Cupcake chaos

Hello, world!

This month’s Absolute Write Blog Chain has me in a bind. The topic is to be thrown by the previous poster, creating tons of excitement and mystery. Well, not really, just a couple of seconds of slight jitter before opening Internet Explorer to find the topic, my topic is: Cupcake Disaster.

Before getting to the story: here’s the link to all the great posts from the great blogs participating this February.

orion_mk3 – (link to post) Yuppies Who Hate the Family Business
ConnieBDowell – (link to post) Unexpected Library Encounter
bmadsen – (link to post) Cupcake Disaster (You are here!)
MsLaylaCakes – (link to post) Topic
HistorySleuth – (link to post) Topic
writingismypassion – (link to post) Topic
katci13 – (link to post) Topic
KitCat – (link to post) Topic
Briony-zisaya – (link to post) Topic
CatherineHall – (link to post) Topic
Angyl78 – (link to post) Topic
randi.lee – (link to post) Topic
Lady Cat – (link to post) Topic
pyrosama – (link to post) Topic
Ralph Pines – (link to post) Topic
dclary – (link to post) Topic
meowzbark – (link to post) Topic

And here we go.

The topic, as mentioned, is Cupcake Disaster. We are in February. Cupcakes. February. It falls into place. I’ve decided that my blog is a bit depressive and sad (well, not decided, but rather someone told me), so here’s a bit of humorous parting stories before I move to another blog.

Why do animals scratch and sniff everything? Because they are smart. That’s why. So on February the 13th, I was getting ready for a romantic dinner with my girlfriend. I had been juggling the thought of baking her some molten chocolate cupcakes (which I’ve never made before). The recipe seemed quite easy and on the light side, which I’m all about. It was just a matter of taking cocoa powder (always in the glass jar), yogurt, peanut butter, apple sauce and honey, mix it with flower and baking powder. Boom, bam, done!

The cooking process took just fifteen minutes. The baking process took about twenty. And she arrived. Stunning. Her long, slender legs trying to escape from that sexy two-piece dress. They gracefully teased me and then hid again. Beautiful tanned skin flashing just enough. She smiled as she kissed me and I took hold of her hand.

The candles flickered as I closed the door and she opened her eyes wide in amazement. I was on the right path. We sat down and dinner began: first course was a simple arugula and pomegranate salad with an Asian honey dressing.

I felt on the right path.

Then came a Yucca-crusted Salmon filet over a bed of Jazmin rice and oven-roasted bell peppers. She just kept smiling and thanking for taking my time in coming up with such a great dinner. I had rented her favorite movie so I knew I had this in the bank.

But then came dessert. As the oven went “bing!” I made the mistake of saying “wait for this”. I went into the kitchen and pulled out my wonderfully appealing molten chocolate cupcakes. I mean, how could I lose? Just reading it seems enticing. But no. I placed it in front of her, after sprinkling powder sugar over it and sat down. She gently cut in with a spoon and the thick mixture oozed out at a gentle place, immediately clashing with the white china. I had made it. I had succeeded in creating the perfect dinner.

Then she took a bite.

There’s something about cringing you don’t ever get used to, and she did just that. She tried to smile but I knew she wasn’t a good actress. For a second, my heart went racing. Her eyes, big and dark, wondered around from side to side like a couple of drunken dancers looking for a place to sit. She found the napkin.

That’s when I knew something had gone wrong.

“I’m sorry,” she sighed in a confusing, defeated tone, “it’s. I can’t. It’s inedible.”

“What?” I asked. I’m pretty sure I stuttered like crazy.

“It’s just. It tastes awful, honey.”

“But it can’t be. It’s not. I can’t.” I immediately tried to apologize and only managed to after breathing deeply for a second. I rushed back to the kitchen–leaving her by herself to have all the water she wanted to–and began a quick CSI scan of the ingredients.

Damn it, nature. Why don’t humans scratch and sniff?

Have you ever seen Costa Rican five spice? Well, here’s a hint. It looks just like cocoa.

At least I though I could save the night by watching the movie. But it turned out five spice stays in you. For a long time. It stays in your throat, in your teeth, in your tongue. Long enough to spark the sentence: “I’m going to go home. I had a good time.”


The End

Hallo, people:

It’s that time of the month in which Absolute Write gives me a chance to participate in the Blog Chain. For December it’s THE END OF THE WORLD. Or, just The End. Here are the instructions:

This month’s prompt:
The End (of the World)

Yes, since the predicted Mayapocalypse only fails to materialize once every 500 years or so we are piggybacking on it. Write what you will about the end of the world (those disinclined to eschatology can write about “the end” in a broader sense). Hopefully, after these ends of the world as we know it, we’ll all feel fine.

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3: (link to post)
dolores haze – (link to post)
randi.lee – (link to post)
writingismypassion – (link to post)
bmadsen – YOU ARE HERE!
Ralph Pines – (link to post)
SRHowen – (link to post)
AllieKat – (link to post)
MsLaylaCakes – (link to post)
katci13 – (link to post)
meowzbark – (link to post)
Angyl78 – (link to post)
Aheïla – (link to post)
pyrosama – (link to post)
Araenvo – (link to post)
CJ Michaels – (link to post)
SuzanneSeese – (link to post)
BBBurke – (link to post)

If someone, right now, comes in and interrupts you reading my blog, he or she gently grabs your chin and lifts it up, then smiles with a hint of irony, you will probably ask yourself: what the hell? And, you will probably just stutter like a frightened, wandering child, when he or she says: it’s all over by tomorrow morning. That’s it. Your world ends in twenty-four hours.

