Looks Like We Made It

Slice of Life Writing Challenge 31 Day Writing Streak

For the first time since I started participating in Slice of Life four years ago I have completed all 31 Days!!!

It’s been a struggle – once I think I made it in with less than ten minutes to spare. But oh, it has been fun. Caught up with some slicers from previous years, picked up a few new ones, and a recipe for delicious lemon bars (thanks Arjeha).

Congrats to all my fellow March slicers whether you participated for 1 day are all 31. We have one heck of a community of camaraderie here. I have enjoyed these 31 days of poignant, anger inducing, gut-wrenching, hilarious, thought provoking slices of your lives and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I want to publically lay my annual blame/blessing for the reason I discovered this community on Original Slicer, fellow blogger and a wonderful person I get to call a friend in real life, Girl Griot. The crap you get me into, woman! Thank you so much <3!

We now return to our regular programming of weekly slices  – see you on Tuesday and next March.
And I gave myself yet another earworm. My apologies to those who know why., my bigger apologies if you now suffer for it as well.

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers


Check out the final touches:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 31 – Finite!

Almost Over

22 hours ago at the witching hour I went to bed wondering what I would slice about today.

17 hours ago I woke up wondering what was I going to slice about today.

Fourteen and a half hours ago I walked out of Starbucks, on my way to work, with all hopes dashed of anything of interest happening for me to slice about today.

Ditto for the next coffee run, the lunch run and the I’m done for the day run at twelve, eight and a half, and five hours ago respectively.

Walked out of the movie theater an hour and a half ago with the same wonder still unanswered

And now an hour and a half before a new witching hour I stare at the blinking cursor and wonde…

Hmmm, not wondering any more…

Desperate times, desperate posts?

Slice of Life - Two Writing Teachers


Check out the more thoughtful slices for what’s left of this Thursday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 30

Discretion Is… 

Spoiled is walking into my local Starbucks and not having my name called out when my order is ready. I nod returning the baristas’ smiles in greeting as they acknowledge my presence upon entering. Once D and M, with my coffee and breakfast sandwich respectively, see my name on the label they each walk over to their side of the counter closest to where I stand and hand my order directly to me. I hoist my purchase in thanks to each as they laugh at my serious head-banging to the music my iPod. The final notes of The Smashing Pumpkins’ “Bullet with Butterfly Wings” is clearly not the mellow tune regaling the customers over the store’s speakers at that moment.  Still, I overhear this cheeky college girl near me talking with a friend, “Check out She Who Shall Not Be Named.”

I slowly turn my head and smile, letting her know I heard. I think I smile charmingly,

Tom Hiddleston, normal smile

Tom Hiddleston, normal smile

but considering I have not had time to indulge in my coffee yet, it is very likely it came off as menacingly, for she blinks rapidly and takes an unconscious step back. I hear D behind me start to speak up “Girl, shut up.”

“Rai, don’t. Trust me, she’s not worthy of your wrath.” M chimes in at the same time. I turn to her fully, this time knowing my smile is all sorts of wrong.

Tom Hiddleston, evil grin

Tom Hiddleston, evil grin

With the opening whispers of Drowning Pool’s “Bodies” now in my ears, I choose to heed the discretion is route of M’s advice and leave.

Note: from my entrance to my exit, I had not uttered a single word.




Let’s see how others are getting through this Hump Day:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 29 Almost over!

Rainy Days and Tuesdays 


This is the view out of the window of my bus on the way home this evening. It is pretty much the same view as on my way to work this morning.  Unsurprisingly, I’ve had nothing but rain related tunes going through the iPod of my mind. So please indulge or forgive as today’s slice is a rainy day playlist of some of the songs that flitted my through this wasteland called my cranium in true cornball Raivenne fashion:

I Wish It Would Rain, Rain Is A Good Thing.

Ugh, No Rain.

Oh, I Love a Rainy Night, Can You Stand The Rain?

No, I Can’t Stand The Rain, unless It’s Raining Men.

You got jokes laughing in the Purple Rain.

It’s either Laughter In The Rain or Set Fire to the Rain. Maybe, if it’s A Rainy Night In Georgia in front of a fireplace it’s okay.

Well, there is something about Fire and Rain, especially in San Diego.

You lie, It Never Rains In Southern California.

Don’t Rain On My Parade!

Shush, you’re Only Happy When It Rains.

And, Here Comes The Rain Again.

I know, Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head.

Here, come stand under my Umbrella.


I SAID cornball didn’t I?

Rainy Days and Mondays, or Tuesdays for that matter don’t always get me down, but they still kinda suck.



Let’s see how others are getting through the rest of this semi-torrential Tuesday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 28

Oh, For Crying Out Loud!

My commute is such that while all of my subway ride is underground, various stations along the route are equipped with free WiFi. The thirty to forty-five seconds spent at each station is usually just enough time for my smartphone to pick up a signal and perhaps update texts and/or an app or two. As such I was having something of a textation, a texting conversation, with a friend. As we each were on different trains, with anything between two to seven minutes between stations, we innately accepted the stop and go nature of it.

