Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster (again) – Revenge is sweet

Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re jealous of.

03.08.2013

Dear authors, photographers, millionaires (including a few kings, queens and presidents),

In am not actually jealous of you all. There are people in life that are successful, have it all, and receive prizes for their talents. Just because I have not yet been recognised it does not mean that I am jealous or annoyed. Of course not. I can wait for my Pulitzer Prize and author of the year title. I have just been ignored somewhere along the line. as usual.

When my mum found me in front of the door in a little golden basket with a crown hanging from the handle, she realised that her little girl had arrived. The basket was melted down and the crown was sold at an auction, so the financial problems of an extra mouth to feed were solved. It seems that the stork dropped the cargo at the wrong door. We were only a few flying miles away from Buckingham Palace, but it seems that a boy was more welcome at that place, so the storks swopped the results.

As life went on I realised my talents as an author, although others did not. My class teacher constantly gave me minus points in the school telling me to do better the next time. Life continued and despite my photographic talents I was still in the shadow of Ansel Adams. I had to take second place to everything. I found my photos artistically challenging, but others laughed ignored my talent.

Cows

I was sure this photographic study of a cow in the field waiting for milking time was brilliant when I entered the competition, but again my Pulitzer prize was given to someone else.I decided to become a blogging sensation, telling everyone about it all, sometimes the same thing twice was required to leave an impression, but even that was not a success. And now my inspiration is waning, my computer is tired of the daily exercise about nothing important.

The time has now come for a change in this wasted life. I will conquer this feeling of insufficiency and hopelessness. I have decided to leave this world of unrequited recognition, to end it all forever. There will be no more letters. Tonight will be the end of it all, yes. There are many disappointed unrecognised talents in the blogging world and we are combining our strength to conquer these misdoings.

As you upload this letter onto your computer, which I am sending per e-mail, the dreaded Anonymous Anti word virus will be inserted into your computer. All your files containing new ideas for novels will automatically transfer themselves to my computer, your wealth will disappear and re-appear in my bank account. Beware of the Pulitzer and Nobel prizes you have. They will be possessed by the ghost of the blogger past and enter my realm of success.

Ha, ha, ha (ghostly laugh) your time has come, and mine has arrived.

Yours Anon

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster (again) – revenge is sweet

Daily Prompt: Green Eyed Lady

We all get jealous from time to time — what wakes the green-eyed monster for you?

Over the clouds

When you are above the clouds, just floating on air you realise that jealousy is not something to worry about. If the bloke next to you on the plane is wearing a Rolex watch or if the lady in front is wearing a Christian Dior dress, who cares. There might even be someone on the plane with one of those digital cameras busy clicking photos from the window hoping to capture a prize winning view for the Pulitzer prize. That person is certainly not jealous if she does not win the prize, she is just doing it for the fun, remembering the significance of the photos discovered after the Hindenberg disaster when the airship crashed and a camera was found showing last photos taken by a passenger, although she is not hoping that her fame will be under such circumstances. I think I wanted to say something remarkable, a pearl of wisdom, but I lost the thread somewhere. Ah yes, there is no point in jealousy, our fate will be equal, so just hope the pilot lands safely,

I do not do jealousy, I have everything I want. Of course that prize for my writing efforts has still not arrived, but I am not jealous of E. L. James with her 50 Shades of Something, and even the fact that J. R. Rowling celebrated success with her Harry Potter books did not bother me really I suppose, they just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I can be patient and wait for my hard earned and expected success. Me jealous? Never, although I persistently write my daily prompt hoping that my natural blogging talent will one day be noticed as the best, better than all others and my place at the top will be secured.

I think what annoys me most of all are people that just ignore my genius. People that cannot say “well done” or “you have such a talent for writing” and shower me with deserved compliments, but I have got used to this. Even Franz Kafka died of starvation, his talent not being recognised while he was living. Yes, perhaps my just reward will come one day when the visitors to my eternal resting place will see my web address engraved on my stone and the remains of my blog will be immortalised in the monumental records of literature. In the meanwhile I can wait grinding my teeth. I am sure my efforts will one day be recognised. Yes, jealousy is something that leaves a bad taste behind it.

This morning I hung some bird food fat balls on a tree which were left from the winter ration. Mr. Swiss found it was not necessary, our sparrows are still suffering from signs of overweight from the winter feed and in summer they find their own food. However, I noticed that today the tree was full of sparrows. They were fighting each other for the best place nearest to the fat ball. Even sparrows show jealousy and push each other away to reach the seeds.

