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 |  A Blog of ramblings from yours truly.
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It’s simple enough to do And nothing at all to prove Just got to find your Swoove. Hold a little shrub in your fist Add swoops with a flocky wrist It can be great even looking like … THIS!!! It’s simple enough to do But please don’t use your pooh Go find what truly moves you! Participant/Member: "Give It 100!"  [13+] "The Soundtrack of Your Life" [18+] "Welcome To My Reality Forum" [E] "Anniversary Reviews" [E] "Newbie Welcome Wagon" [ASR] "Superpower Reviewers HUB" [E]"Weekly Goals" [13+] "The Book Club" [13+] "WDC Addicts Anonymous" [E]"disABILITY WRITERS MOUNTAIN LOG CABIN" [E] "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" [13+]** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| My life doesn't revolved around my computer, but my computer revolves around my life. Right now, I am really side tracked with finding employment. I miss blogging prompts and the "30-Day Blogging Challenge ON HIATUS" peeps. But ... Life happens. It ain't fair. It is what it is. I can't say that I regret my life. That would be royally depressing. I am currently working on improving it. How does that sound? |
| 30DBCUBE-Voyage of the Magical Ship-DAY 2 Prompt ▼ The door itself is stained glass of a beautiful gray wolf, with tufts of mauve and royal blue fur on the tips of it's ears and paws and tail, in a field full of white plumerias in full bloom. It's nuzzling a select grouping of the adorable looking flowers, eyes closed in complete satiated peace and contentment. The ground can't be seen between blossoms as the spaces between is small and cluttered with bright and dull greens that prop up the white beauties. The sky behind the wolf is pristine, albeit the play of bright strange colors spreading out from the horizon. The green of the meadow kisses the purples and pinks of the chemical heavy sky in a perfectly imperfect way. The main goal of the elaborate door is to distract or impress acquaintances or lone passerby. To hypnotize them by capitalizing on the very seeds of greed they have for a peaceful existence. The strange play of color in unnatural and synthetically realistic ways tries to conjure surreal thoughts within the viewer. The resident therein hopes these images and their sway towards subconsciously provoked images and thoughts just might keep people at bay. Only the purest of intended visitors will stay long enough to knock, and the truest of friends to wait for a response. A knock is performed on the elaborate glass, but a knocking sound is not what emanates through. The reply sounds more or less like wind whistling through densely growing leaved tree branches. Almost progressing to the familiar sounding whistle much like that of a tea kettle with ready as ever boiling water. The door cracks down the middle which is for sure the last test of purity to be here. Those guided by vanity and guilt will gasp in horror at the destruction they supposedly caused. And hopefully they will pass. The truest of true friends will see the cleverness of the inhabitant... And push through the center splitting (however, unevenly and jagged and sharp--no doubt) entry. The door will open effortlessly and close just as nicely. Perfectly aligning so as to recreate the mystical and spiritual ward again. Inside is both full of expected and not. The walls are covered in splashes of blues and greens and decked out with posters, pictures, charts, graphs, illustrations, and clip arts of wolves and other interesting and inspiring looking creatures that are not exactly widely known and others that are, though the name of which slips the mind. The after thought of a glance is full of creation and sparks of innovation. Only the brightest and most blessed of the onlookers will take away ideas of fabulous high-end concept! Only the most diligent will be able to hone those thoughts down to the two dimensional plane of ink and parchment. Some areas around the groupings of pictures have clips of faux fur tacked up. Some have graphite sketches applied directly on the wall itself. Some have nothing. Some have graffiti. The walls suck you in, you the visitor, you the friend. The inhabitant's sleeping cot is folded up and shoved into a closet, sliding door ajar. Afghan blankets thrown over or stacked neatly beneath. Fluffy pillows puffing out the cot's middle, even when folded. Clothing of neutrals and pastels and denims hang and pile up from the floor. Boxes threaten to dislodge from the top rack, but are held in place by the top of the closet door frame. Chaos seems to explode, yet frozen in its awfulness. In the center, on the floor, perched upon embroidered meditation seat pillows. Sits a petite, pleasantly