Scott Sinderson
Bio
Sart
Stories (10/0)
No Time Like The Present
The world was out of control! Everyone knew it but no one could slow it down. Just like everyone else, I basically jumped on and went along for the ride. I had a nice job and a nice life. I had good friends and a great wife! I remember the day I said to my wife, I think I'm going to buy a smart car. She said, " sure Honey, whatever you want." Now that's what I'm talking about. A "Great" wife! I went down and bought a Audi A8. I loved it! Showing this car off was easy, because it shows itself off. That's what it's saying while it parks for you. "Check out these curves."
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Fiction
Fragility of Life
Finally my career was taking off after all the years of effort and hard work. I always knew that my support system weren't just blowing smoke when they told me how talented I am. I graduated first in my class and started my own law firm three years after practicing at a small town office. I never stopped at the first feeling of achievement. I always knew there would be more.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Fiction
LIFE
Never knew why I started out the way I did. Some say it's just the way I was born. I didn't ask to be here. I've heard in the crowd. The meaning I never understood. The crowd was always stealing my air in the first place. Asking wasn't a problem. All the doors were wide open. The faces were all friendly. Family was intact. Leaning towards dark circles. Following those with mean mugs. Not nice ones. Wasting time running from squares in circle after circle. Not sure why I started this way. Growing was the reason for the peace I found. Thankful for the corners and those in mine. Reaching ever deep in my mind. Did I find out why? Was there a reason that's always been? Questions give the answers for growth. Taller and still grounded. Trees sway but never run away. Rooted. Booted. Happiness turned to madness from the self inflicted sadness. Achievements stolen and sold for the price of a heart or a soul. Family still there when I look, I stare. I continue to move. Tried to sit still in shock. Not the mindset I was taught. Marching along. Up and down the road I was on. Made it back home. Never alone. Reaching across the forest I felt my shot. Dropped from the light down the track of the underworld. Balled up with strangers just like another number. What a racket. Then it's starts with a break. Don't we all deserve one? Just as life would have it. Without question as of why I live it. Never felt like it was a choice. My heart was heard through a voice. Deliberate, creative, and bold. Old is the ripened youth through wisdom no age is written. Stand alone long enough to hear your mind. Thoughts that are kept blind long enough die. Start by finding waves that move you. Never alone through the story. It writes in line. Creating a new entrance. Followers get behind. Understanding why. Smiles free while I stand slanted. Start to slide. Devastation resurfaces in the mind. Takes time. Sadness never denied. Climbing up. The hole left behind. Reach out and grabbed on tight. Support is a friend of mine. Confidence building blocks of a new frame. Stormy weather clear for the day. Pictures of xray vision I see through to the other side. Beauty in a shot. Two minutes to get as much as possible. I got a lot. Memories become conversation topics. Sand between the toes. Flooded in Hawaiian tropics. Long list of duties. Compared nothing. Bloody knuckles and Mary's. Floating on blue waters. Jackets of yellow. Rainbow filled mist. Sun shines through. Heated the cool. Found you in the moment I felt like a fool. Run away. Now we do? Or watch, sit through. Watch and hope as birds fly. Staring we smile. The grasp of the hand with love. Moving in a fluid motion. Waves hoping for an ocean. Excitement isn't free. Paralysis momentarily. Deserve this for the moment. Relax under a new sky. Why not? The stress of raising my hand meant I could die? This seems to be wrong. Sorry just a thought. Reminded of it in a song. Continue along. Just want the nights to run slow and the days to live long. Reminded of birth. Did I open my mouth or just let out a smile. The years peal away. Normal they say. Beats the alternative. Eternally. How they live. Believe what they say? Hard to say. Never lived my life that way. Thank you. Better than sorry. Choices made in the bed we lay in.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Poets
Librarian
The world was under intense pressure. The uncivilized race to obtain absolutely nothing. Everyone racing to their own aid. No hands on deck, just on anything that was attached to a screen. The evil underworld dwellers had made their way to the surface. They had finally found a way to distance families from each other. The teachings of a father slowly converting to Google. No trust in the way it used to be. Family traditions? What are those? The advertisements alone had flipped the percentages of good and bad. It was hard to find anyone who would lend a hand.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Fiction
The kid
I remember the first time my dad took me to the pool room. It was a magical place for a twelve year old boy. There were mirrors around the entire room. Fifteen tables that looked like an ocean of turquoise blue water. Two, three-cushion billiard tables, the ones without pockets, one snooker table, the overgrown tables with extremely tiny holes, seven eight foot tables, also known as full size tables, and four bar size tables. They looked to be the most kid friendly. There were three or four arcade games and a jukebox. Donkey Kong, 1942, Digdug, Mrs. Pacman, and a claw machine that you could try to grab different toys out of. Those claws had the hand strength of a four year old's handshake. That machine later became a basketball game. There was a bar in the middle that served steak sandwiches and fries, with the best ranch dressing anywhere. Up a couple of steps and wrapped around the bar were video poker machines. The old quarter style ones.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Motivation
Horseshoe Road
