Story #68, Which Is A Negative Travel Experience.

STORY 15 which is another CPE review "A Little Book of Hygge" by Meik Wiking

The prompt: A literary magazine has invited readers to submit reviews of non-fiction books. You decide to submit a review of a book that has influenced you greatly. Your review should briefly describe the book, explain what aspects of your life have changed after reading it, and assess the importance of non-fiction literature.

Imagine yourself waking up in the crisp blue morning, snuggled in a soft, warm blanket, still hazy and disoriented, but well-rested and content. Imagine yourself taking that feeling of coziness and comfort, bottle it up, and carry it with you throughout the day: no stress, no chagrin, just pure joy and happiness. 

“The little book of Hygge” by Mike Wikking is your guide to the Danish concept by the same name of life devoid of anxiety and tension. Step by step, from picking the right light for your bedroom to planning weekend dinners, you’ll learn to recreate an atmosphere of the place where you feel shielded from the outside world and can let your guard down. The principles of this 10-part manifesto, full of gorgeous photos and illustrations, can be applied in the familiar space of your house, in the office environment, while traveling or walking by anyone from executives and mere employees to homemakers and students.

To me, Hygge is the epitome of tranquility. Curled up on my couch, with the ripple pattern baby afghan I had knitted for my daughter, I read through the book in a couple of nights. Prompted by the Wikking’s work, I put on the rubber gloves to clean the apartment of junk piling in my bookcase, my wardrobe, my cupboards. Little magic rituals like cocoa by candlelight and a game of Monopoly with kids on a Saturday night naturally implemented themselves into my routine. Hygge was that magic ingredient in my recipe for a stress-free life.

Lost in a hectic race to achieve some bigger goals, people forget to appreciate little mundane pleasures, such as a smell of a fresh-baked cake, or a bedtime story to children. Meanwhile, what could be a more effortless way to be reminded of the value of life? It’s the very time to turn to books of facts. They might not provide a fantasy world to escape like fiction, but become our tools for a quick-time solution, an answer to a burning question, or just a piece of advice. Perhaps, next time you ponder what kind of read to indulge in, attempt reality over imagination.

Photo credit: @stellarose Unsplash

Story #75, which is a CPE essay about Children's games.

Game is a fundamental concept in the realm of childhood, designed to teach rules, demonstrate examples, and guide minors through their transition to adulthood. Games reflect the behavioral patterns of their age, thus the play adopted contributes to the impact parents have on their children.

The first text outlines the idea that children's games, be they in the past or present, while chosen freely, sometimes are severely criticized by parents. Unfortunate though it is, family members tend to breed further development of the problem buying juniors the newest exorbitant toys. That state of affairs might be the driving force of why children are not aware of ways to amuse themselves without gadgets or money in their pockets. However, the author fails to take into account that people had limited availability of playthings in the past, and therefore, it was natural for children to make their own amusements.

In the second passage, the author rightly highlights that not only children's play preferences are different in this day and age, but also the nature of games is the subject of constant progress. Social transformations, albeit sometimes disproportional, affect all areas of our lives, so the games children play are no more than a continuation of these alterations. One should consider them as a sign of evolution. This point notwithstanding, parents are in charge of guiding the juniors through a wide range of entertainment means, to enhance their experiences rather than assisting them in further sinking into boredom and, therefore, seeking joy and solace in new toys.

In conclusion, although one cannot deny the fact that children's games are constantly changing, the harmful nature of these changes is rather questionable.

Word count: 277

Story #50 is the X-Files fanfiction story.

Read it on AO3

Story #72, which is a 'Truly like lightning' review.

“The X-files” were my Bible throughout the 90s to 2000s. I fell in love with the character of Fox Mulder long before I fell in love for the first time for real. I didn’t think Duchovny could get any better than that until he started writing and I started reading what he had written. 

“Truly Like Lightning” is not David Duchovny’s first book, but it’s his best so far - it will strike you to the very core and leave you aching, with questions whirling like a snowstorm in the head. 

