The Hungry Hungry Writer

I had to write. My mind was in a blur, I was feeling down, I just wasn’t myself. I came across a quote from a movie, “The Shawshank Redemption” where Morgan Freeman’s character, Red, says – “Get busy livin’. Or get busy dyin’. That’s goddamn right.” And yes, that is goddamn right!

Whew. Deep breath. From where I was feeling emotionally, it kinda woke me up. Kinda. And at least writing would lead to distraction to the mental turmoil I am going through.

I opened up “The Writer’s Toolbox” and played ‘The Protagonist Game’. There are four spin wheels, the first is called, The Protagonist. You spin the wheel and the result is your protagonist. You spin the Goal, Obstacle, and Action wheels to get four major points to what you’re supposed to write about.

What I wrote is not a reflection of how I was feeling. That would just be dark and depressing. What I wrote was as basic as it may seem, a story with no rhyme or reason, only trying to capture the four points of the spin wheel and have a beginning, middle, and end.

Here are the results of the four spin wheels.

Protagonist – Iris, the Psychoanalyst
Goal – To be the great seducer
Obstacle – Fred the monster
Action – Buys a new wardrobe

I titled this:

“Where the Wild Things Are”

Iris had a recurring dream. And she knew that this had to change. The dream never led to resolution, it only perplexed and confused her. Any amount of self-analysis provided her with dead-end conclusions. The dream: to win the annual award to be “The Great Seducer”.

‘What is that really?’ She’d wake up and question herself – ‘What is The Great Seducer? Where did it come from? Why am I dreaming about this and why am I dreaming about an award?’

Iris had a clear-cut daily routine. She’d get up as at 6:00 AM on the dot, she would have no more than one cup of coffee, and she’d finish up where she left off in her book the night before. By 9:00 her day started at work. She always had a full schedule of patients and her day would finally end to a pleasurable dinner at top notch sushi restaurants she’d scout out by herself. The evenings were: hot tea, and a good book. She was an attractive woman when she wanted to be, she dressed professionally on a daily basis, and was concerned with skin care and skin products. Preserving herself came from her mother’s care. Her mother would always advise her to take care of her skin and everything else would follow. Iris, as she would put it, was ‘satisfied’ with her life.

Iris’ college years weren’t filled with intimate relationships, as she put all her time and mind to her studies, and after a PHD and ten years of Psychoanalysis, she discovered she was missing something: a relationship outside of good books, flavored tea and sushi restaurants. That something was the ability to actually have a relationship outside of work. Along with that relationship would be intimacy and maybe, seduction. She didn’t have a clue. She never had hands on experience, but she had a ton of advice to give to those with the same issue.

The epiphany of ‘missing something in her life’ didn’t come to her in her sessions with her own therapist, but in this dream that seemed to happen after meetings with patients with inferiority complexes and others coping with fear. Tonight, after her recurring dream, she decided to do something she’s never done before.

In her dream she is always dressed in her favorite green dress. The one she wore to the Annual Therapist Research Awards where she won a grant to study and write about the fear of public speaking. Her dream would always start the same: in her dress, walking into a college dorm, looking for ‘someone’.

She arrives at a door and suddenly the hallway, the hustle and bustle of students, and the music all fade away leaving her standing all alone in front of the door. She touches the door number, 327, and decides to open it instead of knock on it.

As it swings away from her hand propelled by what feels like a magnetic force, she sees a man who she immediately labels as ‘a boy – an innocent college boy.’ He’s in a Washington State sweatshirt, her Alma mater, he’s reading, Hemingway’s “The Sun Always Rises”, and his white teeth seems to light the room when he smiles.

He says, “You’re here for your reward aren’t you?” He doesn’t say it, but she knows what the award is.

Iris nods.

“Well, lets see if you deserve it.” He takes off his glasses and he turns from a boy to a man, like Clark Kent into Superman. She recognizes the face, but can’t for the life of her, recall his name. Was he a patient? An old colleague? Or someone from college?

Iris, nervous energy propelling her through the door, steps in and fumbles for something to say and finally mutters the same thing every time she has this dream.