plump young lady with brownie colored tresses slightly crimped from just being let out of twin French braided tails. Au natural. Nothing fake about her, except maybe her clothes. Faux leather leggings layered underneath nude and white colored eyelet laced skirts of various lengths. arms baring intriguing pictures tattooed in twisting patterns of non-connection to the unknowing onlooker. An imitation wool of some bright shade of pink weaves a sleeveless sweater with a large, long turtle neck folding necessarily back over itself so as to not hide the wearer's face. Though long enough that if desired can be pulled straight up and over, covering nearly up to the forehead hairline. (If you didn't know why they were called turtle necks, now you do.) Candles and incense offer a wonderful, alluring and playful dance of the sense of smell. A woodish mushy smell. Wonderfully wild and primal. She moves with a flowing of knowing as you near where she's sitting. Moving a cushion in the direction of your approach from the door. It's a sure sign of welcome and deserves a butterfly flutter within your guts. Saying however silently, Stay a while, friend. |
| April Fools Day... Well Let me tell you this. My day has been a joke so far. Though, I am not sure who's laughing (besides me, after the fact, of course). The day started at my nutritionist's office forgoing breakfast as usual. I confessed that I didn't do anything really that I promised to do, at least not seriously, commitedly. I admitted that I have been down and lazy because of it. But the silver lining of that meeting was that I have more energy due to new shoes. New Shoes = No More Foot Pain. Just so you know. Then, it was off to the japanese food place where I ordered two rolls of eel and cucumber. I actually think that I would have been fine with just a miso soup and ginger dressing topped green salad, but eel works fine too. It only cost me $11 and change! Yay, lunch specials! oxox After fooding, I went to donate blood for the Red Cross. The place was easy enough to get to but, I somehow got lost trying to LEAVE. It wasn't so much reversing the directions there, I did that fine. The problem there lay when I was trying to get out of the Complex where the station was set up in. Basically, I was fine walking to my car and I was fine turning from the point where the address of the place was marked "destination," It was just getting from the first point to the second point that failed me. Though there was a closed gate that I didn't notice on the way in, that automatically let me leave once I approached.... I mean that could of had something to do with it. Donating blood was fine. I answered all and asked all the necessary and embarrassing questions... Gave half my life water (exaggeration, of course) and ate four carbs worth of my daily diet in one go. I drank water too. I felt fine. I didn't fall in the toilet. So I left. <Insert car scenario here.> After that I drove to my former partial care program to see my friends that are still admitted there. I said "Hi." Gave hugs. Sent up prayers for my friend that is currently homeless, as well as let her know to call if she needs anything. Maybe my gracious parents would be extra gracious and let her crash here with us a night or two if she needs it. We shall see. Saw some people that I didn't care to see again, and shook someone's hand that I used hand sanitizer immediately after. They don't call him Crotch Hand R_____ for nothing. Left there and stopped at another friend's house on the way to where I was heading (home). She was being visited by another friend that I hadn't seen in months. I stayed and chatted and gave them my new number and left. Then I stopped at an alternative lifestyle shop, that I believe that I already blogged about before. Charmed. I was inquiring the clerk there about non-burning methods of aromatherapy (because my parents don't like when I burn things. Apparently the incense finds the impurities and cleanses them. My parents don't like being cleansed. Oh wells.) The clerk, a nice lady that I have seen in that shop before, was explaining different essential oils. I smelled a few of them. Then I started feeling dizzy. Like tranquilizer-stabbed sized dizzy spell! I was just thinking that I should probably get some air. When I blacked out and came to on the shop floor. The nice lady clerk was asking me if she should call 911 and I said, "No. I just need to sit down outside." Another nice young lady was just coming into the shop as I was getting back to my feet. I was trying to explain that I just donated blood and that I should probably have something to drink and eat. The young lady offered my her Gatorade and sandwich (chicken, spinach, gravy of some kind... all nicely wrapped in a tortilla). I sat on the