Set in the desert of Joshua Tree, the story centers around the former Hollywood stuntman Bronson Powers, now a converted Mormon living unplugged in a polygamous marriage. They raise their ten kids away from the evils of society until one day a young ambitious employee of a corrupt real estate company targets their land. Cultures clash. Faith is tested. Choices are made.

The book will hook you and won’t let you put it down… if you manage to push through the first fifty pages. Seriously, it took me two weeks to read that part, where Duchovny mostly explained the background of his characters, and only two days to finish the 445-page manuscript, when the story finally turned into an action movie-like narrative.  

All things considered, it’s worth every minute of reading. What made a successful man abandon all the perks of Hollywood and choose to live the life of an isolated nomad? What happens to Powers’ family once they are forced off their land and into the temptations of the world they left behind? What’s with the children who have never had a say in any of that? 

Read the book. And be prepared to be struck. 

Story #1 “A Local Hero”.

This one was originally written as a part of my CPE training. It’s based on a true story, and I do love the way it turned out; however, it’s fair for most of my pieces.

___

Daniel Watzlav never planned to be a hero. He didn’t expect his life to change overnight, taking twists and turns like in an action-packed movie. It was more of a downward spiral reversing steadily until the point of no return was reached. In the summer of 2000, he took his daughter Liz to explore the Kungur’s cave in the suburbs of his home city Perm. They spent a night at the campsite, a fire cracking at their feet and a canopy of stars above their heads.

Anything can change your life forever. It can be something big like falling in love. Or something so teeny-tiny that it doesn’t even leave a mark. Like a bite of a rabid bat. Upon returning home from their holiday in the embrace of nature, Liz started exhibiting symptoms of a virus-like infection. Doctors failed to identify the root cause of her condition until it was too late. The girl died of rabies. 

It might sound awfully cliché, but as a loving parent, her father wanted to commemorate his daughter’s memory. While Liz was undergoing treatment in a hospital, Daniil became a first-hand witness of the sorry state of affairs of medical facilities. Little patients were surrounded by nothing but faceless white walls and stiff plastic chairs for parents in hallways. Daniil poured all his grief and sorrow into the project of building a state-of-the-art children’s hospital where parents would be welcomed into the healing process, and children would have buoyant space to recover that felt like home. It took another two years for the Elizaveta Watzlav Children’s Hospital to open.

Daniil played a pioneering role in addressing the problem of restricting parents’ access to their children once they were admitted to the clinic. Not only did the Elizaveta hospital become a template for all the following world-class children’s medical facilities built, but it also set the health system on track towards designing special parents’ houses on the grounds of the existing hospitals not to separate the minors with their next of kin. So, is Daniil a hero? Indeed.  But then again, do you need to be a hero to help others with all your heart?  

Story #62 "My best learning experience"

Originally written as a CELTA admission essay.

It’d be fair to say that one of my best learning experiences was the one I gained being a member of the “Teachers Teach Teachers” project. In a nutshell, that’s a program created by a teacher trainer and business coach Anita Modestova, where teachers are given a unique, almost once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be taught by their fellow teachers, teach their peers themselves, discuss the methodology aspects of the overall teaching process, as well as receive the extended detailed feedback.

As a basis, we used Hugh Dellar’s “Outcomes Advanced” coursebook, implementing both the communicative and the lexical approaches. Every month, one of the participants, was nominated to teach their colleagues and Hugh, himself, hosted workshops for teachers of the month. We discussed strategies, shared our ideas for exercises, planned the whole lesson together, and in the next meeting exchanged good and bad outcomes and what needed to be improved.

Having lessons weekly, it took us roughly three years to go through the whole coursebook. Not only I became more confident as a teacher, but I got plenty of insights as a student, especially on teaching online. It was a safe place for me to implement new ideas and experiment with my own teaching style as well as test out any unconventional methods. For instance, at one point my third-year mentor Ben Brooks pointed out how much better it might be to let all students stay in the main room for an active discussion instead of dividing them into pairs. That was when I saw that sometimes the MR works better than break-out rooms, and later that year I gave a speech at the “Meaningful Weekend” conference about the whole thing and how beneficial it could be.

