Writing Prompt #3:Tiny Stories.

The tiny copper colored wires sang an ancient song to her. The object  held metal flanges set into a metal circle. Tiny wires descended from the flanges through the glass of its container to end in a horseshoe of 7 thing prongs.

She pressed the prongs into the fleshy part of her arm and admired the neat impressions they made. The glass was unlike the smoky, opaque glass she'd known her entire life. The glass was clear and smooth, pleasing to the touch. At the very top, the glass came to a point, like some kind of exotic hat.

The long-extinct humans had been great experimenters and inventors. She recognized this object from her ancient history; it had been used to control electric currents. Here in New LA, they had tamed the tides to create power since the surface dwellers' electricity didn't work in the water. But despite her people's eight limbs and sensitive suckers, they had trouble with the transmission of kinetic energy.

She wrapped the pleasant glass tube in one limb and propelled out of her salvage building. The future depended on the music of a forgotten spark.


My inspiration:
http://www.sciencemag.org/news/2016/05/world-octopus-and-squid-populations-are-booming

I, for one, welcome our Cephalopod overlords. 

Shi'a and Sunni - what's the difference? Part One

Ali

Misinformation about Islam, Islamic countries, and the history of the Middle East runs like a river of sewage through modern life. I would like, in my own small way, to increase understanding of between people.

Part of the problem about understanding a different religion and different cultures lies in the nature of American media. Reporters and commentators are under pressure to dispense to enormous amounts of information very quickly. Also, when once the news was seen as a service for the public good on behalf of the stations, information is now seen as a chance for ratings. As a result, careful, nuanced, and accurate data often gets shoved aside.

I hope I can bring some of the nuance back to the discussion of Islam!

One of the questions I get from people is: What *is* the difference between Sunni Muslims and Shi'a Muslims?

As always, the history is everything.
As always, the history is very long.

Let's start with the simplest answer.  The split began in 632 CE, when the Prophet Muhammad died. Despite the Prophet's many accomplishments, he did not think to arrange an order of succession for temporal leadership.

And whenever there is a vacuum for leadership, people get angry and confused. Some of the Muslims wanted Muhammad's cousin and son-in-law, Ali, to succeed. Others wanted Abu Baker, M's father-in-law, to lead them.

A whole bunch of really unpleasant battles, murders, and other horrible things then followed. I'll get into the details of these examples of human nastiness if anyone wants to read them. I find them fascinating and important, but I understand that not everyone does. :)

So, let's get down to how this shakes out to the modern split.

Sunni's are the majority of Muslims. Shi'as are a minority - about 10-20% of the world's Muslim population. As is usual with minorities, the Shi'a live in greater poverty and are persecuted under many governments.

The Shi'a believe that the Imam (the one who leads prayers) is both the spiritual and political leader of the Muslims. The Imam is supposed to be the keeper of justice and the interpreter/keeper of the Divine laws. As a result, Sunni can see the Shi'a as serious challenges to their spiritual and temporal authority.

My wrists are starting to hurt! I'm going to stop here. If you have any questions or thoughts, let me know!


Useful Links:
BBC
The Economist
The Independent 
Muslim Vibe

Where my curiosity takes me.

One of the great joys of being live is learning new things. As a writer, historian, and former librarian, my curiosity has the freedom to Go and Find Out (much like Rikki Tikki Tavi).

Also like Rikki, my curiosity goes everywhere, including some very strange and uncomfortable places. I have always found something worth learning whenever I have done this, though, even if that thing is simply, "Yeah, let's not do things quite *that* way, shall we?"

As a result of all this curiosity, I have a vast and eccentric body of knowledge that I've always felt vaguely weird about. Some of the things I've looked up and asked people about aren't, well, *respectable*.

But part of the joy of learning things is sharing things. As a result, I'm gonna share some weird tid-bits of my weird brain. The first installment is....

What is the difference between a sex sling and a sex swing??

(Yes, I have looked this up.)

Swing!