At one pointed she texted something that caught me completely off-guard. I just was not expecting such words to come from her and it touched me in a way I was not prepared to handle. There I was, on the subway, choking with feeling. I was so completely overcome by it. I felt my face contort, tears I could not control were about to fall. It was made all the worse when the man sitting next to me touched my trembling shoulder asking if I were okay. I immediately put my head in my lap unable to answer. Unable to stop the ragged gasping that fell from my lips. I was just short of keening as I desperately tried to suppress my emotions.


It started with her asking me about a -how shall I say this? stranger than usual- Facebook post and the snark started. I wish I could share, but the comments started in the gutter and went downhill fast, even by my prurient standards. Taken on its own, it would not have been as amusing, but in context of the randomness of the texts coming in, some out of order, the time of morning, the picking on of a mutual friend and the simple lack of that life giving thing called coffee, it was all the more funny than it ever should have been to disastrous results.  That emotion I was choking on? Pure unhinged laughter.

I was was not just crying with laughter, I trying with all of my might not to howl with it. And that was my mistake.

I should have learned my lesson from the last time this happened and just let it out to begin with.  This happened to me years ago at work, where several of my colleagues, and my boss, thought I was distraught over something as I was literally sobbing with suppressed laughter for a solid ten minutes because my cubicle mate at the time and I got into a case of the giggles and completely lost it. When it happened back then, I went off the floor to the ladies room and let it all out – much to the amusement of the one colleague who witnessed the transition from presumably distraught to dying of laughter as I could barely breath for it.  The memory of that last time combined with this one. And. Did. Not. Help. At. All.  Apparently, laughing hysterically and sobbing hysterically share many properties, thus why the word hysteria exists. The poor caring -and bless their souls- folks on the train simply could not tell at first.  It was a good two stations until I could finally lift my tear stained face and unmistakably guffaw at their expressions, letting those near me on the train know I was clearly crazy as a loon, but otherwise fine.

I’m the kind of guy who laughs at a funeral
Can’t understand what I mean?
Well, you soon will
–“One Week” Bare Naked Ladies



Let’s see how others are losing it through the rest of this Monday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 27

Fine Dining

Yesterday was all about Georgia O’Keeffe, but that was not all I saw while at Brooklyn Museum. Continuing its feminist vibe, the museum also has on exhibit “The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago.

At some point in our lives we ask or are asked “If you could have dinner with…?” type of question. In her work “The Dinner Party” artist Judy Chicago takes that question and answers it in a magnificent way. It is a tribute of women from mythical goddesses, government leaders, wordsmiths, artists, scholars, activists and more, from historical to 20th century contemporaries.

Before you get to the table itself you pass through an entry where you are welcomed via a series of banners which hang from the ceiling. The phrases, depicted in much of the color pallet used in the main exhibit, read:

“And She Gathered All before Her”
“And She made for them A Sign to See”
“And lo They saw a Vision”
“From this day forth Like to like in All things”
“And then all that divided them merged”
“And then Everywhere was Eden Once again”

I do not know Ms. Chicago’s intention, but reading this I felt as though a powerful feminine deity looked around to see the mess that had been made of things and took action setting things right.

And then you enter “The Dinner Party”

“The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago at Brooklyn Museun

“The Dinner Party” by Judy Chicago at Brooklyn Museum

I had heard of the iconic, large scale project years ago. Still I was not prepared for the monumental scope of it. Chicago does not invite just one iconic woman, but what has to be nearly a thousand women in history to dinner. The lighting is intimate and inviting. You want to lean in and view each setting. About 40 who are represented by place settings at the triangular shaped table and rest via names inscribed on floor on which the table rests. Because of the flowing text and the lighting, I initially felt the table floated on tiles made to look like water. Especially in the center of the floor where the names of so many women, a representation of the ebb and flow, the fluidity of the female spirit throughout history. I thought it fitting.

Ceramics, intricately embroidered table linens sit beneath utensils and golden chalices surrounding unique porcelain plates created for each invitee, with radiating forms representing female external sexual organs. Akin to a Georgia O’Keefe flower painting in spirit, she of course is a guest at this astonishing table. I was amazed by the beauty and depth of detail of each setting.

I cannot fathom the amount of staff involved in the creation of such amazing craftwork, but I give immense praise to all who brought this to life.




Let’s see how the others are slicing their Sunday,

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 26

Georgia On My Mind

And before you start humming any more of the classic Ray Charles song, I mean Georgia O’Keeffe, the artist and one of, if not, the inventor of the American modernism genre in Art. Brooklyn Museum currently hosts an inspiring exhibit.


The exhibit, though featuring numerous pieces of her art, was more about the woman herself. Known as much for her free spirit as for her dramatic and often sensual of art, something she maintained was never intentional,  O’Keefe was a female role model in the male dominated world of abstract and fine art. Her unique style made her a standout in many ways.