And so I also push on, regardless of all the other successful writers who are nowhere near what I achieve. I have blue eyes not green so jealousy does not exist in my vocabulary.

Daily Prompt: Green Eyed Lady

Green Eyed Pingbacks

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  3. Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady | Bob’s Blog-O-Rama
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  5. Daily Prompt: Green Eyed Lady | Purplesus’ Blog
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  8. Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady | tnkerr-Writing Prompts and Practice
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  11. Green-Eyed Lady | God Through My Eyes
  12. Evil Queens & coffee beans
  13. Daily Prompt: Jealousy | A Day In The Life
  14. Reciprocal | The River Mom
  15. of wickedness | Anawnimiss
  16. Wake Up O’ Sleeping Stone | The Write Web
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  18. Aces « Averil Dean
  19. NaPoWriMo Day 4: “Smitten” | arakawa fiction
  20. Bass Speaker | I’m a Writer, Yes I Am
  21. Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady | A Note From Jenn
  22. Jealousy: Daily Prompt | ALIEN AURA’S BLOG: IT’LL BLOW YOUR MIND!
  23. Leave Me Free | Flowers and Breezes
  24. From Time To Time | Lisa’s Kansa Muse
  25. How do they do it? | A mom’s blog
  26. Nonsense | Life is great
  27. Green All Over | meanderedwanderings
  28. i’m just a jealous guy | eastelmhurst.a.go.go
  29. The Green-Eyed Monster | Elementary Verse
  30. Daily prompt 🙂 Green eyed Lady | myjourneyeveryday
  31. Daily Prompt from WordPress: HEY-O Jealousy – That’s My Answer
  32. Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady | My Atheist Blog
  33. Daily Prompt – Green-Eyed Lady | hometogo232
  34. If I Have to Choose One Thing that Makes me Jealous | wisskko’s blog
  35. I’m Jealous of Chris Potter’s Coffee Mates
  36. The Difference Between Cats and Humans is … Sleep | My Two Cats
  37. #NaPoWriMo2014 “As long as I have words” Day 4 | The Bohemian Rock Star’s “Untitled Project”
  38. Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Lady- The Path to Freedom and Fear | Journeyman
  39. Daily Prompt: Being Jealous! | All Things Cute and Beautiful
  40. Me Jealous? Sadly, Yes. | Emotional Fitness
  41. Daily Prompt: My eyes turn green when I see him with her. | Ipso • facto
  42. With wild cat designs comes love, passion and jealousy !! | The Seminary of Praying Mantis
  43. Sometimes my eyes are just a little more green than usual | One Educator’s Life
  44. I Don’t Always Get Jealous……. | djgarcia94
  45. I Need To Talk To The Person In Charge Of Changing Humans Into Dogs | meg lago

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster

Write an anonymous letter to someone you’re jealous of.

Photographers, artists, poets: show us GREEN.

Zuchwil Garden Centre

Dear Inuit, Australians, Antarticans and Articas, Polar bears

How I envy you all now. Here I am sitting outside on the porch, suffering temperatures of 30-35° C in Switzerland, longing for a cooling breeze and there you all are loving every little ice crystal and snow flake that freezes in the air.

I was going to start this blog by telling everyone what a perfect person I am and do not have a jealous bone in my body. After cooking lunch I decided the hot sun beating down (although I have a sun shade on the porch) is not exactly the right climate when sweltering over cooked rice, pork chops and vegetable.

Eskimos I envy you for your igloos. Just chop a block of ice out of the surroundings and pile it upon another block. Eventually you have a completely insulated ice house. The only ice I have at the moment is in plastic bags in the freezer ready for a cooling drink. My main occupation is to maintain the supply. Those ice cubes are used up quite quickly in the hot summer weather.

Polar bears you feel great swimming in ice clear pools of water. I have never heard an ice bear complain of the cold, but put him in a zoo in our country in summer. You have to make sure he does not dehydrate.

“Mrs. Human” and my chief feline Nera drags her fur bound legs towards me.

“Where is the zip, I cannot find it. Or the buttons?” she asks.

“What do you mean Nera?”

“You humans undress for something lighter in this hot weather and we felines also want to undress. I want to unzip my fur coat. That will do, just to cool down a little.”

“Oh Nera, I am so sorry, but feline fur coats are not made to be removed. Mr. Human can cut some bits and pieces out of your coat, where the snails are stuck and various twigs have entwined themselves, but he cannot remove the complete fur.”

“No Mrs. Human, he snips away with the scissors and that can be a risky job. He might spoiI my beautiful appearance and then all the other felines will no longer be jealous of my wonderful luxurious looking body. I just want to take my coat off.” And she stamped with her paw to emphasise the point.