 

A sex SWING is made of a series of stretchy straps, designed mainly for heterosexual couples. The
straps support the back, the bottom, and the legs. They are often attached by a single point to door frames or other stable places, and are a fixture at heterosexual sex clubs. (Yes, I have looked this up) While often a boon for sexual activity, it tends to not be supportive enough for all body types and shapes.

A sex SLING is like a mini-hammock. Often associated with gay male sexual activity, it is either a sheet of stiff, strong leather or a netting made of leather (or easy to clean webbing). Since it is more substantial, it allows for greater support of all body types. It is usually attached to a rack or hard points by chains at each of the four corners of the leather sheet.

This is a sling sold by Jim Support.

Writing Prompt #2: Tiny Stories

Again, the challenge was to write, just write. Not think, not edit, not change anything.

As a result, I present:

Quest Accepted

It is the twenty-first century. The days of seven league boots, of secret wizards doling out quests from hidden booths in the market, of dreams that come true are long, long gone. 

Modern people could only shuffle through racks and shelves of vintage stores to get a glimpse of the most mundane of treasures. 

The well-worn denim jacket fit perfectly. Rare for a thrift store find, but what drew her to it was the trio of badges that promised things she only dared dream.

One was a smiley face with a negative sign to indicate a wink and a positive sign for a nose. One was a topless woman, reminiscent of a Nagel painting, with the words Soft Metals across the center, and the last, the most intriguing button said, “Talk Kinky to Me!” 

She clutched the lapels in her hands and posed in front of the mirror. The reflection showed a bad-ass, someone daring, someone who flirted and knew her own desires. Someone who took risks.

About as far as she could get from her normal introverted self. 

The jacket was five dollars.She chewed on her lower lip. Five dollars for a broken-in jean jacket was not a risk. She could take off the buttons if she wanted to.

Blushing, she bought the jacket and hurried out the store. Quest accepted.

Tiny stories

Last year was a rough one here at the Charming-Mercury household. As I result, I lost my love of writing and shut down. 

Quite frankly, it sucked.

My dear friend Coral Mallow rode to the rescue! For Christmas, she gave me a box full of writing prompts. Here is the first prompt. Her challenge to me was to write fast, not edit, and let the story come.

And here we are!

Secret Rose

 

He was the baddest, burliest, biker boy you ever did see. Leathers, patches, tattoos, scars, beard, long hair…the whole shebang. There was one thing, though, that no one was brave enough to ask about – the matter of the tiny bouquet of roses pinned into his hair.

But if they had asked, he would have told them the truth. Of the baby sister he’d once had. How he had built a full Victorian  doll-house for her; three floors of little  rugs, teacups, and lace curtains.  

She was a surprise baby, born when he was fully sixteen years old. The late pregnancy took a toll on everyone, though. Their miracle had Down’s Syndrome. 

No one cared. Little Rosie was their sunshine, their joy, the reason the household smiled every day. Her uncoordinated hands could play with the delicate handmade furniture for hours, never once scratching or dropping his hard work.

The therapist always encouraged his time with Rose, but truth was, he would have played with her anyway. She was his escape from the misery of High School where he only excelled in the automotive arts.

She died the day he graduated from from his motorcycle repair course. He took the tiny bouquet of roses from the entry hall of the doll-house, put them in his braid, and left town, never to return to the scene of his heartbreak.

A dream I never thought I'd see.

Ever since I was a young girl, I adored The Muppets. I was a member of The Muppet Show Fan Club, I adored Sesame Street, and I have seen all (I think) of the Muppet movies.


I even wanted to be a Muppeteer. Which I believed was not happening in my lifetime.

But now, at the ripe age of (almost) 51, I got to experience a true dream. At Seattle's Museum of Pop Culture, they are running an exhibit on Jim Henson.

And I took pictures!

Kinda French, Kinda Beat Poet.

 I got to design two Muppets on their universal body. I could have kept going, but I wasn't going to be a total jerk and take time away from the children. 

It wasn't easy, though. :) 

I even tried performing a Muppet, but I didn't get any video. Hee!

I called this one The Farm Wife.

Thank you, MoPoP and the Henson Family for giving us all chance to be dreamers again.