“How does it make you feel?” She can’t help it. But whom is she asking? Is she asking herself the question, or the young man she is about to seduce? She always tries to ask something else like: “Who are you?” Why am I here?” What’s The Great Seducer award?” But “How does it make you feel?” is always the question.

The door slams shut behind her, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck and arms stand at attention. An electric flow goes through her body that, although feels soothing, feels like a short unnerving electrical shock.

She steps forward and suddenly out pops Fred from the dark. An unrecognizable face, but his name is undeniably, Fred. His full red beard, his full head of hair and small dark eyes glowed in the dark - as if a glow stick were behind his pupils. He steps in front of Iris and growls, “I’m going to eat you up!” His nose twitches and his cheeks redden. And if he didn’t have a red beard and glow stick eyes, he could be Santa’s long lost brother.

She looks past Fred in fear. She knows it’s a dream but also knows she wants to take action in it. Fred starts to grow more facial hair and fangs sprout. He slowly transforms into one of the monster characters from “Where the Wild things are.”

The room transforms into a forest, the smell of vanilla almond flavored tea fill the air, and her stomach starts to sink into an emotional abyss.

Iris steps back. Her inner child recalling the fear as well as the enjoyment of Maurice Sendak’s book when her stepfather used to read to her at night. For a moment in her dream her emotions tilt from apprehension and fear to complete and utter sadness. Losing her stepfather to a car accident on his way to her graduation was one ‘coping’ process she was still desperately trying to deal with. And as soon as her sadness overwhelms her, courage overtakes her. She balls her fists and closes her eyes and forgetting it’s a dream, prepares to pummel the face of the monster from “Where the Wild things are.”

Suddenly, her green dress begins to weigh her down and she can’t move. She’s frozen. Her eyes open and Fred laughs and cries, “Let the wild rumpus start!”

The room spins. She can’t find her bearing. She loses her balance and the screams of Fred shatter her mind.

Iris screams and jolts awake from her sleep as the words, “I’ll eat you up!” ring in her ears once again.

Normally, she’d lay awake, trying to analyze the dream, asking herself if it really scared her, or made her apprehensive about something in her life. She thinks back to what her stepfather always said when she was at her lowest point, “If it doesn’t kill you, it’ll make you stronger.” But what, in the context of this dream, does that have to do with anything, she wonders.

Tonight, instead of meditating herself back to sleep, Iris goes through her step-in closet and takes out her favorite green dress. She puts it on and looks into the mirror. It’s frumpy, it’s unflattering, and makes her look older than the 39 years that she is. Disgusted with how she looks she takes the dress off and throws it in the trash.

Back in bed, Iris ponders the dream once again. Soon, vivid recollections of the dream start to fade away as most dreams do. And before asking herself why she dreamt it again, she falls asleep.

The next morning, Iris, forcing coffee down gets in her car and is the first in line for the Nordstrom doors to open. She walks into the department store and approaches a 20 something fashion sense sales girl on the floor.

Her dream still unnerving her, but detailed memories almost completely faded away. All she knows is today, for some reason, she’s going to do something new, something life changing, something to give her a new look at life, and a new look for herself. “Today will be life changing,” she says to herself over and over.

“I need to buy a whole new wardrobe.” She says. And with that, as she concludes, proceeds to change her life by first, changing what she wears. And hopefully a new dress, will give her something different to wear when she visits the Innocent College Boy in his dorm room the next time she has the dream.

She realizes that her decision to buy a new wardrobe won’t solve anything. She also realizes that starting new takes more than a clothing overhaul. But recalling a quote from the movie “Shawshank Redemption” where Morgan Freeman’s character, Red, says, “Get busy livin’. Or get busy dyin’.” will change things.

She notches up as a start. A step that leads to many. “Yes…”, she says to herself as she shuts her book and takes one last sip of her tea, “I need to get busy livin.’” She laughs at her comment to herself. Quoting lines from favorite books and movies wasn’t her style. But maybe it will be now. Notch it up as another step to livin’. And with that, she finds a new outfit from her new wardrobe, she grabs her keys, and she’s out the door in 30 minutes.