All in all, I’m extremely grateful for that experience and believe that it is partially responsible for what kind of teacher I am now.

Story #61 "What is a good teacher?"

Originally written as a CELTA admission essay.

What is a good teacher? What qualities one should possess to be considered a poster child for teaching? And who is to tell a good teacher from the bad one, and make the final decision? They say “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.” Perhaps, to an extent, it’s fair for a good vs. bad teacher as well.

When I did my TESOL course a year ago, I was asked to write an essay on my teaching philosophy, and at some point, I started contemplating what a good teacher was in my opinion, and whether I, myself, met those standards. I might repeat myself here with what I wrote in the past, but thinking back now, I stand by my words. 

I’m firmly convinced that a good teacher is a teacher who knows how to convey the information they prepared for the lesson and is able to present the material in a practicable and entertaining way, as well as be capable of engaging students in different communicative activities to provide them with vocabulary and grammar sufficient for successful communication. That kind of teacher knows the ultimate goal of any exercise they give and sets short-term and long-term aims for themselves and their students.

A good teacher knows how to encourage a student to use actively the learning strategies such as asking questions, making notes, and not being afraid of making mistakes. They can explain that experimenting with the language is impossible without mistakes, and get sure students feel confident enough in a classroom. As a rule, a good teacher sticks to the 80/20 strategy and knows how to reduce teacher talking time and increase student talking time.

They want to pass on not only their knowledge but their passion for languages and sow the seeds of the idea that any learning indeed is an exciting process a student can benefit from. A good teacher strives to show their students that there is no extrinsic motivation they need to study as they can find it within themselves. As a teacher, I try to be that source of motivation and enthusiasm for my students.

Story #73 is a CPE review of the same book "Truly Like Lightning" by David Duchovny.

Prompt: A literary magazine has invited readers to submit reviews of modern books that might deserve the status of a classic. You decide to submit a review. Your review should briefly describe the book, explain why you think it deserves the status, and speculate on what makes a book a classic.

David Duchovny, known mainly as an actor, once again scales the heights of the literary world with his novel “Truly like lightning”. It, indeed, is truly like lightning accompanied by one clap of thunder after another – blinding and deafening in its narrative.

Duchovny’s novel tells the story of Bronson Powers, a former Hollywood stuntman and a converted Mormon, who lives off the grid in a plural marriage with three wives and ten children. Seemingly happy in their private desert outside of Joshua Tree, away from the corruption of the modern world, they spend their days hunting, foraging, and farming.  Everything changes, when Maya Abbadessa, an ambitious employee of a predatory investment firm literally stumbles upon Powers’ homestead, setting into motion a deadly chain of events that will test the beliefs of everyone involved.

Throughout the narrative, the reader is confronted with the question of how to tell right from wrong in the world of extremes. There is a constant battle of virtue and vice – money against love, sex against religion, greed against generosity. Transposed through the account of Bronson Powers, both a martyr and a crucifier, this is a story of parents who mean well and children who obey their orders blindly. As if to aggravate the situation and show the inevitability of the tragedy, in the background, the reader witnesses how the environment of the ancient desert of Joshua Tree vanishes, turning yet into another meaningless hotel slash entertaining center.

“Truly like lightning” might seem hackneyed for anyone living dangerously close to Hollywood, but unhackneyed for anyone from afar. Regardless of sounding trite in his commentary on pop culture, the multilayered themes Duchovny explores and masterfully exploits are as universal as they will ever be. After all, what deems a book classic if not the topics that undoubtedly resonate with readers at all times - past, present, and future?

Story 48 "Metamorphosis vs Parabiosis"

This story came to me in a creative writing club I'm currently participating in.

The theme of this season is “Metamorphosis.” It is inspired by Kafka’s novella of the same name. The first sentence of the novella goes, “One morning Gregor Samsa woke in his bed from uneasy dreams and found he had turned into a large verminous insect.” (Translations vary slightly). 

