The 1975 Concert, and Learning to Dance

BoldSoul

I recently went to my first concert, and one thing I noticed is that for a good majority it was hard for them to express themselves. Especially if they were by themselves. In the end most were dancing in their own beautiful manner. The girl next to me was shy and by herself, so to make her feel more comfortable I talked and danced with her. At one point I accidentally touched some girls hand, and went with it by making her spin.

My friend then surprised me, and danced next to me. It was such a great atmosphere.

WAIT…  I also pissed off one of security guards. 

I had a camera, and they said it was not allowed so out of curiosity I asked why since people can take their phones, and some have amazing capabilities to capture a moment. I was polite, and she thought I was arguing…

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Day Three of Writing Challenge

The Prompt:
Day 3 —Write about the worst time you’ve ever put your foot in your mouth.

 

 

 

 

It’s incredible how just a few words can lead so much embarrassment and discomfort. For someone who is inexplicably socially awkward despite coming from a family of extremely extroverted individuals and growing up attending social functions on an almost weekly basis, this can be a common occurrence. But if I had to pick the worst time, it would have been around when I first started University.

Having grown up extremely sheltered, the openness and freedom of university shocked and awed me at first. For the first time, I was not being dropped off or picked up by one of my parents but instead, walking to class on my own. I was making friends on my own (my religious conservative parents previously used to pick and choose among the people I was friends with and tell me who I could keep being friends with) and I reveled in this newfound freedom.

I feel like it’s necessary to note that if they could, they would have continued to keep a tight grip on me. But they cared too much about our “reputation” to do anything differently from any of the other parents – I count this as a very well-disguised blessing. It meant that to a degree, I had freedom. I took advantage of this freedom and jumped right into the campus life. I was incredibly friendly – something I’m capable of doing, although it’s not my natural state of being, so to say.

It was almost like a cheerful exterior that had an on-switch I could turn on whenever my family wasn’t around. As I’ve recently started discovering, it’s only my fellow Maldivians that I am awkward and silent around. But total strangers I have no connection with whatsoever? Well, then. What’s your name? What course are you in? I’m in -insert course-, I just joined in September! Are you new too? Can I have your number? Yeah, I’ll text you at lunch time!

Somehow, I was able to make a ton of friends within the very first month itself. But despite my sudden burst of extreme extroverting and socializing, I was still incredibly innocent and socially inept. For example, the first time I was invited out to hang out with friends, I jumped at the opportunity. I was 16, but it was quite literally my first time hanging out with people with no parents or patrons present. We went out to the campus pool, only to be shooed away because it was quite late.

We then called up a couple more friends and headed to the family karaoke place, a block away. It was a blast and more fun than I’d ever had before. Afterwards, the first clue that I got that I was a bit out of depth was when everyone was ready to head home, but no one lived near where I did. I did not want to go home alone in the dark so I asked one of the guys to walk me home. It ended up with all of them walking me back to the shop lot in front of my apartment after which I split to go home and they decided to rent a hookah at a shawarma place.

Not that long after, one of them caught me outside the class just as I was leaving the class. I was invited to one of our mutual classmate’s surprise birthday party at another classmate’s student residence apartments. I was blown away. I’d never been invited to a party before! At least not unless it was an open invitation to the whole class anyway.

Needless to say, I was all up for it. I met with one of them outside and “casually” walked past the security guards at the door of the student residential complex (casual hijab flip, anyone?) and up to the tiny 2 room unit my classmate shared with two others.

We set up, arranged stuff, etc. Most of the decorating had already been done. Not long after the birthday boy arrived and the surprise was a huge success. I got very into the spirit of things. We did the obligatory birthday stuff – the song, the cake, the smushing of said cake in people’s faces. I went along with everything, took selfies with some of my classmates, updated my Instagram, ignored the disappearing of the birthday boy and his girlfriend into one of the bedrooms and sipped some fanta over by a wall.

It was at this point that things went downhill.

There was a girl in my class that I was quite attracted to. It was purely physical and quite superficial – I liked the way she looked. At this point, I was only just starting to realize that I could be attracted to both sexes and quite far from accepting it. I figured that I just really wanted to be friends with this girl because I really liked her. Our conversation started off very normal and friendly. She was, if I remember correctly, from Kazakhstan. I was fascinated by her name, which I won’t publish here but at the time, I remember thinking it was the perfect name for a mermaid (can you tell how innocent and love/lust-addled my brain was at this point in time? Odd combination, I know, but it was what it was)

I asked her for her Instagram so I could tag her in our selfie. So far so good.

Then I took her number. Because we needed to stay in touch, right?

Then I asked her for her facebook.

I could tell at this point that I had committed some kind of social faux pas, so I quickly dragged myself away from her. Somehow it was always awkward with her after that. I don’t know if I came off as an idiot or trying-too-hard. I would not blame her for thinking either, seeing as I was both.

I was a little less adventurous after that and found a more comfortable middle ground between being extroverted and introverted. I am no longer in that course anymore, having changed my mind about the degree I wanted to do at the last minute. Now I’m up for the September intake this year for a different foundation program for the degree I want to do and here’s to hoping that goes well. 🍸

Day Two of Writing Challenge

The Prompt:
Day 2 —Tell about a character who lost something important to him/her.

 

 

 

 

   She could feel the bass reverberate through her bones. As she threw her head back, letting the music control her movements, her surroundings seemed to float away from her. Floating away on a cloud of machine-generated fog and laser lights. She was pulled out of her haze by a sharp elbow in her side. 