I explained that it would not be possible, so she disappeared under a shady tree where she is now sleeping and conserving her energy.

Yes people of the Southern hemisphere, we in the North are just a little bit jealous. Kangaroos are now hopping around without a care in the world in the cool climate. Even the wombats are doing wombat things without a care in the world. Everything is so nice and cool down under at the moment.

I will now come to a close on this letter as the sweat is pouring out of my computer keyboard. Even the bytes are heating up in the computer and my brain is becoming overheated (yes I have one).

Australians and South Africans, you may write a letter of revenge when you are sitting on the beach in the sun eating your Christmas dinner and plunging into the cooling waves of the sea. Even that is not a possibility in Switzerland, the guy who designed the world forgot to put a coastline around Switzerland.

Have fun everyone wherever you are and spare a thought for a golden oldie who has problems with cooling down in the hot weather.

Yours anonymously

A cooling drink

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster

Tell us about the last time you were really, truly jealous of someone. Did you act on it? Did it hurt your relationship? 

Photographers, show us something GREEN.

Me Jealous? Do not even know the meaning of the word. When I heard that Dan Brown published yet another successful novel, “Inferno”,did I wonder how can he do it every time? Has a team of professional translators working in a dark corner of Italy (thanks to Silvio Berlusconi) to get the translation finished in time, working day and night to ensure the Italian translation is on the market as soon as possible, I did not feel jealous. I did not feel jealous of E.L. James when her 50 Shades of rubbish was successful and being read by all the frustrated housewives I knew. J.R. Rowling writes an adult fairy tale, invents a new species and is famous over night. Am I jealous? Of course not, they just got there first and my wonderful talent has just not been discovered yet.

I asked my chief feline, Nera, if she was jealous and she said no problem. She is the best, the most handsome, possesses great intelligence and told me that if anyone would dare to call her jealous she would leave a paw imprint on the most tender part of their body, so there we have it. No-one here is jealous. To compensate for my lack of jealousy today I am becoming a photographer: not quite Ansel Adams, Cecil Beaton or David Baily, but almost. Me not being jealous I can only congratulate them (through clenched teeth) with their success.

So to return to my masterpiece of green photography: next to my garden there is a natural meadow. The owners of the surrounding land planted the meadow when our apartment block was built and the wild flowers grow regularly every year. As soon as they produce seeds the meadow is cut down, the idea being that the seeds grow again next year. The annual mow usually takes place around mid-June. A feast for a camera lens, so here is an example of this year’s meadow: about 90% green with some colour from the flowers.

On this closing note I wish everyone a trouble free day and if your blogging neighbours are jealous, just ignore them. Think of Nera my feline, she has the best solution.

Nera

Daily Prompt: Green-Eyed Monster

Trickle down

P1060549

Well you could say that our relationship was reduced now to a mere trickle, yes it was definitely trickling down. Here I am packing my bags and thinking how much better it would have been if he had not met Tangerine. No, it was not a fancy for fruit – that was her name.

I had moved in with George and we were getting on so well. Our feelings were torrential at the beginning. I could compare him to a fresh rain after a hot day, or was it night, yes, let’s say night.

“I just can’t get enough of you” he would say after an exhausting, but passionate few hours together. I was saturated by his love, it would sweep over me in waves of enjoyment. That was, of course, before he met Tangerine.

Tangerine was like a fruit salad with too much lemon; sugary sweet when you got to know her, but left a bitter taste afterwards. Of course, George found her just perfect. One of his favourite deserts was lemon sorbet, so I suppose he did not notice the sharpness of her methods.

I was now ready to go, leave our apartment that we had shared for almost a year. He was away for the week-end, with Tangerine of course. He had confessed to me that his future life would be with Tangerine. She was the love of his life. What could I do? I cried an ocean after he left and now I was alone in our one time love nest, wiping the tears from my eyes and making room for his Tangerine dream.

I was just leaving, but there was something I had to do. I could not just leave without giving him a memory of the floods of emotion we had experienced together.

I went to the bathroom and turned on the taps. At first the water was trickling down, but then I opened them as far as I could. It was a real waterfall, already splashing against the sides of the bath and so I left, to start my life anew.  I was sure the deluge he would find on his return would keep him and Tangerine busy for a few hours.

P1060550

No Escape

“Mrs. Jones we would like to thank you for partaking in this interview. We are sure our magazine readers would be interested to read your war time memories.”