A call to an old friend on her cellphone and a meeting place is established. It’s only 9:00 at night and a whole life to live. She looks at herself in the rear view mirror and hears herself say, “Let the wild rumps start!”

I bought this “Writer’s Toolkit” a while back. It includes sentence sticks and senses cards and things of that nature. You pick one or two and just use the sentence to write in free form. The first exercise you pick a Starting Sentence Stick, write that down and write from that for 6 minutes. Then you pick a Non Sequitor Stick and continue the story from that sentence. Then of course there’s an ending sentence, some sense cards, etc. You choose a few after 3-6 minutes and keep writing till the end.

This is what I came up with this evening based on the choices I had. No outline, no planning, just writing based on random sentence. The sentence sticks are in bold so you know what I had to write from.

I titled it: “DIFFERENT SHADES OF PINK”
It’s appropriately… A Valentine’s Day Story

DIFFERENT SHADES OF PINK
A Valentine’s Day Story
by Glenn Magas

I was dressed in a completely inappropriate shade of pink. My color scheme has never been my strong suit and when they said to wear pink, I had to find the only pink think I owned. I grabbed an old blouse stuffed way back on a shelf with other ‘old clothes for the garage’ cloths. I actually didn’t pick it because, first, I hate pink and second, it’s the only pink blouse I had. It wasn’t choice. It was out of necessity. I grabbed at it knowing exactly where it was: three from the bottom.

So there I am wearing “Pink”, so I thought. Instead, it was this faded reddish-rogue color with a missing button. I swear; it used to be pink. And the last time I wore it was to seduce a guy in college. This now faded reddish-rouge blouse with a black mini and a pair of four inch heels. Talk about hot – I was ‘smokin’ as he said. And we didn’t end up going out that night either. I remember that it was the first time I ever, I’m embarrassed to say, ‘did it’ with shoes on.

Wow, that was Valentine’s Day five years ago! I had a date with an Argentinean hunk with beautifully long, dark curly hair and eyelashes any woman would die for. That was the last time I wore this blouse. What a coincidence. Today was Valentine’s Day!

The office was overly decorated with hearts and streamers and ‘love’ statements and everyone was wearing pink. I was wearing my faded blouse and thought about what my mother said long ago, “Every woman should have pink in her closet.” Maybe that’s why I didn’t have anything pink in my closet – because my mom said I should.

“Terri, you… uh… that’s not pink, you know?” Janice poked jokingly. I looked closer to what I was wearing and realized I not only clashed with everyone in the office, I stuck out like a sore thumb. But to be honest, all that pink walking around made my head hurt!

On Tuesday she asked me the most peculiar question. She asked, “Do you like topless bars?” I was caught off guard but in our line of business it wasn’t such an unusual question. But usually we’d be asking our clients questions like that.

I was like, “Me? Personally? Well…” Should I give details? Should I hide the fact that I’ve been to a couple of strip clubs, or do I lie? I lied. “I’m indifferent.” Janice looked at me with a puzzled look and added, “Edward, (our new client) owns a topless bar called, ‘Exotic Drinks’ and we are meeting him there for lunch instead of the planned dinner.” I hated strip clubs but it seemed a topless bar wouldn’t be as bad.

Edward is a wealthy business owner. His bio states he was a professional gambler before opening up a Sports Bars and most recently, a topless bar. We were hired to find Edward a wife. You see, I worked for a millionaire matchmaker service. We find life partners, for men, women, gay, and lesbian millionaires who just don’t like the online dating trend of today. They like the personal touch, and that’s what we give them. Janice, a former Dallas Cowboy cheerleader and former CEO for a Fortune 500 company was the owner, and I, her “Number One” matchmaker, were meeting Edward the Millionaire today.

