A Lifetime’s Worth

“Close, but no cigar.” It should be my motto.

Almost got that job.

Almost won the game.

Almost got the guy.

My life is filled with almosts.

**Bangs head on desk.**



“But No Cigar” The Daily Post



History Textbook

I’m not saying there’s a right or wrong answer to “If you could be a fly on the wall at any point in history, when and where would you choose?” But let’s be honest, which ever historical moment you pick says a lot about you and can be perceived by someone as either right or wrong.

The smart answers would be something like the signing of the Declaration of Independence or any of the major moments in history having to do with a president or a king or some other kind of ruler. Basically, open the nearest history textbook and pick a page to make yourself sound smart.

If you choose to go back and visit an ancestor, there are options for what kind of person you are. You could be family oriented, or trying to appear like a genuinely good person. Or you could be the biggest creep ever. Think about that one. If you don’t get it, well then you’re definitely not the biggest creep ever.

I’m not the most fanatical sports buff, but I do have a love for baseball. And I’m a Red Sox fan, which already says so much about me. Anyway, I’d like to be a fly on some wall within Fenway Park for the 1918 final World Series game. This alone could say a lot, but I would prefer to use my day as a fly in the past doing something fun, not sitting in a room listening to men argue about the politics of something or other.


Today’s Daily Post:


Just one?

If I was given a choice? Like, you’re going to pay for everything and I’m just going to pick a point on the globe? Why do I have to pick just one place if that’s the case?

I’m relatively sure I would beat myself senseless trying to decide on just one place.

Australia would be pretty high on my list. They speak English, and can you imagine? Those accents and those guys for a whole year? I’m perfectly okay with the stereotypical image in my head right now.

England would be another good choice. They also speak English (duh), and I could take trips to Scotland and Ireland and France. It would be like a multi-trip. I could knock out a whole bunch of different places, unhindered by the Atlantic.

Or Italy. One word: pizza. I would be happy and fat by the end of that year.

I can’t actually let myself put too much thought into this, or I’ll spend the next week cycling through daydreams, and absolutely nothing will get done.

– In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Study Abroad.”

Fake Map and Fifty Shades

Okay, so what kind of time capsule are we talking about? A big box? A small tube? Waterproof no matter what, I hope. And when will it be getting opened? 10 years? 20 years? 50 years? 100 years?

That kind of information changes what gets put inside. But for argument’s sake, we’ll just say it’s a waterproof box that’s going to be buried in the ground, to be dug up at least 50 years from now.

While I’m not entirely sure what I’d put inside of it, I know with certainty what I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t be putting in an iPhone or a computer or tablet. They’ll not only have better versions of their own, they’ll have our crap in museums, if anyone years from now even cares about that stuff. And don’t think that they won’t. You just know there’s a vault out there somewhere keeping the items of now safe for future spectacle. We live in a time where people have the means and manner to be obsessed with that kind of thing. They live in a world oversized time capsules. It’s almost cheating, in a way.

I think I’d want to put something inside that would mess with the people of the future. I’d want to put in something they wouldn’t expect, if there can even be expectations for a time capsule.

Maybe take a map of the subway system in New York and create a fake treasure map. Or maybe a fake diary describing the days of a serial killer. A print copy of Fifty Shades of Grey would really screw with their heads. “They read books printed on paper? They read books?” And that’s just the thought process that occurs before they read the book itself.

The writer half of me wants to leave something meaningful, though. It’s kind of a great story, if you think about it. A writer leaves a finished manuscript for a novel or a screenplay in a time capsule that doesn’t get opened until after the writer has passed away, and someone finds it in the capsule, and follows through with it. It gets published. The movie gets made. The writer’s name is continued on after death in a way that doesn’t happen very often, if at all.

Of course, that’s just ego talking.

– In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Time Capsule.”