It was in the 1920s, when nobody had time to reflect, that I saw a still-life painting with a flower that was perfectly exquisite, but so small you really could not appreciate it. I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.
–Georgia O’Keeffe


The queue to view the exhibit.

Like much of her art, when she wasn’t wearing black, she wore deep, rich hues. Preferring well-tailored, nearly mannish in her cut of clothes, instead of the more flowy, frilly styles that are a constant of women’s fashion, O’Keefe preferred a more androgynous look in her clothing style long before we started bandying the word about.

A style icon in her own right, the exhibit displays items of her clothing, and accessories -off the rack and custom made, over the years. She was also a sassy little minx as images captured her in various states of contemplation and dress – and undress- from various photographers such as Richard Avedon, Ansel Adams, and others, but especially her ex-lover Alfred Stieglitz. These photographs interspersed throughout the exhibit cover decades of her life and are as much art themselves in the stories they tell of their subject.

The exhibit also included video interviews of her at different times in her long career. Seeing and hearing her adds even more dimension when combined with all these personal pieces of her.Though I have known of her work all my life, I really knew nothing of the artist’s life until this exhibit.

It was a wonderful fusion of the art and the artist. I have a new and much deeper respect of both for it.




Let’s see how the others sliced it up their Saturday,

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 25

You Want Me To Go Where?

Me, being me – with my mind and thus my mouth having finally resurfaced from the wasteland it wallowed in for most of yesterday, made up for its self-imposed exile with a vengeance – I eventually pissed someone off. Pissed her off to the point I was instructed to “Go to Hades!”

Those of you who know me, or at least have an inkling of me, are likely smiling already…

“Hades?” I asked incredulously, “Really? Go to Hades? You do realize being sent there is not exactly punishment?”

“Right, since you’re destined to rule by his side, it would not be fearsome to you.” She sneered. I gave pause, I was going to ignore it. Really I was.

I swear I was.

Okay fine! We know I wasn’t.

“That specific fact notwithstanding,” I rolled my eyes. “Hades ruled the underworld where the dead resided after their time on earth. Once you died you belonged to him and once you’ve crossed the Styx into his domain you were not allowed to leave. Those who tried to circumvent such were punished; otherwise he was mostly passive in his daily rule. So, you telling me to Go to Hades? Yeah, really not much bite in that. Hades, and his eponymous underworld, are a construct of mythology. Hell, the place you don’t have the maturity to call by its proper name, is a construct of religion.”

“Smartass. To Hell with you then!” Emphasis heavy on the noun this time.  I know my brow arched, I couldn’t help it and she, knowing me, groaned knowing something was about to drop and not in her favor.

Now class, what’s one thing that really galls us humans? Someone throwing our own words back at us.

With you? Oh, Certainement!” I just grinned. “Since, as you’ve stated, I’m destined to rule by his side, it would not be fearsome for me, that would make me your queen. And either as Persephone or Lilith, I would surely make it hell for you.”

Lesson of the Day: Don’t mess with an erstwhile church girl, who likes classic mythology.


From my desk at work: Spy vs Spy, a killer notepad and a mini traffic cone that asks “Where are we going? And why are we in this handbasket?”




Let’s see how the hell others are slicing it up this Friday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 24


I am feeling rather indolent today. There really is no other word for it. Well, that’s not true – lackadaisical, torpid, languid, and lethargic also come to mind, but I digress.

“Where can I stick this?” Slipped from a colleague’s tongue. There was a slight pause as the speaker and two others in the conversation realized the verbal misstep and looked to me waiting for me to snark. On any other day I would have pounced on that spewing innuendo. I gave them all a whatever hand gesture – they are still waiting. I’m not angry, sad, tired or even bored, I simply can not be so bothered to be so bothered.

When not on autopilot, I’ve had no discerning thoughts, until I came here to post. For this creative mind that is constantly conjuring snark while running emotional apps, mental programs and existential subroutines, over speculative subroutines, under jokes, and in pure utter randomness, this complete lassitude of thought is unnerving to say the least.

It is just weird, really weird. I’ve shrugged, idly smiled, casually taught by rote all through this morning’s training session weird. Weird as in The Dude I just want to see what condition my condition is in, without being in any condition to condition really weird.

In the world of Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering? Pinky would be the Brain among the two of us right now. You’ll have to think about that, because clearly I’m not in the mood to.



Let’s see how others are thinking it through their day:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 23



My insomnia is catching up to me. I’ve maybe had eight hours of sleep since Sunday morning. After two days of straight out documentation, plus an all day training session today, with another double session to look forward to tomorrow. I’m so knackered I could cry, but that would likely keep me awake. Of course, just as my eyes are actually starting to feel the type of heavy that I may finally get a few good hours in one night, I remember I had yet to post.

So goodnight, sleep tight and pleasant dreams to you, and hopefully me – if I can get this damned Lawrence Welk earworm I just gave myself out of my head.




Let’s see how others are slicing through what’s left of this wide awake Wednesday:

10th Annual Slice of Life Story Challenge! – DAY 22