Margaret had this habit of spitting. It began to get on my nerves. And normally I would be uptight about it but, today Janice decided to send Margaret with me to the lunch meeting with Edward. This was a good thing because Edward was one of those clients that made me feel uncomfortable. And if Margaret was there, maybe Edward would be more into her than shooting those blue eyes at me. Yes, they were blue, they were deep blue, but they were annoying and invasive.

Margaret is this hot, young 20 something with a perfect body. Most of the potential male client, and some females, that walked into the office would immediately find themselves drawn to Margaret because of her tight body and her long legs. She was ‘eye candy’ and she knew it. Hell, I was jealous of her she was so beautiful. We had a policy to dress business casual but no matter how business casual Margaret dressed, it looked more like nightclub hot than business casual. Anything she wore looked great on her. Anybody else who’d wear the same thing would look, well, business casual.

Janice would always state to our clients, “none of the staff are available as dates.” This would immediately get the attention away from ‘us’ and focus on their future partners. Now if all the men who came in and drooled over Margaret only knew she would spit out her car window like a hockey player, they might not be so into her. Yes, I was jealous. But who wouldn’t be? I’d die to look like that. And if I did, I wouldn’t spit in public like she does.

He was skating on thin ice-that’s all I can say. I mean, who did Edward think he was to be staring at me like he did? First, Janice told him ‘hands off the staff.’ And now he was looking me up and down like a sleazy bum off the street would. Just because he had money shouldn’t mean we should be taking him on as a client.

Okay, I’m jumping ahead. Margaret and I met Edward at his topless bar, “Exotic Drinks” and a 21 year old with a five thousand dollar boob job and a California tan immediately brought over a concoction of pineapple, watermelon, vodka and rum. I couldn’t help but stare at her breasts, but darn, ‘I want a pair of those’ I thought to myself.

We had interviewed about 20 different girls and were preparing a meet-and-greet for Edward for Friday night. We were prepping him on how to dress, how to act and what to look for in the girls. They were all receptive to him being an owner of a topless bar, all had a college education - which he insisted, and all were 25-30 years of age. At least he wasn’t looking for a bimbo with size D’s who laughed at anything remotely funny he said. He was actually looking for substance. And although I hated all the attention Margaret always got, for once I was wishing he’d stare at her, because all his attention was on me and my ‘faded reddish-rouge-pink’ blouse.

“I cheated on my spouse. And it wasn’t the first time.” He had told us. That’s why his first marriage ended in divorce. Immediately you would think, ‘what an asshole’ right? But his sob story that he told, about how his wife was verbally and mentally abusive, about how selfish and self-centered she was, and how she had also cheated on him before he ever did - but blamed him for a failed marriage, you gave him a free ticket out of that one. He didn’t even want to cheat after all the drama she put him through. He decided to have a couple one-nighters in order to convince him his marriage was over. She only stayed with him for the money, and he sometimes wished he could find a woman without her knowing he had money.

Our investigators verified all his claims. His wife admitted to everything he said she did, and she was still desperate to get more in alimony but Edward had a very clear-cut prenuptial agreement written. He knew what he was getting into when he married. He still doesn’t know why he did. “Love is blind, and after coming in second place at the World Series of Poker, you’d just do about anything.” he said. Well, he did it, but give him credit for being prepared for the worst and the worst surely happened.

I can see how women could fall for him. But the whole concept of him being a gambler, of owning a topless bar, and of being previously married really put me off. I’d find someone for him, but I wasn’t about to fall victim to his charm. It kind of made me sick to be honest. And for the first time at this job, I wish I didn’t have to work for a client.

“The plane was two hours late.” Ted, my next client ‘texted’ me. This just meant I didn’t have to rush out of “Exotic Drinks” and away from Sleazy Millionaire Edward! That was a bad thing. I couldn’t wait to leave! Poor Ted; he waited two hours in Denver to board a plane to Los Angeles where he’d be going over financials on a business his partner and he were interested in taking over. Ted was a client I really wanted to work with. He was fun, energetic, looking for a specific type and was willing to do anything to find her.

I took my time in the bathroom and sent a text back to Ted wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day. I wasn’t in a rush to go back out to meet Edward, and Margaret was probably wrapping things up anyway. If I timed it right, I’d give closing remarks, shake his hand and wish him luck on Friday night.