Frieda Jones was only ten years old when the Second World War broke out. She lived in part of London near the docks and knew what it meant when the planes flew over. Leave your house and look for the nearest shelter. It was dangerous to stay in a house when it might tumble down around your ears after being bombed. She was asked by a national magazine to tell her story of the time, as they were running a series of London war time memories.

“Go ahead mum” said Frieda’s daughter “I am sure you have a lot to tell and your memories should be preserved for the future.”

Frieda was now eighty years old, but she remembered the war days as if it were yesterday. The first question soon came “What is your most vivid memory?”

Without hesitating Frieda answered “The evening when our house was hit; I was lucky to have survived. My mother was out that evening at the local cinema with her sister and when the first warning came she had left the cinema and taken shelter in the local underground station. Unfortunately it was our local station and on that evening there was an accident. The first warning was only a mistake but in the panic a few people stumbled at the bottom of the stairs and there were many lives lost in the crush that followed.”

Her mother’s body had never been identified, but this happened to many in this accident. So the questions went on and Frieda told the story they wanted to hear and the story she told since that fateful day, but the truth was something different.

Frieda’s father, John, was already enlisted in the British army. He had not yet been sent to fight in other countries and was training in the Scottish highlands. The area was hilly and wild and the British found it to be an ideal place to be used as a training ground. This left Frieda’s mother, Lily, alone to look after her daughter. Lily was never a stay-at-home type and liked to enjoy life. She decided that although her husband was away, that was no reason to stop having fun.

Soon Frieda got to know her Uncle Joe. Now Uncle Joe was not a real uncle, but in the war time there were many uncles that suddenly appeared. Most of these uncles spoke English with an American accent and Frieda’s new uncle was no exception. He was a GI stationed in London. It was at this time that John was eventually told by the British army that he could take two days leave at home before being transferred to Italy. John decided to waste no time and travel down to London to spend those days with his wife before being sent abroad to fight for his country.

It was one of those foggy London evenings when John arrived at his house. He turned his key in the door and entered.

“Lily, I’m home” he called, but there was no answer.

Frieda was immediately awake after hearing her father’s voice. She climbed out of her bed and walked into the corridor where her dad was standing. He took her in his arms.

“Frieda, you should go back to bed, we will see each other in the morning. Where’s your mum?”

“She’s upstairs in her bedroom” was the answer and before Frieda could tell her father that she had a visit from Uncle Joe, John was up the stairs two by two hurrying to see Lily and being sure she was pleased to see him. The sight that met John’s eyes was not exactly the ideal homecoming. Lily was lying on the bed and Uncle Joe was on top of her, his GI uniform trousers around his ankles.

 John was actually the quiet type, but when his temper was aroused, he could be a fury and this was now the case. Uncle Joe seemed to be quite a fit person as his trousers were pulled around his waist in no time and Frieda’s last look at Uncle Joe was as he passed her flying down the stairs and through the street door. In the meanwhile Frieda heard her father shouting at Lily in the bedroom. He was using words that Frieda had never heard her father use before and when she walked into the bedroom she saw that John had put his hands on Lily’s shoulders and was shaking her and shouting at her. It was then John pushed Lily away and Lily slipped, hitting her head on the corner of the bed as she fell. Lily was silent, just lay there with a blank look in her eyes.

“Mum, mum” said Frieda, but there was no answer. It was then that John seemed to have come to his senses and wanted to take Frieda in his arms to soothe her. Frieda was so shocked that she ran down the stairs again into her own bedroom. Frieda dived under the bed and John followed her. This reaction probably saved their lives. At that moment a bomb hit the house. The top floors were immediately destroyed and the house just collapsed into itself.

When the rescue teams arrived they heard sounds beneath some rubble and soon pulled Frieda out of the ruins together with her father. When John was asked if anyone else was in the house, he said that he had not seen his wife that evening and she was probably out on civil defence work. Frieda was still shocked and said nothing.

The next day in the confusion that had arisen from the bombings the evening before, decisions had to be made. It was assumed that Lily had been killed in the accident at the underground station. John left to join his regiment to go to Italy and Frieda was taken to Lily’s sister where she spent the rest of her childhood. John arrived in Italy but in the first week of his active service he was killed by a stray bullet from the other side. GI Uncle Joe was also sent to other countries to serve and returned to America as a war hero.

Some years after the war London was being rebuilt. The old flattened areas left from the bombings in the war were being removed and foundations were being made for new buildings. It was then that a skeleton was found in the remains of an old building. It was examined and cause of death was found to be a fracture of the skull caused by a hard object. It was decided it was one of the victims of the London bombings in the war.