 Gasping, she whirled around, only to be pushed out of the way by a group of excited girls. The sudden disconnection left her woozy and confused. She stumbled and elbowed her way to the edge of the throng. Collapsing onto the open ground she retched violently into the grass. Her empty stomach had nothing to offer. 

As she rocked back on her toes, perched near the tiny circle of bile she had created, she noticed something fall towards her. Her instincts kicked in despite how drunk she was, and she fell back, scuttling away as much as she could. Water splashed in front of her, like a minuscule version of a breaking dam. She looked towards the right, where it had come from.

“Hello, Jamie,” Caede Slater said, “It’s been a while.”

She stared in disbelief at the tall policeman. It had been—what, five months?—Since the last time she’d seen him. They’d met briefly, at the funeral. The reminder of the funeral sobered her a bit. She carefully got back on her feet and stood. At her full height, Jamie Watson only reached Caede’s elbow, and just barely.

“Slater. Why are you here?” She struggled to get the words out. Her throat felt like it had been rubbed with sawdust.

Instead of answering her, he gestured towards the vendor booths.

“Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

~a few minutes later~

“So let me get this straight—you came here because you thought I was about to kill myself because I wore some eyeliner?”

“No, because of the scars on your forearm-”

“From rolling around on the gravel after getting knocked down in a mosh pit!” She exclaimed. “Do you really think I’m the kind of person who would self-harm? I mean yeah, I’ve been depressed, I’ve started drinking a little heavier, but I wouldn’t hurt myself. I’m the daughter of a sober companion, remember? I know what I’m cycling through. I’m fine, Caede.”

She turned back to her dixie cup of orange-flavored alcohol—she truly did not know what it was. The thought of her mother still hurt her. She had been such a wonderful, caring person, always giving and never taking. She and Sherlock used to compete to be more like her. They used to spend hours sprawled on the living room floor, munching on pastries from the bakery down the street.

They never met the companions her mother took on. She always maintained a barrier between them and her work, although she shared a great deal of it in stories when they were old enough.

The stories almost always ended up leading somehow to her decade as one of the top-notch detectives in New York.

{Well that was interesting. I don’t know how or why, but this is apparently the beginning of an Elementary fanfic}

Day One of Writing Challenge

The prompt: 
Day 1 —Select a book at random in the room.  Find a novel or short story, copy down the last sentence and use this line as the first line of your new story.

My line: You know nothing can touch me.” from alt.sherlock.holmes by Jamie Wyman, Gini Koch  and Glen Mehn – a book I highly recommend and will review once I’m done reading it.

We’re all prisoners. Bound by laws, limited by ourselves.

The year was 2120 and it was the year we freed humanity. Or at least that was the cause I had joined.

As we slunk along a wall filled with holes, keeping to the shadows, it felt like it had become the year we wiped out humanity. I wiped sweat from my brow with my gloves. I was dressed the same as everyone else, swathed in fabric sprayed with disinfectants and waterproof spray. The only break in the fabric was where my goggles peeked out. It was not the ideal get up for the trek through the destroyed city at sunset.

The old city of Agend lay in ruins about us, strewn with lifeless bodies. There was blood everywhere. The sun hung big and blood red too and tinted the smoke red.

“How much further?” Daia asked. She was the youngest and rather frail. Even from my position at the rear of our party, I could see her huff and puff.

“Not much further,” her mother, Aily, replied for the umpteenth time, the exhaustion apparent in her voice too.

The others amongst us were Daia’s elder brother Darrus, Capn’ Bamber and Julius, the only other survivor from my unit. We were reaching a wet part of the city where broken pipes had created little pools and streams. There was a small geyser formed by a large pipe rupturing underground too. As I had expected him to, the Capn’ issued a warning.

“Stay clear of the water, it’s dangerous!”

“Hey! Hey wait!” Julius yelled. He was pointing at something.

I looked to see what it was. At first, it seemed like there was nothing to see. Then I saw it.

Outlined against the light of the sun, a tiny silhouette. I broke cover, my instincts taking over. My cloth-clad boots splashed through the puddles as I sprinted forward. I heard yells behind me. A similar pair of footfalls next to me waylaid my attention a little. Julius, undoubtedly, and he wasn’t trying to stop me or yell at me – he was running with me. I felt an immense sense of gratitude for my fellow soldier.

As we got closer I saw it was a young girl with long light-colored hair. I felt a tinge of familiarity at the sight of her, even though Daia was the only little girl I had ever met. She was perched on top of a boulder, sitting back on her heels. I yelled out to her. No response.

Was she dead?

I scrambled over rubble, and my feet found purchase on a pipe. I slowed down and began edging up along the pipe, the ground leaving me behind. The boulder was one of those classic Agend pillars with carved sections depicting old legends. The cold lady and her lover, the sun god that looked like a pineapple, the tale of Mirei, Gan’s journey. The carvings made excellent footholds and my body immediately remembered its training and let me climb the slanted surface easily.

Placing both hands on the edge, I carefully walked my feet up until I could crawl onto the top. I had to edge my way around the girl for lack of space.

“Hey,” I said, gripping her right shoulder. I shook her a little, “Hey. Are you okay?”

She remained transfixed on the sun, her pale blue eyes reflecting two fiery little suns. No signs that she had heard me at all. I pulled on her dress which was made of some sort of flimsy see through material, pulling her closer. Either she was dead or deaf. Scooping her up as gently as I could, I began my decent.

{Note: I’m not sure how or why what I wrote resulted from the prompt (if it did at all) but it’s what I wrote. Meh.}