I stood there making sure my lips weren’t a mess when Sally walked in. Sally was the bartender. She wasn’t topless, but I was sure she was tipped well by the way she looked, her perfect teeth and a perfect smile.

“Hey there!” She said with confidence almost showing off her teeth. “So you’re Terri?” She smelled like the lemon sherbet that melted all over the counter the other night.

I smiled, “That’s me - Match Maker Terri.”

”You know Edward hasn’t stopped talking about you since the day he went to your office.” Sally said matter-of-factly.

I was shocked. I didn’t know what to say. But in my head I thought, “that’s why!” I mean, that’s why he wasn’t looking at Margaret the way he looked at me. She was the hot one! It all made sense to me. He had a crush on me. But why? I started to get dizzy. Maybe the drink was taking affect.

I noticed a tattoo on Sally. It was a child with wings on her shoulder blade. A cupid. Perfect for today I thought. And for a fleeting moment, that’s exactly how I felt. It’s been a long time since someone told me that someone had a crush on me. It was like grade school all over again. I wasn’t sure if I was happy about it or upset. Yet, I was feeling just like that tattoo – and how appropriate. I’m a cupid! And I was feeling like a child with wings. A boy has a crush on me!

I did all the professional speak about how clients do that sometimes: it’s like a patient and their psychologist or two actors working together. Or, schoolboy has a crush on his teacher syndrome. We get that here and there but we’re professional. I babbled on - which probably drove her out of the bathroom. I needed to get out of there too. How I wished to have a beekeeper’s outfit to wear back into the bar like the one I saw on Discovery Channel the night before.

And yes, I felt like a swarm of bees were flying around me as I walked back into the lunch filled bar. It seemed like the other times I’ve been to a strip club and men’s eyes would gravitate to the ‘normal girls’ walking in like me. You know, the potential lesbian/bisexual types getting their kicks off of hot female strippers. Like wondering why ‘we’ were in the strip club in the first place. We must be kinky.

I didn’t want these sex starved men to think I was wild and kinky. And for the first time I started to feel self-conscious about myself. It’s never been a problem really. I’m confident, I have a college education, I speak well, and I’m motivated and independent. I was listing all my qualities in my head when I realized, that’s exactly what Edward wrote down in his bio! I handed out my business card to every man I walked by just to justify why I was there. It was strictly business and nothing kinky.

Then I began to giggle. I was feeling stupid. Just like the time I heard my best friend Henry crying during Titanic. The sound of Henry crying during the movie made me feel self-conscious. Like, hey, it’s not me crying - and I was the girl! So what if Edward had a crush on me? So what if all these men were staring at me. I didn’t care. I was there to do my job and that was that.

“So do you think you can find me a wife?” Edward whispered in my ear. I jumped, startled, and felt uncomfortable as I turned to face him.

And for the first time I saw sincerity in his eyes. We make judgments on people all the time in my line of work. I had come to so many conclusions about Edward already, and another one was made. I felt sorry for him. Then something Sally said to me in the bathroom really rang through. I thought about my other client, Ted, and how desperate he was to get married. He wasn’t that much different than Edward I thought. Except Edward was looking for love and not just marriage; he had already done that.

I looked at Edward and thought about what Sally said. I didn’t know Edward like all the girls here did. And she said something that really didn’t hit home until now. “I hope you can find him someone. He really deserves to fall in love.”

Everyone deserves love. For three years I’ve been doing this business I did it because the client wanted something: Marriage. They rarely came in and asked for someone to fall in love with. They’d say, I want to find a wife. I found them a wife because money was involved and I got paid well. I did it because it was a job. But never did I really think about the consequences of my actions. The overall future of the client whether they stayed with their partner or not. I realized for the first time: everyone deserves love.

“You’re married right?” He asked. I shook my head apprehensively. Where is this going to go? “Well, I’m sure that guy would be very lucky! If you can find someone for me who’s like, well, like you, I think I’d be a very happy man.”