curb, sobbing on an off. Then my head started to throb. Small pains then more than small pains. I felt this inch and a half wide bump on the back of my head. I checked for blood. No blood. I breathed. Ate the sandwich. Drank the Gatorade. Sobbed on and off more. Felt swell soon enough. Tried to give the lady who gave me the food money, but she refused. Got in my car, and drove home. I blue-tooth-called my mom on the way home and told her a quick summary of what happened. Her consensus: Don't donate blood. She told me later on, that she had a bad feeling about me going to give blood. I asked her if she's prophetic now... She shook her head, "I just had a bad feeling about you going, but I didn't say anything. Because, no matter what I said to you, you'd of gone anyway." I nodded. "You're right, but at least when I felt dizzy, I'd of sat my bum down before I could faint." Anyway. As much as I'd like to say April Fools to that! I can't. On a Lighter note, my dad posted a picture of my mother in her pajamas, a robe and holding two bird feeders. My mother had a short fit before my dad said... Nothing. I whispered, "April Fools..." and my dad started laughing. "Did you really post it or is it April Fools?" He shook and nodded his head in the appropriate order. "Nah, I didn't post it." "But send Rose the picture." "Nah, I'll just look at it on your phone." The picture wasn't bad, it was almost cute. It was typical mom. Her and her birds. You know. Or maybe you don't. "It's cute." I said, thinking. Maybe he really should of posted it on Facebook.    If I could explain the fainting episode that I had today. I would equate it to going under anesthesia. The last sense to blank is hearing. Though I didn't understand anything said or heard. It was like floating. I didn't feel the fall until I was sitting on the curb outside the shop, rubbing my head ... That was when I found the bump, and the hurting. I suppose it's similar to seeing a wound and feeling the pain more after. Psychosomatic pain. But I am no John Watson. Alas, I am non-fiction! Though blacking out or mid-faint-spell, whatever you wish to call it, is much like suspending consciousness. I am not aware of what's going on but my senses have shut off. I think that astral travel is said to be much like that but when the sense of sight suspending from consciousness. That's my guess. I can never be absolutely sure. I haven't projected more than vomit, spit, food, or blood from my body. But that's neither here nor there. If I were to consciously travel anywhere I want I would like to astral project. It would be an experience to have, I am sure. I would like to float above like an airplane because even though I have a very nerve-responsive fear of heights I love seeing the minute details of the world. The forest instead of the daily grind of being face-to-tree. I would guess it would look much like the views out the window of an airplane are. I love flying. I love taking off and landing and watching the world shrink away and grow near respectively. It's breathtaking. Thank the pilot for the ventilator-bags! I've never blacked out on a plane despite my fears of heights. Which is wonderful. Because I would never want to miss a single minute of flight! As an astral traveler, I am sure that I would have to be solely and soul-ly linked to the vision and nothing else. But then again, I don't know. Though just thinking about it is surreal, isn't it?! |
| What I think makes a successful blog is quite simple. • White Space It's not usually thought of or considered when writing blog entries but I doubt that I'm the only one to mention this. White space (break space or blank space) is a lovely cushion for the eyes. With lots of black text and not enough white space to fluff reader's eyes, many people will tire of reading before even... well, reading anything. • Character of Voice Voice is important but the personality that comes through the voice is even more so. I think the best blog entries and blogs in general are the ones that are personable, authentic and real. Real as in three dimensions, the core of the three is the internal or the indirect, the undertones... the grit that you get by searching between the other more superficial dimensions of what is shown (2nd dimension) and what is seen (1st). • Community Involvement Being part of a community is what makes blogging so much more than just writing in an on-line journal. It's what makes it what it is, and it feels less than what it could be without others taking part in making it more. |