When I was ten years old my family moved to a farming community so my dad could find work. I wasn't happy about any part of it. I remember fighting a lot with my mom during the day while my dad was working. That first summer I would leave everyday and wouldn't come home till I thought my parents were worried sick. There were few kids around, and the ones I saw looked miserable. All of them except Johnny. Johnny was like me. After the first round of staring at each other without saying a word like kids do, it was almost like we were brothers. We played all day and all night. I had no reason to go home until after dark. Let the parents worry. Might not make sense to kids that are happy where they're living, with mommy and daddy giving you everything you want, but when you hear all the problems your parents are having because the house you live in is smaller than a shoe box it's nice to stay away. Trust me.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Fiction
Trouble Paying Attention
Remembering time only for a second. It is hard for our brains to retain information for years and years. We do have brightly colored images of memories plastered on our mental collage, but they aren't of days, weeks, or months in any particular time frame. Even in the case where you are locked up in a cell for an extended period of time, let us use as an example, those memories are made up from seconds that stick. Our minds are incredibly vast in their abilities and genius, but even the mind of a scholar has to refer to past notebooks or other people's practices to perform their modern day tasks. They could retain the information briefly enough to pass an exam and then their mind turns to the next set of lessons.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Journal
Opinions are like Onions
People! Stop worrying about the opinions of others. People only have opinions to steer focus off themselves. Opinions are like onions, they are just there to make you cry. People don't worry about their self image unless they are steered in that direction by someone who is more insecure than yourself. "Friends" don't surround themselves with people who make them feel insufficient. The misconception of attractive girls wanting to be around not so attractive girls to look better is something that I'm sure some girls use but on the flip side it is used by the "not so attractive" female to pick up the crumbs from the flocks of guys who come around for the attractive ones.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Psyche
The Key to Life
What is the key to life? I believe every human has an idea of what this could mean. Depending on where you were born, to whom you were born unto, and most definitely in what Era you were born in, would sum up at least the top five things for you. Which would mean those ideas we're basically made for you. Not too sure about you, but I like to make up my own mind from time to time. I think that in certain countries, the idea of having food to eat everyday would be right at the top of the list. These are the kind of places that most only pull up on their Google pages, or for a deeper look within, a You Tube video from time to time. A way to feel a bit more calm when upset about their own misfortunes. I have seen walls made of mud and clay, where pieces of hay used to help bond these materials together would scratch you if you got too close. No doors separating each room from the next. I have seen the wonder in the eyes of a mother able to feed her children after giving her a few pieces of bread. I have seen famine. The helpessness in the body of a mother that watches her baby die. The key to life is not to outlive each other. To some that might mean to obtain more earthly medals and trophies, such as cars, houses, jewelry, women, men, or unless you are an athlete, then medals and trophies are really your thing. It also means that it doesn't matter if you live longer than others. There is no one left that knew you, or that you really knew if you live to be a hundred and forty. Seems like there is a steady race on Earth to obtain anything and everything at a more abundant pace than our fellow man. And as the old saying expresses, we can't take anything with us when we go. Unless you're King Tutanham, and then your flesh will turn to bone around possessions that will someday be studied by evolved human beings. Unless by chance we all wind up killing ourselves to win this made up competition, the illusive trophy, which at that point maybe another species will somehow benefit from what used to be your belongings. Who knows, maybe all of our bones will be used to build a monument of sorts by a brand new species. Somewhat of their own trophy. A way to say that there are no more humans here! I purposely went to a dark description of what is possible. I did it because I think that as educated human beings we can do the impossible. We can learn to love the people we love, now! To not let the years get away from us before we say we're sorry, or that we love someone. Or thank those for the friendships that were offered and never accepted. Using our ability to lend a hand outside of our own feeding grounds to one that is a little more bare. We are nothing more than a creation. A scientifically, universal, molecular combination of beauty and wonder. Our ability to dream and create is what separates us from lions and tigers. But because we were created, we must use our blessings to make this the best place for our future selves to live and prosper the way we have. It can't and never will be, by winning a race with an invisible finish line!
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Humans
The Locket
It has been two weeks since my last contact with NASA. There is no way I can see this mission through without support to assist me with shortages. I will starve to death. I lay in bed holding the heart shaped locket my wife's mother gave her before she went to college. Two weeks later her mother was killed. Three months after that she was pregnant and dropped out of school. She loved this locket for it's sentimental value but wanted to get rid of it because she said it was bad luck. Since I don't believe in luck, I told her I would take it and leave it on Mars. That way it would never bother her again and she wouldn't feel guilty for getting rid of it herself.
By Scott Sinderson3 years ago in Fiction