzzing noise.”
“A motorcycle?”
“No.”
“A neighbour trimming the hedge?”
“No. I think it’s coming from this box. I’ll just lift up the lid….”
“That might not be such a good idea. Sounds as if it might be…”
“Arghhh!”
“…bees.”

The Butterfly Effect is a beautiful book.

Take a look.