| 30-Day Blogging Challenge Prompt ▼ Well I've certainly had my share of madness over the last few March months that have passed. This one is no different. It isn't all that surprising that I've stepped away from WDC slightly (or more than slightly) for the last 12 days for some air. Possibly even for some healthy posture practice too. Job searching has become a priority even if the prospect of landing an actual job scares the pants off me. I still need/want one when it's all said and done. I certainly have heard the phrase a number of times in my past as well. Especially when it comes to working retail. March Madness seemed to have a shop-spree ring to it, and fit for the most part the pre-holiday frenzy. It really was just a gimmick to get people into the store between seasons to spend loads of money that they would have spent anyway on things they actually needed to by for the next shindig. But since they were sucked into the Frenzy With Benefits and liabilities they have to sometimes shop twice once they realize the whole list of people they forgot in their burst of shopper's craze. Old sayers had probably deeper rooted meanings to Madness align with moon phases and I guess it just stuck. I have experienced the light and the heavy of it. In and out of facilities. March just leads to driving people in circles about the weather in limbo as well as their pockets... maybe even their relationships... Some people might be nesting or questing, either way would lead to a numbing of sorts, I think. Meaning similar to rubbing the same patch of skin over and over, becomes numb. At least to me... I can't speak for others. But that is just how I think it all goes down. The weather bouncing back and forth between spring and winter is annoying... |
| 30-Day Blogging Challenge Prompt ▼ I am not really all that proud of my writing yet. Though I am proud of my Graphics. They are all made by me (or manipulated by me, photos taken by me unless otherwise stated/credited).
Please leave a line on your thoughts or some wayward idea that I can use for future cNote designs. Thanks! ○☼○☼○ Two-fer Tuesday, you say? Well then, I will review someone... Review of "A Poem for Jay"  ○☼○☼○ While listening to ... [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Click for Biblical reference in song Sheep or Goat? Which are you? (Had originally written Sleep...  )Me I'm probably a wolf in sheep's clothing.  Ah, see what I did there? |
| 30-Day Blogging Challenge ▼ March the Lion and March the Lamb: That's quite a species' change! If I was March, I'd want my money back. It really is a cute saying, with the implication of the change going on. I suppose to aliens the season changes may be bizarre. March Madness! "Springalingadingdong!!!" Now I will charm you with a little tyke song Feel free to sing along... **Insert Unavailable; Upgraded Membership Required. ** I am most looking forward to the return of seasonally operating shops and Rita's Ice stands in particular. I haven't had one of those in years but this year I'm going to treat myself to one. I know it's not real Italian Gelato. (I can't even spell it.) But I know it's good for Spring ice cream. My last years and previous spring choices for cold deserts and hot brownie sundaes was a local joint that has since closed down. But all is not lost, because I have seen more local shops about and I will make a point to venture to them! Spring has Sprung?! It sounds like slinky, and that sort of depresses me. I never have been able to properly function a slinky. And I think the stars are not aligned for me to ever gain that as a skill. I think juggling goes in that category too. Oh, how I wish I could do that. I'm sure it only takes patience and lots of practice. But I believe that I've exhausted my reserve on fine tuning my skills at mono-brow raises. Can you smell what I'm cooking?  I know. Useless, utterly. *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  * *  * *  * *  Blogging Circle of Friends Prompt ▼ I think there are two different kinds of inspiration. One that's improv or seat-of-your-pants style, and the other is planned and/or prompted. And the planners and promptees are only following previous made improv of their selves or someone else's. So, I can safely agree with Nimoy's opinion of artists not knowing what they are doing. For the most part, good art comes to you when you aren't trying too hard at it. It just flows, almost naturally. It's a beautiful process. One that defies all theories of intellect and the brain. