Skip to main content

tick tick tick

tick tick tick tick

I receive daily writing prompts in my inbox.  I go through streaks of using them, when they intrigue me and dry spells when the ideas bore me.

A recent one that pricked my writing reverie was “write a list of things that tick;” quite different from things that tick me off.  Honestly, there are days that list would be a catalog.  No, this one was simply things that tick. 

I interpreted that as a sound - a clicking or rhythmic beat; and even took it a step further with a check mark indicating something is done.  I avoided the pesky blood-sucking insect that latches itself to you while hiking in the summer.

A few of the words and phrases that I wrote on my list

pocket watch     alarm clock    time bomb    my eye when I’m stressed    creepy working to clean the pool    a metronome    high heels on a concrete floor    Dorothy’s ruby slippers   crosswalk signs    a card placed in bicycle spokes

All of items and actions denote a beat, a measure of time or an accomplishment.  How many ticks and checks do I need before I’m ticked off or calmed down?  Face it, some ticks drone on; annoying, while others are lovely repetitive reminders. 

Ticks create a cadence to our lives.  Just think about a quickly tapped pencil.  Sounds like impatience or frustration.  In contrast, the slow precision of a clock ticking sets a peaceful tone in the quiet of the night.

I have ticks that tick me off, occasionally ticks in my eye and fortunately no ticks on my body.  I see them all as a necessary part of my life tempo.  They keep me steady and set my pace.  When there’s a lot to do, my ticking is rapid.  (Can you hear my heels clickety clicking?)  Then comes those much anticipated moments when the pulse is slow, like a long weekend away at a cabin on a lake.  (That’s coming in a couple of weeks.)

If I had given you the prompt to write a list of ticks…what would you have written?

Missy


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance






Comments

  1. Replies
    1. Thanks. It certainly challenges me to pay attention to the ticks, and to not let too many tick me off!

      Delete
  2. Good one, Missy. I have a laborious tick in my engine that needs attention. There is the ticking sound everytime a rock stuck in the tread of the tire hits the pavement or the ticking sound of water leaking from the faucet into the sink in the middle of the night. Since I no longer hear well, I rarely hear a watch ticking.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I like your "ticks." I hadn't thought of a rock stuck in the tire. My hubby and son just got back from being out in the woods, and son's tire had rocks that were driving him crazy. Maybe, there's a blessing to the hearing waning. Thanks for reading!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the lights just clicked on

The lights just clicked on. The ones we hung outside last Friday when the day was bright and fair. Today it’s cloudy and cold. It’s dark earlier. So, the lights just clicked on.

It’s pretty. If I squint, the white fairy lights look like tiny gleaming stars. Bordering on gazing at an inky sky, dotted and specked with minute bursts of light.

Two Moravian stars with multi-faceted points hang. They sway with the breeze. Moving to the wind’s breathed music. They reflect in the open window; mirror images, star duets.

Santa arrives in a helicopter descent at the Old Mill. He sets up shop, elves and reindeer to join later. High fives, and shy giggles, the kids approach. Innocent, bright eyes wide open and hopeful.

It’s a magical and expectant season. It’s Advent.

Advent – the arrival of the awaited One – is more than my lights clicking on, the Moravian stars dancing and my grandkids’ wonder at the arrival of Santa. I love each of these experiences and the specialness of the memories.

A baby sh…

the quiet paradox

I'm a music girl, but I like the quiet. So, I live with this paradox. I see other enigmas in my life - some are trivial, others deserve attention.

Look at society. Our current culture is rife in a quagmire of nonsensical. We say we care and want to love, yet do nothing. Or, worse, we simply yammer on about how "somebody" really should be taking care of this or that. I'm guilty here. No stones are being cast.

Ergo, I turned off the music to sit in the quiet. What can be heard in the quiet is unreal; the birds waking up, the guy down the street is warming his truck, the slight ringing in my ears,  my thoughts. I can hear my thoughts instead of drowning them out with sound. Sound that I normally groove on.

When I hear my thoughts, I'm more aware of the paradox. Even as I sit, the furnace clicks off and the sound of the refrigerator is noticeable; a see-saw invasion to my soul searching and hearing.

My interlude with quiet is ending. The sun is pouring through the w…

excellent. how serious are you?

Have you been told you always say something? I have. Evidently, I respond with "excellent" and then ask two questions:

How serious are you? And, what's the vision?
Each could be asked independently of each other or in reverse order, stacked on each other. Answering one leads to the asking and answering of the other. I know, it sounds like a labyrinth conversation.

How serious are you? About a decision, about a change, about a direction or choice? If the answer is some laissez faire something, then nothing will occur. Serious action will not take place, and probably nothing will come of the thought. You see, the degree of seriousness creates movement. Movement, in turn creates a response.

I picture it like the proverbial mousetrap game - the dropped marble starts a chain of events.
What's the vision is directly tied to the serious question. The vision will determine the degree to which we seriously take things. A wishy-washy, obscured view doesn't require much. Howe…