And then what do you do? I find it most interesting to see that people, the selfish, complex beings that we are, all react the same way: oh crap, I have to do everything I wanted to do. I must pronounce my love to the girl I always liked, I must visit as much countries as I can, I must run naked in a crowded shopping mall, whatever rings your bell. But you’re screwed because all you got is twenty-four hours.

Most likely you end up eating tons of ice cream, cookies and watching a movie, moping about the fact that life is going to end in one day, and as the clock winds down to zero, you cry, and then cry some more.

That’s because we humans have fear. It’s fine. Society tells us to be afraid, after all it’s what society wants from us–a bunch of people afraid of acting for themselves, just looking to get a paycheck at the end of the month and carry on with our routines until it’s time to retire and eat apple mush and die in Florida.

Well, things do not work out that way. If you do something about it. The end is only the marking of a new beginning. Yes, corny and cliché, hollywood, Bryan Adams and Hallmark cards all rolled up into one. But true nonetheless. Let’s just look back.

On December 3rd, 2011, at exactly 8:30 am I arrived at my office. On December 3rd, 2011, at exactly 11:30 am I was admitted to a private hospital where doctors told me not to move, there was a big chance I wouldn’t walk ever again.

It was the end of a very particular way of thinking: I’m invincible. And why wouldn’t I have thought that? I was twenty-six, I had a good job, I was healthy and had a college education. Anyone in my position never thought something wrong would happen.

And now, one year later, I realize one thing: the end of a way of thinking has just started another one.

I cherish moments that are simple yet powerful like laughing. I like laughing, a lot. I see the world by what I can learn from it and not what it wants me to learn. I write whenever I can and not when I feel like it. I see my friends but also I see myself. I praise silence. I see colors, sounds, smells and combine them. I talk to people, whoever they are, I might never see them and they might have a lot to teach me. I appreciate my body, though it has flaws, and I strive to make it better. I look at the stars whenever I can. I wake up early and walk outside, just because. I have learned from my mistakes and now say “I don’t know” or “I made that mistake and I’m sorry” with actually giving a damn what people think. I know money doesn’t make me happy; it didn’t stop me from falling and, by the way, Newton was right, there IS gravity. I listen to rivers. I’ve even begun organizing my exit from the beautiful world of Biomedical engineering to seek what I like the most. I just do!

But most importantly, I don’t plan. I do. And when I don’t feel that momentum, that drive, I think about it. Why is it that something is braking me? Am I still afraid? Of course! But I face my fears, there’s no reason not to.

Yet, I know that, no matter how much I write and tell people what to do, for good, they won’t do it. Because it’s not the end of the line for them. It’s the end of a way of thinking that was only mine. All people need to get to the end of their line to understand what I’m talking about. I just hope they do. I hope, within all that I’ve been through, that people really break that chains that bind us to the ground, to what people tell us to do and not what we want to do.

When I boarded my plane, on the way to the Niagara Falls Writer’s Conference, my girlfriend told me one thing that’s so true, it hurts to say that I didn’t come up with it. It was Lao Tzu who said:

When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be.

So I hope all of you meet an end. All ends mark a beginning. And one you should take full advantage of.

Rivers speak wise words

Rivers speak wise words


Hello, World!
Here are the instructions to this month’s Absolute Write Blog Chain!

In the spirit of NaNoWriMo, write a mock review of a writing project that you have done or would like to do. Make sure to either give a brief, one-sentence description of what the project is or work it into the review somehow. You can review anything (poetry, prose, collected blog posts) and in any way you like (funny, serious, Dadaist).

And here are the participating blogs:

Participants and posts:
orion_mk3: (link to post)
Ralph Pines – (link to post)
bmadsen – (link to post)
dolores haze – (link to post)
SRHowen – (link to post)
Angyl78 – (link to post)
writingismypassion – (link to post)
meowzbark – (link to post)
pyrosama – (link to post)
randi.lee – (link to post)

wonderactivist – (link to post)

Here’s the post:

Chad Sorrens is a young and talented soldier facing his biggest challenge yet: to survive Project Archangel. In B.M.’s first novel, Project Archangel, the protagonist faces a series of challenges outlined by an underground terrorist war in Russia. Written at the age of 15, this novel has predictable twists and turns, but does have a gem somewhere beneath the troupes.

Within the gunfights, cliché love scenes and crummy dialogue we are forced to endure if we want to finish the novel, there is a harsh criticism towards war and the psychological turmoil soldiers endure. Sorrens, in the end of Project Archangel, regrets every second he spend holding a machine gun in the middle of the Russian Winter. Not because of himself, but because of the changed lives around him.

Overall Project Archangel, at 120 thousand words, is an ambitious creation by a young writer with much to learn. If the book is left to mature (and the writer) for a couple of years, it just might turn into a decent novel comparable with Ludlum, Forsyth and the earlier Clancy.

The review is of my very first book.