I gave him a look of, ‘are you serious with that line’? But then gave him the benefit of the doubt. I’m a good judge of character. For some reason I wasn’t fairly judging him - for the lack of a better word.

I nodded… “Well, that’s going to be tough because there’s nobody out there like me.” I quipped.

I started to feel insecure again. Perfect boobs over there is serving alcohol, perky Sally is getting tips with her smile and perfect teeth, and Margaret, despite the fact she spits out the car window, has long legs and a bod that I’d kill for. Me? I’m five pounds over weight in the wrong places. My boobs are half the size of a teenage girls, and my legs just stop. They’re like ankle legs. Or just, ankles. I’m not what I was in College that’s for sure. I should have made use of the gym membership I’ve been paying for for two years now but haven’t been to in a year and a half.

He added: “Just as long as she could fall in love with me as much as I know I can fall in love with her - I’ll be happy.”

Okay. As silly or as stupid as that sounded, it made my knees weak. I blamed the alcohol once again, but in a matter of an hour I went from, this guy is a sleazy gambler/topless bar owner to, this guy is a successful entrepreneur desperate to fall in love.

I stumbled for words when Margaret saved me. “We have to end our meeting, we have another client flying in from Dallas.”

I wanted to say, “Ted is late. We have two hours to kill!” But decided to move on professionally and leave that crazy feeling I was feeling. This isn’t about me. This is about Edward.

“Oh, and by the way, that’s my favorite shade of Pink” he said to me.

My mouth dropped. I looked down at my missing button then I turned to Margaret, “Ted’s plane is two hours delayed.”

Then I smiled at Edward, “Mind if we stay?”

So here I am, two years later remembering that day I met Edward with my, sort of pinkish blouse. I guess there’s different shades of pink and this was Edward’s favorite. Crazy, huh?

I grabbed the stack of ‘old clothes for the garage’ out of my closet and packed it into a box. And here is that ‘pink’ blouse again.

“Anymore boxes to go?” It was Edward standing in the hallway of my near empty apartment. Boxes piled up ready for a move.

I turned to him and smiled. “Remember this?” I held the blouse up. “Should it stay or should it go?”

“Hey, that’s what you wore that day I fell in love with you.”

I nodded. “Yes. Two years ago.”

He smiled. “Then it should stay.”

THE END

WOW! What a great game. Not only did I believe the Giants would win, I knew they would! Why? I like to profess that hot teams win in the post season. Whether it’s basketball, baseball, hockey or football… The team that is riding on that hot streak and the high of it tends to win. It’s why a lot of wild card baseball teams fight to stay in the pennant race then use that hot streak in the playoffs.

The biggest thing going against the Giants was the layoff. This is what kills hot teams – just look at last season and the Colorado Rockies. Too much time and the hot team can get cold.

Not today. What a game. It was exciting from kick off till that 1 second left on the clock when they had to officially kneel on the ball. It was great seeing Eli winning and Peyton rooting him on. It was also great to see another of my theories come through – “Big Time” receivers do not win big games. Big time quarterbacks win big games. Burres barely got the catches but Eli got the ball into the endzone, AND, escaped a big sack and gunned it to a “Small Time” receiver. Moss didn’t win any game in the playoffs, Brady did. Unfortunately for Brady, the Giants Defense did everything they saw all the other teams do to Brady – pressure him.

It was a simple game plan. Take away the big receiver and pressure Brady. And why didn’t other teams beat the Pats? Because they didn’t play to win and played to hold the score. NY played to win.

Donna made Chicken Katsu again and it was absolutely awesome. I can’t stop eating that stuff! There was some great beer, and Jake finally turned around and started rooting for the Giants.

The only thing missing from the day was my workout. Notice 2006 and 2007 I had some awesome workouts. Today I had an awesome breakfast at Granville’s in Burbank.

Here’s a look back at past Superbowls and the beer of choice if you’re interested.

2005: Guiness Stout

2006: Pilsner Urquell

2007: Blue Moon

2008: Samuel Adams Boston Lager