The prompt: 

Write a story that begins with the sentence “One morning [Name of Character] woke in his bed from uneasy dreams and found/realized/saw he had turned into/become … .” 

___

“So one morning I woke up in my bed from uneasy dreams and found… you there,” he grinned at her and she couldn’t suppress a smile of her own.

“You believe in fate?” he snorted at her words, and Ani poked him with an elbow under his ribs.

“What else would you call it? We were broken and then suddenly we weren’t. This is a quintessence of a metamorphosis.”

“We are past that phase, Ani. We are more like a part of a parabiotic experiment now.” M. finished his drink in one gulp and put a glass on the coaster with a muffled thump.

“Parabiosis,” he raised an index finger to draw Ani’s attention. “That’s what it is. Remember how we met?” under the table he put a hand on her bare leg, his fingers brushing the soft skin near the hem of her skirt.

M. had big pale hands, which stood in stark contrast to the rest of his body – tanned, tall and seemingly fragile as if he was a good ten pounds below slim. Exactly the way when she first had seen him at the entryway of the intensive care unit. In a narrow hallway she brushed arms with a beautiful stranger, oblivious to the world around him. A silent sorry slipped past his lips and when their eyes met she couldn’t look away. Unable to move sideways, glued to the man standing at the door, she just kept staring, confronted by the pain etched on his face. His sharp hollow cheekbones and purple shadows under the bloodshot eyes did a poor job at masking his beauty. He looked like he was holding the weight of the whole universe on his fragile shoulders, yet he had found the strength to wind up on his feet.

Without giving it much thought – any thought – she caught his trembling hands and intertwined their fingers. In retrospect, it had been a bold move, the one she would never find an explanation for. The man didn’t flinch or pull away, just stirred Ani closer and encircled her with his big hands breaking into wrecking sobs in her embrace. He was tall and she barely reached the middle of his chest encased in a plain gray t-shirt, her forehead pressed into his pectoralis major, her lips against his heart, contracting two hundred beats a minute. He smelled like medicine, coffee and sunflower seeds.

Whatever his ache was, it echoed her own, and she stood there quietly, absorbing his tears with her hair and his sorrow with her soul.

She could never forget his frenzied kisses as he’d mapped out her luscious curves with his big pale hands. As he’d pounded into her, his body slick with sweat. As he’d bawled pressed to the sharp cut of her clavicle in the aftermath of his climax. As the sobs had racked his body and she kept rubbing soothing circles over his back.

Her heart clenched at the memory. M. reached over to wipe off a lone tear trickling down her cheek, the sea blue of his own clouded with moisture. And then he smiled.  They both were in tatters, and then they weren’t. The metamorphosis, indeed.

M. bent over the table and kissed the hollow of her neck. Ani pulled away, trying to look him in the eye, his breaths still dancing across her skin quickening her pulse traitorously. He was drawing numbers with his tongue on her flushed skin, dragging his lips to that sweet spot behind her ear, which he knew damn well made her squirm on her seat. She panted. She wanted him to take her back home and undress. The idea of making love to him was uppermost in her mind. She told him so.

He chuckled softly and nodded at a pizza on the table.

“You don’t want your pizza? I thought you were hungry!”

“Famished actually! Just not for pizza.”

M. looked down at her plate, his hand moving towards the apex of her thighs.

“Pizza is an example of parabiosis.” M. continued calmly as if giving a lecture. She cocked an eyebrow at him.

“Just think about it! They put cheese on this perfect oval of dough and then – voila – you get an entirely new thing. Parabiosis, Ani.”

“Did you just compare me with a slice of mozzarella?”

 “More like a sprinkle of Parmesan… You, me, combined together. A family, a child, the whole nine yards. Parabiosis.”

“Well, as you said, it’s clear that we are way past the metamorphosis stage.” Ani got out of the booth and extended a hand to M.

“Time to start the parabiosis phase, Romeo. Let’s go.”

Stories #46-47 are the X-Files fanfictions stories.

All good things happen on the couch, as well as bad ones.

Read it on AO3

Read it on AO3