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Welcome To My Reality Prompt ▼ Legally speaking,  Yugioh, and Dungeons & DragonsI learned D&D in college from my boyfriend, then, Keith. He was a geek. I  geeks. Always have and always will. I didn't pick it up then, but I bought all the manuals (which I've seen donated). I didn't even make a full character.I've tried since to play a few times. But then I was deeply sidetracked for too long by World of Warcraft. Now, I am trying once again to get back into D&D. Even if just as a Bard class human who hides during battle, and sings (writes) of all the tales and journeys that the group of us losers face. My boyfriend,Josh, is Dungeon Master for this campaign. It should be fun, once I get past making the character and all that boring statistics and mathematics and stuff. Developing the character's personality and role playing it in the laid out scenarios will be fun. I at least can make that fun. There's no fun in Math. Especially if you don't do it right. This will definitely be out of my comfort zone. I am rather personal about my writing and characters, despite the fact that I participate on WDC and other writing sites in the past. But usually when I do try new things, I end up liking it. For example, paper mâché is a glue-involved craft that is extremely versatile and fun (if you don't like getting your hands messy). I also find it deeply therapeutic. I would recommend paper mâché to crafting-types and D&D to anyone who is into fantasy and role playing games. (Online and offline ones are unique and similar in many ways--half the fun is figuring out what those are!) |
| Gracing the pages of the local section of the Sunday Paper here in these parts is a little local story turned legend. It started as a true story of a death of a high school kid named Jimmy Lynch. Some sources say it was a gang murder that outnumbered Jimmy by three and left him to dye at the base of a tree. Some sources, probably more likely in my humble opinion, say it was a serious automobile accident that left Jimmy's brother injured, a girl friend Beth in critical condition, and Jimmy dead. In either story, Jimmy's girlfriend later carves his initials in the trunk of the tree, where he died. Nowadays, people who come near the tree have said that their cars stall. But in pictures the sparce top branches of the tree seem to spell out the letters J. L. It's known as Lakewood's J.L. tree. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** **Insert Unavailable; Upgraded Membership Required. **  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *Thanks for reading. And I hope you all had a wonderful February!   ROSΣANNΣ|NaPoWriMo|WGT|JDI** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Track 28 Yolanda Adams I Believe Dance Segment from the Movie Honey featuring the song--a Good Watch ▼ This is from the movie, Honey, and I don't remember the story line but this dance-off clip is great. I highly recommend you watch it but just listening to it is fine too. I have to warn you that the audio is a little low and not like a soundtrack clip, so if you want a better version of the song, ... Here you go.I believe that my body will be less and less sore after strength training the more I do it. Most of the time. I am, ok, I am trying to believe that. It's really hard to motivate myself to move around a lot, let alone do push ups and sit ups and squats. But I am getting there. One rep more. One rep more at a time... One.. Two... Three... Four... Thirty... Thirty-one. I'm kidding. I just basically have been curling up into a fetal ball on the floor after 5 or 6 push ups, and trying really hard not to cry. Don't laugh, unless you have bragging rights. Then laugh, even better... Insult me kindly in the comments... I dare ya.  * * * * * * * * * * *Day in the life of me, Adva Hurik Sirpa **Insert Unavailable; Upgraded Membership Required. ** I just really want to show the impact of what it's like being a dying queen. Let me know if you get where I am coming from. Life is marked by births and deaths. There's been too many to keep track of. I am constantly making more an more kin, day in and day out. I don't keep track, but maybe I should. There's always my secretant, she keeps track with all the eggs I lay. I would go crazy, if I was in charge of keeping a tally of all the possible colonants. I get my age based roughly on that. I suppose you could say that I don't truly know my exact age though. Oh well. I will die soon. I feel my body cracking. Sometimes I find hairs around the area I sleep. My limbs are getting achier. And I'm told by the oldest chronologicAnt that those are clear signs of a quickly approaching death. My life ending is primarily why I've decided to keep this log. Not to mention it has given a worker a different job other than the typical deployment or assignment. He's chipper about it anyway, always vibrating his antennae so rapidly at me I can hardly keep up with what he's saying. It's a good thing that I don't have to really. He is keeping a record of what I am saying, not the other way around. Sorry, Joktan .Well, I don't know what else I should say. I think that's good enough for now, Joktan. No, you don't have to keep keeping track of what I say anymore. |
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